#Little Wonders by Rod Thomas

[weirdowithaquill]

Fish in An Engine's Tank? It's More Likely Than You Think:

So, recently I wrote a story for my 'The World Famous Engine' fic (read here) which focused on the Flying Scotsman getting fish and weeds into his tanks, which clogged up his injector.

While on the surface, this sounds like a rehash of 'Thomas Goes Fishing' from Season 1, it's actually a rehash of a real-life event that happened to 60103 Flying Scotsman in 1958.

The story of the original incident goes as such: back in the late 1950s, the Flying Scotsman worked on the ex-GCR mainline through Leicester. On the way to London, the injectors failed one after the other, leading to pandemonium on the footplate as they were forced to basically drop the fire at speed and try desperately to get the injectors working again before their engine blew up with a full express. You can imagine their relief when the water started flowing again!

And despite all of this, they were only five minutes late to Marylebone!

The reason for this absolutely frantic and tense few minutes? Well, the outlet pipes from the tender to the injector were protected by wire mesh, which was absolutely clogged with algae and weeds! And then they managed to extract roughly three buckets worth of live fish - and not little minnows, I'm talking bream and rudd - from Flying Scotsman's tender!

And the cherry on top? The fireman, Ken Issett, recalls a lady who said to the crew: "Thank you for my safe journey."

Yeah, this actually happened. The world's most famous engine was very nearly destroyed by some weeds and fish.

But how did the fish get into Flying Scotsman's tender? The answer lies in where railways got their water supply from: anywhere and everywhere. Railways needed a lot of water in an era when pump infrastructure and feed-water was treated a lot less carefully. Furthermore, a lot of railways (in the UK at least) also owned canals, which they would simply take the water from and use. The water was moved to water towers via either gravity or pumps, and then stored before being loaded into the engine's tanks. And the pipes were big, to handle the amount of water required by steam railways.

Some firemen from the era recall using homemade rods to go fishing in tenders and water towers and catching fish! Others recalled the fact that they disliked going into the water tanks to clean and inspect unless they were ordered to. One account literally says:

'The bigger tanks were best, not the smaller side tanks. Better than the canal, though.’

Another said:

‘On Friday afternoons they had trouble finding cleaners because we were all up in the water tank with rafts!’

From this, I'm pretty sure we can all agree that Thomas getting a fish in his tank after having to use a bucket is surprising, not because there was a fish in his tank, but because it wasn't pumped in months ago! Apparently steam locomotives were just massive, unwilling fish tanks.

Considering this, it's a real wonder that there weren't more stories about fish causing an absolute menace on the railways!

For those who want to read the article this is based on, here is the hyperlink and the URL:

#fanfiction writer #weirdowithaquill #railway series #thomas the tank engine #ao3 stuff #ao3 link #real world trains #fish #steam engines are just massive fish tanks #railways #flying scotsman #ttte thomas

[steam-beasts]

How I'd adapt TTTE BWBA s22 ep 2; "Forever and Ever"

Original summary; Gordon has a tantrum about all the changes being made to the railway and is sent back to his shed in disgrace, Gordon insists that he is happy to stay there forever but his new friend Nia from Kenya helps him to see the changes in a different light.

My adapted summary; Ever since Edward left the sheds, Gordon had been quite bitter about the changes. Now that Nia has moved in and Henry suddenly announcing that he's moving into Vicarstown, Gordon becomes enraged. In retaliation, he takes his frustration out on Nia and causes an accident.

Plot

A year had gone by since Edward's departure from Tidmouth Sheds, and despite how long it's been, Gordon still can't stop being bitter about it. Since Nia's arrival, Gordon had been disrespectful and belittles her often, bumping her out of the way and calling her a "weak little tank engine". He just directs his grumpiness on to her. One day, he hears a conversation between Henry and Sir Topham Hatt and is horrified to learn that Henry wants to move out.

(Not my art btw, it's on DeviantArt)

He confronts Henry the next day, and Henry tells him "Going to Vicarstown is my choice, Gordon. I don't need your say in it!". Gordon then goes to Sir Topham Hatt about the changes, ranting to him about the changes, but STH just says;

"Edward left Tidmouth to mentor Phillip and Rosie by his own choice, Gordon. Henry is moving away by his own choice as well, nothing can stay the same forever, you know. Just deal with it, and move on"

Sir Topham Hatt doesn't realise how much the changes are actually stressing Gordon out and agitating him.

When Gordon is getting his coaches shunted, he finds that Nia is shunting instead of Percy or Thomas. He's already angered by the sudden announcement of Henry moving out, and Nia, the one who (in Gordon's eyes) replaced Edward, decides to try and calm him down.

Gordon yells back at her, and Nia just retorts by saying;

"Ugh...I wonder how Edward and Henry put up with you, you're such hard work!"

Nia never means this in a rude way, she's just annoyed by Gordon. This remark upsets Gordon even further, so he decides to pull a trick on Nia... the same trick he pulled on Thomas decades ago.

He goes along with it and heads off with the Express early, and doesn't give Nia time to uncouple from the coach.

As Gordon speeds down the line with Nia in tow, he doesn't listen to her begging him to stop and just laughs it off.

(Imagine he's laughing maniacally)

My version of Nia was built without a proper safety valve, so she is a boiler explosion waiting to happen. Her boiler is heating up fast, luckily, her driver manages to reach her coupling rod and uncouples her. But as she's uncoupled, Gordon had reached a junction at that point and Nia ends up going off the rails and hitting a tree at full force, denting her buffers.

Later on that evening, everyone and STH find out what happened and confront Gordon about his errant behaviour.

Gordon is quick to defend himself, claiming Nia "replaced Edward and forced Henry out". This is when he tries venting his hatred of the changes. STH and everyone else just assume he's making up excuses and is overdramatic; he's not.

STH; "Excuses, excuses! I am sick and tired of your whining, Gordon! Nia is staying in this shed and that's final! We must not be so rude!"

Thomas; "You're definitely a big fat Galloping Sausage now, Gordon! You just can't go a day without complaining! Bother, even pulling the same trick on her like you did on me? That's pathetic!"

James; "Just disgusting, Gordon! I don't remember you being so horrible towards tank engines like you were today!"

Emily; "Shame on you..."

After this argument, STH tells Gordon that he's banned from pulling the Express until he gets his behaviour sorted out and is being locked in his berth. Gordon desperately begs him not to, but STH doesn't listen. He is shut up in the sheds, where he has a nightmare about Edward and Henry getting scrapped and wakes up in the middle of the night, unconsciously tearing up and reflecting on how everyone treated him and his dream.

The episode ends with Gordon whispering;

"....N-Nobody cares how I feel...my own controller doesn't c-care how I feel... why does nobody care about me?"

The episode ends.

Yeah, if I were to do Forever and Ever, it would be pretty dark and angsty. It's all hurt for Gordon and no comfort. Plus, it would show a bit of Gordon that's vulnerable and no longer all pompous and arrogant, instead all self-conscious and soft.

#thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #ttte thomas #ttte gordon #ttte henry #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte emily #ttte sir topham hatt #ttte nia #ttte percy #gordon the big engine #james the red engine #edward the blue engine #henry the green engine #percy the small engine #emily the stirling engine #adapting Bwba episodes #forever and ever

[gretavanlace]

Sweet Little Toy (part 2)

Jake kiszka Danny Wagner x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, oral sex, orgasm denial, penetrative sex, daddy kink, restraints, impact play (alluding to), breath play, etc, idk

“You look so pretty like this, princess.” Jake’s arms wrap warmly around your waist from behind as you pat your cheeks dry with a hand towel. “All scrubbed clean and sweet.”

“Ugh,” you groan, hiding a smile. “I’m hideous…a monster! Look away!”

He huffs a listless laugh into the crook of your neck. “You’re beautiful. I wish you wouldn’t wear makeup at all.”

“Why’s that, Sir Jacob Thomas?” You’ve let your tone soften. “Is there another way you’d like to paint my face?”

“Princess!” He pretends to be scandalized, rutting himself against your lower back so you’ll feel how hard he is for you. “Are you asking to wear my cu—“

Danny’s voice, powerful in its irritation, cuts him off. “I told you to get ready for bed.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror, but dart away from their brooding heat immediately, offering only a nod of acknowledgement.

“So you understood, but chose to let him climb all over you like a whore who doesn’t know what’s best for you, anyway?”

“Daniel.” Jake’s tone now carries authority and weight as well. “Don’t be disrespectful to her. You know I hate that.”

“She likes it just fine, don’t you, dove?” A tiny squeak of a sound trembles out of you as he moves closer.

In response to that, Danny wraps his massive palm around your arm and pulls you away from his counterpart. “Did you brush your teeth? Wash your face? Take your vitamins?”

When you confirm that you have done all of those things with widened, innocent eyes, he’s tugging you out of the room. Admonishing you as you skip and stumble along behind him, trying to keep up with the stride of his long legs.

“I know you think he’s your Mr. Wonderful Prince Charming Precious Jakey, but he’s too soft, baby. The rules are put in place for you…for your own good. Spare the rod, spoil the child and all that.”

A delicious shiver races up your spine as he guides you down the hall. “I’m not a child.”

“Your bratty attitude says otherwise.” He snaps.

“Someone has to balance out your bullshit.” Jake snarks as he follows. “All you do is boss her around and dole out punishments.”

“And all you do is let her get away with whatever she wants.” Danny sounds dangerous with irritation. “She could commit murder for fun and you’d pat her on her pretty head and get rid of the body.”

“So?” Jake clearly can’t see where the problem lies in that.

Suddenly, as though you’re the one who’s smarting off, Danny has you pressed up against the wall with his hand pawing teasingly at your throat. “She likes it, isn’t that right, sweetness? She likes it when I put her over my knee. When I spank her like a naughty little girl. She fucking loves it.”

It’s mostly metaphorical, Danny’s punishments are far more creative- but you nod eagerly all the same.

“Well, she also likes it when—“

“Shut up.” Danny growls out, head snapping to face Jake so quickly his curls whip softly against your cheek. “You’re in trouble too. You’re fucked. So, just watch yourself.”

A breathy moan trips off your tongue before you can catch it. It’s quiet, a barely there puff of air, but they both pick up on it.

“I think your pretty, coddled princess likes the thought of you down in the flames beside her, Jacob.” He nudges the tip of your nose with his own. “S’been a minute, hasn’t it, little one?”

“Fuck…” you sigh, arching away from the wall, searching for the weight of his body.

“No, no, baby,” he tsks, clicking his tongue quietly. “No swearing. That isn’t very nice.”

“I’m allowed to curse in our bedrooms.” You smirk, feeling extremely smug and clever to be reminding them of their own rules.

Danny is quick to set you straight back into line. “Are you stupid? We’re still in the hallway.” He squeezes your neck just a touch harder. “Haven’t even had a cock inside you yet, and already you’re just a dumb little baby.”

You reach to pull Danny closer, and also extend a grabby hand out for Jake…he feels so far away, but Dan is having none of it and drags that hand back in close to him.

“Go ahead and beg for him, dove. Stack your crimes as high as you want. I’m the executioner tonight.”

“Might as well make it worth your time then, Wagner.” You whisper, licking over his plush, soft lips, fighting to hide a self-satisfied smile.

“Oh, does someone think she’s cute? Hmm?” His knee slides up between your legs as Jake’s mouth appears, lapping languidly over your exposed shoulder. “Is our gorgeous girl feeling brave?”

“Fuck it right out of me.” You pant, grinding down shamelessly. “Make me behave.”

Danny drops the dominance for a blink. “You want it?”

“Need it.” You correct.

“You sure, princess?” Jake speaks up beside you, sounding halfway down the road to nervousness.

It isn’t that watching you take your punishment is the worst thing in the world, his cock aches at the thought…it’s just that he prefers to punish you with pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. He’d rather fuck you blind over and over until you’re boardering on incoherence; soaked in your own cum and begging for sleep.

“She’s sure.” Danny’s fingers dip under the towel you’re somehow still wrapped in, and delve between your thighs. He drags them gently over you until they drip with your desire, and then offers them up to Jake, who eagerly sucks them clean with a murmur of a groan.

“Taste that?” He slides the pad of his thumb over Jake’s beautifully chiseled cheekbone. “She wants it so badly. Says she needs it. You want our angel to have what she needs, don’t you?”

Without further hesitation, Jake pushes away from the wall and tugs at Danny’s mass of wild curls as he passes, with a hushed, “C’mon.”

Dan hauls you up into his arms and tosses you over his shoulder, cracking your ass swiftly through terry cloth when you shriek in surprise.

With little time to process, you’re slung onto Danny’s bed with a gasp punching out of your lungs upon bouncing impact.

“Listen to all those whiny little noises,” he smiles absently at you while addressing Jake who is watching over you with a darkened gaze. “Fussy tonight, isn’t she?”

This isn’t your favorite thing… when they discuss you as if you aren’t there to overhear it, but something in Danny’s cadence tells you they won’t be a team for long, so you let them have their moment.

“Too many clothes.” Your god of a drummer orders offhandedly, leaving your beloved guitar player to handle that while Dan moves to the chest at the foot of his bed…sifting through silicone, and leather, and metal.

Jake has stripped you of your towel and himself of everything by the time Daniel straightens; his prize clutched triumphantly in his grasp.

“The collar?” You snipe. “I wore it last time. You’re boring.” There’s that unshakable brat marching to the battlefield once more.

He laughs softly, and without humor as he searches your ankle cuffs and chains out, “Oh, little one…” the restraints land onto the duvet at your feet with a deafening clink, and then his hands are in Jake’s hair. “Who said anything about you wearing the collar tonight?”

A sound of needy shock shudders out of Jake.

“Get up.” Danny orders with the quiet authority only he seems capable of.

You rise to your knees as he leads Jake onto the bed between the two of you. He is flushed such a warm pink, and breathing so heavily it flutters over your face, tickling your cheeks pleasantly. What a beautiful moment…you file it away as one to never be forgotten.

“So sweet, Jakey…” you soothe, bestowing a single, gentle kiss at his temple. “I love you.”

He nods, and stares into your eyes with smoldering devotion.

Danny offers up the collar, and you take it, mesmerized by being on the other end of it. The power of it all, the commanding weight of leather and steel in your grasp. You feel like a deity…one who may bless with her mercy should she so choose, or curse with her wrath might that suit her better.

But you know Danny through and through, and this unexpected authority will be snatched away soon enough.

Just as well, you decide, you’d much prefer to be on your knees before the throne, rather than reigning upon it.

“Put it on.” Danny whispers, shattering your reverie.

“Hmm?” You feel a million miles away with your fingers curled around the supple leather.

“Collar him.” He reiterates, this time with a more readable force.

“Do as he says, Princess.”

“Why?” You search Jake’s eyes, swimming down deep into the adulation you always find in them. “Because you want it? Or because you don’t want to see me in trouble?”

You won’t stand by idly and watch him endure something he doesn’t want simply to spare you from enduring something you certainly do want.

“You’re already in trouble, sweet thing.” He grins that perfect smile that lights up his entire face. “Now c’mon…and cinch it tight.”

Breathing in a broken, stuttering pattern, you complete the task as Danny hold’s Jake’s hair up and away from the buckle and your shaking fingers.

“Good girl, little one.” He praises, stare on blazing fire as it ravages yours. “Now take the leash.” He nods towards it. “Go on.”

Tentatively, you let the metal chain snake through your fingers as they both clock your every move. Watching as if you’re their favorite movie and they are unwilling to miss a single frame.

“Good girl, again, dove.” Daniel’s approval sets your chest on fire and the smallest moan betrays the burn. He’s heard it, you’re sure of it, but mercifully, he refrains from taunting you about it.

“That’s just so, so good, baby.” Once again his eyes are blackened into a slick of oil and narrowed in lust. “Now give him to me.”

“What?” The insubordination has been leached from your veins, this is genuine confusion. Judging by the growl that trembles wantonly out of Jake, he doesn’t share in your misunderstanding.

“He’s yours, baby. Not mine.” Danny clarifies, clear and strong. “I won’t take him from you. I’d rather you give. Can you do that for me?” His fingers stroke through your hair lovingly. “Can you give him to me?”

