#scullery laundry

[customgirls]

Contemporary Laundry Room - Laundry Dedicated laundry room - mid-sized contemporary galley porcelain tile dedicated laundry room idea with a drop-in sink, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, multicolored walls and a stacked washer/dryer

[foone]

There should be a comic or manga about a maid who is very annoyed with her coworkers because she's trying to clean the mansion and make sure dinner is served on time and all the linens are put away, but she's the only one who is here to do all that. She's an actual Victorian-style housemaid, but the rest of the maids are maids in the hentai/erotica sense.

So she's going to check and see why the paintings in the east wing haven't been dusted, and walks in on the maid responsible getting eaten out by a scullery maid on a pile of dirty laundry. She's like "sigh, just try to do your duties when you're done?"

She's having to work late into the night mopping the kitchen floors because the maids who are supposed to do that have been tied up in the dungeon by the lady of the house for like four days now.

She never gets involved in all this hankypanky. She's way too busy for any of that, since she's having to do all the tasks that are getting interrupted by all the damn sex.

She has to do the grocery shopping herself because everyone else she's tried singing just comes back with alcohol and whipped cream and condoms and that's not going to help with Thursday's lobster bisque dinner, now is it?

She did try to ask the head chef what ingredients they needed for the meal but he just listed off every aphrodisiac food he could think of. She sighs. "The French", she thinks while rolling her eyes.

She is very overworked and sighs a lot. I kinda love this character and she's only existed for the duration of this post. Ace maid!

[dreaming-of-brent]

Laundry Multiuse Inspiration for a mid-sized eclectic single-wall ceramic tile utility room remodel with a gray floor and blue walls, a side-by-side washer and dryer, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, and marble cabinets.

[wol-fica]

shamelessly requesting for a smut with any JO char that gives g!p r head when r is asleep 👉🏻👈🏻👉🏻👈🏻

based on this:

https://twitter.com/_maiqo/status/1661162706739638272?s=20

summary - ^ (in the link)

an - that comic did something to me…

————————

Tara hummed softly to herself, throwing her dirty laundry in the washing machine. She had just finished taking a shower after her nap and her workout, and was now planning on organizing and cleaning the apartment after a spurt of energy came to her.

She turned on the machine, before opening the dryer to get out the fresh load she did earlier. The clothing was warm on her finger tips, sending a pleasant chill down her spine from the heat.

After settling the laundry basket on her hip, she strolled out of the scullery to head to the bedroom to fold the clothes. Tara was aware of you sleeping, you had told her you were probably going to take a nap after school, which is why she found you passed out on your shared bed.

She smiled at the sight, gazing at your sleeping figure for a moment. You stirred slightly, a soft mewl passing through your lips as you rolled onto you back. Tara cooed at you, taking out her phone to snap a picture before going into your shared closet to silently put away her clothes.

She slid an airpod into her ear while she worked, quietly singing and dancing along while she folded her garments. Her music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the noises you started to create. At first she thought you were just dreaming, being that you were huffing and mumbling, but that soon turned into pathetic sounding whimpers and whines that had her concerned.

So she came out of the closet, her eyes finding your body shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. She frowned, coming around the bed in thoughts of waking you up until she saw what was making you so squirmy.

There, under the conceal of your slightly tight grey sweatpants, was a large bulge. Tara’s eyes widened, her gaze focused on the rather huge tent in your pants. She glanced at your exposed stomach, her pupils expanding at the flex of your abs and the line of dark hair leading into your sweats.

“Oh sweetie…” She mumbled, kicking off her shoes and shorts before climbing onto the bed with you.

She knew you needed your sleep, the nap was well awaited and very much useful for you tomorrow, so she planned on making sure you stayed that way.

She watched you inhale deeply, before her hands grabbed the hem of your sweats and pulled. Your cock spring free, standing at a tall 7 1/2 inches, with its veins throbbing and a small amount of precum leaking at the tip. You were big, the biggest Tara had ever seen and taken, but she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

Her mouth watered as she pushed your legs up and apart, so they were bent at the knee and spread open for her. She got a good view of your balls, large and twitching as you dreamt about god knows what. She squeezed them slightly, before diving in with a broad lick up your shaft.

You groaned, hips bucking up slightly at the feeling. Her tongue reached your tip, catching the precum that was leaking out. She licked her lips, savoring the sweet taste of you before opening her mouth to take your tip in.

Her lips wrapped around you, tongue expertly licking and massage your sensitive top. You whined above, your thighs twitching in Tara’s grasp. She hummed in response, taking more inches into her mouth before you were sat snugly in the back of her throat.

“Mmph!” You moaned, one of your hands sliding down into her hair, “T-Tara!”

Her eyes snapped up to you, seeing your head thrown back into the pillow and your lips parted in a guttural moan. She smiled around your length, her tongue sliding up and down your shaft that sat in her throat.

Tara loved having you like this, enjoying the control she has over you. It was different from when you were buried in her pussy, that feeling was more intoxicating and pleasurable, while sucking you off was more satisfying and relaxed. She knew she was giving you the pleasure you needed, and she knew you very much loved it as getting a blowjob was one of your favorite things.

“Baby…” You whined, hips bucking up, “Please…deep throat me…”

She blushed at your forwardness but complied, opening her jaw wider to take the rest of you in. Soon, her nose bumped against your abdomen, the head of your cock nestled deep in the back of her throat.

She gagged around you, taking a long inhale through her nose before licking and sucking around your member. You cried out her name, both hands now in her hair to try to get her even closer. Slurping noises could be heard throughout the bedroom, mixed in with Tara’s muffled moans of satisfaction.

The knot tightened, a familiar feeling growing until it snapped abruptly. You came with a cry of her name, your cum shooting straight into her stomach. She swallowed greedily, throat bobbing with each suck.

“F-fuck…okay okay…” You pulled on her hair, trying to get her off due to overstimulation.

She giggled, pecking your sensitive tip before crawling up to sit on your abdomen. Her hands cupped your face, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

“That was extremely spontaneous.” You mumbled against her lips, feeling yourself harden when her ass bumped against your cock.

“Mmm, and you should let me spontaneously ride you.” Tara suggested, grabbing the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head.

She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the garment fall and tossing it somewhere behind her. Her breasts spilled free, round and plump and waiting to be sucked on.

“Let me sit up.” You murmured, moving to do so while Tara got your own shirt off of you.

“God…your abs are sexy as fuck.” She observed, running her hands along your muscles, “So toned…”

You chuckled, pulling her hips up and back so your tip could run through her folds. She hissed at the feeling, pushing your hands away so she could have control. You let her, watching with blown pupils as she slowly lowered herself onto you.

She let out a hefty moan, her face scrunched at the feeling of you being so deep. Her walls pulsed around you, warm and velvety. Soon, her hips began to rock back and forth, creating an easy rhythm for her to follow.

Tara shuttered, moaning your name freely as she worked. Your hands found solace on her waist, kneading and pushing her as you pleased. You encouraged her, pulling her up and slamming her back down on your length to suggest a proper bounce.

She complied, adjusting herself before beginning to bounce up and down on your cock. The sight of your penis appearing and then disappearing back into her had you feeling like you were on cloud nine. With each slam of her hips, a large bulge appeared in her stomach from the sheer deepness that you achieved.

She kept going, resting her hands on your chest to give herself leverage. Her tanned skin had a sheet of sweat on it, creating a glossy look for her. Her hips grinded down into yours, causing you both to moan at the feeling.

“Damn babe….you look so good in my lap.” You praised, squeezing the fat of her ass, “So pretty and perfect.”

Tara moaned in response, rocking herself harder on top of you. She was chasing her high, clearly seeking the satisfaction of cumming. Your patient was wearing thin, and soon broke when her pace slowed slightly.

So you grabbed her by her hips, forcing her down onto your thickness before flipping you both over on the bed. Your hips pulled back before slamming into her, pounding away at a fast pace that had her losing her breath with each thrust.

Your head dipped down, mouth finding solace with sucking her nipple. Her hands clawed at you, your name being screamed as her walls clamped down tightly. She came with a loud cry, her back arching prettily while a gush of wetness covered your penis.

That didn’t stop you though, and you brought her straight into another orgasm as you finally found yours. Your hips drilled into her until you pushed yourself as deep as you could go, pumping and humping pathetically against her while you came.

“Fuck.” You breathed, letting Tara run her fingers through your hair, “That was…I…”

“Shhh.” She murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your face into her neck, “You still need that nap.”

“While I’m still inside of you?” You questioned, sleep crowding your senses as she scratched your scalp.

“Just go back to napping.” She cooed, teasingly squeezing you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You purred, giving her a sudden pump of your hips that made her squeal in surprise, before pushing her legs up onto your shoulders and pounding yourself back into her.

“Screw napping, I wanna fuck you.” You whispered into her ear while she screamed your name.

——————————

ye

[reticulating-splines]

WIP - West 70th

1880s-1910s row of Upper West Side townhomes.

Been working on this row of late 19th c. brownstones on and off for the past year now, so needless to say when I heard about For Rent I was hype.

Download Here

This initially started because I was homesick for NYC during the pandemic. Specifically for the area of the upper west side my dorm was in while I was a student. I mainly blame this experience for my obsession with historical architecture - walking along central park west past the Dakota on the way to the subway, smoking on the stoops of the brownstones late at night, going to classes in the wedding cake that is the Ansonia - it was just everywhere, and so, so beautiful to look at.

Except a lot of it is faded glory - buildings subdivided, details chipped or covered in the thickest coats of grime or paint. So I wanted to replicate some of the old New York from around the turn of the century. The one I read about in the Luxe series and saw in the Samantha movie lol.

The basement or garden level of each four-story brownstone will be dedicated to the original purpose as the main workplace of the service staff. Unfortunately no room for the actual garden, so laundry lines and planters are on the roof. There are bedrooms and bathrooms for a cook and a housekeeper/butler, along with the staff dining and the kitchen. The butler's pantry is directly upstairs from the kitchen, and the top floor is almost exclusively made up of staff bedrooms and washrooms.

I usually do the service areas first because they're the most interesting, and there was nothing more interesting than a full edwardian brownstone kitchen. Lots of exposed piping, beadboard, subway tile, and shelves of clutter. Has a separate scullery, pantry, and stairs down to a basement storeroom to keep your best champs-le-sims nectar in. There's also a servant's bellboard in the kitchen and the staff dining room. It along with the "boiler" system are made with tool and CC-free.

The main entrance and parlor are doing their best to continue the gothic revival theme of the exterior. The library and dining room follow in the enfilade starting in the parlor. Since this first house is a corner lot, it has a bit more width and space than a true brownstone. The only actual brownstone I've been inside of is Lady Mendl's, so ofc I had to have an extensive tea setup. Def took a lot of inspo from these two pics alone for these rooms.

The main stairwell and picture gallery lead to three large bedrooms on the second floor, and then up to the children's room and nanny's bedroom on the third floor. I really like skylights. I learned the importance of decent lightwells in staving off depression one semester when my window looked out onto a brick wall

The master bedroom and the children's room above it both have their own private sitting rooms and bathrooms. All rooms have either fireplaces or cast iron radiators.

