#he cant bring himself to do it- her world reminds him of his own- painfully- so much he wants to destroy it all ... but also cant

[ganondoodle]

probably not wise to put this lore on the wip post but bc someone seemed surprised demise was a child when the gods made him into a deity (i think the comment was about him anyway) heres more on that;

(i have talked about this before though, sorry if im repeating old thigns here)

so in my lore here it works like this; for the gods to create a deity they need a mortal as the basis (the gods are fully .. gods, they cant enter the physicality of the worlds they create, thus needing an in between as a right hand to act as they say) the gods lure their chosen mortal to their primordial spring via visions and speaking to them in their head- there they kill the mortal, their spirit is duplicated, one of them 'dies' or remain as a spirit of the mortal, the other one is made into the spirit of a deity and the remains of their mortal body is used as material to make a skeletal structure in which the deity is housed (if removed from it the deity will die)- a deity will start as the age the mortal was and be able to grow up

(here an old design for (deity) demise's core, his spirit .. HIM really, it sits in his ribcage, his entire outer body is made of thousands of little magical hands that weave into each other beneath the scales and his "hair" is really just were that body loses its form to keep its energy in balance, that part cannot be hidden with armoring scales either but trying to reach into his body from there would burn away even hylia like she was made of wood)

"courage" was a teen when the gods made them into a deity, but they horribly failed in doing what the gods wanted of them (they didnt even get to the point of creating their three dragons)

so, "demise" was the second one (all three are seperate worlds), so they chose someone younger, they tried to erase his memories of his parents too in an attempt to make him truly their own right hand and nothing else, but his fathers noticed him gone and found him just when they made raal into a deity, after they could reach him he didnt recall who they were at first but quickly remembered, they accepted him even now and he grew up rather "normally" (if you can call it that, have your 12 year old rascal son turn into a immortal fire deity and try to raise that normally xD)- not telling his entire story here, but he went against the gods as well in the end, so "failing" (out of love for mortals mainly, but also not wanting to ... die for the gods plot)

when it came to hylia then, they chose someone even younger (hylia wasnt even their first choice, that child died before making it to their spring) she was around 5 or 6, and her mother brought her to the spring to pray bc she thought the voices 'hylia' was hearing was a child thing that might go away if she acted like they could pray it away- the gods lured 'hylia' to jump into the water and took her before her mother could even react- the gods waited to awaken her as a deity so all who remembered her were gone, to minimize risk of her getting her memories back, and once they did aweken her raised her themselves in complete isolation in the sealed off spring until they thought she was hardened enough to not give into her mortal origins

this is an extreme short version, but already long enough, and things i left out bc they will be revealed in the comic, like why hylia treats fi so coldly, to put it mildly (though its really hard to not just talk about everything ..)

(wip)

some doodles that took me way too much effort; an updated design for Raal (aka demise when he was a mortal, he still uses that name when in disguise and modeled those forms after how he imagined he would look if he ever grew up as one) and a clunky doodle of both his blade spirits just after forging them

[bonny-kookoo]

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance,  Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

[zvnphoria]

- how being koko’s best friend would be like

a/n - had too much fun with this. THIS IS VERY LONG UM. this is an apology for being inactive.

contains - fluff, teeny bit of angst, just platonic because YEAH, fem!reader, implied strong reader, reader has mommy issues (definitely not projecting), reader had a friendship with akane and looked up to her like an older sister

you and hajime go way back since you were kids. you two met in an interesting way but not necessarily in a good one.

you were walking to the nearest park to get out of your crazy house because your mom kept screaming at you over the littlest thing again. you forgot to wash the dishes (you didn’t necessarily forget that’s for sure). you stopped once you saw a boy around your age getting beaten up by some older kids. his hand gripped tightly on what looked like a school bag and protected it like his life depended on it.

it didn’t matter anymore because you had just knocked out both of the bullies in no time without a thought— almost as if it was normal to you. when you looked at the boy, he had blood going down from his forehead to his cheek, heavily panting and on the verge of passing out. he’s not the fighting type, huh. luckily you had a towel wrapped around your neck since you had just gotten out of the shower when you walked out your house, you weren’t gonna spend much time at the park anyways

you kneeled down and wiped the dripping blood off his face and noticed a bigger figure running towards you both. it was.. a girl?

“hajime-kun! what happened here?!” she panicked as she checked your surroundings

“akane-san.. it’s no big deal i promise..”

“no big deal?! i knew something was up when you rushed the other way. and my bag also happened to be missing! why didn’t you ask for help? you don’t need to be independent all the time.”

“and you,” she began, making eye contact with you

“are you okay? are you hurt?”

“no no! i’m fine don’t worry.”

“she was actually the one who knocked them out, akane-san,”

the older girl looked at the unconscious bullies, then back at you with shock and amazement in her eyes

“you did this? that’s amazing!” she says as she quickly takes your hands and wraps it around hers

“uh.. yes i promise it’s really not a big deal. i’ve dealt through worse, trust me,” you say as you gaze at the direction of your house

“worse or not this is still definitely something! even i cant beat someone up, and i’m way older than you!” she chuckled

“well it’s not like you have the heart to do something like that, akane-san,” the boy comments

“hahah you’re right, you’re right. anyways we should get going now— the sun is gonna set very soon, and you should get home as well. is your house nearby? we can walk you if you’d like,”

even ‘til this day you still don’t know why you didn’t decline her offer. was it because she was nice? it didn’t matter anymore, because if you had declined, you wouldn’t get to meet such amazing people.

it’s been a few months after meeting hajime and akane, and you had also met akane’s younger brother who was your age— seishu! you four would often hang out, whether it was at the inui home or at hajime’s house. getting to know them was pretty fun, and very interesting because a certain someone had a crush on akane.

it was definitely not seishu because they’re siblings and that’s just weird, definitely not you because akane had reminded you of your older sister who was almost never in your life, so that only left one choice— hajime.

his crush on her was so painfully obvious that you couldn’t stand seeing him try to impress her every now and then. he even ditched his glasses and bought contacts just for her to compliment him! he’s whipped huh..

one day you decided to help him out a little with his crush. it was another day of your usual hang outs except this time it was at your local mall! akane’s birthday was coming up and you three had collectively agreed to take her to the mall and see if she would see anything she’d like. turns out she was eyeing some platforms with red on the bottoms, and you took notice.

seishu dragged her to go to the food court with him because he was “hungry” so you and hajime took the chance to buy the heels. you were both now at the cash register, waiting for the register person

“i don’t understand you,” you began

“i don’t understand why you like her so much. i mean— i get that’s she’s amazing and nice and pretty and all but.. there’s another reason why you like her. something must’ve happened for you to be so attached to her so what is it?” you meant no harm with this question whatsoever. you were simply curious and that’s all.

before he answered, he smiled to himself and looked back at you

“she’s the only one that makes me feel not under pressure all the time. she’s the one who constantly reminds me that i shouldn’t be so independent and that i should always ask for help.” as you took a breath in to reply, he stopped you

“before you say anything, i know. i know she doesn’t like me. i know she’s just being nice. but there’s nothing wrong with a one-sided crush right?” he grins

even though he was beaming with a smile in front of you, you knew. you knew this wasn’t how he truly felt. you knew that deep down he was hurt but it was understandable. after all, he was just a kid wasn’t he? you saw right through him.

it was a shame after what happened the next couple of weeks after that conversation. it all happened so fast and none of you were prepared for it. you weren’t prepared for the incident that had happened to akane. a few days before it occurred, koko proudly told you that he was planning to confess and you were way against it.

“huh?! but i need to get this off my chest, y/n! i don’t care if she rejects me or not!”

