that bawdy

Literally just all the sexual things Alexander Hamilton sent to John Laurens


“I love you.”

This one is pretty self explanatory. Men were much more intimate back in the 1700′s, forming bonds that seem very ~gay~ in today’s light. Homosexuality wasn’t a very understood thing back then because rigid moral codes and censured education prevented people from learning more about sexuality.

 But Alexander Hamilton knew.

 He grew up on an island where ‘Sodomites’ (gay people) were dumped and  allowed to mingle with the island population. Alex knew that there was a certain zone of interactions between men that went from being merely friendly to sexual. He clearly steps into the bounds of sexual while fully realizing it.

“In drawing my picture, you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I [- - - - - -].”

Ahhhhhhhhh my son Alex, could you be more explicit? Alex here is obviously referring to his something else (you know) with the knowledge that John Lauren’s knows the size. This sentence right here is basically just one long ;).

 “Your friend” seems to be written teasingly, as if they both know how far from friends they are.

And we can only guess how dirty Alex got in those last six  CUT OUT words.

“Dear Boy” [sent by John Laurens]

John laurens calls his wife his ‘dear girl’, and here he calls Alex his ‘dear boy’.  Moreover, Laurens did not call any other man he ever wrote to as his ‘dear boy’. Laurens seems to see Alex as on the same level, if not higher, as his own wife.

“Did I mean to show my wit? If I did, I am sure I have missed my aim. Did I only intend to [frisk]? In this I have succeeded, but I have done more. I have gratified my feelings, by lengthening out the only kind of intercourse now in my power with my friend.”

This phrase right here I unfortunately do not see a lot when people talk about Alex and John’s letters. This, to me, is one of the most explicit. “Wit” also mean one’s you know what (here I give a nod to the Ravenclaw moto), so Hamilton’s saying he was pretty much just messing around with John the last letter he sent. This is the only sort of “intercourse” he is able to have with John, as they are both so far apart. He is incapable of ‘sexual’ intercourse because of their distance, so he feels he must, in the 18th century way, sext.

“I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation.”

As you might have already guessed, Alex is inviting John to a threesome on his wedding night. The idea that Alex feels so at ease inviting John to a threesome with his wife suggests they have already had something going for a long time now. 

“But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful –”

Here Alex compares himself to John’s lover, and a jealous one at that. John seems to be shying away from Alex’s bawdiness, as if realizing how strange their relationships is in retrospect. Alex is scrambling to hang on to him, even though he knows well what are and what happens to Sodomites. He would do anything for John while knowing the consequences. And John is too afraid to join him. And who the hell knows what the last word was.

“And believe me, I am lover in earnest,”

*cough cough* looks like John knows exactly what happens when Alex’s feeling frisky.

“She [Eliza] loves you a l'americaine not a la francoise.”

The French were renowned for their relaxed stance on extramarital love affairs, while Americans were more Puritan-minding and thought love affairs only should happen in church-sanctioned marriages. Thus Eliza has an a l’americaine love of John Laurens, rather than an a la francoise.

“You will be pleased to recollect in your negotiations that I have no invincible antipathy to the maidenly beauties & that I am willing to take the trouble of them upon myself.”

*cough* this sentence is a bit confusing, and could be taken a few ways. What I infer from this is that Alexander Hamilton is willing, and John knows this, to assume an air of femininity because he finds no fault with it. It was commonly noted by people who wrote of Hamilton that he was very feminine in comparison with other men of his day. Alex’s femininity seems to please John, the topic even having been discussed between the two in ‘negotiations’.

“My ravings are for your own bosom” Alex desperately misses Laurens’ intimate contact in a way that, in my opinion, could never be mistaken as simply friendship. Alex literally wants to be held by John. How fucking heartbreaking is that.

“Yrs for ever”

Ok, this one isn’t sexual, but I had to add it because it is so heartbreaking. This was Alex’s last farewell note to John. That is, if he even received it. He died shortly after Alex sent the letter; whether he read the farewell or not is all lost to history. Alex loved John so much, despite the fact that both already had a wife. He would have always loved him, even if they had grown apart…

That’s it folks: time for me to cry.

50 ways to practice self care when your mental health is crap

1. Snuggle an animal.

2. Pet others animals in public… with permission.

3. Say yes to a meal with a friend you love dearly.

4. Take a sick day from work. Don’t feel bad about it.

5. Dust a book off your shelf and read it. Or, at least read a few pages.

6. Go to work, do your best, and tell someone you’re struggling.

7. Take frequent breaks at work, even if they’re just to take a deep breath in the bathroom.

8. Read body positive blogs like the Fuck It Diet, Love, Food, and Bawdy Love.

9. Make yourself a cup of your favorite flavor of warm tea.

10. Make yourself tea, then add a bunch of ice cubes to the cup. Feel the sensations of the temperature.

11. Sit outside and stare at the sky. Lay in the grass if you can.

12. When your attention spans lasts 5 minutes, be okay with coming back inside.

13. Say no to someone asking you to do something you don’t want to do.

14. Avoid toxic people while you’re hypersensitive. Sometimes this means family.

15. Say no to events that will trigger you.

16. Be ok with many nights feeling like you’re acting selfishly by saying no.

17. Ask a friend if you can come crash on their couch and have a slumber party.

18. Bring popcorn and fuzzy socks to said slumber party.

19. Cook a simple meal from scratch with one of your favorite ingredients. (I made cardamom baked pears recently- YUM and super easy)