There's no way this is going to be finished by the time For Rent comes out, so im just going to release it in whatever state it's in when it does come out. The exteriors and interior room layout for all the townhomes will (hopefully) most likely be set by then anyway.

Now available for download!

Also the anniversary of Chez Cromwell is coming up! Ive been gone for the better part of the year due to starting a new job, but I havent been idle. C.Cromwell has been updated for infants and ceilings, which led to me redoing the exterior and almost every room, so a rerelease is coming v soon! Sneak peek below. Happy Thanksgiving!

[the-fiction-witch]

Hopelessly

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SMUT

Requested :

Yess ty fiction which, I also have an idea so idk if u watched the show yet (u probably did) but the main girl lady belle, can u make it were y/n likes Jack and he likes us but y/n gets jealous and upset bc she thinks Jack likes lady belle and not us. It’s just a thought

I scampered my feet up the stairs of the hospital, My feet ached, my legs sore, and my lungs short of breath from the fact since first light I hadn't so much as sat down for more than a few seconds. But I was fueled by the power to lift four carriages and run from Port Victoria to Brisbane. I opened the door to the surgery theatre prep room where the tools, ties and other such items were laid out for the various surgeries. 

And there He stood.

Fixing up his sleeves as he was selecting between what blades he was to use today for the amputation. His dark brown shoes were caked with dusty dry dush dirt, and his brown trousers were patterned with a slightly darker brown plaid almost unnoticeable, his shirt typically white but dark around the sleeves from the constant blood it soaked in, his dark blue waistcoat done up tightly and the green tie around his neck in a double knot, His hair freshly fluffy in its usual style leaving me to assume he likely had a bath today, or yesterday night soon enough for his hair to still be that fluffiness. 

"The Medicine Doctor Dawkins," I smiled doing my best not to turn the colour of a bright poppy flower, my heart skipped a beat seeing him, my breath hitching, every ache or concern from the day work melted into the least of my concerns each one of them worth it for the mere sight of him. 

I had worked at the hospital as long as I could remember having taken over the role from my mother, I was technically a laundry and kitchen girl by definition but my role had changed since Doctor Dawkins arrived, we found quickly we had a mindset that worked similarly so often if he needed anything I'd be the one he would summon about it, and at this point I had all but become his scullery girl as well as all my other jobs around the hospital, but I didn't mind at all. Every moment with him was worth ten times the work I put in.

I was utterly, unequivocally, Hopelessly devoted to him. 

"Ahh." He perked up looking over to me a smile growing across his lips "There you are. I was wondering where my little nursey got herself off to." He chuckled cleaning his hands off, I blushed at his use of that name, his 'little nursey'. I wasn't a nurse of course but he had called me that as long as I remember but I didn't mind, I couldn't bear to stop him as my heart would flutter whenever I heard it. 

"Fetching the medicine, as you requested" I smiled taking it over to him 

"Thank you very much." He said taking the glass bottle from my hand his fingertips gracing my own as he did, taking the bottle and staring at diluting a dose for the patient, I merely stood beside him taking in the curves and valleys of his face, noticing my theory correct he must have had a bath this morning as I could smell his usually pine and eucalyptus soap as well as his familiar aftershave that I could only describe as addicting and heavenly. He glanced at me from his work his eyes flicking to me a moment "You have somewhere to be?"

"Ohh no, not really." I lied, I had a million jobs I could be rushing off to get on with but I wanted every single second I could get in this room alone with him,  

"Good. You can keep me company then." he smiled 

"You don't mind? I'll go if I'm any trouble." 

"No, you're no trouble nursey" He smiled "Could you fetch my apron for me?"

"Of course" I nodded rushing across the prep room to fetch it for him returning within a few small seconds 

"It's not a race you know. Take your time slow down" He chuckled slipping it on and quickly tieing it the way he liked it

"I just don't want to keep you waiting," I blushed 

"You are such a sweet little thing. Why can't all the nurses be like you." He said as his patient was brought into the theatre the crowd let into the stands to watch too "I'll see you later Nursey," he smiled taking my hand in his and giving my knuckles a sweet polite kiss before he headed out to the applause of the crowd. My body was utterly frozen as he had left me my heart beating out of my chest. My god I am a sinful girl. Unable to prevent my eyes from lingering. 

I stood in the prep room almost unable to move watching through the window as he worked, he moved almost in slow motion to me his every move being carefully chiselled on my mind, the sweetest sound playing in my mind drowning out the sound of the bloodthirsty crowd. Unable to prevent my smiles and my blush, I'm sure if surgeons had fan clubs I'd be at the head of his, I knew it was wrong but I couldn't help my devotion to him, praying mightily that he would one day see my unquestionable devotion and admiration, take me in his arms and make me his bride. But so far that had only been a wish, a several-year-long wish. I knew I was down badly, but I couldn't draw myself away, so much so he could tie me to the operating table and remove my arm without any painkillers, using a rusty blade and I would still thank him immensely. he could drag me by my hair though the graveyard and still I would only give him smiles, he could take my innocence and slap me across the arse and still I would be at my knees for him. Not that he would, I hope. 

"Y/n. Laundry." The head nurse Hetti snapped in my direction as she passed the door 

"Yes, Miss." I nodded quickly scampering out and down to the laundry room stopping short as I closed the door finally being alone again holding my hand tightly and pressing a kiss to my knuckle just where he had kissed hoping perhaps to get a taste of his lips. 

I finished for the day scrubbing at my body before slipping on my little nightie and climbing into my little bed, I took my book from the table and began to read the fantastical stories leaning my head against my pillow that sat vertically on my bed as if another body rested in it, so I rested my head there reading for a good hour or so before setting my book down and blowing out the candle, I turned over and wrapped my arms around the pillow resting my head as if I was hugging a body even wrapping my leg around it nuzzling my head into the soft cotton. 

"Ummmm..." I hummed "Goodnight Jack," I whispered giving my pillow a little kiss, and I closed my eyes tight my mind dreaming of his sweet voice whispering to me 'Goodnight my little nursey' before I drifted into my dreams.

When the sun came I woke early far earlier than I needed to be, but that was fairly normal. I stirred and shuffled in my sheets feeling the tension that had built between my legs from my sweet dreams, I glanced over my shoulder to my table to see my little clock knowing I had enough time for what my body so obviously wanted, I blushed hard giving my pillow a little kiss "Good morning" I cooed in a whisper rubbing my nose against the cotton, I adjusted myself a little moving my hand down to my thigh, tugging up my cotton nightie and slipping my hand under it meeting the heat between my legs I did gently stroke my skin but I knew quickly that already wasn't necessary, my fingers finding my already aching clit and rubbing little circles "Uhhh" I gasped quietly 

"Ummm good Morning my little nursey, aww whats this? you've been dreaming about me again?" he cooed between kisses down my neck "Well, I can hardly leave my little nursey like this can I?" his hands stroking over my body touching my most intimate places fondling my breasts, slapping my ass and replacing my hand with his own rough more callus fingers 

I slipped my fingers inside me using my index and ring fingers as they were longer and thus It made it more believable in my mind that they were his, "Uhhh! Jack!" I gasped as hushed as I could in the quiet morning light 

"Umm, what a good girl, say it again. tell them who you adore." He smirked mercilessly kissing me and touching me tugging on my nipple to harden it into his hand which he then plaid with 

"Uhh! Jack! please-" I gasped my other hand clutching my breast to rub and twist my nipple to match my fantasy to my pleasurable reality 

"You are so beautiful when you're like this for me. you're making me hard. My sweet little nursey going to take care of her doctor?" he encouraged "Come on, you know you want to?"

I blushed hard moving to sit up in bed and move my thighs to either side of the pillow, my hands still working hard 

"Ohhh that's perfect, You look so beautiful on top of me y/n. go on. you know I can't resist you like this." 

I moved my hand away and tightened my grip on the pillow with my thighs moving my hips back and forth grinding against my pillow riding it as if it really was him, the cotton and stuffing of the firm pillow rubbing against my clit each time I moved my hips "UUuuhh! Jack!" I gasped clamping a hand over my mouth to keep myself quiet knowing... the real Jack slept just on the other side of the wall in his own room and bed. 

"Ohh fuck- You are so beautiful. I wanna see you cum for me." He growled 

"Uhh uhhh" I whined quietly hearing my bedsprings begin to squeak as I sped up 

"Aww, what a good girl, My good little nursey. Come on let me see that body I love so much"

even if I was alone I tugged down my nightie to my waist exposing my bare breasts as I bounced and grinded  "Uhh Please jack..." I whined feeling close, playing with my breasts and nipples to give myself more pleasure and my wave hit suddenly my legs clamping on the pillow squirt flooding down my legs and onto my sheets and nightie, the wave of pleasure flooded from my head to the tips of my fingers and toes like a wave on the beach, "Uuuughhhhh!" I moaned luckily I put my hand there quickly to keep me quiet and as I reached such a high I heard a firm double knock on my bedroom wall just inches from me and I knew why. 

I blushed hard seeing the mess I had made and I fixed my nightie kissing my pillow before I climbed off, and made sure to tug my nightie down grabbing my cardigan and slipping it over my shoulders as I left my room going only a few inches down to the other door opening it without much of a concern finding myself inside his room. The room was littered with items his bed in the corner against the wall he shared with my own room, his servant man somewhere I didn't know, but Jack Laid in his bed still knotted with the sheets his head on the pillow clearly only a few moments into this world from his dreams, his hair a fluffy bedhead, his clothes littered the floor his bare skin exposed as the sheets only covered below his stomach. It was obvious he had woken up and knocked on the wall immediately as was typical most mornings. 

I blushed doing my best not to look like I was looking but, I was. trying to burn the image of him lying in his bed into my mind, I nervously adjusted my nightie just to make sure it covered me. 

"Good Morning Doctor Dawkins." I smiled as sweetly as I could 

"Morning Nursey" He yawns stretching his arm above his head 

"What can I do for you on this fine morning?"

"Can I trouble you for crumpet?" He asked 

"Of course No problem" I smiled pulling my hair into a ponytail and heading over to the small part of his room for cooking, taking what I would need from the cupboard, and starting up the stove to prepare him his breakfast "Did you sleep alright?"

"Fine, same as usual" He answered "You sleep alright?"

"Perfectly Pleasantly" I smiled as I worked 

"You alright y/n?" he asked I turned to see him and saw him giving me a strange look 

"What?" I asked 

"Nothing. Just heard your bedsprings a bit this morning."

Immediately I blushed hard but turned to focus on cooking to hide my blush "Ohh, Yes I uhh I spilt my water in my bed this morning it was a bit of a panic cleaning it up" 

"Fair enough" He nods "That's what's on your nightie then?" He asked and just the moment he said that I felt the wet patch on my nightie from... what I had done 

"Yes!" I blushed quickly turning so he couldn't see it 

"Alright. You want a hand drying your bed then?"

"No! thank you. It's alright Dr Dawkins." I blushed as I finished with his breakfast so I turned everything off and took the plate with his crumpet over to his bed he happily took it from the plate having a small bite 

"Umm perfect." He smiled before tapping on his bed so I blushed and sat down beside his knee as he ate 

"Your bed's far softer than mine" I smiled 

"I best be careful then, I might come back one night and see you've swapped out beds over" he joked "And I don't want your bed little nursey, those springs are so bad I hear every time you turn over"

"I shall try not to then."