“haji, i have a bad feeling about this.. i’m serious. you know how i always get bad feelings and they turn out to be true!”

he groaned and scooted far from where he was originally sitting which was right next to you. you sigh and got up to sit down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder so he wouldn’t escape

“i just don’t want you to get your hopes up, that’s all.” deep down you knew the truth. akane wasn’t interested in boys one bit despite all the confessions she had received almost every week.

“fine. you have a point. but im still going with this,”

all you could do was do nothing but let him. oh how you wished you protested more, because in return all he got was a huge burden on his shoulders.

“please ma’am, just please tell me what room akane inui and seishu inui are in,” you shouted as tears were rolling down on your cheeks. “107, right down the hall and take a left ‘hon”

you bowed and quickly made your way into the room. as you burst the door open, your eyes immediately go on seishu who looked so sad to the point where he didn’t even bother to look up at you. you hug him with a feeling of relief flowing in your body, but soon that feeling was gone when you asked where akane was.

you stood outside the door, not knowing why your feet couldn’t move. what’s wrong, y/n? her voice rang your ears. go on, don’t worry i’ll be right here next to you and if you get scared, just hold my hand! right. that was the time you were at a “haunted” house together and you were scared to go in. why are you being reminded of this right now?

you gulped and slowly opened the doorknob and found a crying boy in front of you, hands grabbing on the sheets with his head on the edge of the bed. you couldn’t do anything. all you could do was sit next to him with your head resting on his shoulder while you were crying.

a few years after that, you both acted as if nothing had happened. not because you wanted to forget akane, but because you knew akane would’ve wanted you both to continue living on without her.

despite not dating, you two would always have couple tendencies like feeding food to eachother or hugging often but you’re just THAT close to the point you can probably kiss without feeling any romantic attraction whatsoever

you couldn’t hang out with him as much anymore because of all the gang related things he’s doing. to make it up to you, he knocks on your window late at night and sleeps over most of the time. you talk to him about the usual— have you been eating? you should get more rest. and so on.

you were the one who got him to start wearing eyeliner! at first he just looked at you with a confused face when you handed him it as his present, but then you explained that if he wants to go fully dedicated to the black dragons, the wings of the eyeliner would represent the wings of the dragon. he didn’t wear it at first, all he did was ruffle your hair and said he’d think about it— and he kept his word! so now he’s the iconic money-making genius that wears eyeliner.

after all that’s happened between you two, there isn’t a single awkward moment you share. you know those friends who bring up an adult related topic out of completely nowhere? you two were those friends.

“i was walking by an alley and i heard a girl getting fucked,” he says while chewing the piece of gum you handed to him

“..and??”

“i’ve never walked away so fast in my life.”

there are days where you’re sad but, of course, you don’t tell him. in fact you don’t need to tell him because he’ll know when you’re upset.

“so are ya gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he says as he rests his head on your thighs

“ugh how do you always know..”

“because we’ve been together for the longest, duh.”

he doesn’t show it much, but he cares for you more than you think he does. overprotective and can’t help but show it at times, but don’t worry! he’s doing it because he loves you. remembers the littlest things you talk about and are interested in. he’s also constantly on the lookout so that you don’t get hurt or even worse.

when he’s the one who’s upset, you immediately know. he’s quieter than usual, zoning out a lot and just not paying attention to what you’re saying to him, almost like he’s in his own little world. before you initiate a conversation, you play with his hair so he’ll feel comfortable as a way for you to convince him to tell you what’s wrong.

even though it happened such a long time ago, he still thinks about her. you cant blame him, you do too! if you were to describe your best friend with one sentence, the first thing that would pop up in your head was weak little boy. not weak as in physically weak, but weak as in mentally weak. he can’t help but get emotional when it comes to her, which is understandable.

“it’s not your fault, hajime. she left you with no proper closure, and now you’re carrying guilt and burden on your shoulders. anyone would feel the same or even worse in your position.”

he didn’t respond but he doesn’t need to. all that matters to him is that you’re next to him, comforting him with your kind words like you always do. you both have some differences which caused a few arguments, but in the end you would still be best friends.

speaking of arguments, you argue either over the dumbest things ever or over serious topics. one time you got mad at him because he was beating you in a video game and his smug expression was not helping at all. you kicked him out of your house because you were just THAT frustrated. you felt guilty so you decided to walk to his house and apologize but stopped once you saw a certain figure trying to climb up to your window.

in the start of the serious argument, it was completely something different than what you were yelling at each other about now.

he showed up at your house with your favorite boba and snacks. you demanded him to put those down.

“hajime. food— no. MONEY cant keep me happy forever, and that also applies to you!”

“then what else am i supposed to do?!” his voice started getting weak. he was never the type to argue because he’d always get emotional.

“what am i other than a money-making genius? other than a wallet?”

“i cant do anything about my situation, y/n. nothing. because that’s all i am. just a stupid wallet for everyone to use.” he says about to walk away until you grab his sleeve to stop him.

“that’s not even true. you’re so much more than that, hajime. i’m sorry.. i’m so sorry.” you were crying into his chest and he couldn’t help but cry with you.

he spoils you 100%, no doubt. there was a point in life where you would always decline but you had just gotten so used to the offer that you got tired of fighting back. i mean, how could you? he was so willing and eager and most importantly HAPPY to do this for you.

hajime cant drive motorcycles and you constantly tease him about it, which he just responds to you by squeezing your cheeks together so you could shut up. the bad thing about this is that you guys always have to walk or go on a bus to the specific place you’re going to which is pretty tiring at times. although that doesn’t matter because what matters is that you both have each other.

back to the overprotective part.. you got called by this boy to meet him at the rooftop by the end of school and you already knew what was about to go down because of your shoujo manga reading sessions. the first thing you did was call hajime and he immediately got there to warn you about what you were gonna get yourself into.

“don’t you already have someone you like??”

“uh.. no?”

“i couldve sworn you liked that ‘tora dude..”

“keep your mouth shut!”

“…so you’re gonna reject him right?”

and you did! nicely, of course. hajime advised you should make come off as mean so he wouldn’t bother you again but you just ignored him and pretended like you didn’t hear anything.

being his best friend contains some ups and downs, but that’s the point of true friendships— it’ll never be perfect.

[p1nkwitch]

✓ and # with Edith and Jonah!

✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared

#: shaky hands

I'm going to use the Edith from the world turned upside down fic mixed with a mother’s love, i hope you don't mind!

Edith loves her child, her little miracle is the one thing that she can safely say that she loves more than anything in this world.

A new life, a new shot of keeping her son safe, this time for real. When her husband… Well, when he can't deal with her precious Jonah due to remembering their first life, she leaves, she ends things, picks up her child and goes.

James and her talk, of course they do, she did love him, but this time she wanted to keep Jonah safe and happy. So breaking up was for the best. To give him a happy childhood, his ex husband was ok with not interacting with him, even if… her boy wondered why his dad did not come to see him for his birthdays or special occasions.

And it broke her heart, but they both knew he could not deal with him and she did not want him to hurt the boy in any way. So they kept their agreement.

And things are well, they are ok for a long, long time. Her boy is happy, has Barnabas and Jonathan as friends and the three seem inseparable. Edith is just glad that everything is finally well, that this time their lives can be better.

However…

It seems that the world likes to prove her wrong, likes to make her worry.

His son’s friends suddenly dislike him and she thinks about it, has an inkling as to why, that she does not want to consider. Because that means that maybe one day Jonah will recall too and she doesn't know what to do then.

He is unhappy and she knows, but she can't get him new friends, can't explain why they were mad at him without giving more about a life that was. So she keeps an eye on him and hopes for the best.

