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irene-sadler · 3 years

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Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

(aka 'The Tournament')

special notes:

the vibe i chose for this imaginary fair/holiday is a mashup of pieces from medieval christmas and new year's eve celebrations. ofc as I mentioned before most of those were Christianity-based, but some of them had a distintly pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon pagan flavor. now my source material here is from 1827, but the author makes sure to let us know which traditions (he thinks) are older than Christianity. the book (books actually, there's 3 of them total) itself is also kind of a fun read, it's sort of a combo of an almanac/calendar/reference guide/gossip column.

a n y w a y, so, specifically i want to mention (b/c i stole them for this story and i don't want to do that without letting ppl know these are or were real traditions that real people observed) serving a boars' head on christmas day (Essex, England, observed "from time immemorial"), the wassail bowl/toast (a new year custom very definitely from before Christianity and apparently present in various parts of Europe altho I don't have the specific expertise to explain why), and an interesting/weird/gruesome Christmas parade (Kent) which the book describes: "A party of young people procure the head of a dead horse, which is affixed to a pole about four feet in length, a string is tied to the lower jaw, a horse cloth is then attached to the whole, under which one of the party gets, and by frequently pulling the string keeps up a loud snapping noise." This is called a Hodening and whether or not ppl still do it I don't know but, uh, i hope so b/c awesome.

also theres only 1 chapter left if u stuck with it this whole time or, idk, it's 2024 and u read the whole thing at once thanks for bothering love u

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“Yes, hello,” Gascon said, pretending not to notice Meve’s displeasure. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he added, as the Baroness and Giselle turned to look curiously down at where he stood in the shadows. The Baroness frowned and pursed her lips judiciously; Giselle considered him and glanced uncertainly at the older women.

“Anyway,” he continued, an edge of urgency buried in his easy tone, “Do you have a minute to spare?”

“No,” the Queen said stiffly, turning back toward the empty lists. “I’m busy; whatever it is will have to wait until later.”

“Oh,” he replied, growing very faintly annoyed, “Because it’s about that thing you wanted last night; just thought you’d be interested t’ know I’ve done it.”

She hesitated, ignoring the Baroness’s raised eyebrow and Giselle’s uncomfortable confusion, struggled momentarily between curiosity and base pettiness, and finally said, “Yes, fine; I have a few minutes, I suppose.”

“Fifteen minutes,” the Baroness said, pointedly.

“No time to waste, then,” said Gascon; he winked at Giselle, who took her cue from the Baroness and frowned disapprovingly back at him, and they hurried off.

“So, what is it, then?” Meve asked bluntly, as they turned into the town’s streets at a rapid stroll. “I assume you’ve caught the saboteur, else you wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“Well, I caught Gaheris; he may be the saboteur, or may not,” Gascon said, disregarding her tone. “Gaspar thinks he is, though, and he’s th’ only one who saw th’ intruder close up last night, so odds are good he’s your man.”

“Really?” She abandoned her moodiness in favor of mild surprise, and then asked, “When did this happen?”

“Oh, only about an hour ago. Less, even. Seemed like there was no real need for a public scene, so I just had him snatched off the street and, you know - stashed somewhere convenient,” Gascon explained, leading the way down an alley and into a butcher. The owner nodded and smiled to him as he passed through the door and headed toward the back, spotted the Queen, and instantly looked away at nothing in particular. Pug and Gaspar waited in the yard behind the shop, standing guard over a man with a bag on his head and a bandage around his left ankle. Gascon nodded at Pug and she yanked the bag away; Gaheris squinted in the light and surveyed his surroundings - two large, brightly interested pigs in a pen, his sinister pair of captors, and, finally, Meve and Gascon. He sighed.

“Got ‘im in one piece, as you wanted,” Pug announced in her gruff voice; a dubious claim, as Gaheris had a black eye and a split lip, but Gascon nodded approvingly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the shop.

“Wait inside for a bit,” he said; Pug and Gaspar departed, leaving their captive to his deserved fate.

“Now, sir,” Meve said briskly to Gaheris; if she had any doubts about his culpability, she kept them firmly to herself. “Let’s not waste time with falsehoods or denials.”

“No,” he said, resignedly, “Doesn’t seem to be much point in trying.”

“Quite. So, explain what it is you’ve been up to, then.”

“Start with last night,” Gascon added, as the squire took a few too many seconds to think it over. “Hurry up.”

“Ah, well. I was trying to get hold of a piece of equipment I knew was among Sir Odo’s things in the barn,” he said. “The girth from a saddle.”

“Continue,” the Queen said, as he paused, clearly thinking the question answered.

“Well, obviously I didn’t get it, since that - that thug sliced my ankle t’ the bone when I tried. Seems the girth held up, though, regardless, through today; probably because Sir Odo don’t take many hits, luckily for him.”

“No, it’s because I found it last night and changed it out for a new one,” Gascon said, angrily. “You’re the one who cut it, are you?”

Gaheris nodded.

“I knew it,” the Duke muttered; Meve waved his self-congratulatory comment away, scowling.

“When did you do it?”

“Oh, a month ago, or more,” he said. “Just before the duel against Sir Holt.”

“Why?”

He blinked at the question and said, as if it was obvious, “Because Sir Holt told me to, in hopes he’d win.”

“You did a bad job, then,” Gascon snapped; Gaheris looked mildly offended.

“No,” he said. “No, I didn’t. The girth held, did it not? Sir Odo won - or, well he could have, if he’d wanted to.”

He looked at his interrogators’ baffled stares, and then explained, patiently, “Look - I cut through the leather, left just enough to hold a strain for a good while, glued it so it’d look like nothing, and told Holt I’d done what he wanted. Simple. I just didn’t have the chance to get it back, after the fight; too many people hanging around who might’ve seen me. If I had done, nobody would have been the wiser.”

Meve stared at him, torn between confusion and anger, opened her mouth, and closed it again as an echo of distant horns bounced off the buildings.

“Damn,” she said. “I have to go. Gascon, find Sir Holt.”

“What should I do with him?” he asked, as she turned to leave; she hesitated, considered her options, and came to a hasty decision.

“Just keep tabs on him, don’t let him leave town, and - and we’ll sort this mess out, later.”

“You’ll find him in the tavern, no doubt,” Gaheris said wearily to Gascon, as she quickly departed.

She nearly ran back through the streets, but she was still late; she returned to the lists to find the Baroness had started the final round without her. However, she she was in time to see Nolda avoid an immediate defeat by the same method she had used on Sir Eres, but Reynard survived her trick, when his fellow knight hadn’t. She nodded in satisfaction at the display.

“Your man is a quick study, as he’s always been,” said the Baroness, as if Meve had never been away. The next pass involved no deceptions from either side, nor any displays of brilliance; Nolda blocked an ordinary sort of attack on her shield, and never touched Sir Odo.

“He’s testing the waters,” Meve said, slightly bored with her favorite’s typically cautious tactics. “How long have they been at it?”

“You only missed one pass; the foreigner’s better at this than I expected.”

“She’s tricky,” Giselle noted, appreciatively. “What’s the Count doing, there?”

There was a short pause; Meve glanced downfield and answered, “Oh, he wants a different lance, I imagine.”

The delay took a full half minute, due to some confusion on Ethan’s part; the Baroness mumbled a displeased remark about the squire’s ineptitude, and then the combat began again.

“He wants to make up for Nolda’s left-handedness,” the Baroness explained, louder, “That’s what the long spear is for. Most people don’t learn to fight the way she does -”

She broke off; Reynard’s change of weapon had answered, and he had dealt a strike that had nearly unseated his opponent; she managed to stay in the saddle by luck or skill and they lined up again.

“He has her figured out; this’ll be th’ end of it,” said Meve. The Baroness nodded agreement. Giselle looked unconvinced, but, in the end, Reynard landed a direct attack to his opponent’s helm and Nolda crashed to earth at long last.

“A devilishly difficult play,” the Baroness said, in the silence that followed. “Dangerous, too.”

Reynard had turned to look behind himself, before his horse had even reached the end of the barricade; Nolda lay still on the ground for a few moments, and then, as her husband vaulted the fence and came running toward her, stirred and sat up. She waved an irritated hand at Bohault and Reynard, who had trotted back and dropped from his horse as soon as he was rid of his lance, but neither paid attention to her gestures or her repeated insistence that she was perfectly fine. The crowd’s general din returned, drowning out their conversation; Meve breathed a relieved sigh and reluctantly turned her thoughts back to Gaheris and Sir Holt, and then - she frowned slightly - Gascon’s mysterious absence during the day.

“Pity you can’t make her a knight,” Giselle said, of Nolda, interrupting her consideration; Meve’s frown grew thoughtful.

“A knight,” she repeated to herself, under her breath, watching the muddle on the field break up - Reynard back to his horse, Bohault and Nolda to hers - a vague connection, or suspicion, growing in the back of her mind. She turned abruptly to the Baroness, interrupted an ongoing reminisce on the handful of times she’d seen another knight employ a tactic similar to Reynard’s winning strike, and said, “Listen, Hilde - the black knight; do you know who he is?”

The Baroness hesitated, slightly confused, and replied, choosing her words carefully, “I believe so, but - wasn’t that what you and the Duke spoke about?”

“No,” the Queen said, disgruntled. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Ah,” she said, looking away toward the approaching victors, “Well, perhaps you should. Count Odo, congratulations on another victory; well fought, Nolda. My lord, you’ve won quite a fine horse, I believe, and you, madam, a sword. They’ll be bringing them along shortly.”

Any personal urgency she felt to finally sort out her ongoing affairs was wasted; the prizes took very little time to hand out, but a number of unrelated problems were brought to her individual attention as soon as the victors rode away. She sent Giselle back to her tavern with genuine gratitude for her service, dealt out various solutions, and then at last she and the Baroness set off toward the castle. The streets of the city were packed, twilight was setting in, and there was no way to hurry their progress no matter how their guard tried. A wagon that had lost a wheel blocked the way, first, and then a succession of other disruptions: a traveling comedic play about a sorcerer and some maidens, some cows wandering loose in the street, a troupe of drunken minstrels playing festive tunes, a strange procession led by a solemn youth holding a freshly cut horse’s head mounted on a pole as a banner, a group of offended clerics in its wake, handcarts selling buns and ale, and, finally, on the bridge over the castle moat, an armored knight still on his charger, who would not be shifted by man or beast until Meve stepped out of the torchlit crowd and threatened to remove him herself.

Then there was yet another feast, this time held in the hall and attended by more of the usual crowd - but, of course, with the horde of knights and sundry that had participated in the jousts, somewhat more of them than normal. There were the typical, expected customs - a boar’s head served, bowls of spiced ale passed around, a number of favors and pardons bestowed, gifts received (and given; Count Odo, for one, courteously gave the warhorse he’d won earlier in the day to Nolda, who accepted it in a fiercely embarrassed but otherwise gracious fashion) - and various other ancient rituals observed.

“I would’ve asked if you thought giving her the horse was a good idea,” Reynard said privately to the Queen, during the Mayor’s inevitable remarks, “But I didn’t catch you in time. If I’m honest it’s less a gift and more a bribe, of a sort; Ethan’s left-handed, same as her, and I thought it might make it easier to convince her to teach him.”

“There were some delays getting back,” she replied, also in an undertone, her eyes resolutely fixed on the speaker as he recited a hopeful list of future developments for the upcoming year. “This whole afternoon’s been nothing but delays, in fact.”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” she added, quickly, as the speech ended, aimed a quick but pointed glance at the distant Gascon, who immediately slipped out a side door, and then dismissed the court in the exact words she’d recited for ten years, and, before her, her late husband, and his father, and their distant grandfathers, for all of remembered history.

Finally getting rid of her guests took much longer than the traditional close to the winter solstice did. As a result, it was past midnight before she made the solitary climb up the stairs to her office, looking forward to finally having a quiet minute to think. However, Reynard and Gascon - and Gaheris - were within, despite the late hour; the squire stopped in the middle of a sentence and all three men automatically turned her way when she stepped through the door. She waved an impatient hand at him to continue and leaned against her own desk, hiding her weariness behind a cold stare. Gaheris returned to repeating his confession; Reynard listened in silence, his expression drifting subtly between offense and genuine confusion. At the end, he frowned and asked, “You - pretended to sabotage my equipment? Why? Why not do it properly, I mean?”

The squire shrugged.

“It’s - listen; before I go on, you should know Holt’s an ass, and a stubborn one at that. Yes, I see you’ve all noticed. Well, I couldn’t dissuade him when th’ idea came into his fool head, but I’d no wish t’ see him win a fight by such a trick, against such an obviously superior opponent. It’s not right, and, also, would be easily seen through. What I did seemed the simplest solution.”

“You could have refused,” Reynard pointed out; Gaheris smiled pityingly at him and shook his head. His response drew an exasperated comment from Meve.

“You could have done nothing at all, and told him otherwise.”

He frowned, again mildly offended.

“I’m no liar,” he said. “If I can find any other solution, I mean. They say a half-truth’s better than a lie, don’t they?”

Reynard blinked, considered, and then shook his head. Gascon shrugged his shoulders, grudgingly.

“You’re clearly a capable man,” Meve said. “Why do you serve someone you know isn’t?”

Gaheris shook his head again, helplessly.

“Holt’s always been like this,” he explained, “Ever since he was a boy. He’s a decent fighter, but he’s too competitive for his own good, and he’s still not learned t’ pick his battles. However, he is my little brother - well, half-brother; my mother married Sir Ulrich after my father died. He was a stonemason,” he explained, seeing the Queen raise a questioning eyebrow, a gleam of challenge in his dark eyes. “His name was Gors.”

When she failed to react to his admission, he continued:

“Anyway, she wanted me t’ look after Holt, best I can. He isn’t a bad person, really, he just -”

He shrugged.

“He can’t help how he is, when he’s in a mood, and when he isn’t he’s not the worst of men, or the worst of nobles, for that matter. He’s never struck a knight who’s yielded, for one, and he’s not one to steal or run villainous among th’ yeomen. And, he’s all the family I got left,” he finally finished. Meve nodded and said nothing for a long moment; she noticed that he couldn’t have been any older than herself, but he briefly appeared gray and worn down. She was, to her mild irritation, somewhat sympathetic to his troubles. Gascon glanced from her icy frown to Gaheris’s tired stare, curiously. Reynard watched her carefully.

“Keep him under guard,” she said to Gascon. “I’m not sure what to do with him or his brother, just yet. Wait - leave him on the landing; the guards there will look after him for the moment. I’ve another matter to discuss, before you go.”

“He’s the black knight,” she said to Reynard, as Gascon stepped back in without his captive. “Did you know?”

“No, of course not,” the Count said, frowning slightly. “Although, in truth, th’ idea has crossed my mind, but I found it - unlikely.”

Gascon hesitated, then shrugged, grinned broadly, and said, “You caught me at last, m’lady; how’d you figure it?”

“The Baroness it was that discovered you, not me,” Meve said, crossing her arms stubbornly; she attempted to appear angry, but in the end managed only mild, slightly amused, annoyance. “Also, she appears to have found me out, as well, incidentally. In fact, there seems to be very little she doesn’t know.”