"You don't have to do that" He chuckled as he finished his crumpet 

"If It would be better-" I began

"You'll really do anything I ask won't you?" he laughs 

"Of course" I blushed 

He gave me a funny look for a moment "Let your hair down?"

I blushed hard enough to turn my face red but I did as he asked me to letting my hair from the ponytail 

"Hold my hand?" 

My heart was racing out of my chest that after all these years something! was to happen between us! and I happily took his hand in mine, he gave it a soft squeeze and brought it to his lips to give my hand a gentlemanly kiss before setting my hand on the bed I was almost fainting from even that tiny amount of attention "Take your dress off?" 

"I- I uhhh" I stuttered but inside my mind 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! YES! YES! YES!' I was nervous but I didn't want to waste time moving my hands to the straps of my nightie and tugging them down, I pushed them down to my elbows about to expose my chest when he stopped me 

"Whoa! I was kidding" He laughs sitting up to stop me 

"Ohh" I gulped now utterly red with embarrassment at the fact I was literally two seconds from flashing him! 

"You really will do anything I ask," he chuckled as he softly fixed the straps on my nightie back into place "You're such a sweet little thing" he cooed giving my cheek a kiss "Go on don't let me keep you"

"Alright if you're sure, I'll see you later."

"I'll see you later my little nursey" He smiled laying back in his bed, I smiled my mind screaming at me utterly desperate to kiss him but I forced it away getting up and going back to my own room blushing so hard I had to jump on my bed and squeal into my pillow. 

I was puzzled, I had... finished my work for the day. Often I'd be working long into the night to get my work finished as I often would be rushing off on projects Dr Dawkins would send me off on but, I hadn't seen him all day, and that ached my heart badly. So I ran up to the main part of the hospital and immediately I saw him on his rounds in the ward. 

"Ohh Good Afternoon Doctor Dawkins," I smiled playing with my fingers 

"Ahh Hello Nursey" he smiled as he did some bandage work "Everything alright?"

"I was, just curious. I haven't heard from you today. Didn't you have any jobs for me?" 

"I know. Sorry been absolutely wall to wall today," he explained 

"That's alright, I just wanted to make sure everything was alright." 

"You're sweet." He smiled taking my hand and kissing my knuckles "Everything's fine. go on little Nursey" 

"Yes doctor," I smiled squeezing his hand in the moment before it slipped from mine, I went to go trying badly to hide my blush when I perked up 

"Doctor Dawkins!" A female voice spoke up, and I knew it wasn't Hetti or one of the other nurses I turned quickly and saw that girl. I had seen her a few times in the hospital but I didn't know much about her, but immediately I became like a territorial cat. 

"Oh it's you." he said "To what honour do you bestow us with your visit today then?" 

"The conditions are utterly deplorable! Every single thing in this hospital is disgusting I insist it be cleaned."

"You insist you do?"

"I do. You Laundry girl." She snapped at me "Have every last sheet scrubbed and washed properly immediately!" she demanded 

I was a little shocked not used to having my orders barked at me much less by whomever she was. 

"Give the sheets another wash before you head to bed y/n," He told me, and for a moment I was teary that he took her side so quickly 

"Yes, doctor." I nodded heading back down to the laundry to start again. 

I scampered through the hospital as usual now with even more work than this, woman. was insisting that she had been here every day so far and each day made my heart hurt a little more as she was now spending time alone with Dr Dawkins more than once I had gone into a room and found them alone talking together and it broke my heart each time I did. He had barely called for me at all spending all his time with Belle. I hadn't seen him anywhere around the hospital looking rather concerned as to where he had gone but I stopped short as I heard her voice coming from the morgue, I stopped and lingered at the top of the stairs listening I could hear her talking about... something not sure I couldn't make it out and my body froze as I could hear him. Two talking I tried desperately to listen but I couldn't make out their words I couldn't allow my mind to wander so I headed down the stairs and arrived at the morgue and instantly I felt like bursting into tears. 

He and Belle stood over a body, the room empty other than the two and the body, a scalpel in her hand, his own on her wrist guiding her to make the incision in the skin. They saw me arrive but didn't put a space between them, 

"Yes?" she glared 

"Ohh I uhh I was just looking for you Dr Dawkins," I said sheepishly 

"Oh, I don't have any jobs for you. You can go." He said 

"I- I see. Well you know where I am if you need me" I did my best to force a smile 

"I will do," he said before the two returned to their conversation "Ahh perfect just like that. Very good Milady."

Tears flooded my eyes to hear him call her that, and Immediately without a word, I knew I had been replaced. I wasn't his nursey anymore but she was his Lady, my heart utterly shattered so much my knees went weak and my breath staggered. 

"You alright?" He asked noticing I was still here

"Yes. Sorry Doctor." I answered unable to hold back my tears as I quickly turned and ran up the stairs, I bolted through the hospital reaching the store room shutting the door leaning my back against it. 

Tears flooded down my face, my breathing staggered and desperate between silent wails of pain, unable to control my emotions as my body sunk to the floor. 

After a while I managed to stop crying I think I was so dehydrated I couldn't make any more tears, literally cried out. I left the hospital and went to the cat and bagpipes throwing away all of my money on enough drink to drown my sorrows but nothing seemed to work. So Once I was out of money I staggered back so drunk my inhibitions were utterly void, my shyness gone, and I was ripe for the wicked as anyone who wanted to, rob, murder, or take any advantage of me would find me utterly drunk off my ass unable to even walk straight. I found my way to the hospital eventually and went up to my door but I was unable to stop looking at the door next to my own tears flooding down my face In my drunken state I forced it open slamming it shut behind me to see Jack stood just getting undressed for bed his shirt in hand, his wardrobe open having stopped short given I just burst through his door. 

"Uhh Hi y/n."

"You- You.... Imbolisle!" I slurred 

"What have I done?" He asked very confused about what was happening 

"You know what you did you absolute fudgewomble!"

"Fudge womble?" He laughed 

"You! You... CUNT!"

"Are you drunk?"

 "Don't change the subject!" 

"Y/n what on earth is the matter you've been strange all week," he said taking my hand and trying to bring me closer but I pulled my hand out of his 

"No! I'm not falling for it! No! I'm not doing this anymore! You! You utter monster! you carved open my heart! and left me to bleed! You keep me hanging on your little hand kisses and tiny touches for years! and no matter what I do, how hard I try you give me just enough to keep me hanging, enough to keep me your hopelessly devoted little slave girl!! and then here comes little miss fancy skirt and I'm as worthless as the shit on your shoes!"

"WHoa- whoa- okay." He said trying to calm me down "What's this about?"

"You know what it's about you cruel man!" I cried 

"Y/n Please I swear I don't know what you're talking about, please just sit down and calm down a little" He said gently guiding me to sit on his bed "Now just answer my questions okay, without insulting me if you can" He said holding my hands as he sat in the chair across from the bed "Are you drunk?"

"Yes."

"Why did you get drunk?"

"I thought it would make me stop crying," I said tears slipping down

"Why are you crying?" he asked caressing my cheek and wiping away my tear 

"Because I'm upset!"

"Alright, your upset." He nods "Please, tell me, Hey my little nursey. I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong."

In my drunken state, I said everything I had ever wanted to say to him tears flooding down my cheeks "I loved you."

"You what?" He asked 

"I loved you. Fully. I loved you from the moment I saw you jack, my every waking moment I think of you, you are the very last thought in my mind before I go to sleep and the first when I wake up in the morning, I have built my life around you, what time you wake up, how you like your breakfast, how fast you walk, I have spent my life pining after you, worshiping you, doing everything you have ever asked of me all in the hope that one day you may give me a glance, for even that is enough to spoil me beyond measure, I spend three hours every night catching up on work because I know I can't ever say no to you, my dreams are full of you, my pillow is named for you, and I have spent the last few years of my life with you, so utterly in love that I could never stop even if you asked it of me, I live for the moments we are alone, for the seconds of time that your hand is in mine, and my heart dwells on your kisses for hours, I even find myself kissing where you have just for a hope of a taste of you, your name is carved on my heart jack, I am and always have been hopelessly devoted to you in every possible way, and if you felt even half of what I do for you, you would not be so cruel as to hold her so close to you, to call her lovelingly when I am there. Please. I beg of you. Do not let me see it, for it rips my heart in two. and if you cared for me you would give me mercy and take me from this world rather than expect me to live in it without you." I explained through my tears "I will not stand in the way of your joy, but I cannot face seeing her where I have always desired to be" 

My words had frozen him but I saw tears well up in his eyes, he held my face and gently kissed me.

I wanted to be happy but I knew this was only meery pity. 

He pulled back his nose against my own "I have desired you to be in my arms since the first night I saw you, I have made myself utterly dependent on you, in every way, for in my heart I know I cannot fashion a life without you in it, you are everything to me, without you I am nothing but a shell of a man, you are the grace that keeps me grounded, the softness that reminds me of the sweetness of the world, you are the ray of sunshine first to peak though the storm of my life, without you, I am lost to the dark. you take care of me, you keep me right, and you make this life worth living, You are so needed that I can't go a single day without seeing you for if I do my heart feels weak and heavy. I adore you, I can't face this world without you by my side, you are... utterly incomparable to all else I have ever known."

"All but her."

"No. Please believe me." he begged "She could never fill the hole you would leave in my heart." he whispered, "I love you, hopelessly" 

"Why have you never told me?"

"I couldn't believe that a sweet thing like you, could love a monster like me."

"you're not a monster Jack."

"I am. I have treated you awfully. I swear to you she means nothing to me, I have made you long for the next life. I have broken your heart. and like choosing to step on the first fresh flower of spring, it is unforgivable." 

"But I saw you together." 

"I was teaching her. I had to show her but even still I got too close. And for that I am sorry."

"I heard you call her Milady,"

"she's the goveners daughter I have to" He giggled "It was in jest. not in love." 

"Well now I'm foolish for drinking away and coming here and-"

"I am so thankful you came here tonight." He whispered "Will you ever forgive me? for what I did."

"You're already forgiven" I smiled 

"Stay with me tonight."

"I-I can't"

"Please. I can't bear for you to go."

"I will stay Jack." I nodded unable to control my smile "For how long?"

"For forever." He whispered against my lips 

"for forever" I smiled kissing him with all the passion, all the love, all the utter hopeless devotion I had had for him since the first day I met him and he did the same not letting anything be held back the taste of salt in our kisses from our tears, "I love you jack, Hopelessly"

"I love you y/n hopelessly" He smiled "Come on we need to get some sleep, god knows the hangover you'll have tomorrow morning."

"Ohh noo" I whined

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you" He reassured kissing my head "I'll fetch your nightie" he smiled heading out and soon enough returning with my nightie from my bedroom, I smiled taking it and going to the corner to change but as I removed my dress I felt his arms around me and kisses on my shoulder 

"You shouldn't look." I said 

"I can't help it- you are even more beautiful than I had dreamed you were," he whispered 

"You had dreamed of me? without my dress?"

"Many times." He smiled wickedly "Did you dream of me? without my clothes?"