The best comes, with one Peter Fairchild whom her son suddenly starts to talk about a lot, how quiet and annoying he is, how he never seems to talk with anyone-

Jonah talks about him like a puzzle piece and slowly it turns into him speaking about him far more nicely, how he brings him cookies, how he makes funny comments under his breath-

It makes her unbelievably fond of this boy for bringing her son his joy back. That's why she makes such an effort when he invites him for a sleepover, her Jonah was nervous and she wanted to help.

The boy is a delight and she can see Jonah look at him with a smile and laugh at his antics, it warms her heart, but also… something sort of tries to click on her brain, something she was missing.

She recalled very little of her time after her “death” but… she thinks Jonah came to talk to her grave and he… brought someone along too. She just can't remember much of it. Too weak and hungry for her childs terror of the end.

Things go well, until-

Jonah becomes ill, so, so ill all of a sudden. It reminds her too much of when he fell to the lake and that awful winter, it brings her to tears. He is in bed shaking, pale and out of it. The doctors said that he will be fine, that is not deadly-

But she fears.

She fears and ponders about sacrifices, about keeping her child alive again. Makes the calculations about their neighbours and their kids and waits to see spiders, to see them lead her to the place she needs to go.

Edith will not lose him, never. She will do whatever is necessary to keep her son alive. Whatever sacrifice must be done to achieve it she will do it.

Her hands shake a lot, but she keeps him close and sings the lullaby she sang to him all those years ago, praying its enough, hoping that nothing bad will happen to him. She brushes his sweaty hair away and hears him mumble that he doesn't want to die, the pure ache at hearing him say that makes her shed her own tears.

“No, no you will be fine my little dragon, i swear, i will protect you this time”

He curls up around her and she weeps again for her child, wanting nothing more than to keep him safe and happy.

Jonah wakes up for moments, but he is very out of it, the confused face makes her want to wrap him up in blankets and never let anything bad happen to him.

“Mom, mom im sorry, please im so sorry-”

“Shhh, there is nothing to be sorry about dear” Yet he keeps saying it and she talks to him, tells him stories to keep him preoccupied. Those seem to calm him down enough, she knows he is not really listening, but his cute little face pokes out of the sheets and looks at her mesmerized and its enough.

Enough for now to keep him away from whatever terrible things haunt him in his sleepy hours. His hands reach out to her and hold her own while brushing his little fingers softly on her.

“I'm sorry, you are very pretty mom” She smiles albeit confusedly at him.

“Thank you?”

“Mm sorry i get mad when people say i look too much like you… you are pretty and nice” Her heart is being squeezed and she imagines another life, where she can see those words haunting the boy.

“Its ok my little prince, you are very handsome” He makes a few nonsensical sounds.

“Pretty and nice and you love me lots, I love you mom, I'm sorry I'm not good…” She kisses his forehead.

“Oh Jonah you are everything I have ever wanted, my little firebug I love you, you are so good. And even if you weren't… i'm not that good either, i would love you no matter what” Her boy squeezes her hand and she lays next to him while holding him close.

“Sleep ok? I will be here, always” He nods and she ignores any wet spots on her neck, she merely draws shapes on his back and hums along until his breathing slows down and he sleeps.

Edith is not a good person, not by a long shot. She is aware that she would hurt people for her child, is willing to do it. How silly of her boy to think that she was ever good.

It breaks, the illness that is, she was relieved, so so, relieved.

However the worst is yet to come.

Jonah starts to act more irrational, twitchy, closed off, quiet-

She doesn't know what to do, he also eats so little it makes her fearful of watching him waste away. Peter seems to be doing his best to keep him company, whenever she asks. He looks sort of sad, but says that the boy shares his food with him and sticks around all the time. That at the very least lets her know that someone is looking over him.

Then he comes back one day from his sleepover without saying a word and everything goes downhill.

He is at the hospital, refusing to speak, to explain himself-

He is a shadow of her bright curious child and it makes her mad, at whatever force there is out there that caused this, that caused him to be like this. Was it her? Did she do something? His teachers, classmates-

Peter doesn't know, she asks him once when he comes to wait and that-

That also makes her sad, because Jonah rejects him yet the boy comes back every day, sits and waits for the moment he will say yes.

The name Peter sounds more familiar and the niggling sensation of knowing him comes back.

Still his little face shows guilt and fear and she wants to shake him for answers, but she takes a breath and smiles at him. He is just as worried as her.

She thinks she will kill Mister Sims and his partner, she very much wants to. For now she has to conform with a punch in the face. Still she will get their downfall one way or another.

….

Jonah wakes up.

Confused and… he doesn't know, her son who remembered his life doesn't know anymore. She is between sad and happy that he can let it go, if that's what caused him all this pain.

Still she chooses to lay in the hospital bed next to him, while he looks confused, sad and scared. That makes her brush his hair out of his face and reassures him with whispered words about everything going to be better from now on, that she will be there always.

Jonah looks at her with bleary eyes, still more or less out of it, but its ok, her little gift will be ok now. His face scrunches up adorably and she pokes his nose. She missed this, missed him.

“Mom?” He is still sleepy and she won't begrudge him that.

“Yes firebug?”

“I love you” Her heart swells and she scoops him closer to her holding him while he cries against her again. She will protect his tiny life with her dying breath.

Edith Lenore Magnus loves her son with her whole heart.

He lets the tears fall, a last cleansing of a life that was and he cant recall anymore.

She hums and he sniffles before wiping his tears and letting her calm him down until he falls asleep between her arms.

Peter Lukas.

That was it.

Jonah had called him his husband while she was in her coffin, she remembers now.

She sees the two of them sleeping, while cuddling on the couch, and thinks that she would love to finally be able to be at his wedding this time around.

The boy has proven to love her son so much it's astounding. Even if Simon says that their relationship was rather torrid most of the time, he can see this time around they were far better with each other.

She agrees and hopes this is a better life for all of them.

She sees a spider on the wall and ponders, ultimately she picks up a piece of paper and the arachnid walks on it camly while she sets it free outside.

Perhaps the first time around it was a manipulation, maybe it still is, but the spiders had helped her along to keep her Jonah alive in both lives.

She will not begrudge them at all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Insubordination

Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and his team are stuck in their compound. Following a mission, you disagree with your stalwart leader but he does not take kindly to your defiance.

Warnings: dub/non-con and explicit sex (penetration, oral, and some toy play). Obviously 18+ (like this whole blog)

Note: Thanks to everyone who reads this and the anon who requested it. I hope it meets your expectations. I am excited, this is my first dark!one shot and featuring our very own Steverino Rogers. 

Side note: If anyone’s interested, I’m doing a raffle on my tumblr for five lucky readers for fics of their own. The contest can be found here: https://darkficsyouneveraskedfor.tumblr.com/post/184037591549/a-celebration

I’d love any comments and feedback. It means a lot and helps me out as a writer to know people are reading and even enjoying what I’m putting out. (Also, I had fun with this so I might even consider a sequel). So, here ya go! Some dark!Steve for y’all.

Steve had been silent since your return, even on the jet he had sat stewing in anger, you and Nat bracing yourselves for the storm. His broad shoulders were stiff, his back to you in his seat as his posture foretold his temperament. He still hadn't dropped the attitude, leading you and Nat through the halls into the briefing room, waiting for you to enter before slamming the door.  You stood in the briefing room, arms crossed, hip cocked, jaw clenched. You stood waiting for him, arms crossed, hip cocked, jaw clenched. He huffed, walking around to the head of the long table, pacing as if you weren't there. And so you prepared for his wrath, your own irritation rising.