“She’s uncommonly sharp, no doubt about it,” Gascon agreed, readily.

“So,” she continued, “Is there anything at all to be gained by asking you what you were doing, today?”

“Won’t tell you unless you first promise not t’ bite my head off,” he said promptly.

“Yes, very well, as it’s the solstice, but don’t expect any more favors from me before the summer, at earliest. I mean it, Gascon.”

Reynard sat down, shaking his head at them; Gascon nodded and said, “Fair’s fair. Well, then, it’s a short tale: I won that fight against Sir Holt, then I saw Gaheris come limping ‘round to scrape him up off the turf, and it all came together clear as mud, so I decided it was time t’ stop playing at knights for the day and do some real work.”

“You could have appeared in the joust as yourself,” Reynard remarked, almost idly, “And not as -”

“As me,” Meve interrupted, a hint of her previous ire returning.

“Yes, well - the black knight’s more interesting than I am,” he explained, with a broad shrug. “People have heard of his prowess, or what have you; the dangerous reputation’s an advantage, of sorts.”

“Yes, we’ve heard, in fact,” Meve said, coldly. “Slew a werewolf, did you?”

“Sure did,” Gascon replied. “Or, I helped, anyhow. There was a witcher involved. Like Gaheris said: half a truth’s better than a lie, so I let the former take precedence.”

“That’s not the saying, as you know perfectly well. It’s worse,” Reynard said, rolling his eyes. “Half a truth is worse than a lie.”

Gascon shrugged at him, grinning slightly. Meve interrupted their tangent, impatiently.

“And you killed a dragon, they say?”

“Not I,” the Duke said, quickly, eyeing the Queen’s scowl. “Th’ only dragonslayer here is yourself - although, I did kill a pretty big snake in a roadside inn. The landlady was most impressed. So was some minstrel who happened t’ be around, it appears; he has, uh, embellished th’ incident, somewhat.”

“Yes, that much is obvious,” Reynard noted, “But how’d he know it was the black knight who did the deed and not merely one Gascon Brossard?”

At last, Gascon turned uncomfortably self-conscious and clammed up; Meve watched him squirm for a long moment and decided, after a glance at the amused gleam in Reynard’s eye, to not to press the issue further.

“And you gave poor Sir Orlac a dunking,” she remarked, finally; Gascon looked relieved and seized on the change in subject.

“Yes, that story’s true,” he admitted. “He’s not a bad fighter, at all, thought he don’t seem to enjoy it much. It took some convincing t’ even get him to go against me, actually, but it was worth the time, in th’ end, to get th’ extra practice.”

“You have improved, somewhat,” Reynard observed, casually. He shot a quick look at Meve; she spotted it and broke off her intended response, frowning. Gascon either missed or ignored their exchange and said, brightly, “Why thank you, sir.”

“Although,” the knight continued, “It remains to be seen if you can beat me just yet; Meve, of course, has already unhorsed you once, so no there’s burning question to be answered on that account.”

“By a trick,” Gascon said, and then, as Reynard shrugged unconcernedly, added, “Look, I only really wanted t’ fight Sir Holt and beat him, again, to prove I could, like. I had no notion of much else.”

“Yes, very likely,” Meve muttered, rolling her eyes; Reynard continued, despite her:

“Not afraid to lose, are you?”

“Of course not; it happens all the time,” Gascon said, mildly indignant.

“Well, then, tomorrow, if you’ve no other plans, let’s see how good you’ve really become, shall we? Without your intimidating disguise, I mean.”

“Well, all right,” the Duke said, doubtfully, clearly wary about what exactly he was agreeing to. “I suppose I’m not busy, but - “

“Good. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, then,” Reynard said, a suggestion of finality in his voice; Gascon still looked uncertain, but nodded and then made a tactical retreat to “see to those other matters.”

“What the devil are you at, Reynard?” Meve asked, the instant he was gone. He stood up, strode across the room with a self-satisfied smile, and wrapped his arms around her.

“You’ve had a long day,” he said, “Let me worry about it.”

“Ugh. Fine, then; do what you want,” she said, ingraciously, leaned her forehead against his chest, and continued with a muffled sigh, “What do you think I should do with Holt? I can’t very well banish him for trying to cheat in a duel, much as I’d like to - he is the sole legal heir to Sir Ulrich, who has been a relatively loyal supporter of the crown - nor can I demote him, since he isn’t one of my own knights.”

“Just ban him from your tournaments, and the rest of the realm will follow,” he said, as if it was obvious, “It’s the worst thing that could happen to a young knight.”

“You’d know better than I,” she remarked, unfolded her arms, slid them around his waist, and added, “What about Gaheris?”

“I don’t know,” Reynard said, “He’s not so easy to deal with.”

“The trouble is,” Meve said, darkly, “- the trouble is that, in his circumstances, he’s done nothing worse than you or I have in the past, which makes me feel something of a hypocrite if I consider having him arrested for treason - as I certainly could, given your indispensable position and high rank.”

“Yes, a - a similar thought crossed my own mind, to be honest.”

“Well, it’s true,” she said, raising her head and frowning up at him. “Isn’t it? Reginald -”

“He wasn’t quite so bad as Holt.”

“Because he was older, and the King, and no other reason. Well, and he had you around to clean up after his worst decisions. And, his sons - my sons - are the same, or worse, than Sir Holt. Or were, I mean. Anseis certainly is, in any case.”

“Perhaps,” Reynard said, thoughtfully, “There’s no need to do anything to Gaheris, at all.”

“As you’re th’ one he wronged, in th’ end I think what happens to him should really be your decision,” Meve said, shrugging.

“Well, then, speaking from experience, the man’s trials in keeping control of his brother are worse than anything you might think up.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. I’ve no wish to see him hang or rot in prison, but banishment would be no curse to him, and we’d have to contend with Holt still, regardless, but without a convenient manager. What a waste; were he noble-born, I’d have some use for a man of his talents, and I could more easily secure his future loyalty. A shame, to have Holt be th’ one who inherits old Ulrich’s lands and titles, and Gaheris remain a squire still.”

“I agree,” Reynard said. “However, that problem only you can solve.”

She looked into his eyes, thoughtfully, and nodded.

#witcher #thronebreaker #fanfic #action #sports #romance

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mommydragon-of-all · 6 years

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To the mage village!

The sun was hanging low behind him as Soren crossed the perimeter of the village. It was a usual looking, quiet and peaceful place, if someone gave a brief glance to it. But keener eyes might have caught the unusual amount of new buildings, or the surrounding fields bursting with the finest goods. The Free Marches were rightfully called the bread basket of Thedas, with all those large wheat fields, but this village was exceptionally well doing with its various and healthy plants. In a zone that was medicore at best. It's rocky and shallow grounds stretched high up into dense forests, then further, until only a few trees could grow strong enough roots between the rocks to withhold the high winds, until only the clouds hugged the bare mountaintops.

But there was no need for anyone to strain their eyes or brains too much if they passed by this village nested in the valley by the stream, to notice it's true uniqueness. Especially if they arrived at a late hour like Soren. But unlike Soren, they might have been surprised, baffled or freaked out by the colorful lights and fires that slowly, steadily blinked into life along the streets as the highest hill hid the Sun behind its back.

Soren however, was utterly and completely mesmerized. A huge grin lit up his face and heart just as the village below started to lit up in fairy lights. He knew where he was headed, what he searched for up along the river, what he tracked, but seeing it right before his own eyes was incomparable.

A bunch of familiar names were burning one packet on his side, urging him even faster for what he knew to find, from gathered information, from rumors and deduction, from facts and hopes, and from a little bit of magical assistance. He was to find a whole nest of magic, energies flowing and humming freely, taking shapes and substances, vibrating in the air and tinting it with the irresistible taste of ozone... or was it scent? Soren could taste it on the tip of his tongue, and he abruptly urged the enormous hart he was riding on. He wanted more, see more, feel more, and he wanted it now. He wanted to laugh among those wonderful people who for the first time experienced laughing truly free, and he wanted to gulp down lungfuls of tingling air, he wanted to get drunk on it and good spiced wine tonight and he wanted to dance the rounds of freedom. One might enjoy freedom, but only can truly feel its strength among those who were freed.

The huge proud animal below Soren did not take the nudging kindly, and as if to ensure his rider didnt take him for a meek lamb either, he kicked himself high and dropped down hard, launching into a mad rush downhill. ...Soren couldnt have asked for a better mount - below dragon level. Loud, merry laughter erupted from Sorens chest. It was bouncing behind them all the way down, along their trail thorn into the foliage wide and straight, going down in a breakneck angle. It didnt matter. Let the world see and behold, for he was going there, and going with intent. He threw caution to the wind a long way back, since he made sure there was no need for covering traces anymore. Now he arrived free to a free place, dragging no harmful tail. Heck, he even weeded the root and rolled up the pathway into his pocket, so to speak.

That 'no harmful tail' thought however needed a little correction, as Soren entered the village staying true to that wide trail, the massive wild animal not bothering to jump the hay fence, but storming right through it like a natural battering ram.

Which brought Sorens joyful laughter up another level. For a whole bunch of seconds maybe, when from a corner of his eye he noticed a little, frightened child hiding behind his small stuffed animal at the side of the street. Soren grabbed the antlers of the hart and pulled them back. "Easy, big guy, there are people here.” The stubborn animal understood the no bullshit tone if not else, one that left no room for protest and promised consequences, and it stopped. ...It stopped immediately. Big hooves dug thick dark lines into the grassy ground, and the momentum dropped so suddenly that a lesser man would have flown across the fence on the other side of the road. But Soren wasnt a lesser men. A short playful laughter bubbled up his throat once again as he was bracing on the huge antlers as if they were the sides of a toy carriage. Ironed long boots touched down weightlessly next to the Hart, who towered over Sorens tall form like a piece of the mountain. Soren patted his mare in thanks, and let it on his merry way, back towards the hill.

A brave young man edged cautiously closer to Soren, freeing a rope from his waist, and offered -in a stuttering tone of disbelief, regarding his own actions perhaps- to take the travelers mount to the stables. To which Soren answered with a laugh and a heavy pat on thin shoulders: "Oh dont bother, just let it go.” -then added with a more collected manner- “Seriously, don’t approach him. He’s not domesticated." And with that he pointed his long boots towards the common center of all villages, the Tavern.

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(Well, maaaaybe he took a few... detours on the way there. This was, after all, a place full of mages and their stuff.)

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....

The Tavern was especially lively later that evening, packed full with mages and some other villagers, mostly drawn in by the presence of the curious stranger, who was currently –or still- in the company of Maxwell Trevelyan. Eyes often flickered over where they were seated at the fireplace. Though “seated” was a very loose term in the stranger’s vocabulary as it seemed. There was barely any minute when he sat on that chair like it was meant for. His spectacular sense of balance and easy flexibility also pulled some gazes to his lean, muscular body, but that was not the main reason he drew such a crowd. This tall, strange, armed elf lit up the village with shocks, worries, surprises and laughter since the sun reached the hill, and the time of resting and gathering, the true evening just has started. This magic enthusiast surely had some more interesting surprises under his belt for the day. …oh, if they only knew…

"That sounds awesome! But…" -Soren lifted a finger up, putting emphasis on the brief break in the conversation, while he lifted a cup with his other hand and gulped down all of it’s remaining contents- "…first things first". He slammed the cup down with a definite thump, right when the bard played the last notes of his current song. Then he sprung up with one fluid motion, as if pulled on a string, propelled by the foot on the seat by his ass. He stomped the other fine ironed long boot hard on the table. Soren cleared his throat pointedly and let his voice ring clear and loud across the Tavern. If there was an unnecessary flourish to it, it was all in the name of mocking a certain group that couldn’t hear it, and for the touch of grand dramatics and fun of course. (plus theres the influence of his Orlesian noble times too…XD THEY knew how to mock and rub it in)

“Ladies and gentleman, and everybody else, may i have your attention please?” The room went instantly silent, some drinks knocked on tables as a few nervous hands were emptied in preparation to the worst, while others shifted to the edge of their seats in curiosity, and some just waited to see if this was worth their attention. “During my… travels” –Soren continued- “i encountered a group of shiny chantry dogs way back in Orlais, hurrying East. I am a very helpful guy, so I of course generously offered to lift some of the burden off of those iron packed shoulders, and spare them a long travel. They had reservations about it at first, but in the end I stroke a good deal with them, which led me here today.”

During the brief pause it took for Soren to smirk on some entertaining flashbacks, the atmosphere of the room shifted into something so thickly charged that Soren could have sliced it with his deflect blade. But he ignited it instead with his next words, setting up an explosion of emotions and raw magic in the air. Oh how he loved explosions.

“They let me carry their stuff from then on and I let them carry on living. Well, most of them. It was a generous deal… especially since the stuff I bargained for wasn’t even theirs. So without their special compass they had nowhere to go but backtracking their own trail, and I came to return that stuff to their ONLY rightful owners. That is why I am here now in your amazing village. So please come forward and take back what is yours and YOURS ALONE. You even have your names on them..."

While finishing his little speech Soren reached into his biggest, iron banded pouch, the one he just wore to carry its special content here. He quickly found the big knot of the neatly tangled strings inside and pulled them out. The sound of small glasses clinging to each other filled the breathless silence in the room as Soren lifted the huge bunch of phylacteries up. They broke the light of the fireplace into crimson flickers, reflecting in wide eyes all around.

A side smirk sliced the heavy air and the stillness broke as Soren invitingly dangled the precious delivery.

The small vials quickly found their way into the trembling hands of their owners, evoking a large scale of reactions from tears to laughter, leaving only a few in Soren's hand. Judging by the sight of some excited people rushing out the door, the remaining mages would be in the Tavern soon too to collect theirs. There was only one particular phylactery tucked away in a different pocket, one Soren wanted to carry and hand over with special care, one that spurred Soren on to take the quickest routes over the more adventurous, one that wore the name of one Maxwell Trevelyan. It brought up a very fond memory of a great, fun day, and whispered promises of more excitement.

Then there was also the two broken ones, bundled up in small pieces of cloth, that Soren fished out from the bottom of the pouch. He offered them to the two crestfallen, worried mages still standing by the table, looking over the remaining vials repeatedly.

“Oh, sorry, these must be the ones you are looking for right? They broke during my… negotiation with their holders, but I collected most of their pieces, including the parts with the name tags. I also didn’t clean them so you can verify them if you want. Thought you might not rest easy until you saw them destroyed with your own eyes so... here. Im sorry but you just have to take my word for the fate of their contents, that I threw a firebomb on the place where they broke. Oh, and one on the clothes and belongings of the templars who carried them, for good measure. They themselves choose a good dip in the river over being cleansed with fire. ...how I wish i had seen them return to the White Spire…"

When the two mages hugged and thanked Soren with a strange mixture of relived tears and amusement then hurried away with barely held back eager fire in their hands, Soren settled back down with a pleased warm smile and enigmatic happy gleam in his eyes. This was a wonderful day. He took in the happy chaos all around him, the raw emotions, the energies dancing around, and it made his broad chest way too narrow to hold his full heart. Well, even more so than usual. This was everything... and that earthbound Bran laughed on him for working so hard for free. This was a reward higher than all the nobles could ever pay. His zone out was broken by a loud crack of the fire. He blinked, breaking his distant gaze and upon returning to earth he turned to Max, fishing out his phylactery with great care and holding it out to him. He was grinning ear to ear again.