Demurely, you offer up the leash. Presenting it like a gift…and isn’t exactly what it is? It leads to your Jacob, and he is most certainly a gift.

“Good girls share, don’t they?” Danny coddles you with his words.

“And you’re such a good girl, aren’t you, princess?” Jake’s voice is satiny smooth, drifting through your head like poetry. “Say it, out loud.”

“I’m such a good girl.” He was right, speaking it into the room makes goosebumps spring to life on your skin.

“Yes, you are.” Danny agrees verbally, as Jake nods with adoration in his eyes. “Lie back now, sweetheart. Let Daddy cuff your ankles so you stay where you belong.”

Drifting back, your eyes flit between the two of them. You love them beyond measure, need them more than anything…and to know they feel the same makes your existence feel like a fever dream.

Jake watches on quietly as his friend secures your ankles to the footboard, he pays close attention when Danny buckles the cuffs, no doubt ensuring they aren’t too tight. He worries over your circulation incessantly when you’re bound.

The leash is whipped into his palm the second he has you strapped tightly to the bed. “Isn’t your little princess cute? So needy and spoiled.” He breathes into Jake’s ear, reaching a hand down to skate two calloused fingertips over his cock.

A strangled noise catches in your throat; they so rarely touch each other this way, but it never fails to absolutely level you.

“She liked that.” Jake whispers with a subtle thrust of his hips…he liked it too.

“No shit she liked that.” Danny quips like it was a stupidly obvious thing to say. “It isn’t about what she likes or wants right now, though, is it? Our angel is being punished.” He yanks up on the leash to punctuate himself, sending Jake sailing back against him.

“Look at her pretty pink cunt.” He licks over Jake’s ear between words. “She’s soaked. See how she catches the light?” He hums in appreciation, as if you’re art in a gallery. “Just like diamonds. Gorgeous girl.”

You rock away from the mattress in response as your cheeks flush with heat, and your knees attempt to meet…you feel so completely on display.

“Keep them open.” Dan orders, reaching forward to swat at your thigh. “We can switch to the spreader bar if you prefer.” His fingers drop to tap at your cuffs.

With the spreader bar, comes the thinnest of canes…they go hand and hand in Daniel’s book, and you can easily conjure the white hot sting of the cane hissing through the air to sizzle into your flesh. Sometimes you welcome it, sometimes you beg for it…tonight is not one of those times, so you shake your head and comply.

“Is my little dove going soft on me?” Dan teases, kissing a trail down the curve of Jake’s neck. “She can sass me all evening but doesn’t want what comes with it?”

“No.” You lift your chin in defiance you can’t seem to help. “I’m not soft at all. I can take it.”

He suppresses a proud smile, but you catch it anyway. “So if I got the cane right now and turned you pink wherever I felt like, you wouldn’t whine and beg me to stop?”

“Turn me purple wherever you feel like. I don’t mind.” You challenge with a shrug as Jake calls for you to just shut up for once.

“Aw, Jakey’s worried about his lil sweetheart.” Danny taunts, fisting Jake’s twitching cock again. “I won’t cane her tonight, just for you, alright?” His mouth is ghosting over Jake’s cheek as he whispers to him. “I won’t spank her, or smack her, or choke her, would you like that? If I didn’t make it hurt? Just for you?”

“Yeah,” Jake nods with fervor, a hissing breath sucking in through his teeth as he rocks into Danny’s grip. “Be nice to her. Treat her sweet…she’s my girl.”

“Our girl.” The chain rattles hauntingly as Dan yanks it harshly in warning. “And I never said I’d be nice, I only said I wouldn’t make it hurt.”

You can’t decide whether to pout or breathe a sigh of relief. Not a single crack of his palm? No ironclad grip around your throat as he chokes an orgasm out of you?

He must catch the conflicting emotions in your gaze because he offers up a flash of a wink, and then creates some slack on the leash, giving Jake a guiding push to the shoulder. “Down you go, I think our girl would like a little kiss, wouldn’t you dove? Right on your spoiled cunt? Would you like that?”

“Yes, please…” you pant, eyes on Jake as you address Danny.

Jake drops down like a man starved, face buried between your legs before his tongue has even made an appearance, lips kissing and pressing against you feverishly, cheeks sweeping back and forth until his face is shining with your slick. “Fuck, princess…” his words are muffled agony. “Move you hips for me, sweet girl, fuck your pretty cunt against my face.”

Without thought, your body gives in, and you’re rocking into his kiss as his tongue begins to swirl wet circles over your clit. He suckles it into his warm mouth now and then until you're shaking and thrashing beneath him. Moaning obscenities and fisting his hair ruthlessly.

“Yes,” you breathe, absolutely lost in the haze of it all. “Fuck, yes…please…don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop…”

He groans blissfully into you -a promise that stopping is the last thing on his mind- sucks your swollen clit straight into his mouth, dragging a scream out of your lungs, and then he’s gone…

Yanked up and away from you hard and fast by the leash clutched in Danny’s grip.

“No,” you plead, springing up to grab for Jake. “Please…”

Jake fights to return to you, eyes locked between your legs like he’s never needed anything more in his entire life. “Let fucking go.” He reaches back and attempts to pry Danny’s fingers away from the lead. “I want her…wanna make her cum. Let go.”

“Shh.” Danny snaps, hitching back on the tension brutally. “Just shut up.”

Tears spring to life in your eyes and Daniel mocks them immediately. “Look, poor baby is gonna cry already. Spoiled, bratty, little thing. Gonna throw a tantrum now, are we? Maybe kick your feet and…oh wait,” he pretends as though he’s just remembered the cuffs keeping your feet firmly in place.

He bides his time with a smug air dancing about his beautiful features, watching you closely and holding Jake in place until he’s satisfied you’ve calmed down sufficiently.

When he at last lets loose on the leash, Jake descends with his eyes burning fiercely into yours. Stay quiet, he says without a word, I’ll get you there and he never has to know.

Hesitation has no place here, and your aching clit is tucked into Jake’s sweet mouth right away. He works it back and forth with his soft, full lips, silken tongue fluttering over it like butterfly wings. He plays you perfectly…like you’re his beloved Gibson. Coaxes every silent note of pleasure out of you like your body was molded just for him.

He feels it coming, and reminds you not to tip your hand with narrowed eyes burning up into your flushed face, and a silent ‘shh’ that ends with his soft tongue curling over you.

A tiny gasp is your only tell, but he is wrenched away from you once again. He struggles back until the collar has rendered him beet red in the face and unable to draw breath.

“Stop,” you urge him, voice shaking like a weak autumn leaf clinging to its branch. “Jakey…stop, baby.”

“Yeah, baby…” Danny snipes into his ear. “Stop.”

Jake stills in defeat, eyes raking over your quivering body desperately.

“You think I can’t tell when our little girl is close? Even when she’s quiet?” Danny addresses his other half, but his eyes are on you. “She blushes pink so pretty…and her mouth gets sort of pouty…it’s very cute. Nostrils flare just a hint, legs spread a bit wider…”

He pets at Jake’s hair soothingly as he looks you over. “You can’t hide from me, dove. I know you inside and out.”

“Let him make me feel good, Danny.” You beg, opting for another angle. “I’m sorry I acted up, I’ll behave. I’ll be your very good girl. I’ll keep my eyes on you and it’ll be your name on my lips when I cum, I swear.”

A sound of huffing upset sounds out of Jake, but you ignore it in favor of placating Daniel. “I need it. Need it so badly…please?”

“Well, would you just listen to her?” Danny clicks his tongue as if he thinks you’re adorable. “Cute as a button when she begs, isn’t she? You wanna take care of that greedy little cunt for her, Jacob? Wanna make your princess a happy girl?”

Jake nods with a heated urgency that makes your entire body throb and pulse painfully. “Make a mess in my mouth, princess…” he breathes, as Danny slackens the tension on the chain. “Lie back and let me take care of you, sweet girl…I’m gonna do such a good job for you.”

You relax back against the pillows and tuck your hands into his silky soft locks…they’re slightly dampened with sweat and tangled into snarls of exertion the way you love best…he could be on stage from the looks of them, but you know better.

“Yes, Jakey…” the praise moans out of you the instant his mouth seals around you. “Just like that…fuck,”

A growl sounds out of him, rumbling against you like vibrating waves, in response. You tug harder on his hair by way of calling back.

“You’ve got her so close already.” Danny pretends to sound impressed, but there is something else hiding in the shadows of his tone. He addresses you with daggers in his gaze “Does he eat your sweet cunt better than I do?”

For less than a split second, your stare flutters away, running from his question. It happens so fast, it’s barely there at all, but he catches it just the same as if it had lingered on.

“Oh,” he grins, a snake curling closer to an unsuspecting mouse. “He does, doesn’t he, dove? You like his pretty mouth? Does he know just how to baby your clit? Does he know how to suck it just right?”

Jake sucks you into his mouth as he listens on, humming against you when you fuck against his face.

Your grip grows frantic as you pull him in, thrusting against his mouth with tiny, wanton pants of breath. “Just like that, Jake…baby, please…feels so, fuck…please!”

“Nope.” Danny sighs nonchalantly, before dragging Jake up and away from you once more.

“You fuck!” You snap, jerking your body up as best you can to cling to Jake as he writhes against the collar you know so well.

Your whole body is alight…burning in raging flames as you scrabble against the refuge of Jake’s body.

“Lie down!” Danny barks, startling you enough that you shrink back.

Once you’re settled and panting against the pillows, Dan trails his free hand slowly down Jake's chest. Journeys a winding trail down his stomach, and then wraps a loose fist around his thrumming, leaking cock. Jake doubles over slightly with a hitching moan of pleasure.

“Yeah?” Danny teases in his ear, gentle as you might coo to a newborn babe, “S’that what Jakey needs?”

He strokes over him a little faster, tightening his hold.

“No,” Jake stutters, shaking his head with zero conviction. “I need her.”

“Fine.” Dan nods, “Look at her then. Isn’t she stunning? Look at her face…”

They both soak in the fire burning in your eyes, your parted, bitten, puffy lips, the sheen of sweat that makes you look like an angel.

“Look at her body…” their gazes trail down, drinking you in as you arch away from the bed, grabbing at your own breasts, desperate for touch of any kind. “She how she’s shaking? She wants us so badly.”

Danny squeezes Jake’s twitching cock faster, twisting over his glistening head with a flick of his wrist.

“And look at that gorgeous pussy…” he purrs, loving on Jake’s cock with greater aggression. “Fluttering and clenching around nothing. Can you see it? Look how pretty…”

“Touch it, princess…” Jake’s tone is hushed, rasping need and want. “Touch your cunt for us. Make that sweet little bit of velvet heaven feel nice for us. Be a good girl.”

Your fingers drop between your legs and dip into your dripping, clenching warmth, without hesitation. Two fingers sink into your cunt, but it isn’t enough and you plunge a third in with a broken whine, back bowing away from the mattress.

They growl in unison as they watch your fingers disappear and listen to you moan and cry out as if you’re being fucked by a thick, perfect, cock.

“Don’t forget your clit, sweet girl…” Jake reminds through needy gasps that make you throb from head to toe. “Take care of her for me, alright? Lick your fingers, so they feel like my mouth.”

Your opposite hand fumbles through the haze to your lips and you suck your fingers in, wetting them just like you’ve been told, and then there they are, circling your clit lightly, lapping against it, trying to find that beautiful rhythm Jake’s tongue always dances in.

A sharp intake of breath steals through Jake’s gritted teeth and it pulls a needy moan out of your chest…listening to him fight against the pleasure Danny is coaxing out of his quaking body has set you on fire. You want him to cum, you want Dan to make him cum…you want to watch it happen.

“Look at her…” Dan hushes into Jake’s ear. “She wants me to make you cum. Can’t you see it in her eyes?”

Jake nods furiously and fucks up into Dan’s grip. “Yeah, look at your pretty girl…your greedy little cock princess is fine with her own tiny fingers right now even though they aren’t enough…even though she has to chase it down…all because she wants to watch you cum in my hand.”

“Fuck yes, Danny…” it bursts out of you before you can stop it. Are you breaking whatever spell seems to have drifted over them? Dan catches your eye and his stare forces you to finish your thought. “Make him cum…I want to watch him…c’mon. Do it. Do it, please…”

Danny’s fists crushes against the weight of Jake’s dick as it pulses and throbs, and Jacob falters down against you, his forehead barely grazing your navel before Dan pulls him away, leash clinking like filthy, ominous, music.

“Oh princess…fuck, fuck…” he whimpers as Dan jerks him into the oblivion of his climax…pumping furiously along his length, working him through until he’s spilling warm, white cum all over your belly instead of in your mouth where you really want it.

The sex choked air in the room swells further with the broken sounds gasping out of Jake so beautifully. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and yet somehow, you can feel the weight of Danny’s stare clocking him as well. You are both completely enamored. He is so entrancing.

Danny gives him a few moments to collect himself and then guides him away from you, grasp still tucked tightly around the leash. “Get up there and baby her.” He orders in a quiet rasp, leaning down himself now to curl his pretty pink tongue over your belly, cleaning up the mess Jake’s made.

“Oh…” it shakes and stutters out of your chest stupidly as you watch Dan lick up a tiny puddle of Jake’s cum.

“So good, little one.” Danny breathes after savoring it on his tongue. “Jealous?”

“Share…” the begging, whining, plea sounds so foreign it makes you want to ask who has spoken. “I want to taste him. Please?”

It’s Jake who responds, stroking his fingers down your cheek. “Pretty princess begging to taste my cum.” You watch as he moves forward, gently nudges Dan out of the way, laps up a few droplets of himself and then blesses you with a kiss that tastes like him. Bitter and sweet, and so very Jake.

“Thank you.” You sigh, after swallowing him down.

“Anything for you, angel.” He whispers back, kissing across the sheen of your brow.

“Hate to interrupt the wedding vows…” Danny snarks, sounding territorial in the most decadent way, “But are you ready, dove?”

The warm, swollen tip of his cock is slicking back and forth between your folds, teasing over your entrance, nursing it’s way inside as you whine and claw at his waist, ready for more…ready for it all.

His eyes lock onto yours with dirty mischief playing in his gaze just before he slides into you. One smooth thrust, and you’re filled to the hilt with his hard length.

He warms you from the inside as you whine and squirm…he feels too fucking good.

“Danny,” your voice hitches and shakes like your throat has never uttered a sound before. “Fuck me..fuck me…”

“Hmm?” He goads, loving this moment.

“Fuck me…” it whimpers out of you. You’d like to say more, you just can’t quite remember how.

“What?” He presses on, sliding his cock back and forth so, so, slowly.

“Fuck me…” tears are sneaking up on you.

“You heard her.” Jake intervenes. “You’ve had your fun.”

Like Jake has been calling the shots all along, Dan begins to piston in and out of you just right as you purr and writhe beneath him.

“So pretty with a cock inside you, princess…” Jake praises, petting at your hair. “I wanna watch you cum.”

“Yeah..” you nod, completely lost and cloudy.

“Yeah?” Danny’s voice carries a taunting edge. “Little dove wants to cum on my cock?”

“Yes…” you gasp, clawing at his forearms. “Please, please…”

“Someone found her manners,” he pants, betraying how close he actually is. “Good fucking girl, baby, good girl..”

You hum, preening like a spoiled kitten at his praise and Jake’s gentle touch.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He huffs, biting down on your throat. “You like being a sweet little thing for me? So warm and tight? Pretty whore just for me and Jake? Hmm? You like that?”

You dig your grip into his back and then release, only to pound your fist against his shoulder blade as your orgasm sinks its teeth into you, shaking its head like a rabid dog until you’re lost in it completely, tossed about this way and that in the heated pleasure of it all.

Your vision slowly clears to the sound of Jake’s soft voice, praising and loving you with his words, though the only one you can make out is, “...messy…”

You find his eyes and bask in their love while Danny pants against you, clutching at your waist as though you might just disappear.

Messy makes sense when, with a shuddering growl, Danny pulls out. It draws attention to the soaked sheets below you, and the drenched thighs you can’t ignore.