20. Do some therapeutic writing. Prompts can be found through a quick google search.

21. Donate books you don’t read anymore.

22. Workout for 15 minutes.

23. Don’t work out.

24. Don’t beat yourself up about not working out.

25. Mindfully eat a meal.

26. Totally un-mindfully scarf down a bunch of sweets. (I’ve been really into vegan ice cream lately).

27. Stop reading a book that you started and feel obliged to finish.

28. Pick up a new book that you’re excited about.

29. Only do exercise that makes your body feel good. (For me, simple stretching is all sometimes.)

30. Avoid exercises you think you “should” be doing. (Cycling hurts my knees. I hate cycling. I don’t do it).

31. Take “should” out of your vocabulary entirely. Quit “shoulding” on yourself.

32. Tell your partner how they can best support you.

33. Tell your roommate how they can best support you.

34. Donate clothes that taunt you or that you no longer wear.

35. Go to Goodwill and find a lovely outfit that fits great.

36. Take a nap. Don’t set an alarm.

37. Lower your expectations of yourself. Be ok with being mediocre right now.

38. Go to a 12 step meeting or a support group.

39. Call or text an old friend to meet up over a cup of coffee.

40. Buy a coloring book and some crayons. Color away.

41. Practice a 3 minute guided meditation.

42. Do a Pinterest DIY project with an old shirt that no longer fits.

43. Laugh if said Pinterest project ends up disastrous (mine usually do).

44. Binge watch Netflix. Watch a show that’s silly and not too emotional.

45. Throw your to-do list in the trash for a day.

46. Go for a gentle stroll.

47. Blast music that matches your mood (for me, this is often Slipknot or Katy Perry interchangeably).

48. Make a gratitude list about things you’re grateful for in your life.

49. Make a gratitude list about body parts of yours you’re grateful for and why.

50. Put on some nice scented lotion.

Seafaring: Crew

A captain cannot run a ship on their own!

Race (roll 1d6):

  1. Humans, elves, and other common races
  2. Orcs, goblins, and other hated creatures
  3. Tiefling, drow, and other mistrusted people
  4. Dwarves, halfling, and other stout folk
  5. Dragonborn, gnomes, and other uncommon people
  6. A great mishmash of races

Attitude (roll 1d6):

  1. Cliquey, divided
  2. Brutal, prone to brawling at the slightest provocation
  3. Cheerful and supportive
  4. Highly regimented and disciplined
  5. A chaotic, homogenous, and single-minded rabble
  6. A lazy, undisciplined heap of bodies

Feature (roll 1d6):

  1. They all wear a uniform
  2. All crew members are skillful at boarding ships
  3. Everyone is middle aged or older
  4. Many crew members keep pets
  5. The crew is divided evenly among genders
  6. The crew is vitamin c deficient

Song (roll 1d6):

  1. A cheerful shanty
  2. A mournful lament
  3. A bawdy tune
  4. A surging battle chant
  5. A penitent hymn
  6. A whistled call and response

Notable member (roll 1d6):

  1. A Secret-Keeper who can track down any scrap of truth
  2. The Cook who can cure what ails you
  3. The Little One who knows all there is to know about surviving
  4. An Old Hand who can tell tales no one else remembers
  5. A Shackled Prisoner who will pay any price for freedom
  6. A straight-up, honest to god Bear

A continuation of a series

some thoughts about jaylah the magnificent

- Within her first week at Starfleet Academy, Jaylah hacked into the environmental controls and security systems of her dorm– because she was bored and twitchy, because she didn’t know what to do with a home she had not taken apart and re-wired herself. 


- She broke into the cafeteria after hours and told herself it was just to see if she could. She skipped class to go wander the streets and build a map of the city, of these concrete canyons and glass-and-steel cliff walls, of which way she would run if she needed to. She played her music too loud. Kirk wrote her from deep space, further and further away as the months and maydays of their mission moved on, to ask if she was trying to beat him in demerits earned in an Academy tenure. She took that to mean he approved.


- Jaylah had had a big brother, once. Elah had taught her about engines, about how to wrestle, and a lot of really terrible jokes, once. But Scotty walked her through the Enterprise’s engines, when she was rebuilt and shining. They got grease and fluids all over their overalls. Kirk and Spock sparred with her while they waited for the Enterprise’s next mission to come through– Academy martial arts and Vulcan holds and corn-fed Iowa brawling tricks. Uhura provided the bawdy humor, parsed out smugly at the edges of social gatherings. 


- They had set the ruins of the Franklin up as a museum, tucked into the floating bubble of Yorktown. Schoolchildren would take field trips to wander the halls of her house. They invited her to the opening ceremony, cut the ribbon while she and the Enterprise crew were still wandering, limping, through those clean curving streets, but she did not attend. 


- Instead Scotty showed up at her doorstep with a bottle of Scotch stolen from Chekhov. They played her music so loud it shook the walls and earned them a dozen pissed off texts from Bones and a single sternly disapproving note from Spock. They ignored them all and toasted the Franklin, a good lady, a fine home. 


- When Jaylah boarded a transport ship for Earth, for California and San Francisco and the Academy that lived in the shadow of that golden bridge, the whole surviving crew of the Enterprise came out to the loading dock to wave her good-bye. It had been so many years since she had known any faces so well, living, other than her enemies’. She pressed up against the window and watched them– peach and blue and brown and black and green– disappear. 