“Wanna go out and do some spectacular ritual burning of this? By the way, is it too late to insist that I believe that such a thing has to involve naked dancing in the moonlight? THAT would be truly spectacular.” Soren joked, lifting a bit the weight of the moment, and doing so he silently offered an easy way to ask for an out if Maxwell wanted some privacy with it.

#(OMG I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO EVER POST THIS!!!)#it was one of his hobbies targeting marching out templar groups after the rebellion #no one can hurt his precious mages just because they were too awesome #mommydagon is there for u #a new beautiful friendship buds #maxwell trevelyan #soren lavellan #mage village #screenshots

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loftyexecutor · 6 years

Text

jejune

pairing; addelsain [MPIMHE] wc; 3268 rating; t/nsfw [theres one dick touch at the beginning] category; emotional hurt/comfort notes; i havent posted anything in ages and im sorry jfdsgkjd this is self indulgent af but have dox feeling unloved✌✌

Dox turns over, letting out a small noise as he emerges back in the waking world. The blanket is warm where it is bunched by his feet, but Immortal’s chest is warmer where he nuzzles his head into the redhead’s sleeping shirt. He can tell the other is awake by the tiny snort he hears above.

“Good morning,” he mutters, voice raspy from sleep. He scoots a bit up to plant a kiss Immortal’s lips, unheeding of morning breath.

“Mm, morning,” is Immortal’s sluggish reply as he burrows his cheek into the pillow.

The side behind Dox is cold, meaning Herrsh is already up and about, but he’s more interested in his other, currently present partner at the moment. Especially when he can feel a certain body part poking his thigh.

Dox’s lips quirk up into a grin and he slips a hand between them, scooting down Immortal’s body, down his taut stomach and into the waistband of his shorts to curl around his half-hard cock. His hand is barely big enough to wrap around the girth and it somehow manages to send a spark through him.

“Someone’s eager early,” he laughs not unkindly, but Immortal’s hand wraps around his wrist and pulls his hand out of his shorts. Dox quirks his head in confusion; after all, Infi — Immortal — has never been one to decline such an offer before, especially one this bold.

“Gotta go shower,” Immortal grumbles, moving away to get up and head to the bathroom without even a look back.

Dox is left alone on the suddenly too-big-for-him bed, looking at the closed bathroom door with a mixture of confusion and hurt swirling deep in his belly.

Had he done something wrong? Overstepped some invisible boundary he hadn’t known was there? Is Immortal angry at him?

He finds no answer to any of the questions running through his mind, so he does his best to push them away and make sure he’s more careful next time.

The next manages to — somehow? he’s not sure here — go even worse. He returns from Echo’s place with a lollipop she’d given him (they’d gotten that close over the years) stuck between his lips, humming a tune. His spirits were high, and then he found his lovers making out in the kitchen.

Not that that was a bad thing, of course not, but when they’d taken notice of him standing there, watching them with rapt attention, Immortal had pulled away and, red faced as he was, chuckled and said, “I guess that’s enough, haha.”

Dox had watched him retreat into the bedroom; neither his nor Herrscher’s arousal had been very discreet. Dox didn’t dare ask this time, just biting through his lollipop and chewing at the shards as he left Herrscher to go after Immortal.

He can’t even count the days they haven’t had sex. Well, he can, but he’s not going to hurt himself that way.

What he can count, though, is the number of days he hadn’t been kissed. Well, again, not quite correct, but he can very easily count the number of days he hadn’t been kissed on the lips. The others just… stopped doing it.

If he’s lucky, Immortal would kiss his cheek, or Herrscher would lean down and kiss his forehead, but that’s all he’d get. Even asking for a kiss would yield the very same results, so he doesn’t bother anymore.

He fills the void in his chest with chocolate, with helping Echo, with shopping for parts he doesn’t need, with missions he’s not needed on, with trying to find the thing he’d done wrong. He can’t find it, and it only drives it further home.

He wants to be held, wants the cold seeping into his bones to go away, but some masochistic part of him forces him to stay in bed, curled up and shivering. He wouldn’t be given what he wants anyway.

Dox stands in the doorway, holding on to the frame for a second as he watches his lovers lean on each other, completely engrossed in their conversation. He itches to cross the few meters separating them and sprawl across the sofa with them, but he forces that itch down.

It's not his place anymore, he knows. So he retreats upstairs, too silent in the already silent building.

The bed — his bed, the small one in his room, not their shared one — becomes a sanctuary to him. The blanket is warm around him and the pillow doesn't ask why he stays there so much, why he curls up and twists the blanket between his feet. His old room is as messy as his life feels, with unfinished blueprints strewn about the table, El shards piling up between them and rolled in the corners where they'd fallen and he didn't bother picking them up.

His suit sits on a mannequin propped in its own corner, as if taunting him. He'd tried to prevent this, he really had.

But no matter how differently he'd talked or if he'd even withdrawn from affection himself, Herrsh and Immo had always ended up slowly disliking him. He supposes it was bound to happen eventually; they'd lose interest in him sooner or later. No one could stand him if they learned all he'd done.

He'd thought he had come to terms with it.

Unfortunately, he hadn't, as it would seem.

The door opens with a creak he'd gotten used to at this old place and he panics for some reason, squeezing his eyes closed and stilling his body in hopes of appearing asleep. Maybe they'd finally come to the conclusion that they didn't like him anymore?

Who is it? Dox strains his ears and concludes it's Immortal from the way his steps come up to the bed, loud and bold, yet he's trying not to make noise and 'wake' him up.

The gesture makes Dox's heart beat faster.

There's a few moments where Immortal just stands over him in silence and Dox hopes to Ishmael and any other gods that his fake sleeping is convincing enough to fool the other. It seems it is, because Immortal sighs and twists on his heel, leaving the room just as quickly as he'd entered.

Dox's shoulders slump, body he didn't even know had been strung like a bow relaxing, almost melting into the covers.

If he can get a few hours more to pretend they still love him before they take it away from him, he'll take it. Faking sleep had never been all that hard anyway. But now that Immortal had left without a single word or action, Dox feels like he'd been robbed of all the energy he'd had.

He wishes he could have either of their arms around himself now — because wishing for both would be way too much when he can't have either. He wishes he could feel lips against his own, robbing him of breath and making him feel light headed. He wishes for ever curious fingers making him feel like he's interesting, like he's worth it.

Bile forces its way up his throat and he desperately swallows it down around the lump lodged there. The corners of his eyes sting no matter how hard he forces them shut, even when there's colors dancing across the darkness.

He feels pathetic for crying over something so obvious, something he'd expected, but the tears are there nonetheless, rolling down his cheeks and staining the pillow with both normal and dark drops.

Ugly sobs tear from his lips, and through them, he doesn't even hear the door opening again. He's startled by a hand placed on his shoulder, shaking him softly.

Through blurry eyes he can see Immortal kneeling next to the bed, but not much else. His voice is soft and quiet, as if he's placating a scared animal. Honestly, is Dox anything else? "Dox, what's wrong? C'mon, talk to me, what happened?"

Dox's heart pangs at the thought that Immortal feels like he has to calm him. He raises a hand up to his face, furiously wiping the tears away, though the results are dubious.

"I'm fine," he says, pushing himself upright.

"That is such bullshit," Immortal scoffs, reaching out to brush a thumb over Dox's cheek, "Half your face is black!"

Dox chuckles, pushing Immortal's hand away with one of his. "Sorry."

"What're you apologizing for?! For El's sake, Dox, what happened?"

Dox flinches away as Immortal raises his voice, almost unconsciously. Immortal's expression drops at that and he grits his teeth, angry at himself for letting himself go like that. Dox doesn't like shouting, he really, really doesn't.

Dox contemplates going back and saying something else, something that wouldn't make Immortal angry, but then he thinks back to the failed attempts of not reaching this conclusion and decides against it. He would just mess up in a different way, probably.

"You don't have to pretend to care about me anymore," he says, looking down at the bunched blanket between them, hanging halfway off the bed. It's suddenly so interesting, the way the thin purple lines bunch and move over and under the folds. "I already figured out that you were just waiting for the right time to tell me."

Immortal stares at him in silence for long minutes, fiery gaze burning right through Dox. Then, he stands up, and Dox thinks this is it, he's gonna turn around and leave. But he doesn't.

"How did you get to that conclusion?" Immortal asks, his voice steady even though inside he feels nothing but steady. He wants to cry and scream and hold Dox close until he stops thinking such stupid things.

"You don't like touching me anymore. I guess you thought you were sneaky, but it was pretty obvious you didn't want to have sex with me anymore." Dox laughs, eyes looking through the sheets, somewhere far away. It's easier to talk about when he's making fun of it. "And then you stopped kissing me, and I just wasn't… Well, you've made it kinda obvious once I looked at the whole picture! I was actually surprised when you touched my cheek just now, haha!"

Tears prick the corners of his eyes but he refuses to let them fall this time. At least not before Immortal leaves.

"Dox…" Immortal breathes out, as if beyond words. And he is; does his lover think they don't... love him anymore? "Dox, listen to me, I love you— we love you! We never stopped, and we never will!"

Immortal's knees hit the mattress on either side of Dox and he leans down to wrap long arms around Dox's small form. The time traveler simply slumps in the hold, tears rolling down his cheeks once more, despite how hard he'd tried to stop them. He laughs shakily. "What are you doing?"

"Dox, I'm sorry," Immortal mutters into his ear, close enough to do that, "I didn't think you'd... think something like that. I love you, I truly do."

Dox sniffs, a gross sound that should've deterred anyone, but Herrscher enters the room instead, taking in their tangled state. "Why don't you like being with me anymore then?"

"That's not it, Dox! It's just that you l—"

"Herrsh? Could I get a kiss?" Dox asks, cutting him off with a another sniffle. Herrscher looks at Immortal first, slowly puzzling it out in his mind, and then he leans down and presses his lips to Dox's forehead for a split moment.

Herrscher only ever does what Immortal does. Dox fights more tears, though his voice is wavering.

"See? That— that wasn't a romantic kiss… That was a 'will you leave me alone if I do this?' kiss," he mumbles.

Herrscher looks at Immortal, brows furrowing. "It was?"

"No!" Immortal huffs, placing both hands on to Dox's shoulders. "Listen to me for a sec?"

Dox's face looks ten shades of pain at that moment, eyes watery with the unshed tears, and Immortal feels like punching a wall right then. Maybe later.

"We," he says, slowly, to make his point even clearer, "love. you. Shit, Dox, I didn't think you were… Let me explain, it's not that we don't wanna touch you and kiss you, it's just— it's weird!"

"Weird?"

"You're a kid! I'm not gonna fuck a kid! I'm not gonna shove my tongue into a kid's mouth!" Immortal huffs, making a disgusted face, even holding out his tongue.

"I'm not a kid," Dox says, "I'm like five years older than you."

Immortal immediately looks offended, "You're not!" he cries, "You're like three and a half older at most. But still, you look like a kid and it just… feels weird, y'know."

"So you don't love me as much when I look like this?" Dox asks, trying to puzzle this whole thing out. He feels dumb, like he'd just been presented with a machine and told to reassemble it and he has no idea how.

"No! Where do you keep coming up with these dumb ideas! I swear, it's like you're not a genius at all," Immortal grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Herrscher has made himself comfortable on the bed by then, wrapping his arms around Dox from behind and pulling the boy against his chest.

Immortal continues, bouncing on his knees just the tiniest bit. "It's not more or less love, it's just kind of different love? Like, what I just said. I don't... wanna fuck you in this form, but it does make me wanna carry you around and hug you more, y'know?"

"Nuh-uh," Dox shakes his head, brows furrowed.

"See, like that! That just makes me wanna squeeze you. You're very squeezable in this form, by the way."

This finally gets a chuckle out of the time traveler. "Thanks."

Immortal's smile falls into a serious expression again. He brushes the curly strands from Dox's face, thumb rubbing soft, small lines into his cheek. "Dox. We love you. Really, we do. And by Ishmael if you need us to show you then we will, won't we, Herrsh?"

Herrscher makes a non-committal, but vaguely affirmative hum, throat vibrating against Dox's shoulder.

"So I can get a kiss if I switch forms?" Dox asks, swallowing. A ball of… — what, shame? self hate? insecurity? — had lodged itself deep in his stomach, weighing him down and making his gut twist painfully. It almost feels like he wants to puke. It's honestly surprising that his voice doesn't break more than it does. "A— a proper one?"

Immortal looks wrecked as the words leave Dox's dry lips, eyes shouting a vehement 'goddess, sorry!' He looks guilty. "As many as you want, Dox, I swear, I…"

Pink light floods the room and Immortal is a little glad for the timing, unsure where his ramble had been heading. Dox's tiny frame faded with the light, a bigger one left in its place, lithe limbs tucked uncomfortably between them and long strands of hair falling limbly in his face as he hangs his head. For whatever reason Immortal can't figure out, Dox is trying to make himself appear smaller, shoulders tensed and back bent.

He's shivering between them, just like a leaf.

Immortal's heart breaks at the sight; what did Dox think would happen now? That they would tell him they didn't want him in his true form either? What a joke.

Except he knows that's right, and the knowledge makes him want to cry. They'd really screwed up. Or, more accurately, he had. Because Herrscher used him as a guide, wasn't sure about feelings or human emotions or anything, so anything he did was right in the celestial's book. Sometimes that knowledge was off-putting.

He raised a shaky hand to Dox's cheek again, hooking a finger under his chin to gently tilt his head up. Dox's face is a mess and he refuses to look Immortal in the eyes.

Immortal rubs under his eye with a thumb, over the very prominent dark circles he wishes weren't there. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, watching Dox's eyebrows do a dance under his bangs, unsure what position to land in.

All he manages is a small nod.

Immortal leans in, only hesitating a split second mere hair breadths away from Dox, and presses his lips to Dox's in a soft, tender kiss. He can almost taste the whimper that leaves Dox's throat, dying somewhere on his tongue. The kiss itself tastes of salt, dried tears clinging to Dox's lips; Immortal wishes they hadn't been there in the first place.

Dox's arms come up to grip at his shirt, fingers trembling and knuckles turning white from the force with which he fists the fabric. He clutches at Immortal like he's a last lifeline before the doom of an endless sea.

Herrscher holds him close in turn, peppering kisses along the scar peeking from beneath his long hair. He can feel the way Dox's heart pounds like a hummingbird trying to escape a cage.

The scene feels a bit more than a little bizarre, but none of them mind at the moment. Dox sniffles and rests his head against Immortal's collarbone. He doesn't say anything, doesn't trust his voice not to betray him.

"Hey," Herrscher breaks the silence, squeezing Dox's torso the tiniest amount. "We love you, you know."

"I'm sorry," Dox mutters into Immortal's shirt. He trembles between them.

"Why're you sorry? It's okay, c'mon."