You pay it all little mind and float away into the afterglow of it all. They’ll take care of you, you know that. They’ll coax you back and clear your head. They’ll love on you with their hands and their prose…you’ll be dipped into a warm bath, treated to a glass of wine. They’ll worship you gently, they’ll love you gently. They always do.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @gardenofgreta @theweightofjake @tripthelightfandomtastic @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jakeslovehandles @jake-kiszkas-smirk @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @calumspretty @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @avagvf @joshkiszkas @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @gretasmokerising @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @paintmyhouse @dvrkblooms @highladyofasgard @jordierama

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #fanfic #greta van fic #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiskza #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka imagine #gvf danny #danny gvf #danny wagner #daniel wagner

[cdyssey]

The Fall of the House of Usher (1.01 Reactions)

Starting this show because everything I’ve seen about Tamerlane Usher specifically convinced me that there was a new overworked cringefail girlflop out there for me to adopt like a feral, little kitten.

“If pain and suffering were like the kiss of Jesus, then he kissed the loving fuck out of my mother.” AKWJEJEJW

OH, the actor who plays teen Madeline was young Shirley in HOHH.

These poor kids are burying their mother in a wooden box. 😭 Also, Bruce Greenwood’s voice is so stately and complicated, churching and churning like gravel. His voiceover as he recites “For Annie” is perfect.

Lol, it’s not a Poe story if someone wasn’t buried alive.

The shadow of Eliza moving in the background behind Dupin aughdnehshs. The way the dialogue makes you pay attention to what’s behind him so you can’t miss that ghost.

“That day was the last day we were all in the same place.”

And then the text flashing two weeks later is effective too. Six people dead within two weeks.

I’m sorry. I can’t take madeline’s bangs seriously. QKQKWMDNWN what. why

obsessed with how hot all of the usher children are. I’m sure they’re all human cesspools and everything, but they’re sure serving cunt in the courtroom

really appreciate the gravitas carl lumbly is bringing to auggie—whether it’s his righteous rage in the trial or his various reactions to Roderick in the living room. In the latter especially, he gets to embody so many complicated emotions: his disgust at roderick, his horror at what happened to the usher family, his reluctant curiosity as roderick goes on and on…

“I don’t think it can be true. If it is true, it’s Perry.” AQokqqkoqsk. Henry Thomas is wonderful.

Oh, god yeah. Tamerlane Usher is gonna do it for me. Love when women are ambitious and horrible and definitely have intergenerational trauma that they repress under a paper thin veneer of being put together: “I don’t give a shit about the world. I care about what my dad thinks.”

“Fuck Blippi.”

T’Nia Miller. Audhehwngnrnwjjwjejw.

“We just have to keep it away from Perry or it’ll end up in some co-ed’s drink.” ALL of the siblings have bagged on Perry so far. This line is so eurgh, though. Says a lot about who Perry is before we meet him in earnest.

Usher being so casually queer is wonderful.

the sibling introductions are doing a nice job of shading their definitely fatal flaws, lol.

PLUTO!! love a good black cat

“Hannity knows which side his dick is buttered on. He’ll be friendly.” GOD WKWNENSNSKN

“I want you to start with Perry obviously, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to keep it off TikTok.” AAfjwkwoama

Kate Siegel can murder me. Love the white hair.

The difference between present day Madeline and Roderick and their teenage counterparts is stark. They were jaded, yes, but they weren’t cold and callous, neglectful and disdaining.

“Freddie, marrying this woman might be the one thing you didn’t fuck up.” MAN WOQMWNWNDJJSNSSKA

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Freddie.”

Love the whole toxic family being together. <3

“Neutralized. Like dead.” WLQLQLQLQKDJNDNS. GOD

“I’ll have to sue the bloody puddle of gore in the designer shoes.” slay

“To the rest of you, happy hunting.” Fascinating and horrifying. The way the Ushers are so insular—they’re expected to defend the family, the company, with their lives, but Roderick also sees no problem with turning them against each other. Before they’re ever killed, they’re already cannibalizing themselves.

Roderick claims responsibility for all of the children’s deaths.

Carla Gugino is so hot aufhwikqlwkwkakwkw.

good on usher for playing with the incestuous vibes of the original story with Maddie and Rod. Fun and fucked up.

Madeline wearing sunglasses to the funeral is soooo Alqkqkwsmakma.

OH THE GHOSTS OF ALL SIX. SO FUCKED UP. AUOUGHDNDJS. AND THE LINE BEINg, “… the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height.” YEAH

Lenore reaching out to place a hand on Roderick. 😭 also, bruce is so good in this. His agony as he looks upon all those condemning bodies and wounds is chilling

THAT FUCKING JESTER JUMPSCARE WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. GOD

yeah okay. I’m into this show QKQMQKQKKSN

#the fall of the house of usher #the fall of the house of usher spoilers #maggie blogs #s: tfothou

[ryan-rts]

Hello there! Long time no see?

Before I talk about this model I do have to apologise for not uploading since my last post, life and mental health took over a lot and I just didn't have time nor motivation to post anything. However I'm going to try and make this a more constant thing rather than just whenever and whatever. I still need to plan out stuff, however I'll update you all when the time is right.

Anyway, today's model is of a locomotive I've taken some interest in, this is a 9F.

British Railways 9F class No.92250 was built at Crewe Works in 1958 and became the last steam locomotive to be fully constructed at Crewe. It was intended to be the last 9F built, and on top of that the last steam locomotive built by BR, and on technicality, if we're going off locomotive numbers, it is. However, 9F No.92220 'Evening Star' became the last 9F built and overall the Last Steam Locomotive built in 1960, by Swindon.

Despite the factor Swindon officially built the last 9F, I've never had a soft spot for Evening Star. However, after coming into ownership of a couple 9Fs, I was wondering what to do with them. The first one I got was a Single Chimney 9F which, as I have my own Railway Series Headcanon, will become some form of my Murdoch, and the second one, which was this one, was a Double Chimney Variant, but the loco only, with the tender it has coming from a Standard 5. The latter 9F was going to be a project by my friend Amethyst, known on Twitter as Merry Hampton Productions or @/B661Sutton (link at the end of post), to turn into a Double Chimney member of the class based around Tyseley.

Now, I had 251 9Fs I could have chose to turn this one into, however, as I work in Crewe, am quite local and also have taken interest into a majority of locomotives built there, I thought that 92250 would be the best fitting.

The first thing this model required was a new chimney. The later batches of 9Fs were all built with the Double chimney and blast pipe arrangement, however, 92250 was a little bit different.

In the 50s, Dr. Adolph Giesl-Gieslingen (what a name) designed and produced a type of chimney and blast pipe arrangement that would use steam more effectively which would help reduce the amount of coal an engine would intake. It was fitted to many engines in service and Preservation, a famous example being No.4 'Edward Thomas' on the Talyllyn Railway, and his Sudrian Counterpart Peter Sam.

92250 was built in 1958 and a year later in 1959 was fitted with an oblong Giesl Ejector. This chimney offered the same level of draught for a reduced level of back-pressure or created an increase in draught with no performance loss elsewhere. There was no change in the usage of coal either, so overall the chinmey made little difference to the 9Fs already stirling performance. 92250 retained this chinmey until withdrawal in 1965 and was Scrapped at Cashmores in Newport.

The chimney I used on my model of 92250 was a white metal one from RT Models. The chimney is designed to replace the ones on the Hornby Austerities and is more fit for industrial locomotives, so on the 9F it's a little bit short, however with little reference to how long it is, I removed the old one, cut down this one, and fitted it. It still looked the part however from some angles compared to pictures you can tell its a little too short.

After this the model was painted Black. For my black paint I use Revel Aqua colour. Their matt and gloss blacks have some good coverage, and as they are the colours I use most, I can go to my local Hobbycraft and pick them up easily.

After painting, I had to scrape most of the Factory Weathering off the Rods, add the numbers and Crests, which are all transfers from Fox Transfers (link to the numbers and crests bellow) and a nice coat of Humbrol Matt Varnish. I went for Matt as it was to hand and also as it would dull back the very glossy effect of the paint.

So that's all it was for 92250, a rather quick and simple project, which anyone could do as a good starter project.

Here is a link to Amethyst's twitter, where you can go and see her lovely modelling projects:

https://twitter.com/B661Sutton?t=tl58JqYScDFAOGbV-quvCw&s=09

And here is a link to the Transfers I used from Fox Transfers:

https://www.fox-transfers.co.uk/steam-cabside-numbering-3-sizes-58502

https://www.fox-transfers.co.uk/early-lion-and-wheel-totem-58306

Picture credit from below are to their respective owners on Flickr

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for the Christmas Mass during the Night

Isa 9:1-7; Ps 95; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

Christmas is a declaration of war! Or to be more precise, the birth of God in the flesh, in our world, in our human condition, makes visible and manifests in blood and bones and in our own human body, the spiritual warfare that began when the angels had fallen in love with themselves. For the angels had fallen through pride, which is essentially an overblown love of one’s own excellence, and an overestimation of one’s own correctness combined with a desire to dominate others, and so to get my own way always. Pride, in short, is believing that “I know best”. 

And so the angels’ rebellion infected humanity, and Eve had thought she knew better than God how to gain for herself happiness, and freedom, and the knowledge of good and evil. This temptation to create our own meaning, and reality, and happiness independently of God has never gone away, so dictators wage wars, and families continue feuds, and our hearts become battlegrounds – all because of pride. So Mankind fell out of love with God, and so we began to “walk in darkness” as Isaiah says.

But tonight God comes to shatter the darkness: “On those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone.” By his coming as Man, Jesus himself enters into the fray, and because he is God so he comes with victory to end this mad war, this insane rebellion against Mankind’s highest and truest good. For one of the insights of St Thomas Aquinas is that every act of sin is a lapse of reason, a kind of momentary insanity as we knowingly choose an apparent good over the true Good, God himself! Hence God comes to break the heavy burden of Mankind’s sin, the rod of pride that stiffens our will. Thus (Isaiah says) “the yoke that was weighing on him, the bar across his shoulders, the rod of his oppressor, these you break as on the day of Midian” – just in case you’ve forgotten, this refers to a battle between Gideon and his 300 soldiers against the vast army of Midian, and Gideon was victorious against the odds because God’s power was with Gideon and his men. And so at Christmas, God declares war on all that separates us from him, or turns us against him, and in doing so, they would diminish our humanity. 

Hence, an army of the good heavenly angels appears in the night sky outside Bethlehem declaring “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to men who enjoy his favour.” This, in fact, is a declaration not merely of war but of victory already won as peace is restored to men and women who live by God’s favour, meaning, for anyone who will receive his grace and live by it; anybody who will thus allow God to be their ally and friend. As St Paul said to Titus: “God’s grace has been revealed, and it has made salvation possible for the whole human race and taught us that what we have to do is to give up everything that does not lead to God, and all our worldly ambitions”. In other words, Christ comes to lead us away from all that would lead us away from God and so end the strife begun so long ago. Therefore, tonight, by his birth among us, God declares war on sin, on pride, which leads us away from God. God comes to us to fight for humanity’s liberation from vices and evil, not with material weapons nor even with a mighty army of angels. Rather, God takes flesh and is born of the virgin Mary, born for us, as a vulnerable, little, human baby. There, lying in the manger – a domestic animal’s feeding trough! – helpless and vulnerable in his little body, is the Creator and Sustainer of All that Is. Isaiah, excitedly gives him a string of titles: “Wonder-Counsellor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace” – many of us will hear these titles, I think, and hear the stirring music of Handel in the back of our minds. Nevertheless, no grand music, nor red and gold decor, nor warm glowing lights should distract us from this strange truth, this marvellous mystery, the sheer creativity of the divine stratagem of war that bring us our peace. 

For born in the cave at Bethlehem, and gawped at by outcast shepherds, and wrapped in simple strips of linen cloth is God himself, God-with-Us, a human baby. And this baby, even before he is full grown, is already our champion and warrior and victor in the ancient war against sin and pride. 

How? For the root of all sin, as we saw when the angels fell, is pride. So God, in answer, comes in all humility to demonstrate humility. Come to the manger and see the humility and meekness of God in the flesh. And Christ comes to teach us humility. This is enacted in a striking manner if you were to visit the Grotto where Jesus was born in Bethlehem: To get down into that small cave, you’d first have to stoop down and make yourself small, squeezing through an ancient doorway that leads into the birthplace of Christ. However, Christ teaches us not to become small physically - that is not his intention – but rather he wants to teach us to humble our thoughts, our intellect, our fundamental attitudes. 

And so tonight Christ, born for us, is here to teach us humility. For when we come to the altar, here in church, we see the humility and meekness of Christ. Because Jesus is present for us in the Eucharist, hidden under the appearances of bread and wine. So, in the Mass, the Blessed Sacrament is held up for us to adore and worship as God, and given to us here in Holy Communion, but we can only do this fruitfully if we have learnt to be humble and docile, if we can truly say, “God knows best”, and so we trust in the teachings of God’s Word given to his Church. God knows how this mystery of the Eucharist comes to be – our human minds will always fail to fathom this sublime sign of God’s love and humility. Certainly, the angels themselves marvel and wonder at the humility of this great Sacrament. Hence St Francis of Assisi said: “O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! That the Lord of the whole universe, God and the Son of God, should humble himself like this and hide under the form of a little bread, for our salvation.” So, if you marvel that God is so great that he can humble himself and become a little baby, so we marvel that Jesus, who took flesh from the Virgin Mary, is truly present here and now, just as he had been in Bethlehem. For tonight, and indeed, at every single Mass, the church becomes Bethlehem, which means ‘the house of bread’, and the altar becomes the manger, the feeding trough, because from it you and I are fed with Jesus himself – we receive his Body and Blood into our own bodies, we become united to his flesh. This is the true wonder of Christmas that is extended to us day after day in the Mass. As Pope St Leo the Great said: “God took the nature of a servant… enlarging our humanity without diminishing his divinity.” 

Christ comes to us in the Sacraments, therefore, to enlarge our humanity. Christ comes, therefore, to fight with us, alongside us, and indeed, within us. As St Paul says to Titus that Christ has “sacrificed himself for us in order to set us free from all wickedness and to purify” us. Hence Christ empties himself and gives us himself, giving us his grace in the Sacraments especially in the Eucharist, so that we might share in his victory, so that we might taste the goodness of God, and enjoy his peace.

Today, then, war has been declared and victory has been won. For today the Word became flesh and dwells among us. The prophet Isaiah says that it is the “jealous love of the Lord of Hosts” that motivates this, meaning, God’s all-consuming and intense love for humanity, for you and for me. St Thomas Aquinas suggests that God became Man, a little baby lying in the manger in Bethlehem, “so that even children could know and love God as someone like themselves”. Therefore, in this Christmas season do visit the Crib, our Nativity Chapel, or whatever favourite image of the birth of Jesus you have, and pray and ask that you can come to know and love Jesus, God-with-us, who is born for this. Or, if you ever find yourself sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death, if you are anxious and frustrated and lonely and feeling unloved, come to Mass more often, and come to adore the Lord in the Eucharist, and discover the true beauty and miracle and wonder of Christmas. For as J. R. R. Tolkein said: “Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament… There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth”. 

Therefore, tonight, gathered around the manger that is this altar, we sing our victory song: “O come let us adore him, o come let us adore him, o come let us adore him, Christ the Lord!” 

#Christmas #Eucharist #Jesus Christ #Saviour #incarnation #pride #humility #grace

[papermoonloveslucy]

RIP PAT CARROLL

1927-2022

Patricia Ann Carroll was born in Shreveport, Louisiana. She was an actress and comedian best known for voicing Ursula in The Little Mermaid as well as having a long acting career on stage and screen. 

Her first brush with Lucille Ball was through appearing in an episode of the Desilu sitcom “The Ann Sothern Show” titled “Pandora”.  Lucille Ball had made a guest appearance on the series to kick off its transition from Sothern’s “Private Secretary.” 

From 1961 to 1964 she played Bunny Halper on “The Danny Thomas Show” (originally titled “Make Room for Daddy”).  Her husband Charley was played by frequent Lucy featured actor Sid Melton.  While Carroll and Lucille Ball never acted together on screen, they did know each other.  In an interview, Carroll remembered Lucy: 

I don't think we had many [female comedians] in the professional field until Lucy came along and made the whole career of ‘comedienne' okay. You no longer had to be an ugly girl to be a comic. She made it possible for any young woman to do comedy anywhere. You know, when I was doing “The Danny Thomas Show” we were on the same lot where she and Desi did the Lucy show.