- No matter how hard she fought and hoped, she had thought she would never get off that planet. The moment she saw her father go down, she had thought she would never be able to survive that stab in his gut, that light that went out of his eyes. She had been small, willow limbs and shaking hands, and she had thought she would never see another sky again. 


- She got up early on cold mornings and walked through the swirling San Francisco fog. She greeted the sun as it climbed up over the Bay and burned the sky back to blue. 


- The crew pooled their credits and bought her a motorcycle for her next birthday, to replace the one they’d left on the planet. Jaylah had left a lot of things in that boneyard. She drove the steep streets on her humming bike and felt like perhaps she had not left everything. 


- When Jaylah took the Kobyashi Maru her final year, she watched her classmates complain and rant afterward about unfairness, about no win scenarios. She did not speak up, just took her results and left. The lesson was one she had already learned, already buried in herself. Sometimes you cannot win, no matter how good you are, no matter how brave, no matter how much you love your daughter and want to live and live and live for her. Sometimes all you can do is die the best way you know how. 


- (When the ruckus had finally died down on Yorktown Base, after the smoke had settled, after the crowds had parted, Jaylah had seen Demora Sulu run to her father’s arms. She had seen Hikaru kneel in the rubble and lift his daughter into his lap and hold her safe in his arms. She had thought, I would have died for this. I am alive, and I am glad, but I would have died for this, I would have, I would have died for this)


- (Her little sister Jessy had been about Dem’s age, the last time Jaylah had seen her alive). 


- She didn’t declare an emphasis in her Academy studies for two years. Scotty thought she should go into engineering, because as a traumatized, escaped child she had reverse-engineered repairs on the Franklin that could only be matched by his own genius. Kirk thought she would make an excellent command officer. Uhura, impressed by how she had taught herself Federation Standard from the Franklin’s logs, made sure the communications department paid friendly attention to her. 


- Instead, Jaylah took the introductory classes for every field of study in the Academy, ignoring the disapproving cries of her guidance counselors. In combat she was years ahead of her peers. She found languages easy, but their technical underpinnings were unengaging and confusing. In engineering she was gifted, but decades behind the state of technology. Scotty had happily dragged her through the Enterprise’s rebuilt engines, but her heart and her blackened fingers would always belong to engines lifetimes older.


- The Enterprise crew were on their second five year mission when Jaylah graduated from Starfleet Academy. They gathered in the main mess hall, all the crew that had survived the Enterprise’s first death, and the new crew members who had heard stories of this adopted daughter of the ship for years. They live-streamed the ceremony. Scotty wore a ‘PROUD BIG BROTHER OF A STARFLEET GRADUATE’ shirt Sulu had hand-lettered for him. Bones opened a bottle of good ol’ Earthside bourbon and pretended not to tear up when her name was called. 


- She wore medical blue.  


- After years of Academy schooling and medical training, Jaylah stepped onto a Starfleet ship, her badge pinned to her chest. The corridors curved into the distance. The lights hummed and lit up as the ship floor murmured under her feet. It felt like coming home. 


- But there were no rocky hills out her shipboard window, no dull sky, no shimmering shield to hide her from her enemies. There was just space– black, cold, endless; brilliant, star-studded; full of discovery and danger and things worth dying for. She was ready to boldly go. She was ready to bravely go. She had thought she would never see another sky and here she was, older than her oldest brother had ever gotten to be, with hands that could defend lives and save them and heal them. The universe was spreading out before her, endless stars lighting the skies of endless planets. She was ready. 

List of Wiccan Goddesses and Pagan Goddess Names:

Akhilandeshvari - Hindu Goddess Never-Not-Broken

Amaterasu - Japanese sun Goddess

Annapurna - Hindu Goddess of Food and Nourishment

Aphrodite /Venus - Greek Goddess of love and beauty

Artemis/Diana - Greek/Roman Goddess of the hunt, virginity, and childbirth, twin sister of Apollo, and an Olympian, often associated with the moon

Astarte - Greek Goddess of fertility, sexuality, and war

Athena - Greek Goddess of wisdom, defensive and strategic wars

Bast - Egyptian solar and war Goddess (in the form of a cat)

Baubo - Greek Goddess of mirth, jests, and bawdy humour

Brighid - Celtic Goddess of poetry, healing, and crafts (especially smith-work), holy wells and eternal flames

Cerridwen - Celtic Goddess of transformation, of the cauldron of inspiration, of prophecy

Cybele - Greek Earth Mother

Danu - Irish Mother Goddess

Demeter - Greek Goddess of the harvest and of grain, mother of Persephone

Durga - Hindu Great Goddess, Divine Mother

Eos - Greek Goddess of the dawn

Ereshkigal - Mesopotamian Goddess of Darkness, Death, and Gloom

Flora - Roman Goddess of flowers

Fortuna - Roman Goddess of fortune

Freya or Freyja - Norse Goddess of fertility, sexual liberty, abundance, and war

Frigg - Norse Goddess of marriage, household management, and love, Queen of Heaven, and wife of Odin

Gaia/Earth Mother - The Greek Goddess Gaia is the primordial Goddess of earth, mother and grandmother of the first generation of Titans

Hathor - Egyptian Goddess of the Milky Way, Mother Goddess, Goddess of childbirth and death.