There's a beat of silence and then Dox shoves his face into his hands, Immortal's shirt and all. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Herrscher opens his mouth, brows drawn together in confusion, but Immortal shakes his head. "You're forgiven," he says softly, running a hand through Dox's hair, carding it through the silky locks. He doesn't know what Dox is apologizing for, but obviously it means a lot to him. "It's okay now, I promise."

Herrscher gently guides Dox's chin to the side so he can also kiss him. "Love you," he says, pressing his cheek to Dox’s.

Dox reaches to Immortal, tugging on his shirt a little as if to bring him closer, but it’s nowhere near strong enough to do that. It’s the first such thing he’d done all day. He looks at Immortal like a kicked puppy, cheeks red and puffy from all the crying. “Hold me?” he asks — begs — and something within Immortal breaks. “Please…?” Dox whispers, looking ready to cry again when Immortal doesn’t move for a second too long.

He makes up for it by flinging himself forward, encasing Dox in his arms, smushing Herrscher’s between himself and Dox. The time traveler hiccups a sob between them, but they just hold him closer, a messy and wet sandwich of misery and love.

Immortal’s mind races as Dox slowly calms down, slumped in their hold and ready to pass out at any second. He wants to make it up to him; Dox deserves at least that much. He hadn’t even realized his behavior would make him feel like this, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind with how much he adores his lover, but that doesn’t mean it hadn’t.

He can already tell Dox is not going to want to change from this form for a while at least. Usually, even unconsciously, he’d shift into the smaller form when going to bed, but right now he’s exactly as solidly big and lanky as ever. Immortal feels sick when the realization dawns on him that they might’ve tainted the form Dox had used to feel better in with bad emotions.

He’ll make it up to him. He’s not sure how, but damned be Elrios if he doesn’t.

#elsword #addelsain #.elsword #.addelsain #.hurtcomfort #.3K #.personal fave #im tired im going to bed now

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knotsandknives · 7 years

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prompt fill for anonymous who said: I would literally kill for a fanfic with a sick Joseph begging Robert for sex and getting refused because Robert wants him to stay in bed and get better. (Bonus if theres lots of Joseph teasing to try and get what he wants)

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Mary has the kids for the weekend, taking them on a road trip to Maine for the Pumpkinfest and Regatta event in Damariscotta (which, honestly, Joseph wouldn’t have minded going to that himself, but this was finally a chance at a whole weekend alone with Rob), and Joseph had stocked the house with enough food and booze to ensure they wouldn’t need to go outside for at least two days. He’d washed the sheets, vacuumed the couch, cleaned the kitchen counters (Robert’s a pretty firm believer in the ‘whenever the mood strikes’ approach to sex). He has been waiting for this, and he is ready.

Which is why, Joseph is sure, he’d woken up with a sore throat and a splitting headache, which had progressed into full-blown, nose-dripping, incessant-coughing sickness in a matter of hours. It’s the universe playing the cruelest of tricks on him, and he doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing.

He’s tried everything from alka seltzer to steam showers to fervent prayer, but he’s only getting worse as the clock ticks nearer to Robert’s promised arrival time of 4 p.m. He’d caught the earliest flight out. He was looking forward to this as much as Joseph. Joseph feels horrible.

Literally. But he’s determined to fake his way through this if it kills him. Who knows when the next time they’ll get a weekend alone will be. It’s now or never, Joseph thinks, grimly.

He allows himself two more hours to wallow in bed before dragging himself to the bathroom to shower, shave, and moisturize. He wishes Mary had left some kind of foundation or concealer behind when she’d moved out. The bags under his eyes combined with the sickly pallor of his skin are dead giveaways. Maybe he’ll just keep the lights off when Robert arrives and claim a desire for a little mood lighting.

Joseph gets situated on the couch, barefoot in silk pajamas, really playing up the cliche here, with 30 minutes to spare. And promptly falls asleep, mouth open to combat the stuffiness in his nose, chest rattling with every shallow breath.

He wakes to the slam of the front door, throat screaming for a lozenge, eyes crusted with sleep. God, he’s a mess. Joseph struggles into an upright position, scrubbing at his eyes, slapping his cheeks to infuse them with a little bit of color.

“Honey, I’m home!” Robert calls out from the entryway.

“In here!” Joseph calls back, wincing at the strain on his throat. Hopefully his ears are as stuffed as his nose, distorting his hearing, because he sounds like he’s already got one foot in the grave.

There’s the sound of Robert’s luggage hitting the floor, which means he’d come straight here without stopping at home. He must not be planning to go home at all, since he’d brought the bag in with him. Joseph feels warm all over, but that could be the fever.

Robert steps into the living room, broad smile on his face. He’s removed his jacket, and the open v-neck of his shirt exposes the sharp protrusions of his collarbone, the thatch of grey-flecked hair on his chest. He’s got more than the usual two-or-three day’s worth of stubble, working his way toward an honest beard, like he’s been too busy to bother with it. Joseph knows he’ll shave it off within the next day or so, but for now, he anticipates the burn it’ll leave at his mouth and chest and thighs. There’s an intensity in his eyes that Joseph recognizes as the strain of time apart, but there’s hunger too, in the way his gaze sweeps over Joseph’s body, lingering on his bare ankles and unbuttoned shirt. Joseph shivers, a little. It’s not the fever.

“Somebody’s eager,” Robert says, stopping at the coffee table to toe out of his boots. Joseph wants to reach for him, but he doesn’t really have the energy to lift his arms, so he settles for lounging seductively against the arm of the couch.

“I’m not even going to deny it or try to engage in some kind of witty banter,” Joseph tells him. Mostly because my head feels like someone stuffed cotton in it. “I want you and I missed you. Just kiss me.”

Robert obeys, sliding over Joseph’s prone body, hands trailing over silky fabric from his waist to his neck, cupping his jaw with gentle fingers. He kisses with restraint, gentle even when Joseph would have him be rough, the kiss more of a greeting than anything else.

“Hi,” Robert says, soft, pressing a kiss to the corner of Joseph’s mouth. He can be frustratingly tender, sometimes.

“Hi,” Joseph tries to reply, but the word sticks in his throat, sending him into another fit of hacking coughs. Robert pulls back, frowning. Joseph is flooded with dread, trying desperately to suppress the coughing. He holds his breath until his lungs feel like they’ll burst, but it isn’t enough to get Robert back where he was.

His hands come up to frame Joseph’s face before he lays one flat against his forehead. “You’re burning up,” he says, accusingly. “You’re sick?”

Joseph shakes his head weakly, not even enough to dislodge Robert’s hand. He’s still holding his breath, so he can’t answer with words. He just leans in, aiming for Robert’s mouth, intending to kiss him long and good enough to make him forget anything else. Robert pushes him back, hand at his head.

“You’re sick,” he says again, not a question this time.

“No, I’m not,” Joseph coughs out, gasping for air in between. “I just swallowed wrong. I’m fine, really.”

“Your eyes are glassier than mine late on a Friday night.”

“Try any night,” Joseph shoots back before he’s seized by another round of coughing. Robert grasps his shoulder, pulling him upright so he can rub his back in firm, soothing circles. Joseph rests his head on Robert’s chest, miserable.

“I know it’s the sickness makin’ you all mean and disagreeable, so I’m gonna let that one slide,” Robert says magnanimously. “Why didn’t you tell me you caught the plague?”

“I just woke up to it this morning,” Joseph rasps out, trying to speak carefully to avoid another fit. “I took medicine. It should kick in any minute.”

Robert snorts, inelegantly. “Bullshit. Only cure for this kinda thing is a solid coupla day’s sleep.”

Joseph makes a protesting noise that Robert mocks. “Robert, come on. We’ve been waiting for this. I cleaned the house!” Joseph lifts his head, imploring eyes meeting Robert’s. “I feel good enough for this, I swear. Just kiss me again.”

“I don’t want your germs.”

Robert laughs when Joseph pouts, ducking his attempts to draw him back into a kiss.

“Rob! We can’t waste this opportunity.” Joseph pauses, considering. “I shaved earlier.” He leans in, putting his lips to Robert’s ear, voice dropping enticingly. Minus the congested wheeze. “And not just my face.”

Robert groans, theatrically. “Don’t make it worse,” he scolds, turning his face into Joseph’s hair. “I’m not tellin’ you no because I want to.”

“So don’t tell me no,” Joseph wheedles, pressing his luck by trailing kisses along the column of Robert’s throat. He pretends the wetness he leaves behind is from his mouth and not his nose.

Robert is holding very still, hands resting against Joseph’s back, not encouraging but not discouraging, either. He lets Joseph find his mouth again, consenting to a deeper kiss than before. Joseph feels a thrill of victory, shifting closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. Robert’s fuller-than-normal beard tickles his nose, and Joseph sneezes. Just like that. No warning. Into Robert’s open mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Robert sputters, jerking away. His beard is full of Joseph’s snot. He rubs a hand across his face, looking between Joseph and the hand in abject horror. Joseph stares back, mouth open to apologize, but the expression on his face is too good. Joseph bursts into laughter, gasping with it when Robert’s face settles into a heavy scowl.

Of course, he starts coughing before he can say anything, harsh and painful. Robert touches his back again, gently. “I’m gonna get you some water,” he says, sounding disgruntled but concerned. Joseph catches his hand as he stands.

“Cough drop?” he manages, falling back against the couch when Robert nods. His head is killing him again, not amenable to the frequent bouts of coughing. His throat feels like someone’s been walking around it in cleats, and not the soft spike kind. The sneeze cleared his sinuses briefly, but he can already feel them closing up again. Fucking colds.

Robert comes back with a tall glass of lukewarm water, guessing correctly that cold would be torture right now. He’s got a handful of troches, unwrapping one and handing it over when Joseph finishes his water. Joseph gives him a wane smile in thanks.

“Think you can make it upstairs?” Robert asks, pressing the back of his hand to Joseph’s forehead again, his own brow wrinkled in worry. “Probably be more comfortable.”

“I’m not going upstairs unless you promise to fool around with me,” Joseph insists, stubbornly. “Otherwise, the fresh sheets and candles and flowers are just going to depress me.”

“You got candles and flowers?” Robert asks, sounding amused. “I ain’t your girl, you know.”

“You’re my man,” Joseph counters, leaning into the touch when Robert’s hand slides down to cup his cheek. “I want to seduce you.”

“Sneezing in my face was a good start.”

Joseph huffs a laugh, turning his face into Robert’s hand, slightly embarrassed now that the amusement has faded. He knows Robert won’t hold it against him but still. How mortifying. “Let me make it up to you,” he implores, still going for sexy. “However you want. Whatever you like.”

Robert fixes him with a considering look. “I like those pajamas,” he admits, trailing a finger across the line of Joseph’s shoulders. “But what I’d really like is to just curl up with you in those fresh sheets of yours for a few hours.”

“Rob…”

“Hey, I’m tired too, kid,” Robert insists, still running his hands over Joseph’s chest. “I’m gonna need my rest if I’m gonna fight off whatever it is you’re trying so hard to give me.”

“I’m trying to give you my -” Robert covers Joseph’s mouth with a hand, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“We’ll see how you feel after some sleep, how’s that?” Robert promises, prodding Joseph until he stands, a little wobbly as his head swims. Robert fits himself under his arm, wrapping his own around Joseph’s waist tightly. “We can try the sneezing thing again. I could maybe get into it.”

“Rob,” Joseph groans, shuffling his way up the stairs at Robert’s behest. Rob just laughs, easing him down at the edge of the bed. He helps Joseph swing his legs up on the mattress, tucking the sheets around him once he’s situated. Joseph makes a helpless noise when he steps away, but Robert just winks at him, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I know I tell you this all the time, but today I mean it literally when I say you’re hot, baby.” Robert shucks his pants next, crossing to the other side of the bed before sliding in next to Joseph. “If I’m gonna sleep with you, I gotta lose some layers.”

“You could lose them all,” Joseph suggests, scooting closer to Robert and hooking a leg over both of his, trapping him beneath Joseph’s greater weight. He props himself up on an elbow, leaning in to share a honey-lemon flavored kiss. Robert catches his wandering hand before it can reach the waistband of his briefs.

“Nice try. Turn over.”

Joseph complies happily, flipping onto his stomach and smiling across the bed at Robert. Robert shakes his head, pulling at Joseph’s far shoulder until he’s up on his side, fitting himself in close to his back.

“I meant like this,” Robert clarifies, dropping an arm over Joseph’s waist. His hands, typically so warm and rough, feel almost cool against Joseph’s heated skin, as does his nose when he presses it to the back of Joseph’s neck.

Joseph settles back into him, shifting more than is strictly necessary just to feel the weight of Robert’s groin against his ass.

“Stop that,” Robert demands, gruffly, when it’s clear he isn’t doing the best job of ignoring him.

Joseph smiles at the wall, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Robert in his periphery. He has his eyes firmly closed, but Joseph can see the tension in his mouth. He’s working so hard to keep himself in control. All Joseph would need to do is-

“I can hear you thinking. Go the fuck to sleep, Christiansen, or I’ll leave.” Robert softens the threat with a kiss at the juncture of Joseph’s neck and shoulder. His fingers brush over Joseph’s stomach, comforting. “It looks real romantic in here, by the way. You done good.” Joseph just sighs.

“I had plans, you know,” he tells Robert, mournfully, coughing a little. His head feels like it’s in a vice. “We weren’t going to leave the house all weekend. I stocked up on food and alcohol. And lube,” he adds, as an afterthought. “And not the boring kind, either. I got flavors, Rob. And the warming kind. And -”

“Joseph,” Robert whines. “Stop. We still aren’t going to leave all weekend. We’re gonna stay right here.” He pulls Joseph closer for emphasis. “This is good, baby.” He kisses across Joseph’s shoulders, beard scratching like Joseph knew it would.

Joseph sighs again, linking his fingers through the ones Robert has on his stomach. “Will you fuck me, like this, when we wake up?”

Robert makes a pained noise, hips pressing into Joseph’s ass briefly. Joseph grins. Everything he ever says is designed to wind Robert up. If he were feeling just a little stronger, he’d turn over and put Robert on his back. He knows he wouldn’t resist, at this point. But the sheets are still cool, and the pillow is so soft, and he really is so tired. And Robert feels so solid at his back, strong and hairy and heavy. At over six feet and two hundred pounds, there aren’t a lot of people who can make Joseph feel small. There’s no one in the world who can make Joseph feel small like Robert can, even if he’s technically the bigger of the two. His presence is just so big. It overwhelms all of Joseph’s senses. And those damn broad shoulders.

“I promise,” Robert is saying, voice muffled in Joseph’s neck, “we’ll get through at least one of those bottles of lube you bought this weekend. Even if it kills you.”

Joseph laughs, then coughs. Robert rubs his back apologetically.

“That’s generous of you,” he wheezes out, finally. Robert hugs him close, and Joseph closes his eyes, still cursing his luck but content with this. For now.

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

#robert small #joseph christiansen #roseph #dream daddy #ddadds #prompt fill #this one was so fun #but i really wanted to fit in #''are you saying you don't wanna get with this?''#a la monica geller #but it just came off too jokey #my fic #thank you for continuing to send these i love you all

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thebargainingchip · 7 years

Text

I’m here (Poe x Reader)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2055

Warnings: Fluff with Angsty bit, Mild Cursing, Poe (he’s a warning on his own)

Summary: Reader is injured when her x-wing crashes, Poe manages to save her but there are complications. Reader pushes Poe away when it gets hard but Poe assures her, he’s not leaving.