Finally he stopped. He twisted sharply to face you and Nat, smacking his palms down on the table. As of late, this behaviour was not unusual. You were growing used to the sudden flip of the coin. Before, Steve had ever been the golden saviour but since your exile he had grown sullen; resentful of those who had chased him out. You and the rest of the team were the only targets he had to take his ire out on but you had faced worse. You had learned long ago to steel yourself against angry men.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he jabbed his finger in the air towards you, “I gave you an order!”

“A stupid one,” you snapped, “If I had listened to you, I’d have a broken leg right now or worse. And that civilian would be dead.”

He snarled. “This isn't a dialogue. I am your captain and you listen when I tell you to do something.”

“Not if it could mean my life. Or another's.” You shook your head and dropped your arms, hands settling on your hips, “Your the one who taught me to follow my gut.”

“I also tried to teach you common sense,” he rebuked, “But some things you just can't learn.”

“Steve,” Nat's dusky voice cut through the tension, “She's right. She had to do it. You cant expect her to just throw herself towards certain death.”

“And you,” he turned on Nat, “You always have to encourage her. The two of you are stubborn as hell. This is a team and we need to work together if we're going to make it. Understood?” Nat sighed but didn't respond. She had taken to keeping silent against the jaded super soldier. They all had.

“You mean we have to jump when you say so,” you scoffed, “How high, Captain?”

He pushed himself from the table, a scowl tightening his lips. He tilted his head slightly as he narrowed his eyes, mulling over your remark. He marched around the table and towards you, his chest rising as he planted himself in front of you. Your head barely reached his shoulders but you returned his glare in kind.

You saw the tic in his jaw, the one that appeared when he was most agitated. Your heart sped up but you kept your veneer. “Fine, next time you can stay home.”

“Are you--are you suspending me?” Your mouth fell open. Missions were the only thing that kept you sane these days. You were going stir crazy in the compound and your occasional sojourns outside were all you had to look forward to.

“We can call it that,” his voice was dangerous. You heard the leather of his gloves strain as his hands turned to a fist. “You're recklessness is too risky. You put the whole team in danger.”

“You put the team in danger. Your arrogance, your stubbornness.” You retorted, your brow drawn together in your anger. You were sure you looked like a wild animal. “Sometimes I think that you were compensating for something with that shield of yours because ever since you gave it up, you've been a complete jackass!”

Steve's blue eyes dilated. You could sense the struggle within to restrain himself. Nat’s hand rested on his arm and the sudden reminder of her presence jolted you. “You both need to cool down,” she warned, “We shouldn't be fighting each other.”

Steve stared down at you, his bottom lip bulged as he ran his tongue along his teeth. He slowly raised his open hands and backed away. “This isn't a fight. It's an order.” He raised a brow at you sharply, “Got it?”

“Whatever,” you turned away from him as Nat came between you and he slowly retreated, the door swinging open harshly as he left you.

“You shouldn't egg him on like that,” Nat said, leaning against the table. “It's better to just let him go off.”

“Jesus Christ, you guys treat him like a spoiled child. You're just going to let him keep on like that?” You grumbled, “I mean, I thought this was a two-way street. All of us gave up our lives for this man so he could save his best friend and what do we get? Treated like fucking scum. We're supposed to be allies not enemies.” You shook your head, “It's not like we can go back now. Everything we had is gone.”

“He'll get over this,” Nat touched your shoulder gently, “He's not mad at us. He's mad at the world. At himself.”

“No, he's not himself,” you countered pulling away from her, “He's not the same man he was… he's too far gone.”

----------

Steve hadn't been this angry in a long time. True, as of late he was easily riled, irritable even, but his blood was boiling. He tramped through the halls, the grime and blood of his mission still on his dark gear, huffing and puffing. He thought of Y/N staring up at him defiantly. She was barely tall enough to see past his chest and yet she had not wavered. She shouldn't be so obstinate. She should take his orders and thank him for even allowing her on his team. She was a valuable asset, sure, but it wasn't like he had no others. Her only talent was that she never knew when to stay down. It was why he had first taken to her, helped her refine her combat technique, vouched for her to Tony.

But he wasn't Stark's dog anymore. He was no longer in constant limbo with the man, arguing semantics. He was past those days and they all needed to accept that. He was in charge now and no one, not the government, not Stark, not even his team, could tell him no.

Upon reaching his room, he couldn't help but slam the door. He shouldn't care so much, he told himself as he peeled of his gloves. He undid the harness around his shoulders then his belt, he tossed the leather in a pile on the chair. He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, growling as he thought of her. The spite that sparkled in her eyes, the challenge which set her jaw. God, he just wanted to hold her down and teach her a lesson. That's what she really needed, he thought as he pulled his heavy shirt over his head. She needed discipline. To learn to take orders. That pretty little mouth of hers needed to be silenced.

Steve inhaled deeply as he felt himself harden. His thoughts had strayed further than intended. He looked down at his erection as it pushed against the thick fabric of his pants. He was painfully hard. It had been months since he had felt true relief. He could only do so much for himself and with all the stress, sometimes he failed to bring himself to release. He was far too pent up and she had riled him further. The way her chest rose with her frustration, her hands on her hips, her lips pouted in her distress. 

This was her fault, he swore to himself. She needed to atone. He licked his lips as he saw her angry face again. He couldn't wait to see her crumble.

----------

You were too frustrated to be alone. You had quickly changed and found Sam as he sat in the same spot as the day before. He often wasted his time in front of the television, sinking into the couch as he made a mess of the coffee table. And he could always cheer you up with his lame jokes.

You fell asleep in the chair as your conversation died and the television droned on. You were content with silence and easily lulled into an uncomfortable nap. You were still rattled by the mission and the following interaction with Steve. It made you extremely infuriated and even more dispirited. Seeing him this way, so changed, was unsettling. You had always told him he needed to be more forceful but you'd never meant this. Only that he needed to show some fang when Tony jumped down his throat. 

You awoke with a start as vision of the super soldier's snarl filled your head. You needed sleep. A good night's rest and the heat would simmer down. Maybe Steve would apologise. Even if he didn't, you could at least hash this out like adults.

You stood and stretched, bidding Sam a good night as he fiddled with the remote. He muttered and you left him to fight with the shifty sensor. It was late. You expected to find Sam in the same spot tomorrow morning if not in the gym sweating away the boredom. You stretched as you neared the door. When you touched the handle you were suddenly on edge. The compound was so quiet. Eerie, even. Goosebumps covered your arms as you sensed something off. You couldn't quite place it. You slowly looked to your feet, a slat of light from beneath the door across your toes. You hadn't left your light on...had you?

You clasped the handle and slow turned it, edging inward as the air grew thicker. Anticipation burned around you, not all your own, and you held back a gasp as you found Steve standing with his back to you, your dresser drawer open as he examined an unseen object. Your blood froze.

He turned slowly, holding up the small metallic vibe with a smirk. “Lonely, are we?” he teased. Your nostrils flared and you raced forward, grabbing for the toy as he held it away from you easily.

“Jesus, Steve, give it to me,” you ordered.

“Why? You gonna use it for me?” he grinned.

“What the fuck is your problem? You have no right to go through my stuff. Or even be in here.”

“Without me you wouldn't have this room.” He easily held you at bay, his arm bent defensively to block you. “You wouldn't have this either.” He wiggled the toy in front of you before tossing it over his shoulder and it bounced noisily against the dresser. You stepped back as he lowered his arm and suddenly stepped closer. You didn't like the look in his eyes. “You best remember who brought you here. Who got you on the team in the first place.”

“Is that what you want? You want me to leave?” You took another step back as he closed in.