Lucille Ball used to come to my dressing room out of sentiment and I got to talk to her. We talked about her early days at MGM. She said, "I am doing work today that I was taught to do by Rags Ragland and Buster Keaton." MGM kept them under contract and they taught comedy classes to the young contract players, Lucy being one.

She said, "They used to give us a prop to take home with us and study every part of it, get so familiar with it, we could throw it in the air, catch it and do anything we want. That has helped me so much." I keep thinking of her using stilts in her show and how adept she was with any kind of prop. How wonderful of her to give the credit was due. She was a very generous woman that way.

In addition to “The Danny Thomas Show,” Carroll also made a few appearances on Desilu’s game show “You Don’t Say”. From 1963 to 1969 she was a regular panelist on the show, playing doing more episodes than anyone except host Tom Kennedy. She played the game with Marty Allen, Richard Deacon, Sebastian Cabot, Marty Ingels, Bill Cullen, Brian Keith, Ken Berry, Mel Torme, Leonard Nimoy, Monty Hall, Rod Serling, and her TV husband Sid Melton, among others. 

Carroll was an Emmy, Drama Desk and Grammy Award winner and a Tony Award nominee. She died at her home in Cape Cod at the age of 95. She is survived by her three children. 

#Pat Carroll #Lucille Ball #The Danny Thomas Show #You Don't Say #Ann Sothern Show

[theloniousbach]

BRASS AT MEZZROW’S

JEREMY PELT with Rick Germanson and Clovis Nicholas, 6 FEBRUARY 2024, 9 pm set

MICAH THOMAS/KALIA VANDEVER, 7 FEBRUARY 2024, 10:30 pm

Mezzrow’s continues the tradition of piano bars like Bradley’s which I got to in the late 1970s. Mezzrow’s by now has drummers whereas Bradley’s offered piano/bass duos. But horns do show up occasionally as they did this week when JEREMY PELT continued his periodic drummerless gigs in the style of his Art of Intimacy recordings and MICAH THOMAS workshopped some tunes with trombonist KALIA VANDEVER. Both more than interesting enough to pique my curiosity, but, alas, slightly flawed.

JEREMY PELT was reliably elegant and tasteful navigating standards with old buddy Rick Germanson and the very fine Clovis Nicholas in from France to play bass. The tune selection was strong and enough off the beaten track—Henry Mancini, Horace Silver, a ballad likely associated with Engelbert Humperdinck and not Ed Sheeran, Nat Adderley, and Dizzy Gillespie. In overly voluble stage patter, Pelt confessed that he spent the afternoon as part of Rod Stewart’s band taping for Jimmy Fallon’s tonight show and that cocktails were served. So he talked too much and, frankly, played too much. What he played was just fine, but he lacked focus and discipline. But he was still wonderful witness the Woody’N’You closer which included Carlos Abade sitting in. Two trumpets in such a small ensemble is tricky anyway, but Abade just doesn’t have the tone or ideas to stick with Pelt subject to a PUI citation. Playing Nat Adderly and Dizzy back to back though was a meaningful tribute to the legacy of his instrument. The Two Different Worlds ballad was my favorite, probably because it was the ballad. Germanson was strong but probably too indulgent of his old pal, but Nicholas was delightful underneath everything though he had only one solo.

I spent the day listening to MICAH THOMAS’s well regarded recent album Reveal and couldn’t quite see the enthusiasm. Yes, he’s a very fine player who pushes the boundaries, but I don’t hear his music soar. I’ve heard him with altoist Immanuel Wilkins who is also edgy. This gig was a tamer version of a similar late night set with the very free tenor player Doh Alma who, with Thomas, went way out there on extended excursions. What was different though was that this was a workshop of compostions, some quite partial, with titles like Random Swing Tune, February 2024 Sketch #3, and Untitled from both him and trombonist KALIA VANDEVER. Her instrument can certainly play terse and experimental lines, but there is a mellowness that takes the edge off what an avant-garde saxophonist might do. To be sure, Rosewell Rudd and Grachan Moncur III among others played free music on trombone, but the instrument has an undeniably richness. They played seven tunes, so they kept the focus on the compositions which were terse and fidgety, not mere exercises but more atmospheric than tuneful and generally rather somber. I won’t parse the relationship to New Music but jazz really only broke out on a tune for bassist Kanoa Meldenhall who was in the audience and the last chorus of the tune that resolved into I’ll Be Seeing You. The closer had a nice figure shared between Thomas’s right hand and the horn and it was brighter than the others.

All that said, these shows met my expectations, both to stretch my ears and to be a little different than usual.

#concert review #jazz #small’s live #mezzrow’s #2024 #livestream almost #livestream

[historyinthemakingamazingfinds]

William Wallace first raised his head on 3 May 1297, when he killed William Heselrig, the English sheriff of Lanark. There are all kinds of wonderful myths and legends about Wallace – I particularly like the tale of him bonking English soldiers on the head with a fishing rod, or shoving his fist down a lion's mouth – but let us stick to the facts.

Wallace was the son of Alan Wallace, a Crown tenant of Ayshire: we know that thanks to the discovery of the so-called Lubeck letter in the 1820s, with Wallace's seal attached. The reverse of the seal (pictured) shows a bow and string with a protruding arrow held by two fingers, which may imply Wallace was a skilled archer.

Very little is known of the historical Wallace, as opposed to the legend. His first major exploit, the killing of Heselrig, is mentioned by Sir Thomas Gray, an English knight who wrote his chronicle, the Scalacronica, in the mid-14th century. Gray wrote that Wallace had been 'elected by the commonalty of Scotland to lead their army against the English'.

If true – and there is no particular reason to doubt Gray – then Wallace was appointed head of an army of resistance by the commons of Scotland. After the death of Heselrig he raised the nearby men of Clydesdale and headed south.

Wallace and his men may have raided into England, but certainly led a devastating foray into Dumfriesshire. A letter from Edward I dated 13 June 1297 thanks a group of Dumfriesshire nobles for recapturing certain castles, recently taken by Scottish rebels. The rebellion of Robert de Bruce and Bishop Wishart of Glasgow was not launched until the end of May, not early enough time for Dumfriesshire to be won and lost by the time Edward learned of it, far to the south.

So, with Edward's officers in Scotland feeling distinctly queasy, let's turn to Flanders...

Source: Facebook

The 13th Century

[inkribbon796]

Little Wonders Ch. 2

Chapter 2: Twists and Turns of Fate

Summary: Logan felt something he’d never felt before: blind, brain numbing fear. His whole body had tense up like a wound-up clock. He could speak, he couldn’t scream. Regrettably he couldn’t even think.

Chapters: 1, 2

Logan felt something he’d never felt before: blind, brain numbing fear. His whole body had tense up like a wound-up clock. He could speak, he couldn’t scream. Regrettably he couldn’t even think.

Chance of Death: 100%

The logical Side was trying to think of anything but his brain was only coming up with reasons he was going to die instead of looking for a useful solution. He could barely even wiggle to attempt to free himself. The door sounded heavy. No one knew where he was. The Host had warned him before this even started that he would be unable to help Logan.

“Don’t leave evidence,” Bim mocked Dark’s tone of voice. “Fucking asshole, who does he think I am? I don’t leave fucking evidence.”

A dull thud from Bim’s elbow hitting the table startled Logan. “So, what’d you do?”

Logan’s throat seized up with fear, rendering him literally speechless.

“Bet it was pretty bad for the Old Man to deal with you,” Bim leaned over the table and gave his newest victim a wide toothy smile. “You’re working with the heroes aren’t you?”

“Confessions given during coercion are unreliable and untrustworthy,” Logan refused, once he could calm himself enough to speak. He desperately wanted Patton or Roman, he felt alone and terrified.

The young villain scoffed, and Logan startled when he felt something sharp cut into his previously unmarred cheek, giving out a choked gasp. “I’ve heard people say and promise a lot of things you know? I can see why the Old Man drags out his kills, but you know, I don’t think I can do that tonight. I’m just so fucking hungry!”

With no warning to Logan, Bim punctuated his statement by stabbing Logan right next to the lung, Bim’s hunger making him sloppy. Logan screamed out, pain piercing his body as he instinctively tried to get away but the cuffs kept him from doing so.

“But,” Bim grabbed Logan by the cheek and forced him to look in his direction, his fingers digging into the cuts and scratches, “I think I can drag this out long enough to be fun.”

A bang came at the door, startling both Bim and Logan. Logan went very still, and Bim angrily hissed and turned to the door.

“I hate being interrupted during dinner,” Bim growled, his voice starting to get farther away.

Logan’s racing heart wasn’t helping.

“Yeah what do you want Old—” Bim hissed before everything went quiet.

There was a muted scream, then Logan was left with footfall running towards him.

“Shit,” someone cursed.

“A little help here!” Someone else called out.

“I’m a bit busy here,” the first voice called out.

Logan felt a bit disoriented, a still functioning part of his pain told him he was most likely going into shock, which would be fatal for his condition. His wrists and ankles, along with all of his body felt considerably lighter. Not helped by his inability to see.

“Let’s go, before Dark shows back up,” the first voice was becoming increasingly familiar.

Finally Logan felt like he was being moved, which snapped his brain almost into hyper awareness as he was moved. At the moment he could be sure if it was a good thing or not, but he couldn’t hear Bim anymore.

After about two minutes they stopped.

“You think he can find us?”

Virgil?

“Yes, hand me your watch, I’ll call the heroes.” Logan vaguely recognized Deceit’s voice. “Do not remove that knife yet.”

“I,” Virgil already sounded like he was panicking. “Hurry, he’s dying.”

“Compress the wound,” Janus ordered. “Stay quiet.”

“Shit,” Virgil sobbed. “Shit.”

“How bad is it?” Logan asked.

“It looks like he got you in the lungs,” Virgil answered.

Logan took a shallow breath, “I do not feel like I have a punctured lung.”

“Okay, okay, that’s good,” Virgil said in hysterics.

“Virgil, I need you to remain calm,” Logan ordered.

“How can I remain calm when you were stabbed in the chest,” Virgil told him. “You’re not Remus or Ro, you’re gonna die. How are you not freaking out.”

“My survival right now hinges upon me being calm until help arrives,” Logan reminded sharply. “Now that I am away from Bim I can not afford to panic. I need you to calm down.”

“If I hadn’t dragged my feet we could have gotten to you before you got stabbed. I saw Dark dragging you along and I froze up,” Virgil sounded like he was sobbing.

“Virgil,” Logan tried to cut in, trying to think of what Patton would do.

Scream, a part of his brain reminded, to which Logan sharply reminded himself was unhelpful.

“You’re going to die and it’s going to be my fault,” Virgil panicked.

“Let it go,” Logan told Virgil, his tone had a slight lilt to it from the song, but Logan couldn’t sing ballades too well and he’d been stabbed so it would have been asking too much from his already taxed system. “Let it roll right off your shoulders.”

Virgil snuffled a little bit as Logan kept going, “Don’t you know? The hardest part is over?”

“Let it in,” Logan pleaded as Virgil silently came back to Logan’s side, pressure finally being out onto his stab wound. To carefully stop the bleeding while not jostling the scalpel. “Let your clarity define you.”

“In the end,” Logan grimaced in pain, “we will only just remember how it feels.”

“Our lives are made,” Logan’s hand scooted over to touch Virgil’s fingers, the ones still on his chest, regretful of the fact he couldn’t see him. “In these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate.”

Virgil managed a smile as Logan sang, touching his free hand to Logan’s face and carding it through his hair.

“Time falls away, but these small hours,” Logan grimaced back. “These small hours still remain.”

Despite the pain he tried to reach up to touch Virgil’s face, so happy he was with him. But the logical Side was stopped immediately by the shooting pain through his body. He screamed out.

Desperate, Virgil carefully moved Logan into his lap, urging him to stop.

“Let it slide,” Virgil picked up, trying to keep the bubble of calm going, if only for his own sake to keep him from screaming and panicking. He knew he was a bit pitchy and probably singing a bit deeper than it was normally sung. “Let your troubles fa~all behind you, let it shine.”

Logan, however, didn't seem to mind, just watching Virgil sing, “Til you feel it all around you.”

“And I don’t mind,” Virgil told Logan. “If it’s me you ne~ed to turn to, we’ll get by.”

“It’s the heart,” Virgil began on his own before Logan regain enough strength to continue along with him. “That really matters in the end.”

Virgil was too worried about Logan, to realize that the logical Side’s eyes had turned to a deep, dark shade of blue. Logan’s glasses were destroyed so he couldn’t make out the subtle glow of Virgil’s deep, dark purple eyes in the darkness.

“Our lives are made,” Logan sang with Virgil, feeling his body get charged a bit with some kind of energy. “In these small hours.”

“These little wonders,” their singing had become a little quieter, to preserve as much of Logan’s strength as they could. “These twists and turns of fate.”

“Time falls away,” Virgil carded his free hand through Logan’s hair again. “But these small hours, these small hours, still remain.”

Janus was creeping back to their hiding spot, hearing their voices before he could see them and was about to chew them both out. He knew leaving Virgil alone with Logan hadn’t been the best idea, but it was their only option, but it wouldn’t do them any good if Janus went to the trouble of disgusting and redirecting Logan’s and their trails if someone heard them singing in the tunnels.

Then he stopped when he saw the glow of purple eyes.

“All of my regret,” Virgil kept softly singing with Logan, feeling his body charging with energy, knowing what it meant, but wanting to hold Logan even closer. “Will wash away somehow.”

“But I cannot forget,” Logan agreed as Virgil realized that Janus was there and silently begged for help. “The way I feel right now.”

Janus carefully moved over, trying to disrupt the torn magic trying to knit itself back together. He carefully but quickly pulled the scalpel, using the magic he could conjure up to make it relatively painless. They’d both tried fusing with Remus when he’d been stabbed, and the result was the Dragon Witch having a knife sticking out of him, and a healed wound around the blade. Logan did cry out but Virgil stroked his face, their eyes still glowing different colors.

Virgil held Logan close, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could.

“In these small hours,” they both tried to sing, but Logan’s much more pained. They let out a soft glow, and the words became a bit stronger as one person sat in their place, “these little wonders.”

Janus backed up with the scalpel, making it disappear up his sleeve as he gave the new fusion its space. The fusions’s arms around his body as if the two halves were still trying to hold onto each other.

“These little wonders,” the fusion sang, “these twist and turns of fate.”

“Yeah, these twists and turns of fate,” the fusion kept going, his grip on himself slightly less desperate and tight,” Time falls away. Yeah, but these small hours, and these small hours.”

The magic in the air began to slowly dissipate, which revealed Janus because they were less likely to be caught. “Still reman, yeah~yeah, oh, they still remain.”

“These little wonders,” the fusion continued. Janus quiet went back to check the mouth of their tunnel, braced to see Dark or one of his cronies. “Oh these these twists and turns of fate.”

“Time falls away,” the fusion slowly opened his eyes, “but these small hours. These little wonders.”

“Still remain,” he trailed off softly, letting go of himself to look at his hands and the now magically closed up stab wound of his chest. Even Logan’s shirt and vest had been magically repaired as if nothing had happened.

But everything had happened.

Virgil’s thoughts were churning as Logan grabbed the reins of their fusion. In place of Logan’s suit coat and Virgil’s cloak was a long dark blue cape, the shading so dark that it was almost black, the inside of the cape was an equally dark purple color. The cloak was a bit shorter than Virgil’s cloak, and lacked a hood.

“Hello,” Janus greeted softly, trying not to startle the new fusion. One he’d never thought he’d get to see with Virgil insistence on never fusing again when he’d joined the Light Sides.

“Jan?” The fusion still sat kneeling, the Logan in him paused at the name. Janus? Deceit was Janus?

Janus smiled in the dark tunnel, unsure if this fusion took after Virgil’s night vision. “Yes, do you have a name?”

The fusion thought for a couple seconds, “Brain, my name is Brain.”

Smiling a bit more softly, Janus held out his hands and Brain took them, standing up on shaky legs. “So, Brain, where to now?”

“The base, I have to let the heroes know that Logan is okay,” Brain decided. “Do you know where we are?”