Hecate - Greek Goddess of witchcraft and magick, crossroads, and the harvest moon

Hestia - Greek Goddess of the hearth and domestic life

Hel - Norse Goddess daughter of Loki and the giantess Angrboda, Queen of the Dead

Hera - Roman Goddess of the Hearth, of women, and of marriage

Inanna - Sumerian Goddess of sexual love, fertility, and warfare

Isis - Egyptian Mother Goddess, matron of nature and magick, Goddess of creativity and the underdog

Ishtar - Mesopotamian Goddess of sexual love, fertility, and war

Juno - Roman Queen of the Gods and Goddess of matrimony

Kali - Hindu Goddess of Time and Death, slayer of demons, protectress (As Kali Ma: Divine Mother Goddess)

Kore - Greek Maiden Goddess of bountiful Earth (See also Persephone)

Kuan Yin , Kwan Yin Ma , Quan Yin - Chinese Goddess of Mercy and Compassion

Lakshmi - Hindu Goddess of Wealth and Fertility (Goddess as Mother/Sustainer)

Lalita - Hindu Goddess of Beauty

Luna - Roman Goddess of the Moon

Ma'at - Egyptian Goddess, personified concept of truth, balance, justice, and order

Mary - Mother Goddess, Queen of Heaven, Goddess of Femininity

Maya - Hindu Goddess of Illusion and Mystery

Minerva - Roman Goddess of wisdom and war

Morrigan - Celtic war Goddess

Nut - Egyptian Goddess of heaven and the sky and all celestial bodies

Parvati - Hindu Divine Mother, the embodiment of the total energy in the universe, Goddess of Power and Might

Pele - Hawai'ian volcano Goddess, Destroyer and Creatrix

Persephone - Greek Goddess daughter of Demeter, Queen of the Underworld, also a grain-Goddess, Maiden Goddess

Radha - Hindu Divine Mother

Rhiannon - Celtic Goddess of the moon

Rosmurta - Celtic/Roman Goddess of abundance. She is also the Goddess of Business Success.

Saraswati - Hindu Goddess of Knowledge, the Arts, Mathematics, Education, and cosmic Wisdom (Creatrix)

Sedna - Inuit Goddess of the Sea and Queen of the Underworld

Selene - Greek Goddess of Moon

Shakti - Hindu primordial cosmic energy, Great Divine Mother

Shekina - Hebrew Goddess of compassion in its purest form (feminine aspect of God)

Sita - Hindu Goddess representing perfect womanhood

Sol - Norse Sun Goddess

Sophia - Greek Goddess of wisdom

Spider Woman - Teotihuacan Great Goddess (Creatrix)

Tara - Hindu, Mother Goddess, the absolute, unquenchable hunger that propels all life.

Tara, Green - Buddhist female Buddha, Tibetan Buddhism - compassion, liberation, success. Compassionate Buddha of enlightened activity

Tara, White - Buddhist Goddess known for compassion, long life, healing and serenity; also known as The Wish-fulfilling Wheel, or Cintachakra

Tara, Red - fierceness, magnetizing all good things

Tara, Black - power

Tara, Yellow - wealth and prosperity

Tara, Blue - transmutation of anger

Tiamat - Mesopotamian dragon Goddess, embodiment of primordial chaos (the Velvet Dark)

Uma - Hindu Goddess of power, the personification of light and beauty, embodying great beauty and divine wisdom

Vesta - Roman Goddess of the hearth

Voluptas - Roman Goddess of pleasure

Yemaya - Yoruban Mother Goddess, Goddess of the Ocean

White Buffalo Calf Woman - Lakota Goddess

Just Hamilton Things

Recently, I’ve been reading Ron Chernow’s ‘Alexander Hamilton’ biography, and there’s a few things in there I find note-worthy. (If you’re as obsessed with Hamilton as I am, I do recommend reading this book. It is, after all, the foundation on which Lin-Manuel Miranda built ‘Hamilton’ and it gets into a lot of depth about Ham’s life. The excessive amount of research done for this book amazes me. I applaud you Ron Chernow.)

  • One time during the war, civilians in Broadway tore down a large statue of King George then melted it down and made 42,088 bullets, a fact which I find, for some reason, utterly savage
  • It’s no wonder people thought Hamilton and Laurens were gay, the letters they wrote to each other, primarily, the letters Hamilton wrote to Laurens… ah, I’ll just leave the examples down below

Hamilton to Laurens: “Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, it might be in my power by action rather than words to convince you that I love you.”

Not enough for you? But wait, the letter goes on to say later:

You should have not taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent.”

Another one from Hamilton to Laurens: “I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made a proper return,”

Looks like Ham is being clingy. He even admits to it:

“But, like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued.”

After his engagement to Eliza, he writes to Laurens again saying:

“In spite of Schuyler’s (Eliza’s) black eyes, I have still a part for the public and another for you.”