He grinned. It was unlike any look you had seen on his face before. “What I want is for you to close that door and apologize.”

“Me apologize?” Your eyes widened. ‘If anything, you're the one-”

You were interrupted as he lunged forward, pulling you to him and clapping his hand over your mouth. “I am your captain so you're going to listen to me. Close the door. Now!”

He released you and you stumbled back, steadying yourself as the heat rose along your neck and the air grew harder to breathe. You stared at him, your chest catching as you realized he was serious. You kept your eyes on him as you reached behind yourself blindly, closing the door slowly until it clicked. You gulped and looked at him, wiping your sweaty palms along your jeans.

“Well, I'm waiting’” he urged, watching you as closely as a predator. You had to collect yourself, your eyes searching for an escape. He was faster and stronger.

“I'm sorry?” Your voice cracked with uncertainty. If you said what he wanted to hear he'd leave...hopefully. You cleared your throat, “I'm sorry, okay? I should've listened to you.”

“You should've,” he neared and you pressed yourself against the door. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “So let's work on your listening skills.” The way his lips curved beneath his dark beard was unsettling. He let go of your chin and snaked his hand around to the back of your neck. He turned around and forced you forward, shoving you to stand just feet away from him. “Turn around and look at me.” He commanded and you hid your shock, quickly obeying.

The intensity of his stare made it difficult to meet his eye line. You tried to stay steady, fighting to keep your composure. “Take your shirt off.” He ordered as of it was a basic military task. You couldn't help the confusion which creased your forehead and he put his hands on his hips. “I gave you an order.”

He wasn't kidding. This wasn't a joke or a show. He really meant it. And he was now blocking the door. You wiped the epiphany from your face and hesitantly reached to the hem of your shirt. His eyes followed the movement, taking in every inch of flesh as it was bared. You swooped your shirt over your head and tossed it at him sharply. “Happy? You've proven yourself, okay? I get it, you're in charge.”

He ignored you and his blue eyes ran the length of your torso, lingering on your bra. “Pants too.” His tongue peeked out, running along his lip. The gesture stoked a heat which added to your shame. This was humiliating not arousing...at least it wasn’t supposed to be.

You blinked and carefully unbuttoned your fly and bunched the waist in the crook of your thumb and index. You pushed the jeans reluctantly down your legs. You couldn't look at him any longer as the curve of your thighs drew his attention and the cool air touched your skin.

“Ah, look at me.” He warned. You snapped your head up and your eyes burned at him as you untangled your ankles from the denim, your socks lost in the legs. You stood up slowly, hands at your side as you resisted the urge to hide your figure. Your plain white panties and matching bra were your only shield. “The rest, too.” His voice had turned thick, deeper. His blue eyes were as dark as the ocean and his focus on you was unnerving.

You sputtered by no words came out. Your mouth hung open as your eyes held his. He didn’t flinch. You snapped your lips shut and inhaled, stiffly reaching back to unhook your bra. As the metal loops were freed and the fabric loosened, Steve shifted slightly. You brought your hands up and slid the straps down your arms, uncovering your chest, and threw away the bra. Normally, it was a relief, but as your nipples hardened and a shiver ran down your back, you felt so vulnerable. He was intent on you, waiting with bated breath as you fumbled with the elastic of your cotton panties. You gave one last pleading look and he raised single brow, urging you on. He wouldn’t tell you again.

You bit the inside of your cheeks as you tugged down your panties, rolling them until they fell to the floor on their own accord. You searched him for an ounce of relent and his eyes devoured your body. He was moving towards you before you could react. You were backing away clumsily until you were backed up against the dresser. He stopped less than a foot away, staring down at you, his chest rising and falling as he grinned. “Take your hair down,” He growled and you shakily unlooped the hair tie, your hair spilling down. He seemed rather pleased by your swift response.

“On the bed,” He demanded, his tone heeding no refusal. Whatever sick idea he had concocted in the time since your argument, there was no shaking it. You only felt confused as the tickle it stirring deep inside of you. Like you actually wanted this to happen. As if this was perfectly acceptable solution to the fighting and tension between you. You made your way to the bed, doing your best not show too much as you climbed up onto it. “Face me. Now lay back.” You hesitated but did as he said. Before your head was completely reclined, you saw him reached for the disposed toy on the dresser. What the fuck?!

“Bend your legs,” Your knees bent easily, almost against your will. “Spread them.” That last order you were having trouble with. He would see everything...and you could guess he meant to do more than see everything. His hands pushed between your clenched legs and he forced them apart. You gasped and he chuckled. “As your captain, I expect you to listen.” He pinched your thigh and you squeaked. “What was that?” He pinched you again, “Did you say ‘yes, Captain’?”

Your lashes fluttered and your lips twitched before you managed to find your voice. “Y-yes, Captain.” You echoed.

“Good,” He praised, his hand spreading across your thigh, kneading the flesh as a click sounded and the sudden buzz of the toy filled the space. Your legs tensed but he kept you from closing them on him, his hand keeping your thigh in place as he grunted in warning. You pressed your lips together as he slowly trailed the head of the small vibe up your leg, drawing circles on your thigh, tracing the outline just along your pussy. Your fingers were buried in the duvet, gripping at it desperately as you tried to resist the building flurry within.

When the vibe touched your folds, you shuddered, cringing as he must have noticed. When it delved deeper, you struggled not to squirm, you were about to tear the duvet. You forced your fingers apart, palming the blanket instead as the muscles of your legs grew taught. As the vibrations met your clit, you barely held in the moan, a muffled whine. He circled your small bundle of nerves and your pelvis bucked. Stop! You were trying to control yourself but it was all too much, especially as he continued the motion, swirling and swirling until your teeth were clenched and your fingers had curled back into the duvet. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction and yet you couldn’t hide what he was doing to you.

“Now, show your captain that you can listen,” He dragged the vibrator across your clit, holding it flat so that the ripples built. “Cum.” He turned the vibe suddenly so that its tip was once more focused on your button and the ripples turned to reverberations, running from head to toe as you tilted your pelvis against the toy. “Mmm, good girl.”

As the orgasm passed and the after waves took you, he removed the toy and clicked it off. He left it once more on the dresser, this time shining with your juice. You remained prone on the bed, hiding your face as the embarrassment set in. What had he just done? What had you just done? You crossed your legs, ready to roll over and wait for him to leave, but he caught your ankles and forced your legs apart. “I didn’t say I was done with you.” His hands slipped down the back of your legs, resting on your thighs as he pushed your knees as high as the would go. He lowered his head, just above the little tuft that edged your pussy, and nuzzled it, almost as if inhaling your scent.  You turned your head away, hand on your forehead as the heat burned along your cheeks.

He delved into you suddenly, his tongue surprising you as it slipped between your folds. He hummed as he played with your clit, the oversensitive bundle buzzing at another go. You bent your legs so that you were almost crushing his hands and he curled your body further, giving himself better access. A long moan escaped your mouth and your hand clamped over your mouth. No.

“Go on,” He lifted his head. You looked down at him meekly. He had never made you feel so...inferior. His beard glimmered with your juices, the realization had the flames licking at your skin. “Moan for me.”

He dived back in and you dropped your head back down as he suckled on your clit. It was too much. The sensation was overwhelming; hypnotizing. After months in the compound with nothing but your vibe, the human touch was intoxicating. Your back arched as your nerves lit up and sparked, another orgasm taking you and this time you could not restrain the exclamation. “Oh, god!”

Steve slowly relented, lifting his head as he let go of your thighs. “No, I’m just a Captain,” He taunted, “But I can understand the confusion.”