“An abandoned railway station fifty miles out of town,” Janus motioned and Brain began to follow him. “Virgil and I have been looking for a way to reverse his curse, and there was supposed to be some kind of witch in the area. Before we could find her, Virgil spotted Logan and almost got his head taken off by Dark.”

“I should be lucky you two were in the area,” Brain began to whisper, the two of them tiptoeing through the tunnels. He grabbed Janus to pull him closer, looking nervous, “I can’t see far away.”

Janus offered his hand, “Come on, then.”

They walked in silence for a couple seconds, Brain pausing to look at some of the graffiti on the walls a couple times in distraction. Then Janus paused them.

“What do you mean you can’t find them!” Dark boomed, Brain tensing up.

“Boss, we looked everywhere,” one of Dark’s network nervously answered.

Brain could almost smell the fear in the air from Virgil and heard a wet, squelching sound — the sound of the man’s head being ripped from his neck — along with the rip of a hole in the Void.

“Clean everyone out,” Dark ordered. “Once Bim has had his fill, I’ll smoke them out.”

Janus tugged on Brain’s arm and Brain stayed quiet, trying not to draw attention to either of them.

Dark’s voice began to get farther away and the tunnel started getting a bit brighter.

“Hey!” Someone called out behind them.

Brain, with Virgil’s reaction time and forethought, screamed and threw up a fear wave, willingly shaping it to look like Dark. The guy screamed and Janus grabbed Brian, the two running into the woods.

“Heroes, some help would be appreciated,” Janus ordered into Virgil’s communicator as he took off in a random direction with Brain.

Thankfully that was when Jackie came in and, at Janus’s immediate insistence to take Brain first, scooped Brain up and ran back towards the base, leaving him in the garage to go back for Deceit who was probably at Dark’s non-existent mercy.

However now Brain was now left in the garage with Patton and Roman looked different levels of confused. Marvin and Iplier were them, feeding off of their unease. Being left alone with the three heroes left Brain and his two halves just as uneasy.

“Where’s Logan?” Iplier asked.

“He’s a Side,” Patton commented. “But you’re not Orange.”

“No,” Brain took a deep breath, thankful that Logan was part of his make up. “I am Brain, I am a fusion between Logan and Virgil.”

“What?!” Roman shouted.

Patton let out an excited screech, clapping his hands to his face, “Ahhhhhhh! Virgil’s first fusion.”

“Virgil has fused with Dee and the Duke to make the Dragon Witch multiple times,” Brain corrected.

“Hi Lo,” Patton waved at Brain. “Having fun in there with Virge?”

“How do we know it’s really this Brain fellow and not that snake in Side’s clothing?” Roman demanded.

“You tried to swipe Virgil’s Nightmare Before Christmas posters, and then almost got your head caved in with Logan’s clipboard when you stole all the Crofters in the fridge and then lied about it.”

Roman crown, sheathing his sword, frowning and looking at Marvin and Iplier, “Okay unless they told that slimy snake, it’s them.”

“Yah sure?” Marvin asked incredulously.

“Yes, they’re Logan and Virgil fused,” Roman looked unhappy. “I take it you two, for whatever reason, fused in the heart of Dark’s territory. I’d be more upset if that wasn’t so romantic.”

“Well,” Brain became acutely aware that Jackie was back with Janus, and both of them looked none the worse for wear. Jackie walked over and gave Brain the watch. “Oh thank you, Logan was stabbed by Bim and in trying to calm each other down they fused.”

“He was stabbed then?” Iplier shouted. “Are you still bleeding?”

“Fusing and unfusing resets our forms, so as fun as a visit would be, Doc, I’m good, although I do need to yell at your boyfriend,” Brain said.

Iplier rolled his eyes, “Sure, what’s he do this time?”

“Brain is referring to the Host’s actions regarding both Anxiety and Logic,” the Host suddenly appeared behind Iplier, leaning his head on his doctor’s shoulder.

Iplier jumped a bit, “Host, don’t do that?”

The Host looked pleased by the reaction he had cause. He leaned away, stepping from around Iplier.

Janus let out a low snake-like hiss when he realized the Host was there, his serpentine pupil narrowing. “You!”

“Now,” the Host smiled. “The Host regrets to inform the Sides, that he does not have anything to say that would make him look any better.”

“You obviously hate us,” Brain blurted out.

“Brain is very much incorrect,” the Host corrected. “The Host had to determine what timeline he existed in, which he was thankful to have Virgil’s help for, and Logan would be ineffective as a spy if he believed he was constantly watched. He would be unable to discern the Host from the Entity. Anxiety would not have fused with Logan, even to spare the other Side’s life if he felt pressured to do so. The ensuing loss would have been incalculable.”

“Why gamble with their lives at all?” Janus demanded angrily.

The Host looked offended by that, “Gambling implies there was a likelihood of the Sides losing, which the Host did not allow for by ensuring that Anxiety was not in the base you the time Dark became suspicious, and that word of a forest witch reached Deceit. Therefore the heroes are still able to have the best possible ending when the Actor arrives.”

“Are yeh playin’ wit’ our lives like a video game, yeh right bastard?” Marvin demanded.

“The Host doesn’t prefer to think of it that way, but if that is the easiest to understand then the Host will argue that he is looking for the best possible future and nudging various individuals — villains, heroes, and civilians alike — into positions they need to be in. The Host was unsure which timelines were possible or what would have been the best until Anxiety refused to fuse with anyone post-joining the heroes, which would have broken the curse immediately since Virgil now doesn’t technically exist, Brain does.”

“It was that simple?” Janus demanded. “We could have been done with that ages ago if I had known that!”

“Ah, but Virgil would not have been by the train station, if Deceit had known, the Host reminded proudly. “Logan would have been disbelieving of a threat under the Sides’s noses, and the Coalition and police would not have gotten concrete evidence against Bim.”

“So we’re on the Good End route?” Roman asked.

Host sighed, “Sure. The heroes can go with that, if it helps them.”

“Good, because I need a nap,” Brain decided, already heading into the base. “Out.”

Janus left the base with a curt goodbye, making sure Brain was actually okay before he took off.

For the first day Brain stayed in the base, dragging Virgil’s stereo system into Logan’s workshop and starting to work on some small projects when he could hold his own attention. Logan was going to have to deal with a lot of half-finished projects when Brain separated.

One day turned into two. Then three.

Brain managed to finish one of his projects, giddily excited in pride and accomplishment, walking around Logan’s office in a black t-shirt and jeans. Patton often sat with him, asking what he was doing, Roman was quietly supportive as he ranted about his newest role in a play. They weren’t exactly pushy but after four days it had been the longest the Sides had ever stayed fused and Brain could tell Roman was either jealous or worried . . . and being a fusion with Virgil meant that Brain’s anxiety hiked through the roof. An anxiety that was calmed during a movie night at the Light Sides’ apartment.

The trio were watching some movie and Brain was starting to doze off, head leaned back against the couch.

Then, as gently as they had fused, the fusion was suddenly Virgil with his head leaned back against the pillow, Logan sitting in his lap, sleeping against him.

Patton smiled and let out a silent scream as he took out his phone to start taking pictures. “So cute,” he cooed in awe.

“Quiet,” Roman hissed, smiling, “you’ll wake them up.”

Virgil grumbled and held Logan a little closer, making Patton more excited as he took more pictures. The four Core Sides reunited once again.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Thomas Sanders #Markiplier #Analogical #Logan Sanders #Bim Trimmer #Janus Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Darkiplier #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Dr. Iplier #the Host #Dr. Iplierst #LAMP #angst #death threats #threats of cannibalism #Little Wonders by Rod Thomas #I’m gonna drop this and run #stabbing #magic #thank goodness for magic

[queenshelby]

Paying the Debts (One Shot)

Kinky Thursday Special Release

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut; Cuckold Husband; Bi Sexual Male Scene at the End

Words: 2,555

Notes: This was a request I had sitting around for a while. 

You arrived at Thomas Shelby’s office with your husband to pay your husband’s gambling debts but, since you were broke, you had to come up with another arrangement.

***

‘Well Mrs Y/LN, I am offering you an opportunity to work off your husband’s debts’ Tommy said as he grinned at you.

‘And what would this involve Mr Shelby?’ you asked curiously.

‘Well, I do have certain needs that you could attend to’ he then smirked, causing you to gasp.

‘That’s ridiculous Mr Shelby’ your husband then said, outraged by Tommy’s request.

‘You can leave if you like. I only require your wife to stay’ Tommy then said to your husband.

‘I will not leave’ your husband said somewhat annoyed.

‘Very well then, so stay and watch, eh’ Tommy then and, with that, you looked down at his crotch and you thought that a blow job for twelve hundred pounds seemed like a fair trade. Despite, Thomas Shelby was an attractive man and you had fantasised about him on several occasions.

‘I will do it’ you said as you dropped down to your knees and reached up and unzipped his pants.

‘Very well then’ Tommy groaned as you reached into the slit of his briefs and released his semi hard cock. It was hot in your hand and you felt a little tingling in your groin.

‘Y/N’ your husband whispered, unsure with what he was about to witness.

‘Well, darling, we have to pay of this debt somehow, right?’ you said before leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.

‘That’s it Love’ Tommy said and, when you looked looked up at him, you saw a big smile on his face as his cock grew thicker and longer.

You kept his whole length in your mouth until it grew too long and you had to bring your head back.

He was much larger than your husband and, after not too long, was dripping pre-cum.

You felt your heart beating harder in your chest as you licked it off, savouring the salty taste.

You think you heard your husband whimper as you started stroking him and bobbing your head up and down. His rod was as hard as a broom handle, no more like a steel rod; but it was hot in your hand and you could barely get your fingers around its girth. You were having a little problem breathing around it and you let it slide out.

Tommy was still smiling at you and as you looked at his member pointing at your face you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel in your pussy and you felt yourself getting wet down there.

‘I bet that its bigger than your husband’s cock, eh?’ Tommy groaned and you nodded before devouring him.

You must have sucked and stroked him for at least twenty minutes before he put his hands on the back of your head and groaned. His cock seemed to thicken in your mouth and you pushed your head as far forward as you could, forcing his cock down your throat.

‘That’s it Love, take it all into your throat’ he groaned, pulling your head toward him a little further.

You couldn't believe out much you had down your throat when he groaned again and flexed his hips toward you. His cock seemed to have grown impossibly large and you knew that you couldn't keep it down your throat for long when your fingers felt a surge travel through his cock and his cum exploded down your throat without any warning.

‘Fuck Love, make sure you swallow, eh?’ Tommy then groaned and you couldn't help it and gagged in surprise before his white cum boiled out of your mouth. You pulled back and swallowed, then pushed forward the same time he pushed his hips forward and another gush of cum went into your throat.

‘That’s it, such a good girl’ he cooed as you were able to handle this one better and you kept sucking and swallowing until you felt his body relax.

You kept him in your mouth for a few more minutes while his body shook with several small orgasmic spurts.

You kept expecting him to start getting soft because that's what happens to your husband afterwards, but Tommy was still iron hard as you looked down your nose and watched his cock slide out between your lips.

You used your fingers to wipe his cum from around your mouth and your chin and then licked them. The sweet but yet salty taste of his cum was somehow pleasant on your tongue as you licked your fingers clean. He smiled widely as he watched you; obviously pleased with the job you had done. You noticed that some had dripped onto your blouse and you wiped that off with your fingers and transferred the white goo to your tongue like it was nectar.

‘Jesus Y/N…please’ said your husband and you looked up at Tommy’s smiling face.

‘Well Mr Shelby, are we even?’ you asked.

‘Sweetheart, no blow job in the world, even one as great as that one, is worth twelve hundred dollars’ Tommy then winked before he took your shoulders and lifted you up until you were standing, facing him.

‘Okay, so do you want to fuck me too Mr Shelby?’ you asked, causing your husband to protest.

‘Yes, I do and your husband will get to watch and clean you up afterwards’ Tommy then said as he slowly unbuttoned your blouse and pushed the sides away and palmed your breasts in his big hands.

You felt, and he no doubt did too, your nipples harden under his palms. Then he leaned his head down and kissed you. His tongue probed between your lips and you opened them wide and slid your tongue into his mouth. Your pussy felt soaking wet and you felt your labia swelling between your legs.

You kept your eyes closed while you kissed and felt his fingers unzip your skirt. It was so tight on your hips that he had to use two hands to peel it off your butt until it finally slid to the floor around your ankles; all while keeping our lips locked together.

You knew that your husband had a clear view of your naked ass, but it didn't seem to matter to you. You were only aware of the handsome man kissing you. He grasped both of your butt cheeks in his hands and became aware that you were wearing no panties.

‘Naughty girl, coming to my office without panties, eh?’ Tommy smirked while keeping one hand on your butt as he kissed you and fondled your breast with the other. He pinched your nipple and you looked down and watched his fingers softly rubbing the hard knob on your breast. It felt like your pussy was almost dripping when he dropped his right hand from your breast and slid it between your legs. You could feel the heat from his hand as it slid down to your shaved pussy and you spread your legs a little.

Your face grew hot and you shuddered when his fingers caressed your outer labia. His finger slid between the lips and you moaned.

‘You're all hot for me, aren't you? And so fucking wet too’ Tommy groaned and you moaned again as his fingers softly penetrated between your swollen pink lips.

You thought that you could hear your husband breathing deeply, but you paid no attention as Tommy’s finger entered your love canal. He slid a finger from his left hand into the crack of your ass. His finger found the bud of your butthole and you shuddered while the fingers on his right hand slid in and out of your wet pussy, massaging your clitoris. He smothered your moan with his mouth and you shuddered again, your toes tingling as you climaxed against his hand.

When he felt you relax, he lifted his hands to your face and gently slid wet fingers between your lips to let you taste your sex on his fingers. You looked at his handsome face and then without speaking he moved you back one step. You looked down at his cock, still hard as a telephone pole. He reached down and undid his belt and pants and together you pushed his pants down around his knees.

You wanted to kneel down and take that hard thing back in your mouth again, but he had other ideas. He maneuverered you around him and bent you over his desk. You stretched out your arms and grasped the other side of the desk, the hard wood cold against your breasts and stomach. You presented your backside to him; now anxious to feel his cock inside of you.

‘Now we'll see if you're worth twelve hundred pounds, eh’ he said. His knees flexed against your legs and he spread your pussy lips apart with his fingers before you felt his engorged cock head pressed between them. You reached down between your legs to help adjust the angle. His rod was hard against your fingers. You pressed upwards, underneath his cock head until it was poised at the opening to your womanhood. Thank heavens you were soaking wet because his cock stretched the walls of your pussy impossibly apart as he slowly pushed into you.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as you had never felt so, so full before. He gently pushed himself inside sparking an electrical charge in your pussy as his cock spread the ultrasensitive walls apart.

The feeling in your pussy was incredible. When your husband made love to you, you always enjoyed when he brought you to climax, but this, this was a new sexual awakening. Perhaps it was the excitement of being fucked by another man, a man like Thomas Shelby.

He pulled out most of the way and you could feel the vacuum inside your pussy as it reluctantly let him go. And then he pushed back in, farther this time causing every nerve in your pussy to fire as his cock slid by them; farther he pushed until you felt his groin come in contact with your buttocks.

‘Oh god that's incredible’ you groaned. You were crazy with desire. ‘Oh god fuck me’ you breathed heavily.

He began slowly; sending waves of electricity throughout your body. You've never been very vocal during love making, but you couldn't help yourself as you moaned each time he pushed in. His cock was exciting nerves in your pussy that had ever been touched before. You never wanted him to stop.

‘Common over here Mr Y/LN and watch my cock slide in and out of your wife’s pussy’ Tommy demanded and, with that, you sensed your husband move around to the side of the desk so that he could get a better view and, although he was only a couple of feet away, witnessing your wanton lust, you didn't care. All that you cared about was how Tommy’s cock made you feel. You revelled in the sucking sound your pussy was making as it slid in and out; sure that if his cock felt so good to you that you felt good to him as well.

You felt your toes tingling and knew that was the precursor to another orgasm. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to relax to prolong the onset of your orgasm, but you couldn't help yourself and a tremendous wave swept through your body.