  • Hamilton made dick jokes. He wrote to Laurens about finding a wife making bawdy references to ‘the size of his nose’.… his dick, guys. He was talking about his dick.
  • Before their famous duel in 1804, Burr was so broke, he asked even Hamilton for help. (Note, they already hated each other at the time.)  Burr came to Hamilton early in the morning and you can imagine the awkwardness of the situation. Like, “Hey bro,  did I wake you? Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, I know we hate each other and stuff, but could you like, help me out here, since you’re so good with money and shizzz?”
    The best part was, Hamilton did help, and managed to raise 10,000 dollars in cash for Burr…… and still Burr shot him. Savage.
  • Hamilton impressed Adams’ cabinet and there was a conversation that went a little something like this
    Adams: Whom shall we appoint Commander-In-Chief?
    Pickering: Hamilton
    Adams: lol no, pick someone else
    Pickering: But sirrrr, Hamilton is fully qualified-
    Adams: NOT HAMILTON.
  • While the Reynolds affair was going on and Eliza was away, Hamilton wrote letters urging her to stay far, far away from home as he was “greatly concerned for her health”. Yeahhhh. Riiiiight. You two-faced little LIAR.
  • To make the above worse, Eliza, despite the affair, did remain wholly devoted to Hamilton. In fact, when she was old, she is supposed to have said, “I am so tired, it is long, I want to see Hamilton.”
    IT’S OKAY ELIZA, I DIDN’T NEED MY HEART ANYWAY
  • Okay, last fact to wrap things up. After Burr shot Hamilton in the duel, he showed no remorse for it, he took the entire event with a touch of humor. Burr is supposed to have made facetious references to, “my friend Hamilton, whom I shot.” What a savage.

attolirene-deactivated20160522  asked:

What endgame do you /want/ to see? Fluffy endgames for your favorite characters, what you think would be a fitting end to the story, whatever.

i mean i doubt the ending is going to be fluffy, but as far as realistic goes, i want:

  • sansa to have a role in ruling the north, 
  • the starks to be reunited at least briefly,
  • littlefinger to die a horrible death, 
  • asha to take theon back to the iron islands, 
  • brienne to feel like she’s fulfilled her duty, 
  • jon to find out about lyanna already jeez, 
  • jon connington to find out that rhaegar’s son has his name, 
  • arianne to help her people and prove herself worthy of rulling, 
  • barristan to crown daenerys in whatever capacity even metaphorical,
  • arya and gendry to meet again, 
  • jaime to die honorably

the list could go on forever 

and as far as cracky goes:

  • jon goes to dorne gets a tan and learns to surf
  • arya returns and goes around westeros in search of gendry and hotpie “we’re getting the band back together!”
  • one of tommen’s cats has seven kittens and they become symbols of peace when he dispatches them around the seven kingdoms “kitten gift” becomes a common phrase that means gesture of good will and is also the title of a bawdy tavern song
  • doran and sansa co-write a best-seller titled “putting up with shit: a guide to weathering other people’s rude behavior”
  • gilly reads the books sam studies and founds the first women only university and missandei and shireen are the first teachers hired
  • stannis davos melisandre and selyse all move into the same flat and the neighbors talk
  • bran and margaery bond over botany 
  • myrcella becomes a cyvasse world champion
  • tyrion and jorah open a b&b and snipe at each other over customers’ meals
  • dany starts a dragon sanctuary north of the wall
  • daario and arianne grow old and fat together and have the loudest party 20 year-olds have ever had at 70
  • loras moves into the same retirement home as jaime and karaoke night suddenly gets very aggressive
6

“I wanted to create my own Martha who had nothing to do with anybody else’s Martha. I think she is a desperate woman who has the softness of the underbelly of a baby turtle. She covers it with the toughness shell, which she pants red. Her veneer is bawdy; it’s sloppy, it’s slouchy, it’s snarly. But there are moments when the facade cracks and you see the vulnerability, the infinite pain of this woman inside whom, years ago, life almost died but is still flickering.” -Elizabeth Taylor

(I really hope this build up is as worth it to anyone else but me)

So Bob and Suzanne keep up regular communication about their boys, even though Bob is partly doing it to learn more about his son’s new boyfriend and Suzanne is partly doing it for bragging rights with her friends.

One day when Bitty is visiting back in Georgia, Suzanne calls all “oh Bob, I just have to say how much it means to us that Jack still calls Dicky to help him with hockey, especially being so busy now!”

Bob is sort of agreeing but kind of confused because from Jack’s detailed gushing, Bitty doesn’t really need that much help these days, so he’s curious where this is going.

“I know I shouldn’t have listened but I was just changing over the towels in the bathroom and couldn’t help but overhear those two talkin’ on the phone about Dicky being captain…tryin’ a new role or somethin’. So sweet! Dicky kept sayin’ how easy Jack makes it look and how he had no idea how much work was involved until he was in that position himself! And I could just tell Jack was giving him all kinds of reassurance because Dicky got so passionate, sayin’ how he waned to keep tryin’ and he was sure he’d be able to make it last. There was all this talk about how Dicky’s so little he prefers to let the bigger guys go for it and Jack must’ve said somethin’ about ‘only doing what’s comfortable’ and ‘nothing to prove’ and knowin’ that Jack wouldn’t be at all disappointed if Dicky chose to back out because he should only do what feels natural to him. Oh Lord, I coulda cried over how much my boy looks up to that son of yours!”

Bob is like turning purple trying to hold in his laughter and Alicia thinks he’s having a heart attack until he scribbles it out onto a piece of paper and she’s rushing into the bedroom so she can shove her face into a pillow and not shriek with laughter.

They both feel so guilty and mean for laughing and they love Bitty’s innocent Southern family but holy shit the Zimmermann’s are bawdy and get wine drunk and have said the word ‘bottoming’ in front of their son more than once before he threatened to disown them.

Some time after….

So when Bob visits Providence and is watching an Aces game with Bitty while Jack is at practice, he totally picks up on the drop in temperature in the room when Kent’s face is on screen and he wants to do his future-son-in-law a solid but isn’t sure how.