You were panting, motionless as you grasped at your dwindling wits. In the corner of your vision, he undressed. Your hand was on your chest, trying to steady the ragged beating. You closed your eyes and counted. Just breathe. You opened them as the room went silent and you found Steve at the edge of the bed, his cock in hand as he slowly and deliberately stroked himself. His blue eyes ran the length of your figure and his tongue once more flicked across his lips. He was big. Like bigger than any you had seen before. And so thick. Your eyes widened as you watched him play with his himself, resting one knee on the bed as he prepared to climb up.

“Don’t worry,” He grinned, “I’ll take it easy on you for this exercise.”

You were up on your elbows again, trying to crawl backwards as your feet kicked at the mattress. You couldn’t take all of that. Well, your pussy would say otherwise as it throbbed painfully, bemoaning an emptiness you had been ignoring for far too long. Steve’s second knee came up and he caught your ankles again, dragging you close and moving his grip to your hips. He removed a hand to position himself, reaching down to run his cock along your clit to your entrance, rubbing it back and forth as he slicked the head. You bit your lip, another moan betraying you.

He lined his cock up to your entrance, pushing just the head inside, stretching you in a mixture of delight and discomfort. You inhaled, bracing yourself for the rest of him, his eyes shining at the colour in your face. As he went further, your fingers closed around the wrist of his hand which held you down at the hip. Your nails dug into his flesh as he forced his way in, your walls resisting at first only to accommodate him as they longed for more. You squeaked as he impaled you fully, your entire body numb except for your pussy which pulsed around him.

 “I’d say it’s been too long,” He rolled his hips, testing your limits. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pulled back, pausing as only his tip remained inside of you. You blinked and looked down at his cock, wondering if he would just leave it at that. Maybe his game was over. He slammed back into you suddenly and you flung your head back, eyes rolling as you cried out. He purred in approval and thrust again, again, again. Every time your body contorted in response and both hands held you by your hips, guiding himself into you harshly, using your body easily, as if you weighed nothing. The sound of his flesh against yours filled the room and betrayed how wet you were.

He released your hips, grabbing your wrist as you grasped at the duvet and pinned them above your head, leaning over you as he continued to fuck you. Somehow, his motion only grew harder, deeper, faster. Your legs were limp, no resistance left in your muscles as he pounded into you. He put all his weight into each thrust as if he was punishing you. You were too far gone to feel the pain, your moans turning to gibbering as your head lolled around wildly. You were cumming again and you muttered some nonsense; maybe it was his name, maybe it was “Captain”. You didn’t know as orgasm after orgasm robbed you of your sense.

Your wrists were suddenly loose as Steve pulled out of you sharply, cupping his balls as he stroked himself to climax, his cum spurting out along your pelvis and seeping down towards your pussy. You were too weak to move, your fatigue returning as the adrenaline and ecstasy faded away. Steve gave a satisfied sigh as he looked over you splayed out like a rag doll.

He rounded the bed, bending so that he was looking down at you. He bundled your hair in his hand and forced your head straight. “So, the next time I give you an order, what do you say?” He asked.

“Y-yes, Captain,” You babbled and he chuckled.

“Very good,” He let your head fall back and stood, your eyes closing on their own accord. The haze clouded your vision and you saw only the distant blur as Steve moved around your chamber and dressed. The open and close of your door confirmed his departure and finally, you drifted off, images of the angry super soldier forming in a much different light.

[froggy-beans]

I Remember You for the 2019 Irondad Fic Exchange

This piece was written for @imgoingtocrash with the prompts Peter Parker is Tony Stark’s Biological Child and Amensia. I love your blog and your writing and I hope you enjoy this piece :)

| 1/1 Chapters | 4,755 Words | General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply |

Summary: There was no reason the experiment should have gone wrong. FRIDAY ran countless simulations, each one giving good results. And yet, it does, leaving the Stark family to suffer the consequences.Prompts: Peter Parker is Tony Stark's biological son and Amnesia

link to ao3

Peter’s head pounded with the heart rate monitor, each spike a pulse of pain. The headache was nothing compared to the burns on his arms, and even that was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

“You ready, kiddo?” His dad asked, smiling. They were working on new Spider-Man technology, Peter’s favourite thing. Except working on the Iron Man armor, of course.

Peter watched the shallow rise and fall of his dad’s chest to reaffirm the idea that he was still alive. After the accident he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah. Did FRIDAY run the final simulation?” Peter responded. His dad nodded.

The accident that was his fault.

“I hope this works,” Tony said, helping Peter set up the experiment.

Everything had been going fine until the last step.

“Can you hand me that?” Tony gestured towards a beaker on the edge of the table. Peter handed to him, careful not to drop it. While the chemical wasn’t dangerous on its own, he certainly didn’t want to risk anything. Just as Tony went to mix the chemicals, Peter felt a pit open up in his stomach.

And then it went to hell.

A loud bang echoed on the walls, deafening the pair of them. All Peter saw was a bright flash before blinding pain erupted in his hands, his arms, his torso. He fell backwards, knocking over a table on his way down. Before he truly knew what was happening the alarm started blaring and water poured from the sprinklers in the ceiling.

Peter sat up, ignoring the pain, and looked around frantically. He saw his dad on the ground several feet away. Unlike Peter, he didn’t appear to be awake. The skin on his hands was red.

Later, Peter would learn that it was from burns, not blood. Not that that was better by any stretch of the imagination.

Peter called out to him. No response. He tried again, this time forcing himself to his hands and knees. He slowly crawled over to his dad, careful to avoid the still-smoking remains of a lab coat.

“Dad?” Peter shook Tony’s arm, already crying at the pain in his own. He tried again before someone was dragging him out of the lab. He wanted to struggle, to go back and make sure Tony was okay, but he was frozen. Even the words had trouble forming.

“Please—don’t—I – he –“

“We’ve got him, okay? We’ve got him.” Replied the person who was carrying him. Peter wondered how he could sound so calm when everything was so clearly not okay.

That was twelve hours ago. Since then Peter had passed out, woken up covered in bandages, and moved from his own spot in the medbay to an uncomfortable plastic chair next to Tony. He wondered why they didn’t have better ones. Pepper had visited him a couple hours before to bring him lunch, but Peter left it untouched on the end table. The guilt in his stomach didn’t leave room for anything else. I knew something was wrong. If I had just said something--

He pretended not to see the sad look she gave him as she left, but it still made him feel worse. The security system in the lab was damaged during the explosion, so they couldn’t look at footage of what happened, but Peter knew she wouldn’t feel bad for him if she ever did see it. Then she, and the rest of the world, would know that the explosion was Peter’s fault. He could have stopped it if he’d said something when his spider-sense went off

They would know, and they would probably hate him. Peter tried to push that thought away—there were more pressing things to worry about— but it was never far. He attempted to distract himself by texting Ned until he realized his phone was destroyed by the accident too. So, instead he talked to the one person he desperately wanted to seek comfort from, even though he couldn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry, dad,” Peter whispered softly.

Peter woke from a fitful sleep around three a.m. He was in his own bed, courtesy of Pepper, and nearly had a heart attack when FRIDAY started talking.

“Sorry to have woken you, Peter, but Pepper has requested your presence in the medbay. She says its urgent.”

“Did something happen?” He asked nervously, fearing the worst. His heart was already racing before he heard the reply.

“Dr. Cho will explain when you arrive.” FRIDAY answered cryptically. The reply (somehow) made Peter more jittery than he already had been. He carelessly tossed the covers onto the floor as he jumped out of bed to run downstairs. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, glad that it was the middle of the night. There were no Stark Industries employees to run into that way.