‘That’s it Love’ Tommy growled. ‘See how good she feels with my cock inside of her’ Tommy then said to your husband as you cried out in an anguished sounding shriek as wave after wave coursed through your entire body as his big cock kept pistoning in and out.

Your climax finally subsided and Tommy stopped for a moment with his cock buried deep inside of you, allowing you to catch your breath. Then he started again, faster now, but having just cum in your mouth, he seemed to be taking forever and you lost all sense of time. However, in no time he had you moaning again. It felt different now. Your pussy seemed to ache with desire and you wanted him to cum inside of you, but at the same time you didn't want him to ever stop. Thank heavens you were leaning over his desk because you don't know if you could have held yourself up.

He continued to fuck you from behind for what seemed like twenty minutes at a steady pace. Your breasts, slick with perspiration, squeaked on the wooden desk top as he pushed your body forward with each thrust. Your throat was dry from moaning. Finally, you heard him start to breathe harder and you felt your toes tingling again.

‘Fuck, your pussy is so nice and tight Love’ he said, breathing heavily now.

‘Oh god…please fill my pussy with your cum…’ you pleaded.

His pace quickened and his groin began slapping against your butt cheeks as you kept moaning his name.

The slap, slap, slap of your ass cheeks was louder than the slurping of your pussy as he pounded into you with animal thrusts. No noise came out of your dry throat as you felt him explode inside of you. You had a tremendous climax, but this time centred in your groin as you felt his seed filling your pussy.

Finally, he stopped, pressing his groin against your ass, keeping his cock inside of you as far as it would go. You were both gasping for breath and you felt like a rag doll.

After a couple of minutes, he regained his breath and pulled out. You immediately felt the wetness on your thighs as his sperm leaked from your pussy.

‘Common then Mr Y/LN’ Tommy said while zipping up his pants. ‘Get on to your knees and clean her up, eh’ he then instructed, causing you to gasp.He wanted him to do what?

You looked over towards your husband. His mouth was open and he was enthralled as he watched Tommy’s cum drip down your leg.

Then, he stepped over and behind you and got onto his knees, complying with Tommy’s request and Tommy watched your husband lick up your combined juices.

There was something incredibly sexy about this, although you weren’t sure whether your husband would agree.

#tommy shelby smut #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinder imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

[red-doll-face]

I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith’ Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

#dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #michael myers #slasher x reader #dbd the shape #dbd killers #dbd survivor #red writes

[moral-turpitudes]

A Secret Life:

**Gif credits go to the amazing @nofckingfighting​ your gifs give me life ok. They’re *chef’s kiss.**

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: None really, just some Fluff and some Swearing I think.

Word Count: 3,324

Characters: Johnny Dogs x Female!Reader

Requested by: @atjafshelby​, you can find it here. This was the first time I’ve written anything mainly for him so I hope this is good lol. I love getting the opportunity to write other characters. :)

Summary: After a spat about potatoes and a sudden departure from Thomas’ dinner meeting, Johnny Dogs rushes home to be with his wife Y/N and their family, knowing he’d have to tell the blinders about his secret life with them eventually.

The weather was gloomy as the peaky men prepared for one of Tommy’s meetings in the middle of Charlie’s yard. The cans full of logs and kindling burning brightly through the smog of Small Heath as the smoke filled the air. The smell of smoked meat and other foods slowly making their way onto the makeshift table.

In the distance though, was a loud voice mumbling on hurriedly as he stomped along the dirt and soot covered road leading to the feast.

“Right, put the steel rods up the gooses arse there. Go on.” Johnny Dogs said to one of the younger lads who were understandably confused. His eyes watching as they did so, itching to do it himself since no one ever prepared goose the right way. This wasn’t his only criticism though, as he made his way to the table he noticed the lack of starch amongst the men.

“This isn’t a proper dinner. If you’re going to have the Gold’s here ya gotta have potatoes!” Johnny Dogs said loudly as the Shelby’s tired uncle followed the Irish traveler around the yard.

Charlie looked at the man dumbfounded, thinking it was as great a feast as any.

“I want him to see that we live proper, that we eat proper, in the proper way!” He exclaimed.

“No...no you know what?” He added, pointing at Charlie with an anger-filled expression.

“What?” Charlie asked, lighting a cigarette as his infamous nephews came strolling in.

“I’ll get the potatoes me-self!” He exclaimed, clearly frustrated as he stomped through the yard to the old market nearby. His mind buzzing with the thought of his wife and children back at camp. He loved being here with the men he considered allies, but his heart was there with Y/N, always, especially now that she’d been alone with their newest edition to the family.

“What’s he on about aye? It’s just a dinner to discuss the vendetta. Is he scared of the Gold’s?” Tommy said, a cigarette lingering on his lips.

“No he just thinks they’re bloody heathens.” Charlie said as Tommy smirked, walking back to meet Aberama Gold and his son Bonnie.

As Johnny got back, he hastily threw the potato’s in one of the boiling pots near the men. The steam rolling off them as he mashed them up and brought them to the table.

“Bit late there Johnny.” Arthur said, grabbing a huge spoonful of them.

“Not me fault someone can’t prepare a proper meal.” He said, his eyes darting to his pocket watch as Aberama agreed, thanking him for making them as they continued their tense conversation.

“Is there something wrong?” Tommy asked Johnny, causing him to swallow hard as he tried to not tell them about you. It ached him not to, but quite frankly he was nervous to do so. Knowing they’d have something to say when they learned of his relationship status and such.

“Almost forgot, I had some things to take care of at camp. I’ll be back in the mornin’ boys. Don’t get blood all over the fucking food alright?” He said, Tommy waving him off with a suspicious look on his face. He never had men leave abruptly, but if anything he thought maybe he had a whore waiting for him or another feud to handle.

But little did the blinders know what actually awaited him.

“Aye! Dads going to be home soon-no-don’t you dare hit your brother!” Y/N said aloud to her two rambunctious children Alice and Samuel, who were running around the field with the other little ones of the group that were set up nearby. Your youngest, Sarah, nestled on your hip and baby-babbling to herself.

“You’re gonna be full of words just like your father aren’t ya love?” You said to her quietly, going over to your son and daughter who were rough-housing as usual.

“Playtime’s over loves, we have to get ready for dinner.” You said, the children immediately stopping and saying goodbye to the other kids as you waved goodbye to their parents.

As you led your children back to the vardo, you quickly put your daughter down in her small crib near the cramped bed in the wooden structure.

Your tired reflection caught you off guard as you looked in the mirror. Your eyes not as bright and hair not as perfectly placed as before you’d had three children.

You were always grateful to be blessed with good looks that were surely from your mother, but you soon garnered unwanted attention as you’d grown up, the men throwing themselves at you left and right, until you’d seen Johnny one day at a camp in Ireland of course. He was bantering with his friends, fist fighting and such near one of your family’s stops, his smile catching your eye as he laid his own upon you. The poor man got punched because of you after all, making him go off his game with your beauty. But to this day he said he didn’t regret it, telling you in that moment his world stopped. That he’d felt like the luckiest man in the world to have someone as sweet and as beautiful as you by his side all these years.

And so now here you were, waiting for your traveler and infamously rowdy blinder husband to come home. The sun setting in a plethora of colors over the field as the other travelers sat around their respective bonfires.

“When’s dad coming? He’s usually back.” Your son asked, his eyes the color of yours but the shape of Johnny’s, and your daughters small smile like his as well.

“Yeah mum where’s he off to? I wanted him to tell us a bedtime story.” She said, pouting slightly as she watched you preparing dinner.

“Give him time angels. He’s a busy man.” You said, wondering where he was, knowing he’d most likely gotten held up by the fucking Shelby’s once again.

He’s never told them about you and it stung a bit, but you realized early on that he only did it to keep you and the family safe, knowing that nothing good ever came from uttering the Shelby name.

As you portioned the food out for the children, your youngest cried for her food as well as you sighed and went in to nurse her. Humming a soft song to her as she gradually fell asleep in your arms.

As the kids emptied their bowls, stomachs full and content smiles on their faces, you ushered them to their beds, your heart racing slightly as you thought about where your husband could be.

“Don’t worry loves, dad will be home soon alright? I’m going to be just outside.” You said, fixing yourself your portion of the food as you stoked the fire a bit more, the embers disappearing into the night air as you wrapped the warm knit blanket around you.

You’d gotten accustomed to spending the majority of your nights alone with the children, eating amongst the stars and telling stories, but one thing always remained constant, and that was the need for their dad to be home. He made everyone light up when he’d come around. His laugh bringing a smile to your face instantly as he entertained the kids on his off days while you rested with the baby. But now like many nights, they missed him. They missed how he’d make you all feel safe, knowing he had you all out in the open like this. But he knew the company he kept, and he trusted them with his life that they’d take care of you all if need be.

Alas, as you sat there lost in thought, you heard the cries of your daughter once again as you went into the vardo, gently cradling her to you as you carried her outside into the cool night air, the sound of the crackling fire and water rushing nearby helping her fall asleep once again as you bounced her around lightly.

“It’s okay sweetheart. He’ll be home soon.” You reassured her. Knowing he’d never ever leave you sleeping alone, unless it was something serious.

---

“Johnny, before you go, we’ll be stopping by tomorrow. We need to make sure you all are ready.” Thomas said as Johnny walked away from the table.

“Alright, I’ll see ya there then lads. Goodnight.” He said, tipping his hat and walking off towards the horse he’d ridden in on. Quickly riding towards one of the flower fields nearby to pick some for you. He knew they wouldn’t make up for him being late, but he knew they’d at least bring a smile to the face he loved so much.

---

You sat wide-awake with your sleeping daughter against your chest, your nightgown covered by the thick blanket you’d draped over you and the baby. Her soft coos and little snores bringing a smile to your face as you kissed the top of her head. Your stomach still hurting with some efforts as you shifted in your seat. She’d only been about 4 months old, so both you and her were adjusting to the whole life thing with each other.

As you sat there naming the constellations to yourself as you gazed at the stars, you heard the familiar horse hooves pounding on the ground near the vardo. Johnny’s giddy whistle making your daughter rustle around in your arms as she knew he was home.

“Shhh, she’s sleeping.” You said quietly as he walked over ever-so carefully to kiss you, his lips soft against yours as he lingered on them for a moment, taking you in.

“I wanted to get here earlier, with the baby and everything but uh...Tommy got in the way again.” He said, grabbing the flowers he’d picked earlier.

“Are these for me?” You asked, grasping them with your free hand.

“Mhmm. Picked them me-self. Thought you’d like some after a hard days work caring for the kids. And uh, since I’ve been gone so long ya know?” He said, nervously rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“I love you Johnny Dogs. You romantic devil.” You said with a smirk as you kissed him once more.

“Now tell me love, what’s got you on your toes?” You asked, knowing his body language more than your own at this point.

“They’re coming here, to make sure everything’s ready for the big mission.” He said.

“Christ....do we need to stay in? It’ll be hard with this one crying.” You said, looking down at the sleeping bundle in your arms.

“No...I...I want you to meet them. They’re coming tomorrow mornin’.” He said.

“I see....well I’ll make sure to get up and make sure the kids meet them too. Couldn’t hurt right?” She asked.

“It could soften the blow I suppose.” He said, grabbing the last of the food that was still warm over the fire.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked.

“They’ll take one look at you and drool. You don’t think I see it every time we go outside the camp? You’re bloody gorgeous and you’ve gone and married a fool like me?” He said half-jokingly. His self-deprecating humor hurting your heart.

“They can say what they want, but you’ll always be the man for me Johnny. I wouldn’t have you any other way. You were the first man I’ve ever loved.” You said, remembering how despite your looks, you’d never had the luck of relationships on your side, thinking all hope was lost until that day so long ago. And god were you grateful for him, even if he did talk your ear off on more than one occasion, you still loved the man to death.

“Now go tell your children a bedtime story, please love?” You asked, looking at him with puppy dog eyes that made his heart swoon. He could never say no to you.

---

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of the kids playing out by the river, the wind rustling around the vardo as you heard Johnny helping out with the baby outside.

“I’m sorry love, I was going to get up and help ya but I guess I overslept.” You said, wrapping your robe around yourself that complimented your eyes and physique exquisitely.

“You needed the beauty sleep love. Besides, you’ve done enough for me these past weeks, thought I’d do something for ya.” He said, cradling the baby in his arms as you sat near him next to the barely lit fire, the coals still hot from the night before.

Johnny took your hand in his lightly, the ring on your finger sparkling in the sunlight as you both watched your kids playing together near the river.

In the distance though, you could hear the sound of a car pulling up, your nerves getting to you as you knew it was Thomas Shelby and his brothers.

“Here we go.” You mumbled, calling your children over as the men got out of the car, the kids nearly running into them as their little legs carried them swiftly over the grass. They quietly stood behind you as Johnny handed you your baby girl, her bright eyes looking up at you as the sun hit your face flatteringly.

“Hello boys! G’morning to ya! How’s about we get this meeting done shall we?” He asked, putting his cap on.

“Who’s the lovely lady over there aye?” John asked, eyeing her with hungry eyes.

“That’s me wife. Her names Y/N.” He said, looking John in the eyes as he crossed his arms.

“Oh and who are the children with her? They can’t be yours can they? Wow Johnny boy! Didn’t know you had it in ya. How’d you snag a gem of a girl like that aye? Use any of yer charms?” Arthur said jokingly.

“They’re mine yes, and don’t worry, I did nothing of the sort. She came to me actually.” He said with a proud smug smile on his face, knowing he married one of the prettiest women near Small Heath and the bastards couldn’t do anything about it.

“Well if you have anymore questions how’s about you lot meet them then?” Johnny asked over the awkward silence, Thomas still eyeing him a bit suspiciously.

“You boys go meet them, me and Johnny have something to discuss.” Tommy said shortly.

“Oh...al-alright. Here ya go lads.” He said, leading them over to Y/N and her children, who backed behind their beautiful mother shyly.

“Hello gentlemen, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet ya.” You said, smiling brightly as their stares lingered over you. It was something you were used to, but still made you slightly uncomfortable, so you remained focused on your kids.

“You can have a seat if you’d like, we don’t mind do we loves?” You asked, patting your son on the head as he smiled.

“No it’s ok momma. I’m gonna go play.” Your daughter said, running off towards the other little kids nearby. Your son sat by you though, eyeing the men curiously.

“So these are Johnny’s kids aye? What’s your name little man?” Arthur asked, putting on his nicest smile.

“Samuel. Who are you? Why do ya have big hats on like me dad?” He asked.

The men both looked at each other and smiled.

“We’re in a...group that your fathers in. It’s for people that are nice and strong.” He said.

“Oh...” Samuel said, fiddling with his fingers as he leaned his head against your arm.

“How’d you and Johnny meet aye? Old bugger like him sure snagged a beauty for a wife.” John said.

“Oh uhm...we met by chance really. I saw him scrapping with some people by the roadside when my family were going through and I stopped to watch. He says he got caught off guard by me. He got hit right after eyeing me up.” You said with a small laugh. John and Arthur chuckled as they looked over at Johnny and Tom having a rather tense conversation.

“While our brother’s interrogating the poor man, who’s this little one and her big sister?” Arthur asked.

“This is Sarah. She’s 4 months, almost 5. Talkative little bugger just like her dad. Always babbling about somethin’ aye? And that’s Alice. She hates sitting down, always wanting to be on the go. Guess it’s in the blood.” You said, also feeling antsy as you sat there with half of your little family.

“That it is.” Arthur said, looking around the camp as Johnny’s voice rose in the distance.

“When were you going to tell me Johnny?” Thomas asked, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

“About what mate? Bout me cookin’ and leaving yesterday or bout me family?” He asked.

“About your family, Johnny. You’re like family to us you know. How could you not tell us?” He asked loudly.

“You should know! The bloody line of work we’re in! God knows I’m not bringing them into that ‘ere.” He said a bit louder than Thomas expected, causing the others to look over.

“But why hide something like this Johnny? Not because of the way of our work but why hide it until now aye?” He asked.

Johnny thought for a moment, leaning against the tree near the river.

“Because Tom. I knew you’d all take one look at her and wonder why she’s wit’ a man like me. Ya know I’m not the nicest looking man ‘ere. Somehow how Tom...somehow she loves me and I wanted ya to see why I had to leave yesterday. It’s not just me I’m thinkin’ bout anymore.” He said.