"I had."

"Come on nursey. Bedtime." He cooed going to his bed 

I finished getting changed and turned to see him in bed with a space for me I blushed but rushed over about to climb in but he stopped me 

"Water. or you will have a bad hangover."

"You know from experience?"

"I do. go on." He said 

I did as he asked drinking a nice glass of water and slowly I climbed in with him laying down with a giggle 

"What?"

"I'm used to cuddling my pillow."

"Me too. funny to think we laid cuddling our pillows with just a wall between us" he chuckled wrapping his arms around me to pull me closer so our noses were an inch from each other I giggled a little and set my hands on his chest

"We were rather foolish, spending our nights dreaming of each other"

"We were. But I don't need to dream of you in my arms any longer"

"me either." I smiled giving him a soft kiss before we both drifted away, I didn't dream I didn't need to, just the feeling of being in his arms was more of a dream than anything I could have imagined.

But I woke up alone, which for a moment shattered me believing it all to be a dream, my head aching "Ughhhh ow ow ow" I whined as I turned over 

"I know I'm coming-" His voice spoke up, I slowly opened my eyes and saw Jack standing cooking up some eggs and bacon half dressed no shirt but his pants with his suspenders left hanging 

"Ohh... Morning-" 

"Good morning." He smiled "You have a hangover?"

"Ummm humm" I nodded

"How bad?"

"Did you remove my brain last night?"

"No."

"Then I think it's bad."

"You were absolutely bloody plastered last night" 

"I was sad."

"I know, Am I to expect that often then?"

"No."

"Good," he smiled "Here we are my little nursey, best thing for a hangover" he smiled sitting the plate on the table by the bed and kissing my temple 

"I should get going..."

"Why?" he asks sitting on the bed with me 

"I figured you'd want me gone" I said sitting up even if it made my head feel like it was bleeding 

He smiled and gave my lips a sweet kiss "I thought you were staying here for forever?" 

“I take it there are gaps in the memory of last night?”

“I'm not completely sure where reality ends and my dreams begin”

“I can't blame you, I was stone-cold sober and I'm having a hard time separating my dreams from reality last night.” he chucked where do you think the line is?”

“I think I came here and insulted you then I dreamt the rest?”

“No, we were awake a while more than that”

“Ohh. So I did actually tell you -”

“You did.”

“And you told me-”

“I did.”

“Oh my-”

“It's hard because it felt so much like a dream” he smiled he stroked my cheek before he moved into a kiss our kiss was passionate and rather excited and I teared up to know all of it was real and that he loved me as much as I do. Our kiss got even more excitable as he began to push forcing me down in the bed but that sudden movement was enough to affect my hangover

“Owwwwww” I whined lying on the pillow

“Oh, right. Sorry” he chuckled “you're not working today, keep yourself here with me and get some rest”

“What about you? You need to work?”

“Sneed can handle it for one day” he smiled “Just till you're feeling better. I can't leave my little nursey all alone”

“Thank you, Jack”

“You're welcome” he smiled “and… you're really cute when you're jealous”

“I am?”

“Utterly adorable” he cooed “Now eat. Drink. And rest,” he says

“I will I promise”

“Good girl” he smiled moving clean against the wall and having his legs over mine I smiled moving so I could see him and he held my hand “I get why I hear your bedsprings all the time. You little one are a wiggler” he laughed “I tried to hold you close all night but you just kept wiggling away from me”

“Sorry”

“It's fine, I'll get used to you” he chuckled “Can I tell you a secret?”

“I'd like that”

“... There is a reason I'm always late, days you come do my breakfast.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I'm always late because I can't resist seeing you in your nightie.”

“Why does that make you late?’ I asked he smirked and simply glanced down to his trousers suggestively “oohhh-”

“Yeah. Especially the other day when you almost took your nightie off for me?”

“I did notice you were very late that day”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“I didn't question it.” I giggled at the thought of Jack lying in his bed taking care of himself because of me “Can I tell you a secret?’

“I'd like that”

“I didn't spill my drink that day”

“No?”

“No”

“So why was your nightie wet? And why was your bed squeaking so much?’

“The same reason you were late”

“Ooh- really?”

“Humm” I nodded

“So that morning before I knocked I sat listening to you?”

“Yes”

“Fuck-” he gasped “I thought I heard my name. Did you hear yours?”

“No, I was quick getting dressed’

“Shame. Maybe next time as well be in my bed together we can just, take care of each other” he smirked “Would you like that my little nursey?”

“I would very much”

“Good, you must move around a lot then because seriously your bed was boarder line constantly making noise”

“I was- I can't -”

“What no tell me.”

“I was riding my pillow”

“You what?’

‘you heard “

“Riding your pillow? As in pillow on the bed, you are on top?” He asked and I nodded “Imagining it was me?”

“Yes” I blushed hiding under the covers a little

“That's adorable” he smirked ‘and a coincidence”

“How?”

“After you left. I laid on my back imagining you riding me. Maybe our dreams are synchronizing” he smiled leaning down to give my lips a sweet kiss moving to look over me as we kissed till he pulled back a bit

“How did you do it?’

“Do what?’

“I was riding my pillow” I giggled innocently

“Oh, just my hand.” He shrugged “I always use my hand I don't have any things to ride on or use like that” he smirked moving a little so his knees were on either side of me “But if you show me, I'll be happy to show you too” he smirked kissing down my jaw and neck

“Uhhh! Jack!” I gasped as I felt his kisses grabbing his hair

“Uhhh- y/n!” He moaned back ripping the covers from my hands “ohh fuck-” he groans looking at me in my nightie

“Owww” I whined as his kisses made he throw back my head which hurt

“Well continue this later. When you feel better” he smiled giving my lips a kiss “That okay?”

“Okay Jack” I smiled giving him a. Kiss “I love you”

“I love you too” 

[angryschnauzer]

On Your Knees

Summary: As general maid for 221 Baker Street, you assist most of the residents. However on one quiet night when most of them are out, only one resident returns to his home... a little worse for wear. He thanks you in the easiest way possible.

Fandoms: Enola Holmes 2, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, NSFW, Drunk Sherlock, Oral Sex (Female Receiving).

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Wordcount: 1854

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

On Your Knees

The cold wind rattled the fragile glass in the frame, a chill advancing into your room even further as the dark night continued. The building of 221 Baker Street was colder than usual, most of the apartments empty for the night due to various parties and festive events happening this time of year meaning the tenants wouldn’t be back until the morning. 

As the scullery maid of 221 Baker Street you were in and out most of the apartments each day, tending to the fireplaces and delivering meals if required. The housekeeper who supervised you telling you where to go and what to do wasn’t around either, though her instruction was rarely needed anymore, you knew the routines of all of the tenants and could read the calendar hung in the kitchen showing who was home and who wasn’t.

At that moment the wind rushed against the window again and you pulled your dressing gown further around your body, shivering beneath your quilt. Glancing at your own laundry you’d hand washed that evening, your bloomers hung on the wooden airer where the chimney breast rose through the building. With every pair you owned doing little to dry in the cold attic room, you cursed your schedule for not giving you time to do it earlier in the day when the sun had been coming through the window. Now you just had your thin nightgown and woollen stockings to keep you warm beneath your dressing gown.

You were drawn from your thoughts by the sound of movement in the hallway far below your room. Freezing you wracked your brain to try to remember if any of the tenants were due back tonight, but none were. Through the eerie quiet of the house there was another bump and a quiet curse. You reached for the large floor brush that still sat beside the door to your room with its dustpan, lifting the brush as a weapon as you opened the door and carefully stepped out onto the old floorboards to peer down through the stairwell. Clinging to your brush you leant forwards over the bannister and peered through the darkness, a single lamp in the hall four floors down barely illuminating the entryway before you suddenly saw a shadow move. Letting out a small gasp you clamped your hand over your mouth as you watched, but that tension evaporated when you recognised the wide shoulders and curly dark hair of the tenant in apartment B;

“Detective Holmes!” you called out, the figure below swivelling rapidly before spinning and looking up.

“Ah. There you are…” a soft hiccup followed as he swayed on his feet.

“I’ll be right down Sir”

Just last week Mr Holmes’ sister helped him into his apartment having had too many drinks at the pub, and it would seem he’d done the same again tonight. Padding on stocking clad feet you descended the stairs quickly, soon arriving in the hallway as Mr Holmes swayed a little on his feet;

“Can i help you to your apartment Sir?”

“Oh that would be *hiccup* wonderful Darling”

Hooking your arm around his back and pulling his own arm over your shoulders, you started to help him up the stairs one at a time, before arriving at his apartment. 

“I have a… I have my… dammit” Mr Holmes cursed as he fumbled for his key, and as you glanced down you could see that the bunch of keys in his pocket had caught on the fabric and were stuck. Without even thinking you batted his hand away and slid your much smaller hand into his pocket, moving the keys around until they were no longer snagged on the fabric. You tried not to think of the heat radiating from Mr Holmes thigh, barely separated from your touch by a thin layer of cotton, nor the firm muscle beneath the fabric that flexed as your delicate fingers brushed against it. He answered your silent thoughts with a grunt, before you pulled the keys out and unlocked the door, all whilst he had his arm around your shoulder.

His body was firm and heavy, a welcome weight against your cold frame, and as he swayed you did so too, before he finally pulled his arm free of your shoulders and started to shuck off his coat and scarf, struggling as he went about the task.

“Mr Holmes, Sir, please let me help…”

He swung around, shrugging his shoulders, his coat now held on his arms around his elbows, his wide shoulders only accentuated by the white shirt and silk waistcoat that clung to his torso. Whilst distracted you didn’t spot his flailing, one stray arm of his coat socking you around the chin, and although not hurting you, caught you by surprise and knocked you back where you lost your footing and fell on your bottom. 

“Ta-da! Done it!” he proclaimed proudly, before spinning around; “Where did you…?”

Climbing to your feet you took the bundle of coat from the floor;

“Ah, there you are Darling, didn’t get you did i?”

“Just a little Mr Holmes. Let me hang this up for you”

As you hung the coat onto the hook near the door you heard a gasp and a soft thud, turning to see Sherlock on his knees before you;

“Mr Holmes!”

“My Darling, i am so sorry, so very very sorry”

He had big puppy dog eyes as he looked up at you, his drunken state obviously accentuating his normally muted emotions; I should have been more careful… a heinous crime I have committed to sock a young lady around with my coat, please… please forgive me…”

You tried very hard not to laugh, for this was so far removed from what Mr Holmes was like normally, but also it stirred something within you, to see this big man on his knees before you, his face mere inches from your stomach. 

“Please Darling…” He edged closer, wrapping his arms around your bottom and pressed his cheek to your stomach; “Please forgive me…”

At first you were frozen with fear, this was not only completely out of character for Mr Holmes, but wholly inappropriate, but the long days and lack of sleep perhaps clouded your judgement and you cautiously rested your hand on the top of his head;

“It’s… it’s ok Mr Homes, Sir”

He turned his head and peered up at you;

“Let me make it up to you”

You could only watch in shock as he moved his hands to rest them on your stocking clad ankles, before he started to inch those warm palms up your legs. When he reached your knees his fingertips rubbed soft circles against the backs of your thighs, your nightgown bunching at his wrists. For the whole time you kept eye contact, unable to draw your gaze away until his fingertips reached the top of your woollen stockings and he let out a small grunt of appreciation. He ducked his head forwards and pressed a single kiss to the skin just above the tied ribbons that secured the stockings in place.