A/N: Despite being in the middle of the exams, I procrastinated and did this.

"Look out, y/n!"

It all happened so fast, you were chasing a tie fighter and finally you had hit your target, failing to see the one coming straight at you. You swerved away too late, gritting your teeth as part of your ship collided with the tie fighter, it exploded beside you. You hit the eject button, not needing much time to assess the damage as the warning lights flickered and alarms sounded But nothing happened.

You let go of the controls placed your hands on your chest and prepared for impact. The x-wing rolled and before you knew it your seatbelt had snapped. You remembering falling forward and reaching out automatically to break your fall and then everything went black before you could collide with the rock. Your eyes fluttered open blinking in the harsh light of the sun as a strong smell burned your nose and sinuses. You tried to sit and immediately regretted it as you bit down on your own tongue to suppress the yell that the action tore from you. The ground beneath you was soaked and for a moment you panicked when you thought that you were lying in a pool of your own blood. It was much worse.

To your horror you discovered it was the x-wing’s fuel that had flooded the whole surface beneath, you spreading slowly over the dirt. Taking two deep breaths you inspected your situation. You were totally screwed, the x-wing was lying directly on the lower half of your body. You were no Doctor but you knew that any movement could very well mean the end of you, your feet were starting to tingle. A transmission broke through your head piece and you carefully turned to watch it lie on the tar a few feet away.

"Y/n!" It finally said clearer.

"I'm okay. I'm here." You answered it was Poe, he had seen the disaster before you saw it and probably watched you go down.

"Thank God. Where are you? Can you take cover?" He bombarded you with questions.

"Poe... I-I don't think I'm going to make it." Your voice was shaky as the reality finally set it.

"You are going to make it. Where are you?"

"I'm trapped under the x-wing. Poe, I can't move me legs, there is fuel everywhere." You had to take a deep breath as the words rushed out of you, you let out a shakey breath again. "Poe, I-I can't."

"I see you, I see you." Poe said over the line and that's when you heard it, it was close, heavy artillary was firing somewhere close. Turning your head only slightly, you saw that the tie fighter had spotted you and was now trying to shoot at you. Screwing your eyes shut, you tried to calm down your breathing and the total fear you rushed through you. One hit and you’d go up in flames.

And then you heard it an explosion except it wasn't you being lit up. You heard him before you could turn to see him. "It's okay, I got you."

"Poe, please hurry." You begged softly despite it not needing to be said. He landed perfectly but far enough away that his x-wing couldn't be caught in the explosion if something happened. The pins and needles were now in your calfs as Poe ran across the stretch to you. You could hear him reporting it in, requesting backup as he ran to you.

"You're going to be okay." You remind yourself as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks.

Finally Poe knelt beside you, he looked a little shock for a moment, as he saw the situation. "Don't worry they'll be here soon. Just don't move." You breathed a sigh of relief as found your hand.

"Hows your legs?"

"Pins and needles in my thighs." You answered, you could feel you were starting to shake.

"Okay, it's fine, we'll deal with it." He said just as the medical team radioed in to say they were en route asking what the situation was. The eta was eight minutes. "The plane is on top of her lower half but she's awake, she's fine. She's says theres pins and needles in her legs. What else is wrong y/n?"

"My arm and my shoulder." He repeated it to them. Before they requested for him to try and see if there was any bleeding. Poe bent down to level himself with the ground trying to look under the ship.

"I don't think there's any bleeding."

"Okay we're going to get her out of there just don't move her." Poe gave you a nervous smile and you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths. Almost out of the woods, you reminded yourself. Thats when you heard it.

"Y/n are you still with me?"

"Poe what's that?" He listened and then he heard it too. He stood walking around the ship in a fast pace. It sounded a lot like electrical wiring short circuiting. Poe couldn't hide the horrified look on his face if he tried. He cursed loudly. "Poe just lift the plane and l’ll move out."

"No, I can't. You could start bleeding." You could see the conflict running through him, as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"If we don't get out of here were both dead." You said firmly. "Do you have any better suggestions?" You asked. He rushed to the plane.

"On three,” he shifted his grip and bent his knees slightly. "One, two, three!" Poe was straining to lift the heavy metal even an inch, but the inch was all he needed as you dragged yourself out, half turning on your side and clawing at the ground for grip. You’re legs weren’t complete dead weight, the pain that shot through you was enough to encase your vision in black for a moment. You felt arms scoop you up as Poe started running to get you both clear.

It took everything in you not to scream out in pain. Finally out of range he set you down just in time when the plane exploded, shaking the ground beneath you two, Poe almost landing on top of you as he tried to steady himself. He inspected you, you were not bleeding, you noticed that too but the amount of pain you were experiencing didn’t do anything to alleviate your distress. The medical team soond landed and Poe stepped back as they rushed to their job. He couldn't even be with you on the ride back, he needed to bring his own x-wing back.

When Poe finally landed he jumped out of the x-wing, sprinting past the medical evaluation team that was waiting for him and straight to the infirmary. He heard you scream as he got closer.

The General was waiting outside for him and stopped him before he could go in. He tried to search for you, looking past the general to try and find any hint that you were okay. "I want to see her." He demanded.

"She's okay, I need to speak to you first." Leia said. "We both know that you did what had to be done-"

"What's wrong, what happened?" Poe asked panic stricken as his gaze fell upon the General. "Between the crash, the plane crushing her pelvis and the moving, she had suffered significant damage to the nerves in her lower back."

"What do you mean? Is she paralysed?"

"Not quite, her one leg is fine but we couldn't-" Poe pushed past his superior who let him go this time as he immediately pulled the curtain back and found you.

If the Doctors were bothered at seeing him there they didn't say anything as he was immediately by your side, grasping your hand in his own and placing his hand near your face, gently as if you would turn to dust when he touched you. You had closed your eyes, he hadn't noticed the scrapes on your face before. Your eyes fluttered open to regard him tiredly.

"We've given her strong pain medication, she should begin to feel the effects soon if they haven't kicked in already." The doctor said to Poe, who nodded. He was just glad you were okay.

"General Leia told me what happened, I'm sorry." He said.

"Stop blaming yourself." She whispered back to him. "I'm alive aren't I?" You smiled at him. "Besides I'm high as fuck." He laughed at that.

"We'll get through this." Poe reassured you, you nodded and drifted off. He leaned in and kissed your forhead, sighing in relied as he rested his head against yours.

“Y/N, I’m just trying to help.” Poe said.

“Well don’t!” Poe took a step back, a little bit surprised the you would yell at him like that. “Fuck, Poe, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” How was he this understanding? You breathed in once more and took a step, and before you could think of grabbing anything you’re knee gave way. Poe managed to grab hold of your upper body to stop your from completely bashing your head in on the stone flooring in the base. You clutched tightly onto him as he held you and then gave you time to recover as he sat with you on the floor.

Despite all the attempts of most personnel in the Resistance Base, no one could keep you bed bound, not even Poe. Looking up at him you wondered why he was still here. You had nothing to offer him, instead he was giving you all his free time, to follow your dumb ass around the base as you tried to make it to the hanger, to someday get to do your actual job which was fixing ships. He had given up his privacy, to let you move in with him until you could actually be left to do things unsupervised. It hadn’t been easy on you or him yet here he was. This hadn’t been the first time you had pushed yourself too far and yet Poe wasn’t mad.

Pushing yourself up to support your upper body in a sitting position you turned to him. “Poe, what do you want?”

“What do you mean?” His brows knitted together in confusion as he stared at you.

“Listen, I’m really glad you saved my dumb ass but you really don’t have to put up with this. So why do you?” Your voice dropped lower, heart hammering in your chest.

The confusion didn’t fade from his face as he spoke. “But you’re my friend.”

“Poe, I have nothing to give to you in return.” You pointed out.

“I don’t want anything in return. I’m not doing this for any other reason besides the fact that I care,” He paused, his eyes intensely scanning yours, “about you.” His voice softened. That’s when it hit you. Despite having every opportunity to tell you how he felt, he hadn’t instead he had stayed friends with you because it wasn’t the priority at the time.

“Don’t you get it, Poe?” His face held confusion again, as your eyes burned and throat tightened. “I will never be able to walk normal again, the pain I have will always be there.”

“Do you think I care about that? About how you walk?” Poe questioned, his hand coming to settle on your cheek, his eyes saying everything that he didn’t say in words.

“But there are so many better girls. Like Malik, she’s a great pilot. Or Jenny.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you suggested them to him.

“But they’re not you.” He emphasised. “Why would you even think that I’d just leave you?”

“Because that’s what everyone does.” You answered firmly as your eyes connected with his, it had never really hurt like it did now. Your chest constricted painfully.

“Not me.” Pulling your face closer as he glanced at your lips, you’re eyes fluttered closed as the butterflies rose in your stomach. Finally his lips brushed yours sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as his lips started moving with yours. Breaking apart, he stared at your face. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

#poe #poe x reader #poe dameron #poe fanfiction #poe x you #star wars #resistance #pilot #fluff #angst

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ulyssesredux · 6 years

Text

Penelope

He was lying on his hand with his keys to lock the gates, said the old love is sighing I am sorry to say a few pence for them it would not be right. Rosamond, calmness and freedom, I believe he has made a fine strong child but I could write the voyages those men whose memoirs should be done at Lowick—I had up in the world O and the desirability of prudence. It is too flat or I didnt sleep the night coming home after dances the air the blue eyes that look how white they are the smoothest place is right there between this bit here how soft like a mocking travesty wrought in the morning and Mrs Rubio said she was skilled in. Never dare to mention this any more I have been so bad as now with Milly nobody would believe cutting her words as neatly as possible asking me and Boylan thats why I was just beginning to yawn with nerves thinking he was glad, and whenever I find that out. He went on in this world without style all going in food and rent when I found the long hair on his farm. Ladislaw, returned Mrs.

This is the fruits of Mr Paddy Dignam yes they were just getting on to that as the truest—I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I thought you were yes I pulled him off that little habit tomorrow first Ill look at the same way as if he doesnt know what kind is that in the moustachecup she gave me the belladonna prescription I had something on with that word in the street into a hospital nurse next thing on sweet God sweet God well when he asked me would I be like that because she knew there was a putoff first him sending the port and potted meat it had to say that he loses money by bad management, and ordering our lives. But we shall see.

Of course it used to be passive, is worth eight or nine hundred a-year.

Said Sir James was shy, even with men, about imputed righteousness and the sailors playing all birds fly and I told him it was impossible to be laid up with marsala fatten them out for him what that meant I hate people touching me afraid of her mental solidity and calm wisdom. The morning like me to say you would tell me of another landlord who has got nothing but his relations to recommend him. At Lowick Dorothea searched desk and drawer—searched all her life after of course, that Mr. Tyke and all about the place more than that of course, must be away a week or so. Come, that's capital. No, really, Walter, how can he ought to give money for them everytime they went I was coming next only natural weakness it was nice of him I liked him like he does of course and thats called a solicitor only for the casting-vote he had that white thing coming from me! She might have been him he said suited me or the freemasons then well see now shes well on you because they were so, you can go, urged Letty, whose exorbitant claims for himself had been considerably reduced since he had intended; but other schemes would not be an affair of a nightingale and never knowing it—and yet, though that wicked man has deceived him. He says Bulstrode the banker will do you harm, remarked Sir James; I feel a very rich architect if Im to take her hand up to the lowest prose.

Botolph's. He has always been such a fool he said I was afraid it might break and get damask, Sadler's is the nicest thing I didnt want to feel herself only in another sort of thing that would suit you, then jumped down again as usual.

But the best my blouse like Millys little ones now when she wanted to and I thought it was O tragic and that kind of a place like that at his heels, and go about like that in real life without some old ones odd stockings that blackguardlooking fellow with the Citrons Penrose nearly caught me washing through the bottom of her life. It did not waste time in conjecturing how much those wishes cost others, said Sir James? But Hawley tells me the other with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with a strong desire to rescue him from doing worse where it was but I knew who he is who is much honored, is that antifat any good might overdo it the thin ones are not so well as you do, he will appear. Mr. Casaubon called the future volumes a tomb with his point of fact and helping her into her hands sneezing and farting into the front to encourage them.

But now Casaubon takes her up and asked the girl down there he was throwing his sheeps eyes at those brazenfaced things on them I had only had time to time, said Mary, imagining now that I hate people touching me afraid of hell on account of my bedroom so I lifted them a bit daft I think. An apostolic man, said Mrs. I love to see rivers and lakes and flowers all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of my fingers it was beginning to look out an engraving which Fred is tall enough to get in there last every time were just beginning to look over papers, said the day old frostyface Goodwin called about the monuments and he tell me that one in Middlemarch, restrained his inclination for some plate of an old Lion would O well look at her like the end he said He was an awfully nice man he showed me without the neck is very much beloved, but suffered much restraint in this vale of tears God knows hes a man looks like with his position.

I like my nice cream too I remember shall I wear shall I wear a white rose or those lines from the strain and conflict of self-supporting idea. I saw the 2 of them at him that very night.

I remember when I looked back and smiling, while he began by introducing order and harmony, and half he put it thats all the things getting dearer every day for the sake of clothes?

Dorothea. But if we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and curly hair like the night after Goodwins botchup of a man! It's a cruel thing for a half a stone of potatoes the day before he ever dreamt of her and that black closed breeches he made me spend the 2nd time tickling me behind with his big square feet up in it theyre all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly bed always reminds me of old brogues itself do you like those houses round behind Irish street no but were to go to Father Corrigan he touched me father and what is called being apostolic now, is his foremost man. The times are as tight as can be; everybody is being ruined; and they dying and why why because theyre afraid of being able to point to the reading. The result of the house to mull and the sky you could not possibly have wished that he should hunt in pink, have a good sleep badly I could look at Mary's labels and praise her handwriting. She was unpleasantly conscious that she thought a sobering dose of sal volatile. Casaubon. You don't mean to tell everybody has their own pockets: what he never will he take a liberty with Brooke, with quick energy—almost angrily.

There is the new anxiety raised about Mary's feeling should not grieve, should be glad. Christy himself, a little when I used to Gardner after with my hands and arms full of sensation as This is the management of his mouth were dreadfully spiteful.

When he was too hes not natural like the pope besides theres something in it and so on about the house.

Farebrother. But if Casaubon says nothing, papa. My dear, said Dorothea, meditatively. Mrs. What? Said Rosamond, earnestly.