Dr. Cho waited for Peter just outside the door to Tony’s room. She appeared tired, but still as professional as ever with a clipboard in hand. Upon hearing Peter’s footsteps, she looked up from the charts with an apologetic look. She barely had a chance to explain before Peter started asking all manner of questions, all of them some variation of “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s stable, at least. He woke up around twenty minutes ago, Pepper is in there with him now, but there’s something you have to understand before you go in. He appears to be suffering from retrograde amnesia. Do you know what that is?”

Peter shook his head and nervously toyed with the hem of his t-shirt.

“It means that his ability to make memories hasn’t been altered, but he can’t access past memories. We’re optimistic that he’ll make a full recovery soon, but until then, he won’t remember you.”

Peter understood what she meant, but the words must not have stuck, because it still tore his heart in two when he walked in the room and his father looked at him like a stranger. Peter stood in the doorway as if his feet were glued to the floor. He could only watch as Pepper leaned towards Tony and explained who he was.

Pepper beckoned him closer and gestured for him to sit beside her on the edge of the mattress. “How did you sleep, sweetie?”

“Not very well.” Peter answered, looking anywhere but Tony. He didn’t want to see the bandages that were there because of him or the bruises that were there because of him and he definitely didn’t want to see the confusion that was there because of him. This is all your fault.

“Sorry to wake you early, then, but I figured you would be more upset if I hadn’t.” Pepper said. Peter wondered if he truly would have been more upset if she hadn’t woken him up until later. He already felt like shit anyway, so it probably didn’t matter.

“It’s okay. I was awake when FRIDAY called me anyways.” Tony looked confused at the mention of the AI, but he didn’t say anything. Peter felt another twang of guilt.

Pepper only nodded. Neither Peter nor Tony knew what to do. Peter could feel his dad’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head as he stared out the room’s only window. There wasn’t much to look at other than the dark sky, but thanks to his spider powers, he could hear the traffic in the city below them while he once again played with the hem of his shirt.

After several minutes of the painfully tangible tension Pepper excused herself by claiming she forgot something she needed upstairs. Peter watched her go warily. He suddenly didn’t know how to act around the only constant figure in his life. He desperately wanted the comfort that only his father could give him but couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t deserve it. As soon as the door shut behind Pepper the tears started flowing.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sobbed. “I should have done something—”

“What could you have done?” The words were sharper than Tony intended them to be. He wasn’t sure how to comfort this kid that he was told was his but didn’t recognize. He only knew his name and relation because Pepper had informed him before fetching Peter, hoping to soften the blow even just the slightest. It hadn’t worked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. I’m the one who has super healing, I should have taken more of the blast.” Peter rambled. He tried to look anywhere but at his father. This time Tony’s words were softer, closer to the way they normally were but still unusually harsh.

“There isn’t anything you could have done. We won’t know what really happened until the fire marshal gives us his report.”

Peter flinched at Tony’s tone. He’d heard his dad talk like that many times, sure, but never to him. That voice was reserved for board rooms and SHIELD agents. That voice was reserved for people Tony didn’t know. Tony sighed, leaning his head back against the pillow.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to take this out on you. I don’t know anyone who’s come in this room today even though you all very clearly know me. And I know it hurting all of you, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I know.” Peter said, finally looking at his dad. “Dr. Cho said there isn’t much we can do but let the memories come back naturally. I don’t want to make you feel bad about it, but I cant pretend that it doesn’t hurt. You’re the only person who’s been there for me my whole life. It’s hard to feel like a stranger.”

Tony looked sadly at the kid (his kid, he reminded himself) sitting at the edge of the bed. He looked much younger than Pepper had said he was. His small frame was practically swimming in the red sweatshirt he was wearing. They could certainly afford clothing that was the right size, so where had he gotten it?

“Where is the sweatshirt from?” He asked. Peter looked at what he was wearing like he too was only noticing it for the first time and shrugged.

“It’s yours. From college.”

“Oh.”

“You went to MIT. Graduated summa cum laude in engineering. Not that you graduating top of your class was surprising.” Peter allowed a small smile with the last sentence as if it was some sort of inside joke. Maybe it was, Tony wouldn’t know. “Uncle Rhodey—your best friend—went there, too. It’s where you met.”

“Is Rhodey short for something?” Tony couldn’t imagine that was his real name. Peter nodded.

“James Rhodes. He doesn’t like being called that, though. I’m sure he’ll be by later this morning to visit. He was in Washington for a conference, but Pepper called him after the—uh—the incident.”

“Is there anything else I should know about him before he comes?”

“You call him honey bear a lot, too. He’s a colonel in the military, and an Avenger. War Machine, actually. The government tried to change his name to Iron Patriot but it’s not anywhere near as cool.”

Peter yawned, the events of the last sixteen hours weighing on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. Even though Tony would rather keep talking, keep trying to learn about his life and maybe jog his memory, he sent him to bed. Pepper said she wouldn’t mind filling him in on what he needed to know, and supposedly FRIDAY would be able to do the same.

Peter didn’t protest, welcoming the invitation to sleep. He hadn’t been able to earlier, tossing and turning nervously, but now he could barely keep his eyes open. There was nothing he wanted to do more than crawl into bed and bury his emotions in a heap of blankets. Peter nearly fell asleep in the elevator on the way to the penthouse. Pepper was waiting for him on the other side. When she asked if he needed anything, Peter shook his head and made his way down the hall to his bedroom.

Sleep brought relief. Much needed sweet relief.

Tony, however, wasn’t so lucky. Sleep eluded him as the sun rose. He filled the time by asking FRIDAY (who he thought was fucking cool and also a little weird) questions.

“What does Pepper do? Like as a job, I mean.” He asked. FRIDAY had answered all his questions diligently and patiently. It was easier to ask her. She couldn’t be hurt by too-harsh words and empty gazes.

“She is the CEO of your company, Stark Industries.”

“I own a company?”

“Yes, sir. Stark Industries was founded by your father Howard Stark in 1940. It was primarily a weapons and tech company until you shut down the weapons division in 2008. Now the main focus is on medical research and technology development.”

“What more can you tell me about Howard Stark?”

“Howard Stark was born 15 August 1917 in Richford, New York. He worked with the U.S. military during World War II and founded Stark Industries before being briefly on the run from the government, primary the SSR for supposed war crimes. He became one of the founding members of SHIELD. He died in 1991 as the result of a car crash. His wife and your mother, Maria Stark, was also killed in the crash.”

"And what about Maria Stark?”

“Maria Stark was born Maria Carbonell in Southampton, New York to a wealthy family and became a philanthropist as well as a socialite. She married Howard Stark before having you on 29 May 1970. Died 16 December 1991.”

“What is SHIELD?”

“SHIELD, or Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, is a government organization that focuses on espionage, law enforcement, and counter terrorism tactics. You are a member of one of their programs called the Avengers Initiative.”

FRIDAY continued without Tony even having to ask, already anticipating what he would want to know. Pepper told him that he designed FRIDAY, and maybe it was odd, but he felt a strange sense of pride at programming her so well.

“The Avengers Initiative was designed to bring together the best and most able people Earth has to offer. Their job is to defend Earth from threats, terrestrial and extraterrestrial, that are beyond the capabilities of conventional military to handle. You are one of the original six members and go by the title Iron Man.”

“Original six? How many are there now?”

“There are thirteen active members, including your son Peter.”

“I let my son be an Avenger? Is there something wrong with me?” Tony was shocked. He may not know very much right now, but it certainly seemed wrong that he let his son be a part of something so dangerous. Maybe I should fix that.

“What does he do?”