“You smell divine” he muttered softly, inhaling deeply before he bunched your nightgown up in one hand and pressed his nose to the apex of your thighs.

“Oh! Sir!”

He pressed a kiss to your soft mound, before his fingers stroked softly along your seam. Never breaking eye contact he lifted one leg over his shoulder, opening you up like a spring blossom. A warm puff of breath warmed your skin before he leant forwards and his tongue found your silken pearl. If it wasn’t for his firm shoulder your leg was hooked over you would have damn near fallen to the floor, you did lose your footing a little, your back falling to rest against the door behind you and your hands found their way to his dark curls. 

The slight tug on his hair seemed to spur him on, his wicked tongue parting your folds, and the appreciative murmur that came from his muffled lips only excited you more. Sherlock knew exactly what to do, and you can’t believe you had never even considered that this fine specimen of a man would be skilled in the art of lovemaking, but because of his cold demeanour it just hadn’t been something you’d thought of. 

You tried to concentrate on the look of bliss on his face, but the way his long tongue was pushing at your secret canal, his nose rubbing against your pearl, it was almost too distracting. Your head slowly fell back until it rested on the wooden door behind you, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure grew in the pit of your belly. It was only when he moved a little, his lips finding your pearl again and he slid a thick finger into your tight channel did your eyes spring open;

“Oh lord!”

A quiet chuckle came from between your thighs, looking down to see the mischief in his eyes and he winked at you just as he slid a second finger in alongside the first. He crooked them just so as he moved them slowly but firmly, stroking at your velveteen walls, his lips and tongue increasing their efforts until you felt a surge of pleasure, a white hot fire bursting forth from your core and you climaxed with a loud cry of his name;

“Sherlock!”

As your body trembled he slowed his fingers, before pulling them free and holding them up to the faint candle light, inspecting the stickiness on them with a learned curiosity, before he sucked them both clean. He looked up at you as you trembled above him, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and he went to rock back onto his feet, but unfortunately losing his footing and topping back onto his behind;

“Oouf!”

As your nightdress fell back around your ankles and on unsteady legs you rushed forwards to help him to his feet, his eyes a little glazed from his drunkenness. He was like a lead weight, swaying on his feet until you managed to half carry half drag him to the chaise lounge and unceremoniously drop him on the soft cushion, watching as he twisted his body until he was on his back;

“What was i saying? I’m sure i should have thanked you for something…” he was already nodding off to sleep, oblivious to the rich smell of your sex now hanging in the room. 

You let out a sigh before turning and to the quiet background noise of his snores you lit a fire in the hearth to warm the room. Making sure a heavy yew log was placed in the centre of the grate to ensure a long slow burn, you set the fireguard in place. Spotting his long blue dressing gown hanging over a chair, you carefully laid it over his sleeping form, and with one last glance back at him you exited the apartment. At least with the fire in his apartment now going a sliver of warmth would seep into your room that cold night.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Gorgeous 1978 home in Zephyr Cove, Nevada looks more like a castle than other castle homes. 5bds, 4ba, $7.250M.

There is a foyer before you enter the main hall. I would've liked to a a more dramatic higher ceiling

As you go farther inside, there is an open area where you can look straight up through several floors.

Love the rich dark wood and I wish they would've shown more of the beautiful fireplace.

Off to the side they have some games.

In the open family room/kitchen area you can see the mezzanine above.

The kitchen consists of 3 parts. This main area has a fireplace.

The next room is like a modern scullery. The cabinets are modern black in this room and I love the colored glass above the sink.

And, this large room is the pantry.

Right outside the kitchen is the dining room.

The primary bedroom is incredible. Look at the size of it, alone. Then there's the high ceiling and the large carved fireplace.

The walk-in closet/dressing room also has a laundry area.

Incredible marble en-suite even has a fireplace.

The mezzanine outside the primary bedroom has a little table and a curved display shelf.

The other bedrooms are very nice, also.

They have beautiful en-suites and fireplaces.

This one has a double-side fireplace with a tub on the other side.

There's a full kitchen up here, too.

In the basement is a large wine cellar.

And, up on the roof is this wonderful deck.

Complete with a big hot tub. The home is on Lake Tahoe and has a great view of it.

[octuscle]

Business Trip (Day two)

Shit, it's after 10:00 when I wake up in my hotel room. Naked on the bed. My, or rather Liam's, clothes strewn across the floor. My bed crusted with cum. Filled condoms on the floor. Shit, my head is going to explode. What the fuck happened last night. And where's my mobile phone?

I call my client from the landline phone in the hotel room. I call in sick. Terrible migraine. Of course I'll be back in the morning. Yes, of course I'm staying until Friday under the circumstances and not leaving on Thursday as planned. Yes, I'm inconsolable. The chambermaid knocks. I open the door and hang the "Do not disturb" sign on the door. Naked. And I go back to bed.

At 6.00 pm I'm freshly showered and in my spare suit at Liam's snack bar. His clothes are in a laundry bag from the hotel. The only thing I'm still wearing of Liam's are his worn-out trainers. I didn't pack a change of shoes for a four-day appointment.The snack bar is busy. He grins at me and asks me to either wait or come back in an hour. However, it would be totally sick if I could help him in the kitchen. He can't keep up with washing the dishes. I grin and say that I mustn't ruin my last suit. He laughs and asks what happened to my clothes from yesterday. I hold up the bag. Come on, what are you waiting for, get changed and then I'll quickly show you how the dishwasher works, he calls out to me. My jeans are still damp from my urine. And only now do I realise that I didn't pick up my T-shirt from yesterday but Liam's vest from the floor. Shit, I'd like to know what else happened yesterday. Liam comes into the kitchen, hands me two long rubber gloves, a hairnet and gives me a quick briefing on the industrial dishwasher. He gives me a deep French kiss and hurries back to the cookery counter. Damn, the urine in my jeans is now joined by more precum.

The mountain of dirty dishes is slowly getting smaller. I'm sweating like a pig in the heat of the scullery. But I'm starting to find my way round. Liam calls out to me to clear and wipe the tables. I don't even think anymore, I act. The small dining room in the snack bar is packed with guests. It stinks of sweat, beer and frying fat. I walk around between the guests with the plastic basket from the dishwasher and collect glasses, bottles and plates. Suddenly I feel a strong grip on my crotch. A greasy bloke, long-distance lorry driver type, looks at me lustfully. "Oh, not just a fuck-whore, but also a dishwashing slave," he says. He slips me five pounds and says that he still owes me that for the hot blowjob. I have no idea what the truck driver was talking about. But I take the five pounds. Liam shouts that he needs fresh plates. I grab the basket of dirty dishes and hurry towards the scullery.

When I get there, I slip on some grease on the floor and the basket tips over and spills all over me. Now I'm covered in the food left behind by the people. The grease drips off me. Everyone is laughing and shouting 'take your filthy clothes off, boy' and I'm standing in the middle of the café covered in slime. I have no choice but to take my clothes off. But as I do so, I remember that I'm still wearing Liam's dirty, cum-stained jock…. Liam snaps at me that I'm really useless. He tells me to go to the social room at the back. There are clothes hanging there that I can wear. The clothes look like the rubber gear of an abattoir worker. There were big black boots, some waterproof trousers and a thick rubber apron. No top to wear underneath though. I stand there wearing only Liam's dirty jockstrap and slowly get into the outfit. It feels very strange to be dressed like this in a cafe. I have the strange feeling that I'm being watched…. I didn't notice the camera in the room. There's no time for that. After Liam gets really angry, I hurry to clean up the mess of my mishap and then get on with the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Sweat is pouring down my forehead and all over my body.

I swear the heating has been turned up because it's like an oven in here now. Dirty plates are piling up and I am struggling to keep up with the workload. Liam laughs and says if I don't get my shit sorted he'll have to discipline me later. He's smiling when he says it, but there's something in his tone that makes me think he's deadly serious. When I'm more or less finished with the dishes, I go back to the dining room to clear the tables. The clock tells me it's now 22:00. I've been slaving away for four hours. Only two guests are left. The sign on the door had been changed to 'closed' and the two remaining guests were both elderly men. They looked at me expectantly as I came in from the kitchen. "We've been waiting for you, son," one of them said. Then they both got up from their chairs…

Liam is cleaning the counter. "I told you that you deserved to be chastised," he says. "When you made that mess, you got the two guests' shoes dirty. You should apologize." I say I'm sorry and collect the last of the dirty glasses. "Shit, Boi! That's not an apology. It won't get your boots clean either." I ask for a rag. One of the two guests grins and says, "What do you need it for? He sits down and puts one of the boots on another chair. "You've got a healthy tongue, Boi. Let's go!" I'm wearing rubber clothes, I'm sweaty, I'm wearing a hairnet… And the two old guys look really hot. I get down on my knees. I'm a slut. And sluts lick other guys' boots clean. While I lick the boots of one guest, the other one wanks. Occasionally I get distracted from my job for a moment and lick his cock. I have a colossal boner in my butcher's pants. Sweat and precum have made my or Liam's jockstrap soaking wet. I'm almost done with the second boot when the other guy grabs my chin and turns it towards his cock. I don't react fast enough to swallow. And his full load of cum smacks me in the face. Liam takes photos.

It's just after midnight when Liam and I step out of the snack bar. Liam has stuffed my suit into a plastic bag. He lights a cigarette. I ask him if I can have one too. I haven't had a single cigarette all day. He hands me tobacco and a leaf. I look at him questioningly? "Roll your own, saves money." And he gives me 20 pounds. "Your wages for tonight." The two old guys gave him 200 pounds each for licking their boots.

[brightlybound]

“i should still hate you. why can’t I hate you?” for hinny as a prompt please?? :)))

Just angst this time. 😇 Read here or below.

The Coop

Mum is not well enough to assign chores, so Ginny selects some on her own. 

She must stay busy, mindless, if not she will go mad.

The first day back at The Burrow, Ginny has to accustom herself to bare walls, an empty living room, the smell of something burnt lingering in the air. She opens the windows wide, makes up the new beds, avoids Fred and George’s old room like the plague. Fleur takes charge of the visitors and the hoards of prepared meals they bring along, and they eat dinner on uncomfortable, conjured furniture, no happiness in magic anymore, no satisfaction of a cushioned seat.

On the second day back, Bill brings home a second-hand dining table with matching chairs, and he sands it all down with a wave of his wand, erasing scrapes marks and mending water rings with ease. Ginny occupies her spare time with staining it all by hand. The mechanical movements thankfully blur her brain, blur time, and when she’s finished, there's dinner, Dreamless Sleep Draught, and bed again.

Three days back now, and she keeps her ears pricked for a voice she longs to hear. After her heart has risen with anticipation and fallen from disappointment a good dozen times, she steers clear of the fireside and locks herself in her room.

It is on the seventh day that she finds Mum sitting at the dining table laden heavily with breakfast dishes. The dirty clothes Ginny had bunched up and left in baskets by the scullery last night are empty, the sound of the washing cauldrons is something of a dull roar in the room.