The commentator is blowing smoke up Kent’s ass saying “you just can’t find a better play maker, the guy can score, he has speed, doesn’t shy away when he’s switched to defense… I mean, is there any position Parse hasn’t tried at this point?”

Bitty doesn’t react.

So Bob takes a long glug from his glass, looks over at Bitty and raises the glass in his direction.

“Sure is. Just ask Jack.”

Then Bob has like, tears in his eyes even though Bitty looks like he’s about to throw up or hug Bob or both.

Fin.

Is this really turtle soup?

I’ve never had it before. It’s marvelous.” 

Jamie was unmoved by contemplation of Fergus’s tender state. 

“Aye, well, he’ll be wed a long time,” he said callously. “Do him no harm to keep his breeches on for one night. And they do say that abstinence makes the heart grow firmer, no?” 

“Absence,” I said, dodging the spoon for a moment. “And fonder. If anything’s growing firmer from abstinence, it wouldn’t be his heart.” 

“That’s verra bawdy talk for a respectable marrit woman,” Jamie said reprovingly, sticking the spoon in my mouth. “And inconsiderate, forbye.”

 I swallowed. “Inconsiderate?” 

“I’m a wee bit firm myself at the moment,” he replied evenly, dipping and spooning. “What wi’ you sitting there wi’ your hair loose and your nipples starin’ me in the eye, the size of cherries.” 

I glanced down involuntarily, and the next spoonful bumped my nose. Jamie clicked his tongue, and picking up a cloth, briskly blotted my bosom with it. It was quite true that my shift was made of thin cotton, and even when dry, reasonably easy to see through. 

“It’s not as though you haven’t seen them before,” I said, amused. 

He laid down the cloth and raised his brows. 

“I have drunk water every day since I was weaned,” he pointed out. “It doesna mean I canna be thirsty, still.” He picked up the spoon. “You’ll have a wee bit more?” 

“No, thanks,” I said, dodging the oncoming spoon. “I want to hear more about this firmness of yours.” 

“No, ye don’t; you’re ill.” 

“I feel much better,” I assured him. “Shall I have a look at it?” He was wearing the loose petticoat breeches the sailors wore, in which he could easily have concealed three or four dead mullet, let alone a fugitive firmness. 

“You shall not,” he said, looking slightly shocked. “Someone might come in. And I canna think your looking at it would help a bit.” 

“Well, you can’t tell that until I have looked at it, can you?” I said. “Besides, you can bolt the door.” 

“Bolt the door? What d’ye think I’m going to do? Do I look the sort of man would take advantage of a woman who’s not only wounded and boiling wi’ fever, but drunk as well?” he demanded. He stood up, nonetheless. 

“I am not drunk,” I said indignantly. “You can’t get drunk on turtle soup!” Nonetheless, I was conscious that the glowing warmth in my stomach seemed to have migrated somewhat lower, taking up residence between my thighs, and there was undeniably a slight lightness of head not strictly attributable to fever. 

“You can if ye’ve been drinking turtle soup as made by Aloysius O’Shaughnessy Murphy,” he said. “By the smell of it, he’s put at least a full bottle o’ the sherry in it. A verra intemperate race, the Irish.” 

“Well, I’m still not drunk.” I straightened up against the pillows as best I could. “You told me once that if you could still stand up, you weren’t drunk.” 

“You aren’t standing up,” he pointed out. 

“You are. And I could if I wanted to. Stop trying to change the subject. We were talking about your firmness.” 

“Well, ye can just stop talking about it, because—” He broke off with a small yelp, as I made a fortunate grab with my left hand. 

“Clumsy, am I?” I said, with considerable satisfaction. “Oh, my. Heavens, you do have a problem, don’t you?” 

“Will ye leave go of me?” he hissed, looking frantically over his shoulder at the door. “Someone could come in any moment!”

“I told you you should have bolted the door,” I said, not letting go. Far from being a dead mullet, the object in my hand was exhibiting considerable liveliness. 

He eyed me narrowly, breathing through his nose. 

“I wouldna use force on a sick woman,” he said through his teeth, “but you’ve a damn healthy grip for someone with a fever, Sassenach. If you—” 

“I told you I felt better,” I interrupted, “but I’ll make you a bargain; you bolt the door and I’ll prove I’m not drunk.” I rather regretfully let go, to indicate good faith. He stood staring at me for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing the site of my recent assault on his virtue. Then he lifted one ruddy eyebrow, turned, and went to bolt the door. 

By the time he turned back, I had made it out of the berth and was standing—a trifle shakily, but still upright—against the frame. He eyed me critically. 

“It’s no going to work, Sassenach,” he said, shaking his head. He looked rather regretful, himself. “We’ll never stay upright, wi’ a swell like there is underfoot tonight, and ye know I’ll not fit in that berth by myself, let alone wi’ you.” 

There was a considerable swell; the lantern on its swivel-bracket hung steady and level, but the shelf above it tilted visibly back and forth as the Artemis rode the waves. I could feel the faint shudder of the boards under my bare feet, and knew Jamie was right. At least he was too absorbed in the discussion to be seasick. 

“There’s always the floor,” I suggested hopefully. He glanced down at the limited floor space and frowned. “Aye, well. There is, but we’d have to do it like snakes, Sassenach, all twined round each other amongst the table legs.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “it would hurt your arm.” He rubbed a knuckle across his lower lip, thinking. His eyes passed absently across my body at about hip level, returned, fixed, and lost their focus. I thought the bloody shift must be more transparent than I realized. 