“That why you’ve been yelling at work? Being short with everyone?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah Tom, yeah. Just...please don’t drag them into this.” He said, looking over at his wife who was managing pretty well despite John practically drooling.

“Well now that that’s cleared up how about you introduce me to them aye?” Thomas said, patting him on the shoulder and walking past him.

“I fucking guess. C’mon.” He said walking quickly ahead of his friend as Y/N smiled upon their arrival. His heart skipping a beat at the sight of it.

“Y/N, love, I want ya to meet-“ He said before you cut him off. Eyeing the man who’d put your family in risky circumstances long ago.

“Thomas Shelby. Yeah...I know. Nice to see you in person.” You said, shaking his hand roughly and with a more colder glance than you’d had given his other brothers. You knew Thomas orchestrated everything within the blinders, so he was often the one blamed when things went south, and you had no problem casting the blame on him when Johnny would come home half conscious and bleeding, or limping with a bullet wound or two.

“Pleasure’s all mine Y/N. How’s the family?” He asked, sitting beside Johnny around the bonfire that was slowly burning out.

“Good now that their father is back. This little one is Sarah, the wild one over there is Alice, and our boy here is Samuel.” You said, pointing with your free hand to your small crew of children.

“Aye, so he tells me you met by chance. How in the hell did this man meet a woman like you?” He asked.

You looked down slightly at your daughter who was surprisingly sleeping soundly, her small mass of hair on her head coming in as dark as her fathers.

“I told your brothers already but, uh we met when I was traveling with me family. Saw him scrapping with some other men from nearby, I guess ya locked eyes long enough with me that they knocked you out aye love?” You said lightly punching Johnny’s shoulder.

“Aye they did. Couldn’t stop bloody lookin’ at ya. I mean seriously boys. Isn’t she a beauty? I’m a lucky man. A lucky lucky man.” He said, lighting a cigar as you smiled and put your free hand on his. It was rough from years of work, but as warm as the hugs he gave. He was home to you, no matter where you all went, he was the one constant thing you longed for, knowing in your heart he was yours forever.

Johnny Dogs Tag List:

@flysafepapi, @gaytommyshelby, @ta-ka-shi-ma

If you’d like to be added/removed, just send me an ask/message. :)

#atjafshelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #johnny dogs #johnny dogs x reader #johnny dogs x female!reader #johnny dogs x y/n #johnny dogs imagines #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby

[houseboatisland]

Is Elizabeth on your island, and if so how has she adjusted after decades abandoned?

She is! And here's my headcanon for her:

Topham Hatt I, (The Fat Director,) had by 1926 accumulated a small fortune as General Manager of the North Western Railway. Reputed as a workaholic, (or boss-aholic,) Topham had sunk considerable amounts of money into his sprawling Wellsworth estate, Topham Hall. Topham was inspired by the undertaking of his sometime friend Sir Robert Walker, the Baronet of Sand Hutton. Walker's estate utilized war surplus one foot and three inch gauge locomotives to carry distinguished guests, agricultural produce, and coal to and bricks deriving from the nearby brickworks of Claxton.

The resulting pet project, the Topham Hall Railway, is where Elizabeth's story begins.

The T.H.R. was laid to what had essentially become the Sudrian "standard narrow gauge," of two feet and three inches. The line started from its Exchange Siding with Wellsworth Station, and made several crossings through the streets of that town's suburbs, before reaching the estate grounds. Hall Station brought passengers within a stone's throw of the mansion itself. Moving on, the line dove into the woods through a magical tree tunnel, with a spur at its opening for the engine and carriage shed. Crossing a brook over a three-span wooden trestle bridge, another station and a few sidings known as "Orchard Station" served the fruit and vegetable orchard. Another mile or so, and the railway stopped again for "Bowler's Station," where the Hatts and any guests could detrain for the estate's cricket pavilion.

Another half a mile, and the railway terminated at the Wellsworth Brickworks. This had been a puny operation before the THR linked up with it, employing only three men or so. After the railway's arrival, it expanded to employ a few dozen, and three more kilns were added. Throughout the Great Depression, Topham kept the Brickworks open and its employees onboard out of his own pocket, even as the bricks accumulated unsold. This was far more humanitarian than his treatment of NWR employees and three of his engines!

The railway had one locomotive, a royal purple Kerr Stuart 'Tattoo' class, named "Little Barford," technically a brother of the Mid Sodor Railway's No. 4, "Stuart." Little Barford arrived also with several v-tipper wagons, a dozen ex-War Department bogie wagons, four-wheel trucks and two ambulance vans. The ambulance vans were thoroughly rebuilt by the estate's woodshop to become an elaborate passenger coach, and a "Dining Car," which was quite identical save for the fewer seats and teeny gas cooker. The passenger coach saw constant use, but the Dining Car mostly sat in the siding at Bowler's Station as it cooked. The line was so short, it never could've done more than boil an egg while moving to timetable!

Capping off this complement of rolling stock was one Sentinel DG4 "Overtype" Steam Lorry, quickly named Elizabeth, after the Duchess of York's newborn daughter. Elizabeth was absolutely coveted by Topham, though he wasn’t exactly a steady hand at the wheel. Elizabeth was kept polished to perfection, even when her work involved carting such grubby loads as soil, clay, and coal. She was in every respect a "father's princess," but she worked dutifully and loved Little Barford like a twin brother. She also learned from her Victorian old master her favorite catchphrase, "We are/are not amused!" depending on the context.

The Second World War began in September 1939, and this national shift in priorities turned Elizabeth’s devil-may-care youth on its head. The Wellsworth Brickworks shuttered as many of its men volunteered or were called up, and housing construction all but ended. Little Barford was kept on at the Hall as the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries set to increase production on Topham Hall’s farms. Elizabeth on the other hand was, for the first time, moved away from her only home. As the civilian petrol rationing situation tightened, and private motoring was eventually banned, Elizabeth was suddenly very valuable as a coal-fired road vehicle.

She was commandeered and relocated to Tidmouth Harbour, working night and day as a dockside lorry. This was a very stressful period for her, for she was utterly friendless and out of her element. Although Sodor was never bombed, the routine blackout drills and stories of other ports destroyed, such as Liverpool, took their toll on her mentally. At some point however, she "bucked up." Elizabeth realized she was no longer an aristocrat's toy. For all she knew, Topham had probably forgotten her. As the military lorries she came face to face with daily were almost all of the internal-combustion type, who was to say that when, if ever the war was over, that he'd want her back if he remembered her?

In these circumstances, Elizabeth adopted her more familiar, stiff-upper lip personality. There was no time for polish or quaint little rides to the cricket pavilion, there was a war on! She became grubby, and liked to be grubby. She worked like the devil, and loved that even more. Her posh accent never left her, but she was now in every respect out to be a working girl. Elizabeth would never admit it to herself, but this huge change of self owed much to her upset at being removed from her only home. Did she legitimately like being a working lorry, rather than an estate owner's princess? Certainly she did. Was it an easy and completely voluntary change of character? Of course not. But it was done, and Elizabeth spent many nights assuring herself that it was the right path, the only path to have taken.

1945, the end of the war. Everyone was so jubilant. Elizabeth was cleaned and polished like a crown jewel, decked out with flags and bunting, and allowed to participate in the Tidmouth Victory Parade. In several colour newswreels of the event, you can spot her amid the cascade of tickertape and throngs of soldiers, nurses, longshoremen, civilians, tanks and lorries. It was no doubt a fun day for her, but now she thought a great deal about the future.

The war, which had been everything to her for six years, was over. Soldiers were being demobilized and coming home. Industries were retooling for the postwar world, to make consumer goods rather than several airplanes an hour. The Attlee Government, in conjunction with the devolved Sudrian Parliament established in 1946, had a grand vision for The Mainland and Sodor, where the welfare state for the long-suffering people and machines was vastly expanded, their jobs would be increasingly unionized and their bosses answerable to them, rather than the other way around.

Despite the historically harsh winter into the New Year of 1947, Sudrian workers, bouncing back much quicker than their Mainland counterparts, were delighted with PM Attlee's "New Jerusalem." Tidmouth Harbour was still very busy, as Sodor's biggest gate in and out for the world, and Elizabeth kept calm and carried on as time marched on. She was much busier than she had first feared, and that winter was her time to shine as so many petrol lorries were out of commission with "head colds." Elizabeth convinced herself, somehow, that these thousands and thousands of war surplus petrol lorries wouldn't take over. If so many had taken ill in these conditions, maybe Sodor, or even the whole world, would consider turning back the clock and restoring steam to the roads completely.

She feared and resented petrol lorries something terrible. When the petrol ration which had enabled her life all this time, was finally ended, she was heartbroken. Every worry she had seemed to come to pass all at once. First, the Tidmouth Harbour Authority decided it would be much cheaper to stack its fleet with war surplus lorries, and she was out of a job. Her next owner, a furniture mover, didn't keep her long, and neither did the next, a man who planned to fit her out as a bus and ran out of money.

By 1956, when the now-knighted Sir Topham Hatt I had died, Elizabeth had already been accumulating dust in a shed for two years. She never saw her last owner, who by now had failed to pay rent on her storage. Anopha Quarry, who owned the tumbledown little shack, seized her to make up the difference, but never once came to inspect the lorry who was now their property. Eventually, the Quarry forgot about her too.

It wasn't until 1961, when a little blue puffer deputizing for Toby on the Quarry Tramway carelessly had a coupling rod failure, that she reemerged. She made a heartstopping journey down the line for the necessary spare rod, pins, oilpot and tools in Ffarquhar Sheds, where she stirred up quite a scene, before an even more uncomfortable journey back. Elizabeth's Sentinel heritage thankfully preserved her for the whole ordeal, when Thomas' Driver, then at her wheel, worried that she'd explode and take him with her.

Back into the shed she went after this good deed, for how long, if ever to come out again, she didn't know. Until of course, that same night, a man very like her old Master, named Bertram just like his son whom she had given so many rides through the orchards and to cricket games, came to make a visit...

You can guess the rest :3

Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I was reunited with his childhood friend, and his father's favorite lorry. He immediately sent for her with his own money to be restored, and at once moved her back to Topham Hall, where she was herself reunited with the closest thing to a brother she'd ever had, Little Barford, who this whole time had been working as well as ever, and wondered why no one had ever gone to look for Elizabeth despite all his questions. It had been assumed, wrongly, that Elizabeth had perished on war service. That's how the Tidmouth Harbour Authority wrote it, after they pocketed her sale money! (Sir Bertram was LIVID not to get his hands on the now deceased Harbourmaster responsible.)

Elizabeth is now back to her childhood home hauling farm produce and any visitor willing to get dirty, for she still insists on carrying a bit of grime as a testament to her labours. The Wellsworth Brickworks has reopened, on a much smaller scale, as a "living museum," and Elizabeth takes great joy in carrying clay and coal again. Her, Little Barford, and Sir Bertram are now tighter than they've ever been, and Sir Bertram is the only man allowed to polish her. He's a much more sedated force at the wheel than his father, she notes, and quite often!

We ARE amused to see her <3

#ttte #ttte elizabeth #ttte the fat director #topham hall railway #ttte little barford #ttte worldbuilding #ttte thomas #ttte oc: sir bertram hatt i #tw death

[lailoken]

‘Holy thorn (Crataegus monogyna cv. 'Biflora')’

“The Holy or Glastonbury Thorn is a variety of the common HAWTHORN which produces flowers in winter as well as at the usual time in early summer. What appears to be the earliest reference to the Thorn is found in a lengthy poem, entitled Here begynneth the lyfe of Joseph of Armathia, which is believed to have been written at the opening of the sixteenth century. The poem states that there were three thorn trees growing on Wearyall Hill, just south of Glastonbury in Somerset, which:

Do burge and bere grene leaues at Christmas

As fresihe as other in May when ye nightingale

Wrestes out her notes musycall as pure glas.

[Anon., 1520]

However, there is some slight evidence to suggest that the Thorn may have been in existence almost 400 years earlier. At Appleton Thorn in Cheshire a custom known as 'Bawming the Thorn' used to be per- formed each year. Basically the custom consisted of decorating a thorn tree which grows in the centre of the village. Local tradition states that a tree has stood on this site since 1125, when an offshoot of the Holy Thorn was planted by Adam de Dutton [Hole, 1976: 26]. If there is any truth in this tradition, it would imply that there was a thorn tree at Glastonbury early in the twelfth century, when the Benedictine monks at its abbey were busily accumulating their massive, but poorly authenticated, collection of relics, which was destroyed in a disastrous fire in 1184. It is quite possible that a hawthorn which produced flowers at Christmas time might have been added to the attractions provided to stimulate pilgrimages to the abbey.

The lyfe of Joseph gives no information on the trees' origins, and does not mention the production of winter flowers. Fifteen years after its publication, four years before the suppression of Glastonbury Abbey, the Christmas flowering of the Thorn was first recorded. On 24 Au- gust 1535 Dr Layton, the visitor sent to the Abbey, wrote to Thomas Cromwell from Bristol, and enclosed two pieces of a tree which blossomed on Christmas Eve.

By this bringer, my servant, I send you Relicks: First two flowers wraped in white and black sarsnet, that on Christen Mass Even, hora ipsa qua Christus natus fuerat, will spring and burge and bare blossoms. Quod expertum est, saith the Prior of Mayden Bradley. [Batten, 1881: 116]

During the reign of Elizabeth I the Thorn growing on Wearyall had two trunks:

when a puritan exterminated one, and left the other, which was the size of a common man, to be viewed in wonder by strangers; and the blossoms thereof were esteemed such curiosities by people of all nations that Bristol merchants made traffick of them and exported them to foreign parts. [Collinson, 179I: 265]

Or, according to an earlier, more credulous account:

It had two Trunks or Bodies till the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, in whose days a Saint like Puritan, taking offence at it, hewed down the biggest of the Trunks, and had cut down the other Body in all likelyhood, had he not bin miraculously punished (saith my Author) by cutting his Leg, and one of the Chips flying up to his Head, which put out one of his Eyes. Though the Trunk cut off was separated quite from the root, excepting a little of the Bark which stuck to the rest of the Body, and laid above the Ground above thirty Years together; yet it still continued to flourish as the other Part did which was left standing; after this again, when it was quite taken away and cast into a Ditch, it flourished and budded as it used to do before. A Year after this, it was stolen away, not known by whom or whither. [Rawlinson, 1722: 109]

Later, during the reign of James I, the Thorn enjoyed some popularity as a garden curiosity, and the aristocracy, including the King's consort Anne of Denmark, paid large sums for cuttings [Collinson, 1791: 265). It is possible that this fashion of growing thorns in private gardens saved the plant from extinction, for during the civil unrest later in the century the surviving trunk of the original tree was destroyed by a Roundhead, who 'being over zealous did cut it downe in pure devotion' (Taylor, 1649: 6]. In 1653 Godfrey Goodman, Bishop of Gloucester, lamented: "The White Thorn at Glastonbury which did usually blossome on Christmas Day was cut down: yet I did not heare that the party was punisheď [Rawlinson, 1722: 301].

In 1645 the Revd John Eachard described the Glastonbury Thorn, which was then much mutilated by visitors who cut off pieces of it for souvenirs, as being of the kind 'wherewith Christ was crowned'. An elaboration of this belief relates how St Joseph of Arimathea brought two treasures to Glastonbury: silver containers holding the blood and sweat of Christ (which seem to have become confused or equated with the Holy Grail) and a thorn from Christ's Crown of Thorns, which grew and proved its holiness by flowering each year at the time of Christ's birth [Hole, 1965: 39].

Seventy years after Eachard wrote, an oral tradition collected from a Glastonbury inn-keeper explained how the Thorn had grown from a STAFF carried by St Joseph of Arimathea [Rawlinson, 1722: 1). According to tradition, the Apostles divided the world between them, St Philip being sent to Gaul, accompanied by St Joseph of Arimathea, who is usually considered to be an uncle of the Virgin Mary. After some years Joseph left the Apostle and accompanied by eleven others set out for Britain, arriving at Glastonbury, and eventually founding the first church to be built on British soil, in AD 63 [Hole, 1965: 35]- When Joseph reached Glastonbury he rested on Wearyall Hill and thrust his staff into the ground, where it grew and became the original Holy Thorn [Rawlinson, 1722: 2]. Some writers have asserted that it was this miracle which caused Joseph to settle in Glastonbury.