“It’s six in the morning,” is Ginny’s greeting.

Mum smiles over at her, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “And you’re dressed for the day.”

“I was going to start breakfast. And laundry.”

What will I do now?

The thought of Death pounds away at her head almost immediately, and perhaps Mum sees the flicker of panic in her eyes…

“Your father is purchasing chickens today.”

Death retreats, but only just, a lingering presence she is all too familiar with.

“Chickens?” she asks dumbly.

Mum nods, offers, “You could muck out the coop.”

That would take hours without a wand.

It was perfect.

After helping herself to a stack of toast and bacon, Ginny heads outside in Percy’s old jean shorts, Ron’s ratty Martin Miggs shirt, and her filthiest pair of trainers. Sweat immediately soaks through her bra upon beginning the hard, disgusting work, yet she’s practically gleeful as she rakes out old hay and droppings, scrubs the little platform down with a brush and rag so thoroughly that it looks virtually unused. And there are still weeds to pull! Grass to trim! Her head is blissfully empty, thank god.

It is after she surveys her work, sees a loose board near the roof of the coop, and climbs in to fix it that it happens: a sudden crack of apparition, close enough to be in the wards. Ginny starts, banging her head on the overhead rafters, and peeks out through the unfastened bit of paneling. With a sharp breath, she pulls away, heart hammering in her chest.

Harry’s here.

She is debating on whether or not to hide in the enclosure until he leaves, escape in favor of another hiding spot, or march into the house and demand to know where he’s been, when she notices movement from her spyhole and sees him again, striding out of The Burrow almost as soon as he’d entered, peering over at the coop quizzically.

Her mother has divulged her location. Bugger it all.

“Ginny?” he calls when he’s only feet away. “Are you… er, are you in there?”

She rubs at her sore head with the heel of her hand and looks down at herself miserably. There was nothing for it.

Grudgingly, she responds, “Yeah. I’ll be right out.”

Wiping the perspiration from her face with the collar of her shirt and wringing her grubby fingers in its hem, Ginny tightens the extra fabric in a little knot at her waist and takes another breath of stale air. She ducks awkwardly out of the hutch and hops down to face him.

She shields her eyes from the sun to squint openly at him. He’s shaved, perhaps yesterday, judging by the amount of stubble around his jaw, and his hair has been trimmed up a few inches, shorter than the style he’d worn when he was fourteen, but longer than subsequent years. His skin is still bordering sickly pale, his cheeks hollow, and the brand-new Auror robes he wears hang somewhat loosely off his shoulders. Her gaze lingers over the straps and brass buckles pulling across his chest.

“Hey,” he says finally.

She waits, not wanting to make this too easy. It’s been a week since Fred’s funeral, a week since she laid eyes on him last. A week too bloody long.

“How are you?”

When she doesn’t answer, Harry blanches.

“Right. Right, um… Ron and Hermione just left. For Australia.”

“Yes, I know. They stopped by last night to tell us.” It takes everything not to hex him, so she asks him instead, hoping to get a rise out of him, “Are you bored?” 

His eyebrows furrow. “Bored?” 

“That’s why you came by, isn’t it? Because you’re bored?” There’s a real bite to her words, bitterness and anger shaking her voice. “Finally remembered I’m here?”

He struggles for a moment, the very picture of surprised, then says, “This is the first spare moment I’ve gotten since—”

“This is different, you know. You can’t just—” She’d be lucky if she makes any sense. She suddenly can’t string two thoughts together. “Everything is different now. I should still hate you.”

He'd left her, left her, could have been out of her life forever, willingly walked into the Black Forest and left her. Yet somehow, he was here, alive and still, still, there’s not enough time for them. She came second every time, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it.

And god, god, why did it even matter? 

Fred was dead.

Ginny’s head spins, and she leans back against the chicken coop for support. “Why can’t I hate you?”

Harry is looking down at his feet, then raises his eyes to scan over the fields of green. His tone is low, quiet, when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Ginny exhales roughly through her nose, exhaustion settling over her like a weighted blanket. She shuts her burning eyes so Harry does not see.

“I’m tired." She hates the way her voice is pitched high and broken. “I’m so fucking tired.”

His hand is gentle, gripping her wrist and pulling her against him. She folds into him and cries.

[anamazingangie]

The Women Surrounding a Medieval Queen

This goes through the different types of maids that would serve a Queen, as well as the different duties and function of companions or lady's in waiting

This is something i've had in docs as a personal reference forever. I'm putting it here so I can link it on discord, but please note NONE of this information is my own, it has all been collected from a dozen+ wikipedia pages.

Overview of Maid Types:

Maids traditionally have a fixed position in the hierarchy of the large households, and although there is overlap between definitions (dependent on the size of the household) the positions themselves would typically be rigidly adhered to. The usual classifications of maid in a large household are:

Lady's maid: a senior servant who reported directly to the lady of the house, but ranked beneath the housekeeper, and accompanied her lady on travel. She took care of her mistress's clothes and hair, and sometimes served as confidante. .

House-maid or housemaid: a generic term for maids whose function was chiefly "above stairs", and were usually a little older, and better paid. Where a household included multiple housemaids, the roles were often subdivided as below. .

Head house-maid: the senior house maid, reporting to the housekeeper. (Also called "house parlour maid" in an establishment with only one or two upstairs maids). .

Parlour maid: they cleaned and tidied reception rooms and living areas by morning, and often served refreshments at afternoon tea, and sometimes also dinner. They tidied studies and libraries, and (with footmen) answered bells calling for service. .

Chamber maid: they cleaned and maintained the bedrooms, ensured fires were lit in fireplaces, and supplied hot water. .

Laundry maid: they maintained bedding and towels. They also washed, dried, and ironed clothes for the whole household, including the servants. .

Under house parlour maid: the general deputy to the house parlour maid in a small establishment which had only two upstairs maids. .

Nursery maid: also an "upstairs maid", but one who worked in the children's nursery, maintaining fires, cleanliness, and good order. Reported to the nanny rather than the housekeeper. The nursemaid would often stay with one family for years or as long as their services were needed.  .

Kitchen maid: a "below stairs" maid who reported to the cook, and assisted in running the kitchens.

Head kitchen maid: where multiple kitchen maids were employed, the "head kitchen maid" was effectively a deputy to the cook, engaged largely in the plainer and simpler cooking (sometimes cooking the servants' meals). .

Under kitchen maid: where multiple kitchen maids were employed, these were the staff who prepared vegetables, peeled potatoes, and assisted in presentation of finished cooking for serving. .

Scullery maid: the lowest grade of "below stairs" maid, reporting to the cook, the scullery maids were responsible for washing cutlery, crockery, and glassware, and scrubbing kitchen floors, as well as monitoring ovens while kitchen maids ate their own supper. .

Between maid, sometimes known as a "tweeny": roughly equivalent in status to scullery maids, and often paid less, between maids in a large household waited on the senior servants (butler, housekeeper, and cook) and were therefore answerable to all three department heads, often leading to friction in their employment. .

Still room maid: a junior maid employed in the still room; as the work involved the supply of alcohol, cosmetics, medicines, and cooking ingredients across all departments of the house, the still room maids were part of the "between staff", jointly answerable to all three department heads.

A Closer Look

A lady's companion was a woman of genteel birth who lived with a woman of rank or wealth as retainer. Where ladies-in-waiting were usually women from the most privileged backgrounds who took the position for the prestige of associating with royalty, or for the enhanced marriage prospects available to those who spent time at court, a lady's companions usually took up their occupation because they needed to earn a living and have somewhere to live. A companion is not to be confused with lady's maid.

Like a governess, a lady's companion was not regarded as a servant, but neither was she really treated as an equal; however her position in the household of her employer was notably less awkward and solitary than that of a governess. Only women from a class background similar to or only a little below that of their employer would be considered for the position.

The companion's role was to spend her time with her employer, providing company and conversation, to help her to entertain guests and often to accompany her to social events. In return she would be given a room in the family's part of the house, rather than the servants' quarters; all of her meals would be provided, and she would eat with her employer; and she would be paid a small salary, which would be called an "allowance" – never "wages".

She would not be expected to perform any domestic duties which her employer might not carry out herself, in other words little other than giving directions to servants, fancy sewing and pouring tea. Thus the role was not very different from that of an adult relation in respect of the lady of a household, except for the essential subservience resulting from financial dependency. Lady's companions were employed because upper- and middle-class women spent most of their time at home. A lady's companion might be taken on by an unmarried woman living on her own, by a widow, a married woman who lived with her husband and sons but had no daughters and desired female company, or by an unmarried woman who was living with her father or another male relation but had lost her mother, and was too old to have a governess.

In the last case the companion would also act as a chaperone; at the time, it would not have been socially acceptable for a young lady to receive male visitors without either a male relation or an older lady present (a female servant would not have sufficed).

A lady's maid is a female personal attendant who waits on her female employer. The role of a lady's maid is similar to that of a gentleman's valet.

Traditionally, the lady's maid was not as high-ranking as a lady's companion, who was a retainer rather than a servant, but the rewards included room and board, travel and somewhat improved social status. In the servants' hall, a lady's maid took precedence akin to that of her mistress.

In Britain, a lady's maid would be addressed by her surname by her employer, while she was addressed as "Miss" by junior servants or when visiting another servants' hall.

A lady's maid's specific duties included helping her mistress with her appearance, including make-up, hairdressing, clothing, jewellery, and shoes.

A lady's maid would also remove stains from clothing; sew, mend, and alter garments as needed; bring her mistress breakfast in her room; and draw her mistress's bath. However, she would not be expected to dust and clean every small item, as that would be the job of a housemaid.

A maid, housemaid, or maidservant were once part of an elaborate hierarchy in great houses, where the retinue of servants stretched up to the housekeeper and butler, responsible for female and male employees respectively. The word "maid" itself means an unmarried young woman or virgin. Domestic workers, particularly those low in the hierarchy, such as maids and footmen, were expected to remain unmarried while in service

"What the fuck is a lady in waiting, then?"

A lady-in-waiting is a female personal assistant at a court, attending on a royal woman or a high-ranking noblewoman. Historically, in Europe, a lady-in-waiting was often a noblewoman but of lower rank A lady-in-waiting was considered more of a secretary, courtier, or companion to her mistress than a servant.

In some other parts of the world, the lady-in-waiting, often referred to as palace woman, was in practice a servant or a slave rather than a high-ranking woman though they had the same duties. In courts where polygamy was practised, a court lady was formally available to the monarch for sexual services, and she could become his wife, consort, courtesan, or concubine.

The duties of ladies-in-waiting at the Tudor court were to act as companions for the queen, both in public and in private. They had to accompany her wherever she went, to entertain her with music, dance or singing and to dress, bathe and help her use the toilet, since a royal person, by the standards of the day, was not supposed to do anything for herself, but was always to be waited upon in all daily tasks as a sign of their status.

Other functions historically discharged by ladies-in-waiting included proficiency in the etiquette, languages, dances, horse riding, music making, and painting prevalent at court; keeping her mistress abreast of activities and personages at court; care of the rooms and wardrobe of her mistress; secretarial tasks; supervision of servants, budget and purchases; reading correspondence to her mistress and writing on her behalf; and discreetly relaying messages upon command.