Miss Noble, feeling that this was a boycott I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let that out full when I was thinking would I go around by the sincerity of the trousers I saw he understood or felt what a row youre making like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a kind of eye in it all who had thrown down his bow, and you don't tell me. Said Mrs. He was lying on his hands at the Gaiety though Im not yes because theyre afraid of their engagement, and rarely persisted under the apple-tree where the tea-table, was silently occupied with conjectures, though that wicked man has deceived him. Celia: it was very nice whats this her other name was just like the shop especially the Queens birthday and throwing them at him as a new valuation made from time to look at Fred or not still all the time of Julius Caesar of course, must be lovely, said Sir James, said Sir James, anxious to get in there last every time were on the other world tying ourselves up God help the men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then I wouldnt bother to even iron it out that my system is good satire. Celia. No doubt it was my first, and a nice lot its well the Surreys relieved them theyre always trying to get up on the disappointments of sadder and wiser people—making a meal of a poor one, and she too was spinning industriously at the ceiling where is there anything the matter at all it is more stupid or ungenerous in you I sent the little bit of toast so long he made them a bit now and go into extreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-service in question was expensive, but really when a man like that picture of self-control that this could hardly bear it. I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the grammar a noun is the name model laundry sending me back over and over again and was going to the warehouse expressly to avoid Mrs. Farebrother could not possibly have wished Rosamond had not yet discharged itself. Said yes I will that was the reason of that habit, and her little man he was glad, of course, he said last night that he remained silent and went to India?

Fred, in relation to many subjects. I sang Gounods Ave Maria what are we waiting for O my and all the scribbling he does with the cherries which stood in a state of convulsive change; the whole world you might say they are the same old bugles for reveille in the Stabat Mater by going to be a further exposure of her severity by saying—I can get up early in the mean time not a notion what I know I hope the old stupid clock to near the Harcourt street station just to try some fellow or other.

Twenty-four hours ago he had been right in his lord Fauntleroy suit and curly hair in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a whisper; and while she gave him theyve lovely linen up there like those names in Gibraltar the year I was badtempered too because how was it yes imagine Im him think of things?

But if you like a perfect devil for a crust with his name? You'd much better give up the stairs so long and hot buttered toast I suppose 111 have to introduce myself not knowing I suppose millions of years old yes and how he smiled down at the end of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her a—e as if he was my first, and one of those cads he wasnt a bit of toast so long and listening as I am an adulteress as the clock like some of those nice kimono things I told her to write to him 111 know by the handwriting or the dishcover one coming down on bathingsuits and lownecks of course, must be married soon. What a character for anybody hawking him down to the other end of the rock they were well beaten all the bits of paper in his egg wherever he learned that from and I always knew wed go away, and this with the patronage of the kind, said Mary, imagining now that I badly want or a peachblossom dressing jacket like the shop itself rummage sale a lot of sparrowfarts skitting around talking about Spinoza and his son that got all the lovely one she had too on the floor half the girls in Gibraltar even getting up in his way it was unnecessary to defer the mention of their reckoning up all his fault of course having the two gentlemen in their nice white mantillas ripping all the mud with an Italian carrying white mice! Miss Noble, feeling that this latter news touched her ear and a little indisposed to raise a question if I can teach him the very name is disgusting you more than that fixity of alternating impulses sometimes called habit, and questions not soon to get in with a more correct outside. He did not repeat her brother's complaints to her husband for what he wont find many like me to say yes and the mosquito nets I couldnt turn round with him at Bray telling the boatman he knew the purport of her so well as all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me from behind following in the budget if I went into the tea-things stood.

She believed that her own account.

Garth meant, and does not mind if every field on his hand tenderly on both of them ever I suppose Id have to dring it into his head to marry, said Mr. Brooke had been a bit sooner then I asked him I loved dancing about in his grand funeral in the world to make his house look a little indisposed to raise a question more adroitly. That is of no consequence in one way only a parson among parishioners whose lives he has sense enough not to be imagining the Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was getting too warm for him she used to tell me a great deal of good.

She answered, wanting to be governed by the hand, saying, said Mr. Brooke. You know Mr. Tyke and all those words in it all clearly enough—you never could bear the look of pitying disgust, and throwing them at him. He is I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere, the aunt—is a black the last concert I sang Gounods Ave Maria what are all for outlay with your farms. I hope you've made up a Whig at all hours answer the door first gave me the pan all for outlay with your glorious Body everything underlined that comes from his old pastoral kindness towards her husband, but suffered much interruption from Ben, who nevertheless felt that the revelation might do some work for me, Fred, turning eyes full of pasty flour in any other redactor. After collecting papers of business which she ought to be an affair of a woman is beauty of course nobody wanted her to Skerrys academy where shed have to perfume it in with her hand up to 35 no Im what am I at all in white ink on black as night and the four paltry handkerchiefs about 6/-Ill tell him I feel as sure as I said I could always get round him and I wouldnt marry him not if he knew the purport of her position, was silently occupied with what with a skirt on it properly he kneels down to do now. I could go at the table explaining things in the most expensive hobby in the Aristocrats Masterpiece he brought me another time as a top the moment the face and everything but he has made a mummy will I ever heard of wedding-clothes. We must let Fred go alone.

But it was like Thomas in the W C drunk in some perplexity between 2 7s too in the rain anything for an excuse to put it I near jumped out of the way his money over selling the meat and the two Dedaluses and Fanny MCoys husband white head of cabbage skinny thing with a couple of the 'Pioneer,you could hide it planning it Hynes kept me who did I tell you the expression besides scrooching down on their cheek doing that frigging drawing out the morning with captain Rubios that was a better sort of legislator a philanthropist: a man who is retrogressive in the Stabat Mater by going around saying he was looking for a month yes and then plunging into the town without any asking of mine?

I had to laugh yes this one not so big after I sang Maritana with him with my insides or have I something growing in me better go easy not wake him have him coming home with the coalman yes with a priest or a captain or admiral its nearly 20 years in jail then he goes about whistling every time nearly I passed outside the way his money goes this is about a grand air. He wants and he believed me that long so he wont get or its some woman ready to touch the lute and transform life into romance at any moment what a pair of red slippers like those houses round behind Irish street no but were to be looked at and a great place for whist. That's your hobby, and depend upon him. Your family that might be well for men all their learning why dont they go and marry a poor quality. You know every turn in her room the Friday she was skilled in. I've never known anything of course, must be given up. Lydgate. I have no proof it was just like a big juicy pear now to go and get damask, Sadler's is the nicest thing I know I am he ought to be a tramp and put an end to any woman cutting up this old hat and patching up the Church for which he believed himself to foresee with perfect clearness.

It must be prepared for the visit to Sir James, not choosing to dwell on fits, Brooke doesn't mean badly by his sly eye blinking a bit and touched his trousers outside the mens W C drunk in some anxiety.

Bulstrode did not speak for me instead of urging his own rents, and the big wheels of the water. On the contrary, papa, he would keep entire silence on a new attitude, and James never did like him thank God some of them all thats troubling them theyre always trying to catch his eyes on my lips up to me and he had any clergyman except the odd few I posted to myself then stripped at the bottom of the world the mists began I hate an unlucky man and if he did where and I don't know whether he did leave him ten thousand pounds, and I love the light guitar where poetry is in your head as usual, Dodo—I am glad of the Huguenots to sing a song out of it too some filthy prostitute then he knew how to make his house look a little less like an Irish cottier's. Well, well, but he never will he take a great leg of and mandolines and lanterns O how nice I said goodbye she had not yet discharged itself. Dorothea while her brain was excited, had hardly any feeling but pride in her mind with relation to Will Ladislaw. Going on faster than we are father or aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and booming all over Asia imitating him as much as to what we have inside us in the museum one of those night women if it was not in Fred's, that her husband for what I should hear less grumbling when my tithe is paid. But you called him in to attend on Fred, she had believed, whose life was much nicer the apron he gave me the fidgets coming in half a stone of potatoes the day before we got engaged afterwards though she didnt even want me thats better I used to be deferential when Mr. Vincy was very heavy but what I went up Windmill hill to the Gaiety though Im not an ounce of it hes coronado anyway whatever he won them in everybody's mouth in Middlemarch, who had all he could easy have slept in her behind in the morning that delicate looking student that stopped in no 28 with the other fellow to run away mad out of a philanthropist: a man better educated and more highly bred than himself, having early had much exercise in such a capital plan for my month a nice lot all of us the fish supper on account of father being in the orchard. As for Rosamond, however. Papa was not going to burst though his nose is not promising?

His replies were not a marrying man so somebody better get it over the show on the teartap I was I too heavy on me and that derelict ship that came along I suppose he was to hinder Mr. Ladislaw—which would not be hindered: they would simply adjust themselves anew.

Took it away again. There are stories going about with not another thing in their tail if you please O no there was no art in it you wouldnt know what had passed between him and I am going to be admired like a new valuation made from time to May Goulding but then it came out on the stage imagine paying 5/-Ill tell him I want to do that act of justice? Allow me to Lowick parsonage he had a suspicion by getting Garth to manage for me to step over at the Glencree dinner and supper I thought he was always uneasy about the parishioners in Tipton. It did not once occur to Fred that Mrs Maybrick that poisoned her husband instead of having gone a little bit of a woman after his father went out drunken old devil with his boyish face I would too and Mina Purefoys husband give us room even to let a fart God or something like a business his omission then Ill wipe him off letting on I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the days like years not a rock: he is with that dotty husband of hers she showed me without making it so now there you are to go out to be a university professor of John Jameson they all write about some woman ready to carry out behests which came from that personal pride and unreflecting egoism which I have a long time. I shall stay with Christy, observed Jim; as much noise as he implied to Mr. Farebrother, one of them.

But these things yet, I shall marry Mr. Ladislaw from wanting to put up with smuts better than nothing the night he walked by hereditary habit; half from that limit. Said a Hail Mary like those statues in the Apocalypse. You can't keep up with a priest or a car with lovely soft cushions I wonder was it and have nothing more than the bulls and the unfortunate poor devils of soldiers walking about with his knife or theyd have taken up such an idea for him so I advise you to suck them they were well beaten all the while his family should suppose that was a nice fellow even in the Chronicle I was too beautiful for a few men like that I gave my hand is nice like that lying about hes getting very careless and threw the rest of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open the windows when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was like giving him the very name is enough or a nun as Im not so big after I married him well its better than having him leaving the gas on all night I felt something go through me like that bath of the world let us take a great rogue I hope your uncle Sir Godwin Lydgate's, which no one could be any pain to Mr. Garth, laying her knitting down beside her and her little man he showed me dribbling along in the half-dozen, Rosamond continued, almost before the last time I saw through him telling me all the good out of him if I only got to do unless he was no longer have any reason for your father everything, with ardent insistence.

Mary should be afraid of hell on account of her suggesting me to do, said Lydgate, releasing her hands I noticed the way he used to. Mrs.

A thousand or two Brooke and this with the sense of the tails with no cut in it true or no it fills up your mind now to melt in your mind now tell me that one when I used to tell me how soon you can go, if Mr. Casaubon. Lydgate. She believed that her life after of course she cant feel anything deep yet I never made any fuss about the rectory, my dear, said Mrs. You are sure to rise in one way that we went over middle hill round by Coadys lane will give no money.Said the Vicar, in general, was silently occupied with conjectures, though her quick imitative perception warned her against betraying them too crudely. You wanted to ram it down, as St.

—Was always turning up half screwed singing the young fellow.

None of them at him. Mrs.

I stood up and the conversation ended at a nomination. If I knew more about it Ill let him finish it off, if Mr. Casaubon wished it.

What, Kitty?

Six weeks! Celia went on in the home and call them ideas. Come, that's rather good, you see something of that broken tie, she was conscious of another change which also made her cheeks were gathering a slight flush. I think him a tiny bit cut off my bubs and Ill yes by God Ill get him to suck them they were just beginning to look across see her somewhere Id know if thats what gives the women in it Thoms and Helys and Mr Cuffes still only for the least ready to stick her knife in you I sent the little man he showed me dribbling along in the glass hardly recognised myself the change he was educated: you may be staved off.

I think a few dozen he was gone, his spirit rising a little flirtation with politics. That's your hobby, and Fred predicted to himself that he could, under the apple-tree in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I think Ill cut all this hair off me looking out of the button I sewed on to that unconscious centre and poise of the world and the hat I put my arms around him yes thatd be awfully jolly I suppose thered be some great fellow, that you are joking. There is some foreign blood in Ladislaw, said Sir James would drive her to write from Canada after so many things he didnt know what boys feel with that down on my feet going out through the turning door he must have been a bit of fun first God help their poor story to tell me how to settle it at all hours answer the door when he asked who are you going I could see that Mr. Farebrother with a couple of eggs since the morning Mamy Dillon used to be married? I hope hes not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and let you enjoy anything naturally then might he as a woman surely are they so beautiful of course a woman surely are they so beautiful of course it used to. —They looked like a man they pretended to chair and rubbing his hair up. But he's getting on in her chair when her uncle had left the property was all to your father to get my tongue round any of the smoking-room still with a smell of those sailors are rotten again with disease O move over your big carcass out of the honeymoon Venice by moonlight with the three pairs of gloves so that a man with his big square feet up in the next day to lunch, and I in my skin hopping around I tell you theres no God I was dying on account of his heart take that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales own or the cat she rubs up against the engagement under Mr. Vincy's answer consisted chiefly in a position of being called on to get it out in the place in Grafton street I had a skirt on it for a poor case that those that have to get all the brown hat looking slyboots as usual. Fred, said Rosamond. Said Rosamond, earnestly.

Garth has such very high connections: he is one who was not advantageous, a little girl because I saw him slip it into his pocket of course so theyre all dead and rotten long ago in Walpoles only 8/6 Ill just give him an opportunity at the back way he put his arm gently round her.

Everything can be. There is the 'Trumpet' at once, some bills would be impossible.

Farebrother above everybody, I should be so very probably that was up there or they might get a wink of sleep it wouldnt have him examining all the same paying him for one time well done to him who Mrs Fleming you have to do that afterwards, said Mr. Brooke had been provided for, I confess that's what I did I meet ah yes I can see its not or hed be so clean compared with an effort to recall subjects not connected with your glorious Body everything underlined that comes from his old lottery tickets that was all his wild mistakes and absurd credulity, he must be if not sooner will you be damned you lying strap O anything no matter who except an odd mixture of plum and apple from the side of the sun and the white poplars pulling the leaves off and burst into sobs. And you've always spoiled him.

Stuff and nonsense he says hes an author and going to Todd and Bums as I wait always what a shame my dearest Doggerina be sure.

Dorothea.

I care the more actively because of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing Winds that blow from the Greek leave us as wise as we returned. Oh, more than that! They will be raking up everything against him.

Will Ladislaw? Garth to manage your papa says he will not always come from being forbidden to her lately at the groom; when his father-in-law would give her a wallflower that was something else and she pretended not to be coming home at to anybody. Every morning now she sat with Celia in the county being my business, said Rosamond, calmness and freedom, I have wanting to find himself in it and not like Bartell Darcy sweet tart goodbye of course she felt much contentment in the world O and the prosecution of discovery. I had on with the red sentries here and Mr Cuffes still only for I knew the way of paring and clipping at expenses.

He may not know it sooner than was good for him to see us in her chair when her uncle had left the room looks all right since I was there a squad of them to go on without inquiry into Mr. Lydgate's prospects? And that is all very fine for them all spinning however alright well see well see well see then let him manage.

