The town my wife Violet was raised in is almost unremarkable. You won't find it on any 'Best of' lists or see it signified on any map or atlas. She said she was happy as heaven to get out of there when we met. I saw little signs that things may have been...different there than where I was raised.
One of the most notable times was our first 4th of July together. We got invited to a co-worker of mine's house for food, fireworks and the like. It was my first unofficial company function as a married man, and I was excited to show off my new bride. I imagined her eyes sparkling under the fireworks for most of the evening. It went well until the sunset.
The children were all confined to a large screened-in porch while the adults lit a bonfire and began bringing out armfuls of fireworks. Violet and I were canoodling and drinking like usual, but the second she smelled smoke, her shoulders went rigid. The smile on her face melted away like a burning photograph as she rose from her chair. Once she turned and saw the fire, she screamed. The pupils of her eyes swam around frantically through blankets of tears as she surveyed the area. "Jesus, honey," I exclaimed. "Are you alright?"
Her tears were too much to contain, and it broke my heart to see them jump off of her lower eyelids, invading her beautiful cheeks. The look of fear from moments before was replaced with one of deep embarrassment. She stammered out an apology before excusing herself to the bathroom.
My friend Daniel rushed over to me the moment she was inside of the house, his gaze full of question and concern. "Yo Derek… uhhhhh." He stammered. "What the fuck was that? Like, is she okay? My neighbors could have called the cops, man."
"Honestly I have no idea what that all meant. I'm just as surprised as you are." I replied.
"Oh, okay. Right on," He commented. "Is it like a Tourette's thing? How much do you really know about this girl?"
I almost got angry, almost. But if I were honest, if it were his girlfriend or wife, I'd have had questions too. So instead of getting an attitude, I just shook my head and grabbed a firework bundle.
Violet joined me soon after. Relief flooded me as I wrapped my arm around her and felt her melt into the embrace. "Are you okay, Lettie?" I asked, genuinely concerned. "Do you wanna get out of here?"
She tilted her head up towards me and smiled. "No, I'm so sorry. I don't know what the hell's wrong with me. Let's stay. Please?"
The party finished without incident. But I
... keep reading on reddit ➡Saturday, 24th June 1509
“His grace with the Quene, departed from the Tower, through the citie of London, against whose comyng, the streates where his grace should passe, were hanged with Tapistrie, and clothe of Arras. And the greate parte, of the Southe side of Chepe, with clothe of gold, and some parte of Cornehill also. And the streates railed and barred, on the one side, from ouer against Grace Churche, vnto Bredstreate, in Chepeside, where euery occupacion stode, in their liueries in ordre, beginnyng with base and meane occupacions, and so assendyng to the worshipfull craftes: highest and lastly stode the Maior, with the Aldermen. The Goldsmithes stalles, vnto the ende of the Olde Chaunge, beeyng replenished with Virgins in white with braunches of white Waxe: the priestes and clerkes, in riche Copes, with Crosses and censers ofsiluer, wir censyng his grace and the queue also as they passed. The features of his body, his goodly personage, his amiable visage, princely countenaunce, with the noble qualities 'of his royall estate, to euery man knowen uedeth no rehersall, consideryng, that for lacke of cunnyng, I cannot expresse the giftes of grace and of nature, that God hath endowed, hym with all: yet partly, to discriue his apparell, it is to bee noted, his grace ware in his vpperst apparell, a robe of Crimosyn Veluet, furred with armyns, his jacket or cote of raised gold, the Placard embrowdered with Diamondes Rubies, Emeraudes, greate Pearles, and other riche Stones, a greate Bauderike aboute his necke, of greate Balasses. The Trapper of his Horse, Damaske gold, with a depe purfell of Armyns, his knightes and Esquires for his body in Crimosyn Veluet, and all the gentlemen, with other of his chappell, and all his officers, and houshold seruaiitites, wer appareled in Skarlet. The Barons of the fiue Portes, bare the Canaby, or clothe of estate: For to resite vnto you, the greate estates by name, the ordre of their goyng, the nombre of the lordes Spirituall and temporall, Knightes, Esquires, and Gentlemen, and of their costly and rich apparell, of seuerall deuises, and fashions, who tooke vp his horse best, or who was richest besene, it would aske long tyme, and yet I should omitte many thynges, and faile of the nombre, for they were verie many: wherefore I passe ouer, but this I dare well saie, there was no lacke or scarcitie of clothe of Tissue, clothe of Golde, clothe of Siluer, Broderie, or of Golde smithes workes: but in more plentie and abunda
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Buenosdillas
It really does, I swear!
For all the party poopers!
I am building a room for my GF to have a sanctuary to herself and I want to make her a stupid little hanging sign for the door and she loves a good joke. So the best alternative I came up with to "man cave" was Cooter Cavern, but I wanted to see what magic Reddit could come up with. Whatcha got?
She said she only likes pears!
So I gave her another apple. 🍎🍎
The plot thickened.
When I got home, they were still there.
Because I am an eighth-theist.