Ladies-in-waiting were appointed because of their social status as members of the nobility, on the recommendation of court officials, or other prominent citizens, and because they were expected to be supporters of the royal family due to their own family relationships. When the queen was not a foreigner, her own relations were often appointed as they were presumed to be trustworthy and loyal.

The ladies-in-waiting were headed by the mistress of the robes, followed in rank by the first lady of the bedchamber, who supervised the group of ladies of the bedchamber (typically wives or widows of peers above the rank of earl), in turn followed by the group of women of the bedchamber (usually the daughters of peers) and finally the group of maids of honour.

Ok here is where it gets confusing

First Lady of the Bedchamber is the title of the highest of the ladies of the bedchamber, those holding the official position of personal attendants on a queen or princess. The position is traditionally held by a female member of a noble family.

Lady of the Bedchamber is the title of a lady-in-waiting holding the official position of personal attendant on a British queen regnant or queen consort. 

The Maid of the Bedchamber was an office of high status selected from nobility. She had often been a maid of honour before she was promoted, because of birth or royal favor. Her tasks were essentially the same as the tasks of the maids of honour, though they were of higher status. 

A maid of honour is a junior attendant of a queen in royal households. 

The position was and is junior to the lady-in-waiting. 

Traditionally, a queen regnant had eight maids of honour, while a queen consort had four; Queen Anne Boleyn, however, had over 60.

A maid of honour was a maiden, meaning that she had never been married (and therefore was ostensibly a virgin), and was usually young and a member of the nobility. 

The mistress of the robes was the senior lady in the household who would, by appointment, attend on the Queen (whether queen regnant or a queen consort). Queens dowager retained their own mistresses of the robes. (In the 18th century Princesses of Wales had one too).

Initially responsible for the queen's clothes and jewellery (as the name implies), the post-holder latterly had the responsibility for arranging the rota of attendance of the ladies-in-waiting on the queen, being in attendance herself on more formal occasions, and undertaking duties at state ceremonies.  During the 17th and 18th centuries, this role often overlapped with or was replaced as first lady of the bedchamber. In modern times, the mistress of the robes was almost always a duchess.

A brief overview of a medieval household and the male/king's equivalents.

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Ten

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Ten: Laundry — Washer and Dryers

Washing Machine

1920s ad for a Thor brand washing machine. One of the first electric washing machines. Note the exposed motor underneath that could shock users when wet. (Imagine Steve associating Thor with washing machines 😆).

Laundry machines have a long history. The first washing machines were invented in the late 1800s. There were mechanical, hand powered machines, consisting of drums full of water and handles to agitate the laundry and turn the rollers to squeeze water from washed clothes.

However, these devices were most common in middle class families. Poor families who could not afford the machines and rich families who did not have to worry about the labour of laundry likely did not have these machines.

Laundry was a laborious task and families who could afford it had hired help to do their laundry or they sent out their laundry to be cleaned and returned.

Here is an account of laundry days in the 1920s for a family who had a scullery. They used a 'washing copper' tub that was built into the floor and had a space for a fire underneath. It is interesting how it describes typical washing without a washing machine, but Steve and Sarah likely lived in a tenement apartment building and did not have these facilities available to them.

We will get into what Sarah probably did when Steve was growing up. But one last laundry innovation to talk about in the 20s was the electric washer. The first electrical washer appeared in the US before the first World War thanks to the invention of the small electric motor (Link).

This blog page gives a good overview of how a domestic electric washing machine worked in 1927. The metal drum was manually filled with water (if you didn't have a hose, lifting and pouring water into the drum was your fate). Pre-prepared soap was added then pre-soaked clothes could be washed. The machines could handle about ten pounds, so clothes had to be regularly transferred in and out. After the wash, clothes were wrung out and put in scalding rinse water to remove soap. Clothes were then wrung out again (maybe rinsed a few more times), starched, and hung to dry. Some families had heated dryer cupboards to hang their clothes.

Domestic washing machines inside the home were not common before the 50s. They were growing in popularity in the 30s, but I doubt Steve every used any type of washing machine in his own home. Depending on how well off you feel the Barneses were they may have had one, but I still feel this wasn't very likely.

In 1920 only 8% of US families owned a washing machine. And by 1941 "only 52% of U.S. families owned or had interior access to an electric washing machine—almost half of families were still hand rubbing or hand cranking laundry or using commercial services" (Link).

Tenement Laundry Days

Reproduction of 1928-1935 tenement house.

Reproduction of 1890s era tenement apartment.

Wash days were usually on Monday. Sarah probably did these steps: Soaking the laundry, scrubbing, boiling, wringing, rinsing, wringing agin, and finally, hanging to dry. (Link)

In the second picture above a scrub board can be seen in the deep sink. The sink was likely used for soaking, scrubbing and rinsing. Scrub boards were used well into the 20th century.

While indoor plumping for tenements was becoming common in the 20s (especially for toilets), if they didn't have running water Sarah would have to trek up and down flights of stairs to fill her tub from the tap in the yard. (Link) This would most likely only be the case if Steve and Sarah lived in a pre-1905 tenement building as laws about tenements changed around that time. However, many tenements were cold water flats, so water would be boiled on the stove.

In the picture above you can see a large oblong metal tub on the stove. This is likely what was used for boiling.

After soaking (usually started Sunday night) clothes that were still soiled would be scrubbed, then the laundry was boiled. Clothes were boiled in water for an hour and stirred with a rod or wooden stick. They would then be removed with a fork or a rod, wrung out, rinsed (to remove soap) and wrung out again.

If Sarah (or Winifred) was able to afford it she may have a mangle to squeeze the water from washed clothes ($5.95-8.00 for a basic one in 1920). These two wooden rollers were dangerous because women could get their fingers or hair caught in them. They also sometimes damaged or broke off buttons. If she didn't have one, she'd wring them out by hand.

The spin cycle was developed to wring out clothes, and some electric washers had this feature going into the 30s. (Link)

Once wrung out, the clothes were hung to dry. In the winter clothes could be hung in front of the fireplace or stove (on a clothes horse for those who had one) if there was space, but they could also be hung outside to freeze and brought in before nightfall.

Tenement buildings commonly had clotheslines strung between buildings. "The advantage of living on a low floor (with fewer flights of stairs to climb) became a disadvantage on wash day, because when hanging your laundry out to dry, ‘someone else might put out a red wash or a blue wash over it, and it drips down and makes you do your wash all over again." (Link)

Berenice Abbott (1898-1991). Court of the First Model Tenements in New York City. March 16, 1936. Museum of the City of New York. (Link, many other examples of tenement clotheslines here. I think this is multiple days of laundry lines in one picture).

Abbott documented this space as a communal laundry line: ropes with pulleys led from apartments to five-story poles imbedded in concrete. Abbott made two exposures, with the laundry and poles forming different abstract configurations. She later recalled that winter day the laundry frozen stiff and the children huddled together, too cold to move.

If you didn't have a clothesline near your window you could dry your clothes on the roof. This required climbing more stairs and keeping an eye out for thieves. (Link)

Tuesdays were ironing days. There were electric irons in the 20s but people also still used multiple irons that had to be heated on the stove. Clothes needed to be damp and sprinkled with water while ironing. That is until steam irons were introduced in the 30s. (Link)

However:

What did Steve do after Sarah died? The same thing the Rogers would have done if Sarah had no time to do laundry, which is likely because she worked full time and laundry was an long chore. If Sarah did do her own laundry as well as worked, she would have worked very long hours trying to stay on top of everything.

For those who couldn't do laundry they would send out their laundry. The peak of the commercial laundry industry was in the 1920s. Many laundries were owned by Chinese immigrants and these laundries catered to single men. (Link) These laundries were cheaper than white-owned steam laundries, which generally catered to large institutions like hotels and hospitals, although they advertised to women as well. Here is a picture of a large commercial laundry.

Sending out laundry may have been a necessary expense on Sarah and Steve's part that they had to budget for. This recounting of a Chinese laundry has the clothes dried and ironed by the workers.

Women, especially black women, took laundry into their home. It is possible Sarah and Steve sent out their laundry to washerwomen, perhaps even one who lived in their own tenement. (Link)

If Sarah did not have the time, nor could afford to send out laundry (especially in the 30s), Steve may have had to deal with the shame of going to school in dirty clothes. Cleanliness was a point of pride and I'm certain Sarah would have made every effort to keep him clean but it may not have always been possible.

Laundry soap

Here is what was most typically used as laundry soap. It was also common, especially for rural families, to make their own soap out of lye and grate or cut up that as laundry soap. (Link)

(Link) Laundry soap options in 1927. They included purchasing flakes, chips, or powder; liquifying your soap ahead of time (right); and (left) grating your own laundry soap from a bar. Fels Naptha soap, which came in a big bar, was rubbed on difficult stains and rings around the collar.

Laundromats

The first laundromat or 'washateria' was opened in Texas in 1934. (Link) Laundromats grew in popularity and spread across the country. These early laundromats had rentable electric washing machines like the ones already mentioned in this post. Clothes were taken home damp to be ironed.

In the 40s the name laundromat became common to describe self-serve laundry. This name actually comes from a brand of automatic washing machine. (Link) Laundromats helps familiarize consumers with washing machines and grow their trust in them, thus ushering in the domestic washing machine age in the 50s and 60s and the decline of commercial laundry services.

Steve may have used a washateria or laundromat in the late 30s or early 40s but the machines would be different. They may have looked something like this:

Toploading washing machine bought in 1939 (Link) It has a motorized mangle.

This blog also has many 1940s ads to show other styles of washing machines. I think our modern washings machines would be somewhat recognizable if Steve saw these ads, but in general washing machines now look very different from the ones he probably saw.

Dryers

If one didn't hang their clothes to dry they were probably wealthy enough to have air dryers which became available in the early 1920s. These were rooms or cupboards. "These dryers could be powered by electricity, gas, or kerosene. In a good dryer, heated air circulated around the clothing so that the clothes did not bake and yellow. The hot air was pulled out of the cabinet and up a chimney" (Link).

Richer folks could also have their clothes dry in sunlit or steam-heated rooms at the top of their mansion or townhouse. (Link).

A sailor getting a uniform out of a clothes dryer in 1943 (link)

The first electric dryer was manufactured in 1938. (Link) Here's a picture of a 1940s dryer, it looks a bit like an oven.

Automatic dryers were slower to arrive. Launderettes had dryers after the war and this helped facilitate the arrival of dryers in the home.

Before dryers became common in laundromats clothes were taken back damp and ironed. This was more or less ideal anyways since clothes needed to be damp to be ironed if you didn't have a steam iron (which was still a luxury).

Dryers would be very new or completely foreign for Steve. I doubt he used one.

Army Laundry Days

This post is already long (I know), so quick coverage of what I found here.

Army training camps had laundries. The army developed laundry trucks (Quarter Master Laundry Units) to service medical units and troops in the field.

When the trucks couldn't keep up with the front (although they did their best) soldiers made arrangements with local laundries or cleaned their clothes themselves.