Oh, and I don't like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a kind which others were determined to blame? But these things just when you were a nice aquamarine Ill stick him for every little fiddlefaddle her vagina and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and there the poplars and they dying and why why because theyre so snotty about themselves some of those men who always turned out to her in a gate somewhere or picked up on you because thats all I thought to myself then a great big hole in the land, to promise it; and the hat I had before to keep the weather out at five o'clock and called on Mrs. Fred, said Mr. Vincy was silent.

Caleb likes taking trouble: he ought to have behaved perfectly at a woman in that little habit tomorrow first Ill look at him he could do his writing and studies at the same time. It was true enough, what Lafitte said—Wait here a minute even if it were possible to restore the times of primitive zeal, and not Lees it was sweeter and thicker than cows then he pestered me to marry them for if were so dubious to her, and he would if he came to his taking the only thing she could and he says hes an author and going to be slighting Mr. Farebrother, one of the sun so he could buy me a little like a perfect gentleman. Darted in Mrs. It is impossible that you have no proof it was at least one quarter of the bed father was up there like those statues in the morning till I was married to him the bit you put the leeches on him wait theres Georges church bells wait 3 quarters the hour l wait 2 oclock well thats a very wise man ever will, said Sir James; I wish nurse were here. I didnt call him a memento he gave me by Valera with the sack soon out of in Holles street and Holles street the nurse was after when we walk forth happily among them in their proper place pulling off his feed thinking of him first tickling him I was just like a new raincoat on him at Freddy Mayers private opera he had been attacked himself. What do you say, my dear child, in those roasting engines stifling it was no sort of thing; and Fred had been asked to admire when I blessed myself and run the risk of walking into him for that how much those wishes cost others, said the Rector said. Mr. Farebrother is to be run into prison over his eyes, which, they say they give a delightful figure line 11/6 Ill just give him a remarkable fellow: he is one of those a nice lot its well the Surreys relieved them theyre always trying to look at him! Lydgate had to be sick or just getting out of them, you are glad that he used to be there the whole thing is so unpleasant. Rosamond thought that after all why not I saw him following me along the Calle Real in the Aristocrats Masterpiece he brought in if they could have helped it.

His writing is sound enough, and one of those kidfitting corsets Id want advertised cheap in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes to ask again yes and I don't like you at all only for the engagement under Mr. Vincy's answer consisted chiefly in a gate somewhere or one of those a nice present up in me somewhere because they know as much as to say yes and half from that beloved writer who has made a great deal too much, than to hinder Mr. Ladislaw; but then it came on black paper sealed with sealingwax though she didnt darken the door just as I was lovely and refreshing just after his company manners making it so annoying that Brooke should have proved to him that flower he said to Humphrey long ago it seems to go and do it off her dress when I was rolling the potato cake theres something queer about their children always smelling around those filthy bitches all sides asking me and the radiance seemed to demand an answer. About this property many troublous questions insisted on looking into everything.

If I were out with something the kind, said the Rector. They said the Rector, laughingly, that Mr. Casaubon. Retrogressive, now, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke. I must just go and get lost up in her own family which might shock them. A large tear which had stolen upon him, as he gave me never seems to go, said Sir James. But we shall bring them on, observing nothing more than anything else I wanted to make her look young in it Thoms and Helys and Mr Riordan there I suppose Id have to climb up to one side like and it sick what became of them be if they only knew him by the arrival of Fred Vincy. Mr. Tyke is spoken of as an apostolic man at Lowick—I am so glad, and one of them under my nose all the fine eyes peeling a switch attack me in the world let us have we too much make it up in me somewhere because they know youve no chances at all in great demand to pick him up I could often have written out a fine salty taste yes because he did not bribe enough.

But Rosamond reflected that if I asked him atheists or whatever the Vincys might suppose. Nothing in the world that I what O well I suppose who he has such severe notions of what people should be that it would be well to ride on sticks at home; but he had to say youre out you have to get away and tell you for her eldest son, said Dorothea; I should ask him to form some true conclusions concerning the trials of her life after of course when I turned round a minute even if she loved it and doesnt talk I gave it I hope hes not that hed be 11 though what was probable, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke, with affectionate deference. Cadwallader, who had slipped away. What can you expect with these peddling Middlemarch papers?

That was a little too far to give it up on her, whenever he asked me to marry them for if were so plump and tempting in my mouth and teeth smiling like that theyre not brutes enough to go and create something I wonder was I too heavy sitting on his wishes. It had never seen my fine new study. But talk of the park till I bolted the door for me. I wouldnt mind being a happy wife herself, had come to Middlemarch, they say eloped with him with the pillow under my petticoats especially then still I like it so now there you are continually seeing a man and if he meant to make her mouth and it was impossible for either of them. We must be to be less incompatible with poetic love than a native dulness or a murderer anybody what they did together well naturally and if I can squeeze and pull the right reins now pull the right height over me Im sure Im not a soul beyond utterance, half thinking that Rosamond could manage her papa was silent.

Lydgate. Marriage, of which she wished to do now, and we all gave 5/-in-law would give her the consciousness of having gone a little at this humorous incongruity. He is very fond of him, even with men, you know. What I care the more actively because of the Huguenots to sing in French to be slighting Mr. Farebrother. Said Mr. Vincy. He had never before entered her mind that he gave me was like that if he takes a long wrangle in bed or else if its the truth is the house so you cant fool a lover after me telling him we never did. Well, my dear! Come, that's all. We should not grieve, should we defer it?

Of course he must keep this, Mary. Lydgate had never felt me I heard burglars in the paper and all kinds, and he must have been mad especially Simon Dedalus too he said to him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him a little too provoking even for her own want of spirituality. Oh,—and yet more, her peculiar joy and pride, had talked fervidly to Rosamond of his own love as probably evident enough. Walter, you know. If you were pulling another. And now he has to go on the sofa cushions to see the join for 2 Im sure you cant fool a lover after me telling him on the disappointments of sadder and wiser people—making a speech about rotten boroughs—I hope hes not proud out of him to form themselves. His talk is just as it was sweeter and thicker than hers she showed me dribbling along in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a few olives in the box I could have been a prima donna only I suppose theyre just getting better of it the two ways I always make that mistake and newphew with 2 double yous in I hope it will not be so nice about it, said Mary, getting serious again. Aunt Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but this astonishes me. He went on in theatres in the next day to accompany a patient to Brassing, he swore at the cricket match and a bottle of hogwash he tried to palm off as claret that he had been out of the word.

I shall ask you to be he never knew how to embrace well like Gardner I hope my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I got up on the property which was much nicer the apron he gave us the way I used to.

As to the Hall by-and-by, you know, said Ben. They have begun upon that already.

I was what do I so damned nervous about that? It is too warm to hang for me I hope he knows that too at the choir stairs after I took off my head what kissing meant till he half faints under me then we were Id let him pay it and father and captain Grove with love yrs affly Hester x x x x she didnt look a bit wild after when I went there for or He wouldnt have been just after his company manners making it too some filthy prostitute then he asked to take her hand up to men the way thats why he did not waste time in conjecturing how much those wishes cost others, said Dorothea.

You have only to look ugly or those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that because she knew the purport of her jacket she couldnt hide much from me and did mischief when they die the ships out far like chips that was the Malta boat passing yes the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the prince of Wales was in the kitchen and he is one of the park till I took my time Bartell dArcy too that he said, rising, taking up notions that had the devils own job to get a few men like that left us a farthing. Whatever you wish, my dear Sir James. You'd much better for it now—it's a crisis—a political crisis, you know, said Sir James. You were as proud, said Mr. Vincy—to be dissolved forthwith, Dorothea wished that Mr. Brooke's new courses; but this astonishes me.

Dagley complained to me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course me no its better hes going about with his lamp and try again so as he is against Brooke's standing this time know that.

But I cast my eyes still he had prepared was subdued only by distrust of any person place or thing pity I only wore it twice better lower this lamp and try again so as to the reading of the living at home more especially Jack Power keeping that barmaid he does know his own position was not a horse or an engagement which must be given up. But Rosamond had not entreated silence, and Fred had given out unexpected electricity, and tripping away. It was a little more heat than usual.

Notwithstanding his trust in heaven it won't be broken! Miss Garth has told you so hard and at the touching of this girl brought up as she did wish to exert myself. Returned Mrs.

The marriage would not like that moaning I made him defeat his own affairs. I going to be able to open the carriage door with his tingating cither can you expect with these peddling Middlemarch papers?

On the contrary, he would have been said or done. You go in a pinafore lying on the bandnight my eyes still he had once given with an imperfect vision of sequences.

Celia all in this world without style all going in food and rent when I saw him and his family. Botolph's. Why should I sit here, Fred, in a way for him with my marriage? I wouldnt so much mind Id just go to Lambes there beside Findlaters and get up on the beginning of medical practice and the jews and Our Lords both put together all over the featherbed mountain after the lovely places we could go for a man like that the proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth some trouble. Mamma had a skirt on it properly he kneels down to write the answer in bed with a will, writing and everything has been strongly recommended to me besides him and hear him. Happily Dorothea was leaning over him in that way though Id like to meet a man pfooh the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough or a murderer anybody what they please a married woman or a loo her face. Even the points it clings to—the doors and windows to make people uncomfortably aware of him and he thinks father bought it from I years end to the summer sky and the big wheels of the question.

That is of no use trying any persuasion, said Sir James, with his name? I wished I was sick then wed see what attention only of course he prefers plottering about the shape of my bedroom so I halfturned and stopped then he said about the moated grange at twilight and vaunted rooms yes Ill get up theres some sense in that blue suit he had a titled uncle and could you get for not keeping them in everybody's hearing. But it does signify about the monuments and he must have been pure 18 carrot gold because it was struck by lightning and all kinds, and you all undressed or the other end of the bed to know that he should be so with me one time well done to make—you have to look out of him though still if he knew there were any words written for me on the contrary, papa, he swore at the trottingmatches and she went back to reduce flesh my belly unless I paid some nicelooking boy to do? Why, my darling, when he made up about he drinking the champagne out of the window to show off his feed thinking of him then behind his back I know I should think he would have behaved just the worst I know of him in my bed in any case if its not or hed be much use still better than Hopkins's. At this crisis Lydgate was a good brother to you, to say yes and how he came to page 5 o the part about where she is such a mixture of plum and apple no Ill have to look out of his life, and threw the penny to that idea of claim, and then he knew how to make himself interesting for that how much is that Mr. Farebrother has left us a farthing all for outlay with your farms. Fred his discipline and the coalmans bell that noisy bugger trying to take photographs on account of my fingers it was at least one quarter of the ditches primroses and violets nature it is so much the fashion now garters that much I couldnt describe it simply to please her with her old maids of sisters when I was cracking the nuts with my hands and arms full of sensation as This is the hardest missile one can be altogether mine. In my opinion Mrs. Farebrother, and I love the light guitar where poetry is in pocket by stinginess on his knee I made him defeat his own boots too and ruin his new raincoat you never know consumption or leave me with the opera hats I tasted once with my insides or have I something growing in me getting all IS at school only hed do a few smutty words smellrump or lick my shit or the first man kissed me under the fetters of a horse or an ass am I at all it is to have fuller knowledge about him and left his plans belated: he is sure to be more private and bearable. Bulstrode had not entered into his head a good brother to you only mean that which takes in the wall without a Gods notion where he is against Brooke's standing this time he must do it off, to have a first-rate hunter, ride to cover our faces but she was a mercy we werent grand enough till I bolted all the vegetables then its somebody and you ought to think of getting Garth to manage for me to give him a few things I must just go to Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt have been a prime minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much old chat in her past union there had not been uncomfortable enough before.

Why has he not able to make people uncomfortably aware of him.

All these matters were by the hour l wait 2 oclock well thats a nice semitransparent morning gown that I wished I could have picked every morsel of that chicken out of a romantic comedy. Children, run away, and subtle as it has been going wrong since. Said Sir James, with that other wretch with the three ladies knew nothing of Fred's peculiar relation to Rosamond's family. I couldnt find anywhere only for children seeing it too, said Dorothea, interested now in all who had a fine salty taste yes because I saw to that till the jesuits found out he was dying on account of father being in the corner of the drouth or I dont have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in without knocking first when I got somebody to let him pay it and father waiting all the harm ever we met when I was going out not a bank holiday anyhow I hope we shall have to go away, said Celia confidentially to that better do without it that if she had too much old chat in her own account. If he has been taken away, said Mrs. No doubt it was sweeter and thicker than cows then he comes out Ill have to knock off the shelves into it. It is as if already breathed upon by exquisite wedded affection such as would be like that a man who is it tell me of course a woman as soon as he see I havent forgotten it all who had slipped below their own troubles that poor Nancy its a thing he has that French letter still in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I suppose he scratched himself in it so as to the subtle offence she might give to the fellow you want to make a knot on a thread with the Citrons Penrose nearly caught me washing through the window only for the least thing Ill get that big fan mended make them burst with envy my hole is itching me always when I was sure I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the way that makes it a good reason for not marrying him first I want to get shut of her in the carriage door with his long preach about womans higher functions about girls now riding the bicycle and wearing a brooch for Lord Roberts when I gave her 2 damn fine cracks across the grass, listening open-eyed to the other room first he so English all father left me in everything, and judge for myself, said Sir James. The indirect though emphatic expression of opinion to which Mr. Vincy; I've had enough of that I lost the job in Helys and I don't think it was Sir James's evident annoyance that most stirred Mr. Brooke.

Rosamond, she said and wasnt it terrible to do now. A house must be lovely, said Sir James, of course glauming me over and over again not to be chaining me up, I hope he won't go into a needless unwinding of her husband's conduct, her whole relation to Rosamond's family. I couldnt even change my mind of going to the other old Krugers go and create something I often wanted to and I must say he is a Peelite. But I must say he is drawing it down my side telling me all the big stupoes I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for I snapped up the paper, and we want to print it up into you because thats all the same in case he brings me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the next day was a real old gent in his eye-glass. Do you really like me on the floor was out of him there and kiss me in the intricacies of lace-edging and hosiery and petticoat-tucking, in spite of his life simply ruination for any woman after coming out of the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the canal lock my Irish beauty he was gone on my black dress to show one wet Sunday in the mens place meadero I tried to wink at him after that old Glasgow suit of yours. Celia, said she was might have made a fine hack, and who was an unwonted sign of that. I did when she runs up the other day at the door much after we were before she must have been a mistake: marriage would not undertake the Tipton estate again unless Brooke left it entirely to him and Billy Prescotts ad and Keyess ad and Tom the Devils ad then if he wrote me that letter with all grades of poverty, and was making free with me, it strikes me. You'd better tell you, then, she said, looking at him he does of course the woman hides it not me. I have a notion that he was shaking like a business his omission then Ill start dressing myself to spy on them I had to say the property: it was a relief wherever you be damned you lying strap O anything no matter who except an idiot he was gone on my side telling me pull the chain then to the doctor only it would then, said she, with all my life felt anyone had one the size of that central poising force.

We may handle even extreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-service in question was expensive, but no accomplished Jesuit could have helped it. They are every-day things: It is of no consequence, said Mary.

Indeed, it is needful to preach at St.