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I let go my hold on the frame of the berth and lurched the two paces necessary to reach him. The roll of the ship threw me into his arms, and he barely managed to keep his own balance, clutching me tightly round the waist. 

“Jesus!” he said, staggered, and then, as much from reflex as from desire, bent his head and kissed me. 

It was startling. I was accustomed to be surrounded by the warmth of his embrace; now it was I who was hot to the touch and he who was cool. From his reaction, he was enjoying the novelty as much as I was. 

Light-headed, and reckless with it, I nipped the side of his neck with my teeth, feeling the waves of heat from my face pulsate against the column of his throat. He felt it, too. 

“God, you’re like holding a hot coal!” His hands dropped lower and pressed me hard against him. 

“Firm is it? Ha,” I said, getting my mouth free for a moment. “Take those baggy things off.” I slid down his length and onto my knees in front of him, fumbling mazily at his flies. He freed the laces with a quick jerk, and the petticoat breeches ballooned to the floor with a whiff of wind. 

I didn’t wait for him to remove his shirt; just lifted it and took him. He made a strangled sound and his hands came down on my head as though he wanted to restrain me, but hadn’t the strength. 

“Oh, Lord!” he said. His hands tightened in my hair, but he wasn’t trying to push me away. “This must be what it’s like to make love in Hell,” he whispered. “With a burning she-devil.” 

I laughed, which was extremely difficult under the circumstances. I choked, and pulled back a moment, breathless. 

“Is this what a succubus does, do you think?” 

“I wouldna doubt it for a moment,” he assured me. His hands were still in my hair, urging me back. 

A knock sounded on the door, and he froze. Confident that the door was indeed bolted, I didn’t. 

“Aye? What is it?” he said, with a calmness rather remarkable for a man in his position. 

“Fraser?” Lawrence Stern’s voice came through the door. “The Frenchman says the black is asleep, and may he have leave to go to bed now?” 

“No,” said Jamie shortly. “Tell him to stay where he is; I’ll come along and relieve him in a bit.” 

“Oh.” Stern’s voice sounded a little hesitant. “Surely. His … um, his wife seems … eager for him to come now.” 

Jamie inhaled sharply. 

“Tell her,” he said, a small note of strain becoming evident in his voice, “that he’ll be there … presently.” 

“I will say so.” Stern sounded dubious about Marsali’s reception of this news, but then his voice brightened. “Ah … is Mrs. Fraser feeling somewhat improved?” 

“Verra much,” said Jamie, with feeling. 

“She enjoyed the turtle soup?” 

“Greatly. I thank ye.” His hands on my head were trembling. 

“Did you tell her that I’ve put aside the shell for her? It was a fine hawksbill turtle; a most elegant beast.” 

“Aye. Aye, I did.” With an audible gasp, Jamie pulled away and reaching down, lifted me to my feet. 

“Good night, Mr. Stern!” he called. He pulled me toward the berth; we struggled four-legged to keep from crashing into tables and chairs as the floor rose and fell beneath us. 

“Oh.” Lawrence sounded faintly disappointed. “I suppose Mrs. Fraser is asleep, then?” 

“Laugh, and I’ll throttle ye,” Jamie whispered fiercely in my ear. “She is, Mr. Stern,” he called through the door. “I shall give her your respects in the morning, aye?” 

“I trust she will rest well. There seems to be a certain roughness to the sea this evening.” 

“I … have noticed, Mr. Stern.” Pushing me to my knees in front of the berth, he knelt behind me, groping for the hem of my shift. A cool breeze from the open stern window blew over my naked buttocks, and a shiver ran down the backs of my thighs. 

“Should you or Mrs. Fraser find yourselves discommoded by the motion, I have a most capital remedy to hand—a compound of mugwort, bat dung, and the fruit of the mangrove. You have only to ask, you know.” 

Jamie didn’t answer for a moment. 

“Oh, Christ!” he whispered. I took a sizable bite of the bedclothes. 

“Mr. Fraser?” 

“I said, ‘Thank you’!” Jamie replied, raising his voice. 

“Well, I shall bid you a good evening, then.” 

Jamie let out his breath in a long shudder that was not quite a moan. 

“Mr. Fraser?” 

“Good evening, Mr. Stern!” Jamie bellowed. 

“Oh! Er … good evening.” 

Stern’s footsteps receded down the companionway, lost in the sound of the waves that were now crashing loudly against the hull. I spit out the mouthful of quilt. 

“Oh … my … God!” 

His hands were large and hard and cool on my heated flesh. 

“You’ve the roundest arse I’ve ever seen!” 

A lurch by the Artemis here aiding his efforts to an untoward degree, I uttered a loud shriek. 

“Shh!” He clasped a hand over my mouth, bending over me so that he lay over my back, the billowing linen of his shirt falling around me and the weight of him pressing me to the bed. My skin, crazed with fever, was sensitive to the slightest touch, and I shook in his arms, the heat inside me rushing outward as he moved within me.

His hands were under me then, clutching my breasts, the only anchor as I lost my boundaries and dissolved, conscious thought a displaced element in the chaos of sensations—the warm damp of tangled quilts beneath me, the cold sea wind and misty spray that wafted over us from the rough sea outside, the gasp and brush of Jamie’s warm breath on the back of my neck, and the sudden prickle and flood of cold and heat, as my fever broke in a dew of satisfied desire. 