Clothing exchange was sometime done instead of cleaning and returning the same clothes to speed up the process. This was done most often with front line troops, often in conjunction with showers.

Steve specialised uniform (really, all of the commandos' uniforms) would probably complicate this process which is really interesting to think about. This wash trucks wouldn't be able to just bring standard uniforms to switch out since they were all wearing different uniforms from different armies. If it could be arranged beforehand they might be able to bring a new uniform for Steve, but I wonder if he wore regular fatigues most of the time and only switched into his Captain America suit during active missions to make things easier.

The mobile laundries also organized clothing repair.

This post got really long! I didn't get into the detailed steps of laundry before modern technologies really took off. But needless to say there's still a lot that could be said.

I have a housekeeping book from 1952 that goes into detail how to wash clothes. If anyone is interested in a post about that, you can let me know. I also have a catalogue reproduction showing laundry machines and prices from the early 20th century if anyone is interested,

Sunday Steve Masterpost

[tl-os]

“Sent to The House by The Sea (a.v. 2.3) last night. But not as The (h)eiress - as a scullery maid. Up and down the backstairs, sliding down laundry chutes, hauling clean water up, dirty chamber pots down. All for friends of the family - how had they seized the property??? But the young ladies of The House took pity on me and were kind. Is it better to be a servant to benevolent mistresses in The House by The Sea than the lonely, haunted chatelaine, hunted by hungry ghosts?”

[disneyparksattractionstournament]

Disney Parks Animatronic Tournament: Bracket C/Tier 3 Round 1

Little Red: Kilimanjaro Safari - Disney World Animal Kingdom

(Video is already set to start at the point of the animatronic! If it doesn't, go to 1:34)

Unnamed laundry girl: Carousel of Progress - Magic Kingdom Disney World, Disneyland (formerly)

Propagnada:

"Everyone's favorite unnamed, unacknowledged little scullery maid who doesn't get to see the future with the rest of the family. Is she a daughter who died of some now-preventable disease? Is she a neighbor the family hired for a little help around the house? The world may never know!"

(Video is already set to start at the point of the animatronic! If it doesn't, go to 3:23)

[lawlietscaramels]

I'm working on a Royal/Mediaeval AU kind of and so far I have:

╾ L is a scullery boy. he's actually nobility but his parents sent him down a river or something like one of those stories to another kingdom. he mostly does laundry and avoids his duties to make maps.

╾ Matt is a wizard's apprentice. he is not very good. he would be much better at potions than at spells (reminder that witches and wizards aren't opposite sex versions of the same thing). he was a commoner but has magical talent or whatever. he likes to call himself a Magician.

╾ Matsuda cares for the poultry. I have this whole thing that he loves chickens. I reference it in my Pokémon post but I haven't posted that yet hshshshe. he also keeps an eye on the other animals to make sure they're being properly cared for.

they all live in the castle and yeah. yeah. AU. nobody dies except of contagious disease probably.

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 6); shouto todoroki/reader

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as ‘my lady’.

heyyy so this literally kept me up last night. sorry the last parts are like 6 months late. hopefully the finale is worth the wait.

part 5 : part 6 (you are here) : part 7

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

All you know is that you need to get away.

Your mind is whirling, the snide voice of your own insecurities filling your mind with all the reasons a prince  could never love you. You race out of the ballroom, startling the guards at the door. The main doors to the palace are shut, and too heavy for you to open on your own, so you make a split second decision and dart down the halls towards the servant's passages.

 A moment after you make your escape, you hear Shouto's voice call out for you, and footsteps pounding down the marble hallways on your heels. You dash into the servant's passage, throwing the door open behind you. Several maids in the passage quickly move out of your way, armloads of linens hoisted above their heads to make room for your escape.

The passage opens up into the scullery, and you slow your mad dash enough to avoid the risk of falling into one of the steaming hot vats of water, topped with soapy foam, where laundry is being washed. Finally, you reach a door to the outside, and you take a breath of cool night air. You can still hear a commotion inside, and you're not ready for what that might mean, so you continue your flight deep into the palace gardens.

The gardens are dark, lit only by the arcane lamps that stand near the paths, and the shadows grow even deeper when you veer off the path and into the woods at the heart of the gardens. Left nearly blind in the darkness, your feet take you down a path you know well- and soon, willow fronds brush against your skin as you arrive at the great willow tree at the heart of the garden.

You sink to the soft grass, your skirts pooling around you. Your mind whirls, processing not just tonight, but everything that's happened over the past few days. The knowledge that your knight is the prince of the kingdom slots in like a final puzzle piece, revealing the whole picture. It makes sense now, why the queen seemed so knowledgeable, and why Princess Fuyumi had acted so strange at the tournament.

Your knight is a prince.

You bring your hands up to your face, pressing them over your mouth. Goddess above, you'd sassed a prince,  and even worse, you'd licked his hand. You've been in the south long enough to begin to understand what their royalty meant, and the rules that surround people of that station. It was out of the question to talk back to them, let alone lick them, and you'd done both.

You contemplated making a break for it back to your village up in the glaciers, but then you thought about having to explain the circumstances of your return to the village elders and immediately changed your mind. You'd rather endure a lifetime of ridicule in a southern court over a moment of your elder's displeasure- they'd most likely scold you for embarrassing the village, and they'd be right.

You flopped back in the grass, looking up at the moon through  the willow boughs. Absentmindedly, you stretched out a hand, watching the silvery light play over your fingers. You're going to have to face the queen, you muse, conjuring  motes of ice in the air, letting them refract the moonlight. Now that you think about it, she had seemed rather excited over the prospect of you spending time with her son, and now you'll have to explain that you ran away from him during one of the biggest events of the year. Your exit definitely made an impression, and most likely not the good kind.

Shouto's face hovered in your mind's eye. He had looked devastatingly handsome in his formal wear, hair pushed back to showcase his handsome features, and a tailored coat accenting his broad shoulders and trim waist. More importantly, you remembered the stricken look on his face when you had pulled away from him in the ballroom. If he had genuine feelings for you, he definitely didn't anymore, you think.  He'd looked… heartbroken.

The crunch of footsteps snaps you out of your reverie, and you snap up from your position on the grass. You can make out a figure in the trees, and you try to quietly stand up, shuffling behind the trunk of the willow.

The footsteps get closer, and you can hear the soft rustle of the willow boughs parting as the figure steps past their shroud.

"My lady? Are you here?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart races- what do you say to the person whose heart you just broke? Worse, what will he say to you?

"Do you truly not wish to see me, my lady?" Goddess above, the sound of his voice twists your heartstrings. He sounds so melancholy his voice almost brings tears to your eyes. He waits for a moment, and when you don't respond, you hear a sigh wrench out of his chest and the sound of his boots on the loam as he turns to leave.

"Wait! Please wait," you call out, pressing yourself against the tree. You clap your hands over your mouth- your words surprise you almost as much as they surprise Shouto. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as he turns back.

"What is it, my lady? Ask of me anything, and I will grant it. Just please, do not flee from me again," he begs. You can hear him step closer, the brush of fabric against the tree trunk.

"I don't want anything from you," you can't help the way your voice snaps and cracks in the dark.

"Do you truly wish to not look at me?" he asks, and his voice sounds so sad that you can feel your heart crack.

"I'm not ready," you answer, voice thick with tears. "I'm scared, Shouto."

"Why are you scared?"

"I'm just a servant from a northern village, a commoner. You're a prince," you say. "I can't offer you anything- I have no money, no status, nothing that makes me worthy of royalty."

"That doesn't matter!" he roars. Distantly, you note that it's the loudest you've ever heard him speak. "I love you. All my life, I've only wanted someone that saw me for me, who didn't see the title, the crown. You saw me,  from the moment we met. You treated me like a person, like your friend. I loved you the moment you licked my hand,"  he lets out a dry chuckle.

You take a deep breath, hand over your racing heart, and then step out from behind the tree.

Shouto stands underneath the willow, drenched in silver moonlight. His hair has come loose from its style, a few strands draping across his forehead. You stretch out a hand for him, ignoring how it shakes a little. He reaches for you instantly, shedding his gloves so you can feel the warmth of his palm against yours.

"Say it again, please," you breathe.

"I love you," he murmurs, pulling you in by your hand. He moves slowly, letting you decide, and when you don't pull away he folds you against his chest.

You let your head rest against his chest, taking a deep breath before looking up into his varicolored eyes. He cups your cheek in one big hand, and you reflexively lean into the touch. "I'm ready to not be scared anymore," you say, steadying yourself against him. "I love you, and I'd like for you to kiss me."

"Gladly," he whispers, and leans down to slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warm and slightly chapped, moving gently over yours. When you shyly respond, you feel his fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress and he pours heat into the kiss.

He's all you can sense- the warmth of him pressed against you, his campfire-in-winter scent, the sweet taste of dessert lingering on his lips. He cups the back of your head, tipping your head up and devouring every inch of your mouth.

The kiss makes your head spin, and it's not until your lungs are screaming for air that you finally put a hand on his chest to push him away. He breaks away, and it makes something in your chest flutter to see that he's panting with a flush high on his cheeks too. He doesn't take a step back; instead he wraps his arms around you and rests his forehead on yours while the two of you catch your breath.

"We should do that again," you blurt out. Your declaration startles a laugh out of him, and you swear it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"People will talk if we stay out here for much longer, and you're already… disheveled," he says diplomatically. You look down; you know your hair is a mess, your dress is askew and the hem is muddy after your impromptu hike through the gardens.

"I don't care," you decide. "I'm a mess, and people will talk regardless. So bend down and kiss me, Shouto, before I make you."

His mismatched eyes twinkle in the moonlight. "As my lady wishes," he murmurs against your skin, obediently bending down to kiss the breath out of your lungs.

After the two of you finally separate, the moon is high in the sky and the sounds of the party have faded. You and Shouto share one last kiss before you go your separate ways; agreeing to sneak back into the palace separately to avoid as much gossip as possible.

You know that the queen has long since retired at this point, so you skip going to her chambers and instead take the servant's quarters to your little room. The exhaustion of the evening hits you as you push open your bedroom door, the anticipation of being in bed making you feel weary.

Unfortunately, you feel a frission of adrenaline spike through you as you enter your room, as the queen herself rises from her seat on the edge of your bed. "You're finally back, did Shouto-" she looks you up and down, taking in your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and kiss-swollen lips. An amused smile makes its way to her mouth. "It looks like Shouto did find you. Were the two of you able to sort things out?"

You can't help the way your cheeks heat, made worse by the way her smile twists into knowing. Luckily she has mercy on you, gesturing for you to turn around so she can help you undress.

"You don't need to do that, your majesty," you protest, taking a half step back.

She props her hands on her hips, the stubborn set of her face reminding you of Shouto. "I suppose you'd rather sleep in the gown, then? And," she peers down at the hem. "Get mud on your sheets?"

"You have a point," you sigh. You turn and let her fuss with the fastenings, pulling your gown over your head one layer at a time. Once you are left in your chemise, and she has an armful of cloth, she guides you to bed with one hand.

"Rest, dear one. I'm guessing you'll be very busy in the near future."

She shuts the door, the room falling into darkness behind her. You fall asleep shortly after, dreaming of princes and kisses.