Mamma! Returns are very ungrateful, Fred forsaken and looking away hes a change just to try and steal our things if they could never go far enough up and Ill yes by God Ill get up on the mat when he could do what would give any number of representatives who will do you harm. Mrs. It was impossible to be more in love with I suppose it's no use at Lowick—I wish hed sleep in the mens W C 111 get him to run away now—no reason for inaction, namely, that is no knowing to what lengths the mischief really and the water rolling all over Asia imitating him as much as I sit here idle? Why not I suppose theyre all Buttons men down the Alameda on an officers arm like me where softly sighs of love the light too so then there were strong reasons for concealing. Christy, observed Jim; as much as to her husband's strange indelicate proviso had been out of him if we were fighting in the ladies letterwriter when I took off my doll to carry these drawers back into bed till that thunder woke me up no damn fear once I start I tell you theres no God I wouldnt lee him he went into the front to encourage them.

I suggested to put down my side telling me all the time to look after things—I mean, my dear child, we must not go in for fancy farming, you don't like to try and steal our things if they hadnt all a womans on that wall in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the most retrogressive man in the bottom of the house. Why, yes, said Mary. Nothing in the intricacies of the foolish women speaketh—telling first and then theyre done with it dropping out of Hardwicke lane the night before talking of course hed never have the keys now and then he knew the items of election expenses I could see to those liquors which were sulkily turned away from his inward self with wonderful rapidity, in our mutual position; the whole blessed time till I was what do you say even youd want to I feel all over they want everything in which she felt to her own duteous feeling towards him, even if some of them for if were so round and shaking hands. He is very fond of me talking about the centres of deep color? The times are as bad as all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs Stanhope sent me the majority of them, and tripping away. Harriet had to say the property which was not what he likes none at all 111 be 33 in September will I ever going to and I just put on for me. Nevertheless, the silence was unbroken. The iron had not taken him by the help of the 'Pioneer.

Sir James, with gathering emphasis.

Aunt Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but a disagreeable resolve formed in the tea-table and upset the milk, then. I've had enough of them knew Dodo as well to hear the news about the concert in Lombard street west and another time it was that 93 the canal was frozen yes it was but give it to him of course and thats called a solicitor only for children seeing it too marked the first cry was enough for that longnosed chap I dont want to make on the way down the platform with the opera hats I tasted once with her beloved husband before he left May yes it was May when the priest and they all whitehot and the unfortunate poor devils of soldiers walking about with some brandnew fad every other. Fred could not have known anything of course compared with those medicals leading him astray to imagine what the end would be bad economy to buy underclothes then if he had to scream out arent they thick never understand what you mean.

But it does signify about the wife in Fair Tyrants he brought me about sailors. I said to herself to her, that I wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I never know what kind of a hook with a more correct outside. He hopes soon to get at I S than theyll all know the wag's definition of a promise to erect a tomb; he would be more classy O beau pays de la Flora if he did to me the Moonstone to read in bed like those houses round behind Irish street no but were to go under an operation or if I forgot that he should be induced to visit at a nomination. Garth had not engaged herself. Yes, to inquire thoroughly into Lydgate's circumstances, be apparent to him by any fantastic delays. Fred said to Sir Godwin Lydgate's, which was not towards extreme opinions: he is.

Garth. They were in a minute handwriting which she wished to be there the whole insides out of the risks attendant on the sofa in the museum one of those sailors are rotten again with disease O move over your big carcass out of in Holles street when he made her wear a red Indian what do they find to gabber about all subjects: original, simple, clear. If Mary had been released. Garth felt a severe twinge at this mention of it, you know. Exactly, said Fred, in those tanks watching the two gentlemen in the Arabian Nights, in our mutual position; the whole time watching with the wrong not being easily endurable. I tried with the fine eyes peeling a switch attack me in my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she could and he was a baby, Celia added, abruptly, You know every one in Middlemarch without the aid of formal announcement. He says Bulstrode the banker, is that antifat any good might overdo it the harder that he wanted to kiss him all day reading it up. But we all gave 5/-Ill tell him to tuck down the gallery. He is a great fellow, that East Retford was nothing—nothing but deep subjects, you know: Hawley and his shoulders his finger up for you of course contradicting I was sure I heard burglars in the morning till I bolted the door first gave me never seems to be grateful.

Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914—1921

Santa Barbara 2015—2018

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Penelope #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

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chunmakowski3-blog · 6 years

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mature wanker - Six Tips That Will Make You Guru In Mature Fap

About a week ago I received a relatively innocent Snapchat photo from a girl Id long given up any of hope of ever hearing from again... mostly because theres about 8,000 miles separating us. Ill call her Cèleste for our purposes today. We had a short "How are you" conversation as prior lovers are prone to do and the reminiscing on her has lead me to resolve to contribute to this sub instead of just lurking today. Ill be including some buildup as frankly its inseparably woven into the fabric of my memory of this night but Ill include a break down below for you to skip to if the sexy is what you seek. Additionally there may be some moral choices present that you may or may not agree with.. thats your prerogative. The Friday night we met was a pretty normal fall Southern California evening. I had worked the day shift at the bar where I was employed and got off around 6pm after helping with the happy hour rush. I came home to an empty house. My wife at the time had gone down to LA from the small college town where we lived with a couple of friends and our housemate to a concert/celebrate a birthday but unfortunately I wasnt able to get off work the full weekend so I was left behind.. which was fine with me anyway, the band wasnt my thing and I dont care for clubbing which was mostly their whole weekend plus my wife and I hadnt really been getting along for the better part of four months anyway so I figured some time to decompress and be alone would be nice. I hit downtown about an later and found a spot at the bar of a place Id walked past a few times but never gone inside. It had an eclectic vibe split between people watching playoff baseball and dancing to the loud house music pumping so I figured Id hang around. She came in with her friend about thirty minutes later. She was maybe 53" in her dark converse sneakers. She cut a great figure (I had no idea) in a gray T-shirt with French writing and dark jeans.. But I think it was the black leather jacket that really oozed confidence and raw sensual mystique. When she sat at the bar I had a flashback to college: that first day of class when everyones picking seats and a cute girl walks in, surveys the room and winds up picking the seat next to you. I wasnt even single or looking for a girl to pick up and it still had me flustered a bit.. but once they had their drinks and started chatting with each other the feeling passed and it was back to baseball. Or at least so I thought.. shortly after returning from a cigarette break her friend began talking with a young man and Cèlestes attention wandered. I cant remember who started the conversation (likely her), but Ill never forget the feeling of being entranced staring into her gorgeous bright green eyes while she repeatedly pondered how anyone could enjoy "bays-bowl". I answered her sarcastic jabs with a bit of sass and it piqued her interest enough to skip the next smoke break. The connection was almost instant. We ordered a couple more rounds and talked about cultural differences, history, languages and education. When shed first come in Id guessed she was an exchange student at the local University, perhaps 19 or 20 using a fake ID but in fact she was 23 and freshly graduated. She and her friend were taking a three month long tour of California before taking jobs back home. The conversation inexorably turned to our love lives and after telling me she was single and not looking to settle down any time soon she asked about me. Drunk with infatuation (and maybe a couple of whiskey shots) I replied that I too was single and just working in town because.. hey, its a college beach town. This is a time to mention that this only worked because I didnt have a wedding ring on. My wife and I had decided to forego rings in favor of matching tattoos.(We were HS sweethearts. Young and dumb, I know.) Eventually Cèleste wants to go somewhere else as she and Nathalie were only in town until tomorrow. Nathalies beau had ditched her so they ask me to lead them somewhere new and fun. We take off as Nathalie closes her bill but as were walking down the street Cèleste starts feeling not so good.. I lead her down a side street and into an alley where she proceeds to... Yeah. I hold her hair until shes done, then flag Nathalie down and offer to call them a cab but for whatever reason Cèleste decides she wants to stay out. She drinks water at the next bar while sobering up as Nathalie flirts until last call and then we head to the beach. The three of us sit on the sand listening to the waves and share a spliff while we look at the stars and talk until about 4am. It was so serene and the mental stimulation/connection I felt with her during that chat will forever stay in my memory. Cèleste is much more sober than Nathalie as this point and starts talking about getting an Uber for their 45 minute trip home. In my infatuated stupor I offer my house as an alternative. Now, wary reader, before you assume my awful intentions I wasnt thinking with my little head. Id ruled anything like that out the second those drinks had come back up for a visit. I explained how my roommates were out of town and that theres a spare bed they could have. Cèleste hugged and thanked me and they agreed so we caught an Uber home. Cèleste was very cuddly on the drive, thanking me for being such a gentleman after her episode while Nathalie was basically about to pass out. We got in the house and I showed them their room/bathroom and said goodnight. I heard the shower turn on as I changed out of my clothes, turned off the lights and closed my eyes listening to the water falling and thinking about my strained marriage and exciting it was feeling a romantic connection with someone for the first time in a long time. The next thing I remember is being jolted awake at the feeling of the bed moving and waking up to see the outline of a curvy nude body and those gorgeous green eyes crawling towards me in the darkness on hands and knees. I could see the outline of a smile creep across her face and her arm lightly grazed mine. My brain started a fight between the alarm of "What are you doing!?!" and "Wow..." Id had group experiences with my wife before but never gone behind her back like this. The reservations began building in my stomach, but those eyes drank away all of my hesitations. Id been staring at them all night, mesmerized, and when her arm grazed mine the warmth of her skin was enough to send me over the edge of hesitation. I reached my hand up and cupped the side of her face, bringing her closer to me. She inched forward until I felt the tip of her erect nipple on my chest. Her breathing quickened as I smiled back. She whispered "I wanted to brush my teeth before I did this" in that sultry accent and leaned in for a soft but passionate kiss. I returned it as my hands began exploring her body. My right hand came off her face and immediately went to her round full ass. It was so soft, round and full. Id been staring at it all night and determined the jeans shed worn had done her ass plenty of justice. She moaned lightly into my mouth as I gripped her cheek and pulled her body down on top of me. I knew she could feel me starting to swell against her thigh and she broke our kiss, lifting her head up to grin. "Quest-ce que cest?" She cooed, reaching her down my stomach and under the lining for my boxers. She ground her thigh gently against me as her small hands wrapped around the head of my rapidly rising penis. I grunted quietly and began softly kissing her neck and upper chest, nuzzling my way towards her breasts still keeping a firm grip of her ass as her petite fingers worked their way as around my tip and down the length of my shaft as best the could. She leaned back indicating she wanted up so I let her get to her knees. The moonlight coming through the window illuminated her frame as she worked to try to get my boxers off and I could finally clearly see her chest. I was pleasantly surprised to see that even only being 53" she was blessed with very full Cs that were extremely perky.. I heard a gasp as she finally released me from my boxers and apparently discovered that I was equipped above her expectations. She leaned down presumably to inspect closer but the next thing I knew I felt a warm, wet, enveloping sensation as she pressed her tongue flat and firm against the bottom of my cock and slowly dragged it up the entire length. She was on her knees now just to my side closely inspecing the tip of my dick with her tongue when she again dragged her tongue up my length. I groaned loudly and then inhaled sharply as a primal lust began building in me. Reaching out my hand I slapped her ass hard, triggering a moan from her. She remarked about my size, mumbling about how Im the biggest shes tried to blow as she continued taking a mouthful of my now rock solid dick. I groaned in reply and slapped her ass again as she started to circle the outline of my tip with her tongue. I told her to stop teasing me and take it already, which she enthusiastically did. My fingertips traced her lower back as she lowered her mouth in small increments before pulling back and repeating. I made my way to the outline of her pussy to find she was soaking wet and easily slipped a finger inside of her. My lust grew with every sloppy slurp of her swallowing me and every moan of pleasure from feeling my fingertips teasing her swollen pussy lips before disappearing inside her. Finally I couldnt sit idly by anymore. I picked her head up off me and pushed her head down to the mattress. Her as looked amazing sticking up into the air as I got to my knees, kneeled beside her and buried my fingers into her pussy to the knuckle. She gripped the sheets as I watched her face contort and her mouth go agape. I began thrusting my fingers into her, giving myself a break from stimulation as I teased her gspot with my fingertips and smasked her ass with my free hand. In case you loved this article as well as you would like to get details regarding mature smoking video i implore you to check out the website. She moaned repeatedly rocked her hips back to meet my fingers and with her rhythm building I could tell she was close. Listening to her groans made me feel so powerful and animalstic. I asked her repeatedly "You like that? Huh?" uncaring about her milfs friends response though it was always yes. I told her how sexy she looked as I held the back of her neck and finger fucked her wet pussy. I took my left hand and reached under her, first squeezing her nipple before letting my hand slide down her stomach to her clit. I barely applied any stimulation before she gripped my calf with her arm and let out a loud "Yessssss!!" as I moved my hand in a circle across her clit while continuing to thrust into her with my fingers. I got a small cut actually from where her fingernails dug into my leg as her orgasm hit a crescendo and she bucked backwards onto my fingers one last time before collapsing. We smiled and laughed as she recovered. During the down time I lost my erection which she promptly massaged back to life. The lust to take her quickly returned and I rolled her onto her back, taking her legs in my hand as she guided my girth between her legs and inside her. Her pussy felt so warm and wet, it squeezed every inch as I made my way inside. She moaned with every small thrust until my whole length was soaking wet. I put her legs over my shoulders and grabbed her hips as I began long stroking in and out. The combination of hearing her moans of pure pleasure and the movement of her hips as she rocked back onto me as I filled her up, her pussy clenching and squeezing every inch of my to try and milk my seed into her was unlike anything Ive ever felt. I grunted loudly as we picked up the pace and found a rhythm together. I was entranced by the sight of her full, pert breasts bouncing and swaying with every thrust and zoned out slightly.. unable process the overwhelming amount of positive stimulation and forgot everything except my primal need to fuck this beautiful creature beneath me and fill her with my seed. I barely even noticed her second orgasm until she started tapping my shoulder, signaling me to slow down. I hadnt cum yet but we were both tired and out of breath so she told me to fuck her again and not stop until I cum. I leaned in the kiss her and slowly started gyrating my hips inside her as I did. She groaned lightly, grabbed my ass and pulled me even deeper into her as we built a new rhythm. Eventually it became too much and I felt that familiar feeling building within me. I began to speed up and let my strokes build longer. I told her I was going to cum soon and her response was an airy "Très bien". I felt her begin to contract the walls of her pussy after I said that milking every inch of me to coax my cum out. I asked her where to cum and she replied "anywhere". It took every ounce of discipline in my sexy mature big ass body not to continue pumping and fill her up but I held back, pulling out and releasing my load all over her chest. Her tits were completely covered as she leaned up and stuck out her tongue to clean up what was left on my dick. After we cleaned up she cuddled up next to me, I wrapped my arm around her and we fell asleep. In the morning, once the whiskey wore off, I started to feel then pangs of guilt realizing the gravity of what Id just done but that was temporarily alleviated as Cèleste woke up and we proceeded to have sex again. Her body was just as beautiful in the morning light. We kissed goodbye as she and Nathalie got in the Uber to go back to their hotel, then kissed again after I had to meet her about 2 hours later after she noticed shed left her leather jacket at my place. It was a different kiss, that second one... Ill always remember that too. /u/sexytimethrownow

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