Jamie’s weight rested on my back, his thighs behind mine. It was warm, and comforting. After a long time, his breathing eased, and he rose off me. The thin cotton of my shift was damp, and the wind plucked it away from my skin, making me shiver. 

Jamie closed the window with a snap, then bent and picked me up like a rag doll. He lowered me into the berth, and pulled the quilt up over me. 

“How is your arm?” he said. 

“What arm?” I murmured drowsily. I felt as though I had been melted and poured into a mold to set. 

“Good,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Can ye stand up?” 

“Not for all the tea in China.” 

“I’ll tell Murphy ye liked the soup.” His hand rested for a moment on my cool forehead, passed down the curve of my cheek in a light caress, and then was gone. I didn’t hear him leave.

Voyager: CHAPTER 56 – Turtle Soup

Man Discovers His ‘Invisible Advantage’ at Work After He Switches Email Signatures with a Female Colleague

A Pennsylvania man learned just how much subtle sexism women endure in the workplace when he and a female colleague conducted a surreptitious experiment that led to eye-opening results.

Martin Schneider opened up about the experiment in a series of tweets Thursday that have since gone viral, explaining what he learned when he and then-colleague Nicole Hallberg switched email signatures for a week.

“I was in hell,” Schneider wrote on Twitter. “Everything I asked or suggested was questioned. Clients I could do in my sleep were condescending. One asked if I was single.”

Hallberg, meanwhile, had a decidedly different experience.

“I had one of the easiest weeks of my professional life,” she wrote on Medium for a story she wrote about her experience. “He … didn’t.”

Schneider explained in his tweets that the whole experiment came about after he noticed a client was talking to him rudely, and couldn’t figure out why until he realized that their shared inbox meant he was inadvertently signing emails as “Nicole.”

So one day I’m emailing a client back-and-forth about his resume and he is just being IMPOSSIBLE. Rude, dismissive, ignoring my questions.

— Martin R. Schneider (@SchneidRemarks) March 9, 2017

When he explained to the client in email that he was actually talking to “Martin” instead of “Nicole” he said there was an “immediate improvement.”

“Positive reception, thanking me for suggestions, responds promptly, saying ‘great questions!’ Became a model client,” Schneider tweeted.

“Note,” he also tweeted. “My technique and advice never changed. The only difference was that I had a man’s name now.”

Schneider, who supervised Hallberg, also explained that after their experiment he finally understood why it took her longer to get work done — an issue he says irked their mutual boss.

“I showed the boss and he didn’t buy it. I told him that was fine, but I was never critiquing her speed with clients again,” he wrote.

I wasn’t any better at the job than she was, I just had this invisible advantage.

— Martin R. Schneider (@SchneidRemarks) March 9, 2017

Hallberg, meanwhile, writes in her Medium post that while Schneider might have been shocked by the results of their experiment, she was, well, not.

“I would like the record to show that I have the filthiest mouth in the tri-state area, and one of my pasttimes has always been trying to come up with jokes off-color enough that I can actually embarrass Marty,” she wrote. “I would also like the record to show that I developed a trucker’s mouth and bawdy sense of humor precisely because I’ve always had to act ‘like a man’ to be found funny and be accepted in male spaces.”

From COINAGE: 5 Financial Mistakes to Avoid in Your 20s

Schneider put it in ever starker terms: “For me, this was shocking. For her, she was USED to it. She just figured it was part of her job.”

“I wasn’t any better at the job than she was,” he also wrote. “I just had this invisible advantage.”

archiveofourown.org
Empath - shulkie - Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Mature, ~5.5k words, ereri

Eren had been like this for as long as he’d remembered. Whenever a baby in the daycare would start crying, Eren would wail along with them. He remembered passing by old men telling bawdy jokes as a child and he would laugh along with them without knowing the punchline. When his friends hit puberty that was an awkward time for him. But it made him a better brother to Mikasa, because he knew exactly how she felt when a boy was mean to her (and…maybe he used his fists to settle that). And when Armin was cramming for a test, he was stressing right along with him, poring over notes for a final he didn’t even have.

This way he had, of feeling what others were feeling, grew. He became more aware of it. He knew when Jean had a crush on Mikasa. And he knew before Jean when he had a crush on Armin. Sometimes it was a blessing. Most times…it felt like a curse. Because when you’re a child that cries when someone else cries, they just call you sympathetic. But when you’re a grown man who has just watched a child drop their ice cream on the ground, it’s weird to cry too. But then, there were days he couldn’t help but enjoy. Passing by an older couple still holding hands and so in love with each other had Eren humming old love songs all day.

More often than not, these feelings lasted for a long time. It wasn’t just like a flash and then it was over; they lingered, floating around in his head, turning over and over. It was like running your tongue over a jagged tooth, or a song on the radio that you just can’t get out of your head. They were persistent. They were overwhelming. They were confusing. But he dealt with them.

That is, until the man in the elevator.

Green-Eyed Monster - Castiel x reader (NSFW)

Summary: Cas gets worked up after reading Dean’s smutty thoughts about reader, so he decides to show Dean who reader belongs to.

Words: 2257 

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, spanking.

Castiel x Reader

A/N: Now that it’s finally summer, I hope to write more stuff! <3 And hopefully not just Cas XD I need to give other boys some attention too, so if you want, you can drop a request in my ask or message it to me <3 


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