A second version of the legend relates how St Joseph landed on the Welsh coast, or possibly at Barrow Bay in Somerset, but found the natives hostile. He continued his wanderings and reached the land of King Arviragus. Although Joseph was unable to convert the monarch, he made a sufficiently good impression for land at Ynyswitrin—Glastonbury—to be granted to him and his companions. However the local inhabitants showed little enthusiasm for the new faith. It was not until Joseph fixed his staff in the ground and prayed, whereupon it immediately produced blossoms, that people began to pay serious attention to the missionaries' preaching [Anon., n.d.: 6 and 23]. It is sometimes claimed that Joseph performed this miracle on Christmas Day and hence the Thorn has flowered on this day ever since [Wilks, 1972: 98].

Some recent writers have asserted that there is some truth in the various legends and suggest that the Thorn originated from stock brought from the Holy Land, or at least a country bordering the Mediterranean. The winter flowering of the tree is explained by the suggestion that it belongs to a variety of hawthorn native to the Middle East [Batten, 1881: 125]. The Revd Alan Clarkson, Vicar of St John's church in Glastonbury, in a pamphlet produced in 1977 in aid of church restoration funds, claimed that: 'Whatever the legend may say, a Thorn has been growing here for 2,000 years and it came from Palestine.' A recent study of hawthorns states:

In North Africa, flowering in late autumn and early winter is known also in populations of C[rataegus] monogyna that are morphologically fairly similar to the Holy Thorn of Glastonbury. [Christensen, 1992: 111]

A young leafy shoot of hawthorn, labelled 'Oxyacantha autumnalis, from Wells, Joseph of Arymathaea rod’, is preserved in the herbarium of the Natural History Museum in London. This specimen was in- cluded in a collection given by the London apothecary Robert Nicholls to the Apothecaries' Company in 1745, and was part of 'a valuable series of plants' presented by the Company to the Museum in 1862 [Vickery, 1991: 81].

It is told that, in the eighteenth century, a miller walked all the way from his home in Wales to visit the Thorn. His English vocabulary was restricted to three words, 'Staff of Joseph', but these were sufficient to ensure that he reached Glastonbury, and he was able to proudly carry home a sprig from the tree [Bett, 1952: 139].

When the calendar was reformed in 1752 the Holy Thorn attracted considerable attention, for people watched the trees to see if they would produce their Christmas blossoms according to the new or old calendar. The Gentleman's Magazine of January 1753 recorded that on Christmas Eve, 24 December 1752, hundreds of people gathered at Glastonbury to see if the several Thorn trees growing there would produce flowers. No flowers appeared, but when the crowds reassembled on Old Christmas Eve, 5 January 1753, they were rewarded and the trees blossomed, confirming the onlookers' doubts about the validity of the new calendar. Later in 1753 a correspondent of the Magazine stated that, after reports of the Thorns' flowering on Old Christmas Eve had been printed in a Hull newspaper, the vicar of Glastonbury had been questioned. According to him, the trees blossomed 'fullest and finest about Christmas Day New Style, or rather sooner' [Gentleman's Magazine, 1753: 578].

At Quainton in Buckinghamshire over two thousand people gathered to watch a thorn they remembered as being a descendant of the Glastonbury tree:

but the people finding no appearance of bud, 'twas agreed by all, that Decemb. 25 N.S. could not be Christmas-Day and accordingly refused going to church, and treating their friends on that day as usual; at length the affair became so serious, that ministers of neighbouring villages, in order to appease the people thought it prudent to give notice, that old Christmas-Day should be kept holy as before. [Gentleman's Magazine, 1753: 49]

Until early in the present century people continued to visit Holy Thorns on Old Christmas Eve.

It is believed that the Holy Thorn blossoms at twelve o'clock on Twelfth Night, the time, so they say, at which Christ was born. The blossoms are thought to open at midnight, and drop off about an hour afterwards. A piece of thorn gathered at this hour brings luck, if kept for the rest of the year. Formerly crowds of people went to see the thorn blossom at this time. I went myself to Wormesley [Herefordshire] in 1908; about forty people were there, and as it was quite dark and the blossom could only be seen by candle light, it was probably the warmth of the candles which made some of the little white buds seem to expand. The tree had really been in bloom for several days, the season being extremely mild. [Leather, 1912: 17]

A thorn in the garden of Kingston Grange in Herefordshire was annually visited by people who came from miles around, and 'were liberally supplied with cake and cider' [Leather, 1912: 17]. However, such convivial gatherings sometimes gave way to unruly behaviour, and some people destroyed thorns growing on their property so that unwelcome visits might be stopped. Near Crewkerne in Somerset, in January 1878:

Immense crowds gathered at a cottage between Hewish and Woolmingstone to witness the supposed blooming of a 'Holy' thorn at midnight on Saturday. The weather was unfavourable and the visitors were impatient. There were buds on the plant, but they did not burst into flower as they were said to have done the previous vear. The crowd started singing and then it degenerated into a quarrel and stones were thrown. The occupier of the cottage, seeing how matters stood, pulled up the thorn and took it inside, receiving a blow on the head from a stone for his pains. A free fight ensued and more will be heard of the affair in the Magistrates' Court. [Pur man's Weekly News, 10 January 1978]

Similarly:

A Holy Thorn made a brief appearance in Dorset in 1844 in the garden of a Mr Keynes of Sutton Poyntz. It was rumoured that it had grown from a cutting of the famous Glastonbury Thorn and was expected to blossom at midnight on Old Christmas Eve. 150 people turned up to see the event. Violent scenes took place, the fence was broken down and the plant so badly damaged that it died. [Waring, 1977: 68]

Not surprisingly, tales were told of misfortunes (many of which were very similar to those which befall people who destroy LONE BUSHES in Ireland) which happened to those who attempted to cut down Holy Thorns. An early attempt to destroy a tree resulted in thorns flying from the tree and blinding the axeman in one eye, so that he was 'made monocular' [Howell, 1640: 86]. A man who attempted to cut down a tree that grew in his garden at Clehonger in Herefordshire was more lucky and was let off with a warning: 'blood flowed from the trunk of the tree and this so alarmed him that he left off at once!' [Leather, 1912: 17]. A farmer who destroyed a thorn at Acton Beauchamp in Worcestershire was successful, but within a year he broke an arm and a leg, and part of his house was destroyed by fire [Lees, 1856: 295].

Shortly before Christmas each year sprays from a Thorn tree which grows in St John's churchyard in Glastonbury are sent to the Queen and Queen Mother. In 1929 the then vicar of Glastonbury, whose sister-in-law was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary, sent a sprig to the Queen, reviving, according to some writers, a pre-Reformation custom [Anon., 1977]. A report in the Western Daily Press of 20 December 1973 stated that the custom started in Stuart times, and it is recorded that James Montague, Bishop of Bath and Wells, sent pieces of the Holy Thorn and Glastonbury's miraculous WALNUT tree to Queen Anne, consort of James I [Rawlinson, 1722: 112]. About a week before Christmas a short religious service is held around the Thorn. Children from St John's Infants' School sing carols and play their recorders, and the vicar and mayor of Glastonbury cut twigs from the tree. It is said that the Queen has her sprays placed on her breakfast table on Christmas morning, while the Queen Mother has hers placed on her writing table. Letters sent by ladies-in-waiting to the vicar, asking him to convey thanks to the people of Glastonbury, are pinned on the church notice board [Vickery, 1979: 12].

The tree in St John's churchyard which had been used for this ceremony died early in 1991, but fortunately there is a younger tree growing in the churchyard, and other Holy Thorns may be found in the Abbey grounds, outside St Benedict's church, and in private gardens in Glastonbury.”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

#Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore #Roy Vickery #plant lore #folklore #holy thorn #hawthorn #Glastonbury

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week - 39

I spent over 50 (!) hours on the sofa this week, (enjoying myself 85% of the time)...

Sløborn, an ominous Danish-German TV pandemic series, very much like Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’ and in ‘Black Mirror’ style. Normal life of a small island community between Denmark and Germany breaks down and completely collapses when it is hit by a lethal bird flue like virus.

It was extremely prescient, as it was shot in 2019, before Covid! Conceived as Si-fi, it looks today like TV, because the series was able to capture everything that happened around the world after January 2020 in accurate details.

With Roland Møller (of ‘Riders of Justice’). 7+/10

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My introduction to “The grandmother of The French New Wave”, Agnès Varda (Hard to believe that I never saw her films before!):

✳️✳️✳️ “Inspiration, Creation and Sharing...” Varda by Agnès, my first Varda is her last 2019 auto-biography, in which, at 90, she shared footage and stories from her life and work. The first sample clip (of meeting her Uncle Yanco in Sausalito) won me over, and the rest convinced me to catch up on everything I’ve missed through the years. What a wonderful artist!

✳️✳️✳️ Cléo from 5 to 7. A feminine film about female identity - a new favorite! A beautiful singer must wait 2 hours for the results of her cancer tests. With a magnifique mid-film scene (at 0;38) of the heartbreaking chanson 'Sans Toi', marking the beginning of her quiet transformation.

✳️✳️✳️ Vagabond, a story of a lonely, young woman, an unapologetic drifter, unglamorous, aimless, independent, desperately lost. Dark and nonjudgmental exploration of the refusal to conform to anything. 8+/10.

✳️✳️✳️ (For Sammy - Per our conversation). The Gleaners and I, "The eighth best documentary film of all time”, per ‘Sight & Sound poll. Derived from the famous painting by Millet. Simply wonderful!

✳️✳️✳️ One Hundred And One Nights, 100 year old Michel Piccoli “Monsieur Simon Cinema”, hires a young girl to reminisce with about the history of cinema. An unsuccessful Meta-film that nevertheless is a love letter for cinephiles. Populated by 3 dozens of Who’s Who of French (and World) stars, playacting in this symbolic, Fellinisque fable that draws upon the classics. Mastroianni, Depardieu, Belmondo, Alain Delon, Catherine Deneuve, Jeanne Moreau, Anouk Aimée, Fanny Ardant, Gina Lollobrigida, Jane Birkin, etc, etc..

(Photo Above).

✳️✳️✳️ The Young Girls of Rochefort, the wonderful, colorful, sentimental musical by Varda’s husband Jacques Demy, with the most beautiful woman in the world and her sister. Romantic eye candy set to music by Michel Legrand. A year later Deneuve would do Belle de Jour, and Françoise Dorléac would die in a car accident, 8+/10

✳️✳️✳️ Even better, The Young Girls Turn 25, Varda’s 1993 behind the scenes documentary and return to small town Rocheford, to show how it changed the town and left an impression. 9/10

“...The memory of happiness is perhaps also happiness...”

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The other Jacques Demy modern opera The Umbrellas of Cherbourg knocked me over all over again. Catherine Deneuve’s angelic beauty in this film made me cry for the duration like a baby. And not only at the train station when they say goodbye forever.

10/10

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Night moves, a tense thriller by Kelly Reichardt, about three radical environmentalists who blow up an Oregon dam. Slow and tense, and like her ‘First Cow’, watching it filled me with constant, low-level anxiety. The off-screen sabotage is placed at the exact mid-point of the movie: The first half is the preparation for it, and the second half shows the aftermath of the act. 7+/10

✴️        

2 unexpected Small Town gems by Miguel Arteta:

✳️✳️✳️ The good Girl, an odd and surprising mismatched romance between 30 year old Jennifer Aniston and Jake Gyllenhaal (22) as employees of a Texas big-box store that is always empty. Her voice-over reminded me of True Romance’s Alabama Whitman. 7/10

✳️✳️✳️ Ed Helms, a sheltered insurance salesman from the backwaters of Wisconsin, goes to an convention in the big city of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The nearly conventional story arc has some genuinely heartfelt funny moments. With Maeby Fünke, as Bree the prostitute and Sigourney Weaver as the ex-teacher he balls. Also a surprising drug party, where he smoke crack cocaine and loves it. 5+/10

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Same theme of people prostituting their own ‘morals’, the notoriously-prudish 1993 Indecent Proposal didn’t age too well. “Billionaire”-porn that asks the question ‘How much would you pay for one night with Robert Redford?’ Gratuitous semi-naked Demi Moore included.

Related: “Stop hitting the button!”

✴️        

Wildland (Kød & blod = Flesh and blood), an uncomfortable and claustrophobic Danish gangster thriller about a 17 year old girl who moves in with the criminal family of Sidse Babett Knudsen, her estranged aunt. 6+/10

“For some people, things go wrong before they even begin”

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Jim Jarmusch‘s Broken Flowers, a touching road film with Bill Murray, as an old ‘Don Juan’ who receive a pink, unsigned letter from an old lover, letting him know that he has a 20 year old son he never knew about.

Loveliest film of the week.

✴️       

The 2 films directed by Tom Ford:

✳️✳️✳️ A single Man, a sad and lonely gay professor, closeted in 1962 Los Angeles, is preparing to kill himself with a gun, after his boyfriend / love of his life had died in a car accident. Mute and haunting aesthetics in the fashion designer’s debut film, based on a Christopher Isherwood novel.

The ‘Stormy Weather’ dance scene between Charley and George. 8/10

✳️✳️✳️ Nocturnal Animals: Amy Adams is an unhappy owner of a fancy art gallery who receives a disturbing book manuscript written by her ex-husband, which symbolizes their relationship 20 years prior. Rarefied visuals and distinctive style.

Starts with an astonishing scene of obese old ladies dancing naked at Amy’s gala event. Michael Shannon rules as a dying Texas detective! 6+/10.

✴️        

Jean Vigo’s 1933 classic Zero for Conduct was so blatantly anarchistic, it was immediately banned in France until after WW2. In silent film style, it tells about a group of mischievous kids who rebel against the authorities of their old-fashioned boarding school. Part-inspiration for Truffaut's 400 Blows.

✴️      

Anatomy of a murder, Otto Preminger’s 1960 courtroom drama, with opening credits by Saul Bass. Crisp black & white cinematography, and with rape victim Lee Remick playing it as an outgoing loose girl of ambiguous morals, a modern floozy. 7/10.

✴️                

Blush, a wondrous, spectacularly-animated, wordless short by Joe Mateo. What starts as a riff on ‘The Little Prince’, ends up like the opening montage from ‘Up’. The obvious realization that this is a personal metaphor makes the story even deeper.

I watched it twice back to back. 10/10

✴️       

If You're Not in the Obit, Eat Breakfast - 95 year old Carl Reiner asks a bunch of charming nonagenarian friends how they manage to live so well for so long. Their answers may (not) shock you...

Spry Dick Van Dyke (92) and half-his-age wife end the film with a lovely rendition of “Young at heart”

✴️            

Hi-school-level adaptation of Thomas Piketty's book Capital in the 21st Century. A breezy discussion of how slave economy and colonialist military repression 300 years ago turn into extreme capitalism of inequality & tax-avoidance today. America is now similar economically to what England was in the early 1800s. A tiny percentage of society controls almost all its wealth. (Full text of the book here).

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Ride the eagle, a flat new indie about a guy whose estranged hippy mother leaves him her cabin at the lake when she dies, but only if he complete a certain list of tasks. Could be so much better, but the actor playing the guy was just so terrible. Unlike JK Simmons who had a small role. Best detail, when he discovers that all the cabinets in the house are full with pot.

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Old, my first, (and possibly last), M. Night Shyamalan. The seductive premise of a secluded beach at a fancy tropical resort that ages everybody who comes there, turns into an unconvincing Twilight Zone bore.

...”(Gurgling sounds)”...

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First watch: I never saw (any) Planet of the apes before, and in spite of my misgivings, gave it a go. 100% anthropomorphic, it couldn’t visualize a universe different from the American mindset of that period. Preachy and very Rod Sterling-like. "It's a madhouse in here”. Pass!

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The latest Veritasium YouTube video about bowling current technology. Always interesting.

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Throw-back to the art project:

Planet of the Apes Adora. 

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(My complete movie list is here)

#movies