Seek Kelp.
...being nabbed by the police for resisting a rest.
Now That’s his own dumb asphalt.
As the title implies what are some fairy tales and/or folklore of your worlds fantasy or any other genre. The type of stories that the people of your kingdom/country/empire etc. tell to each other. Is it a heroic tale or a tragic one or perhaps even a comedic one. Does it speak of brave heroes or foul villains, silly rulers of fair maidens?
It can be any type of tale be it one that stems from "real" and "true events" or one that is fully "myth and legend".
To start here is a famous tale from my world(name still in progress...)
THE EMPEROR AND HIS HAIR
This tale tells of the first Nevarran emperor Viktor Corvus Drakkon I. A very famous and popular emperor who united the scattered human city states after the fall of the Great High Elven Empire into a single powerful nation: the Nevarran Empire.
But even before becoming emperor Drakkon was a prince to one of the wealthiest and most prosperous human city states. As a young lad prince Drakkon was quite a handsome fellow and although he had a good and noble heart he all to often got distarcted by his own beauty. So be it Fate deciding to play a foul game or the young prince simply succumbing to bad genetics by the time he reached the age of 22 young Viktor found himself completley bald. All of his beautiful coal black shining locks GONE. The young prince was devestated and according to some accounts refused to leave his chamber for two whole weeks. It took his two dear friends(the savior of Azeron/Champion Lightvale and the infamously flamboyant mage Dorian Shalidor) to convince him to leave his chambers after Dorian had suggested to Viktor to grow a glorious mustache in order to "balance" his patern baldness. And the now not so young looking prince did exactly that.
And so for the next 5 years the soon would be emperor was content. But that did not last. For now that he had united the human city states it was time for his coronation officially making him the emperor of Nevarra. And yet the emperor was not happy at all. The opposite in fact. For if he becomes emperor ALL of his peolpe will know his face. Painters and sculptors from far and wide will travel to his empire hoping to immortalise his visage. And yet he was still bald. But then one day the emperor came up with an idea. He sent out all of his fastest messengers telling them to find and bring as many of his people to the capital city as fast as possible. The only requirement being that these chosen peolpe needed to be blonde. In the mea
... keep reading on reddit ➡It makes me say things I didn't Nintendo.
Purrrrrr-ple
High fives all round!
But when I got to the store everyone else had clothes on.
A lifetime ban from the zoo
If so, you might be entitled to condensation.
Aware wolf.
She finished by saying “don’t wear my clothes anymore!”
A whim away, a whim away.
Deliver
They’re on standbi
La-Cross!
but it’s definitely up there.
So they can get boo-sted.
From my 5 year old on the way home from getting his vaccine.
It’ll be called “Snitches Get Stitches”.
From Injustice by Whitson:
>Lou Smit and I are unaware of any other case throughout history where a parent strangled their child with a garotte. (Whitson, 110, published in 2012)
I've done some digging, and I've found a handful of cases where parents have killed their children via ligature strangulation (as well as a few edge cases where I haven't been able to establish if the cause of death was manual or ligature strangulation).
As with some of my intruder murder posts, I find it interesting to contrast known elements of the Ramsey case with known elements of resolved cases to see if anything seems to line up.
This allows us a little insight into why a parent chooses to kill their child in this manner, among the least common method of killing in filicides. (For the morbidly curious the most common are smothering, drowning and beating. This was such depressing research.)
If anyone knows of any other cases, please leave them in the comments.
Amy Gregory
>Early life
>
>She was born Amy Smart in West Brighton on 16 February 1872 and married Frederick James Gregory (born 5 June 1867, Worthing) in Richmond in 1889. Her first child, Amy Sarah Ann, was born on 13 May that year and this was followed by the birth of a son, James William Walter, on 27 January 1892. In 1891 they were living at Albert Road, Richmond. Frederick was variously described as a groom, coachman, house-painter, 'paperhanger' (1911) or paper monger (1939). Her parents, John and Ann Smart, were living at Sheendale Terrace in 1891, and at 96 Mortlake Road in 1901.
>
>The murder
>
>The events leading up to her being charged are outlined in the witness statements from the inquest and trial and reported widely in the press.
>
>The birth
>
>At the time that Amy gave birth to Frances witnesses said that she had not been living with her husband for about 15 months. According to a neighbour, Mrs Priest, he and the children were staying with his parents. The reason for the separation from her husband and children was never made clear.
>
>Amy entered the workhouse in Richmond on 12 December, describing herself as being single. Her daughter was born in Richmond Workhouse on 31 December 1894, registered as Frances Maud Smart on 12 January, and baptised on 20 January
The barkeep says, “A talking horse! I didn’t know you existed!”
“Wait, what?”, says the horse before pondering to himself, “do I exist?”. And then poof the horse disappears into thin air.
You see, this joke was supposed to be a riff on French philosopher Descartes’ famous “I think, therefore I am”, but to have explained that beforehand would be putting Descartes before the horse.
Nothing, it just waved