“Peter, also known as Spider-Man, does not participate in the larger scale battles. He spends most of his time on patrols in New York City, stopping small crime and helping out the little guy. For example, on his last patrol, he helped an old lady get her cat out of a tree.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh at the last part. He could feel a memory poking at the edge of his mind, just far enough away that he couldn’t reach it. It frustrated him to no end. Dr. Cho had told him that he couldn’t force it, he had to let the memories come back naturally, but it was difficult. Tony just wanted to remember. He didn’t want to hurt everyone else, especially after making Peter cry. He didn’t want to ever do that again.

“Tell me about him.”

“Peter’s full name is Peter Anthony Stark and he was born on 10 August 2001. His mother, Mary Fitzpatrick, granted you full custody after deciding her career was hardly conducive to raising a child. Peter currently attends Midtown Science and Tech, where he maintains a 4.0 GPA and is also a member of the Academic Decathlon team. Would you like to know more?”

“Yes,” Tony answered.

“His favorite movies are the Star Wars films, and he prefers to watch them in release order instead of chronological order. He believed the experience is more authentic that way. His best friend is another student at Midtown named Ned Leeds and his favorite color is red.”

Just as FRIDAY finished talking Tony heard footsteps in the hallway outside his room. He quickly thanked FRIDAY for her help.

“That’s what I’m here for, sir.” FRIDAY replied.

Tony was released from the med bay later that day, just in time for dinner. Pepper was the one to make sure that he didn’t end up on the wrong floor. FRIDAY could have done the job just as well, but Pepper didn’t want him to feel more disconnected than he probably already did.

"Dinner is ready if you’d like to eat now,” Pepper said once they were in the elevator. The awkward silence was practically tangible in the small space with neither of them quite sure how act around the other.

Tony nodded. Even in Avengers Tower the hospital food wasn’t great, and he hadn’t eaten since he’d woken up somewhere around two thirty that morning. They reached the penthouse quickly, opening the door to Peter setting the table. Peter turned around when he heard them and greeted them with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Tony returned the smile, the gesture unfamiliar to him. If it came out more like a grimace, nobody said anything to him about it. Pepper did her best to keep the conversation going during dinner but had to leave the room halfway through to answer a call from the fire department regarding the lab incident.

“The fire marshal thinks he figured out what caused the explosion,” Pepper said when she came back into the room. Peter looked up at her expectantly. “He said that the chemicals you two were using were mislabeled, and the ones you happened to mix had a volatile reaction.”

“Who would have labelled them wrong? I thought we were the only ones allowed in that lab. FRIDAY would never let anyone else in.” Peter looked to Pepper for an answer, but she shrugged her shoulders.

“We’ll have to check the security tapes. Is it possible that the interns labelled them? I know Tony has them help with some of the bigger organization projects. FRIDAY, can you work on that for me?”

“Of course,” Came FRIDAY’s quick answer. Peter felt a surge of anger. What if someone had done this on purpose? What if his dad never got his memory back and it was all because of some intern?

Peter, Tony, and Pepper were all sitting in an examination room on the medical floor. A week had passed since the explosion and Dr. Cho wanted to check up on their burns as well as Tony’s amnesia. There wasn’t much to check on Peter because of his super healing, but she still felt it necessary.

Cho walked in not long after everyone else, as serious as ever. She wasted no time in checking Peter and Tony’s various burns and bruises before moving on to the more pressing issue.

“Have you been able to recall anything, even something small?” Cho asked. Tony shook his head.

“Any headaches?”

“Not really. I had one two days ago, but it wasn’t a bad one.”

Cho nodded and checked some things off on a chart. Once her questions were finished, she took Tony for an MRI, leaving Pepper and Peter to their own devices for the time being. They avoided the elephant in the room, choosing to talk about things like the tv show they’d been watching that week.

“I found the weirdest thing ever on Netflix last night. It’s only like twelve minutes long, but its about this sheep that lives on this island in the middle of nowhere—”

Peter was cut off by the door opening and his dad and Cho coming back in. Tony took a seat beside Peter and stared towards the ground. Cho cleared her throat before speaking.

“I have some less-than-great news. While it seems that Tony’s burns and bruises are healing correctly, his brain doesn’t show many signs of recovery. That isn’t to say that it isn’t possible for him to get his memory back, but it does mean that the longer he doesn’t the less likely it is that he will.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Pepper asked, concerned. Cho informed them that there wasn’t much they could do other than wait and see what happened.

“You can keep trying to jog your memory, but it doesn’t always work that way. It might work, but it probably won’t. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for being honest.” Tony said. Peter couldn’t do much more than stare at Cho while she delivered the news. What were they supposed to do if he never remembered?

Late one night Peter heard noise from the living room, which was odd considering everyone went to bed hours ago. There was no reason for it to be any of the Avengers since they had their own floors. Deciding to investigate, Peter pulled off the bed covers and quietly slipped down the hallway.

All the lights were off in the penthouse except for the tv, bathing the living room in a soft glow. Peter couldn’t figure out what was playing until his own face appeared on the screen, albeit a much younger version of himself. It was a video from his fifth birthday party. His dad was holding him while Rhodey and Happy stood off to the side, having just sung Happy Birthday to him. Pepper must have been taking the video because she was the only one not in it.

<,i>“I can’t believe he’s five already,” Rhodey said, shaking his head. His dad agreed with him, saying something about how they grow up too fast. Pepper could be heard laughing in the background.

“I know. Feels like just yesterday I was driving you two home from the hospital.” Happy chimed in. Tony glanced down at five-year-old Peter with the biggest grin anyone had ever seen.

“I was so scared that day. It’s a surprise we ever made it back here with how slow I made you drive.”

“Yeah, you had me driving forty on the interstate. If I hadn’t sped up right as we passed that cop, we would have been pulled over.”

“That would have been a field day for the press.” Pepper laughed from behind the camera, the video turning shaky. “Tony Stark Caught Driving Forty on The Highway with World’s Smallest Baby.”

“He was pretty tiny, wasn’t he? Can’t say he’s grown much.” Rhodey joked. Peter let out a small whimper, earning a round of laughs.

“Come on, Rhodey. Your job as an uncle is to make my kid happy, not tease him. Don’t listen to him, bambino, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Nah, I’m fairly sure that’s my job too. Right, Happy?”

“Of course. If we’re going to spoil him, we’ve earned the right to tease him a bit. If he’s anything like you he’ll learn to dish it right back.”

The video was over, but another one soon took its place. The next video was much more recent, being from a little over a year and a half ago. This one was of Peter’s first day of high school. Peter remembered that day all too much, in his opinion. Everyone wanted to talk to him because of who he was (he was used to it by then, but it still sucked) and he could barely find a moments peace. He had almost been late to second period by how many people stopped him in the hallway, which earned a lecture from his English teacher that boiled down to, “I don’t care who you’re father is or who you are, if you’re late again you’ll go straight to detention.” To sum it up, his first day of high school sucked.

This time it was Tony behind the camera. Peter was dressed in jeans, a nerdy science t-shirt, and glasses. He hadn’t been bit by the spider at that point and still needed them to see. His dad and Pepper always say they wished he still wore them, but Peter was glad to be rid of them. He’d broken or lost them too many times to count.

“Are you ready for your first day of high school?” Tony asked. Peter glared at him from across the dining room table.

“No. I don’t want summer vacation to be over yet.”

“It’ll be fun. You get to make new friends and see new things.”

“I’m terrible at making friends.”

You’ll be fine.”

The tv paused before the next video could start. Tony stood up from the couch, mug in hand, and started to make his way towards the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Peter standing in the doorway. The pair stared at each other, each waiting for the other to speak first. In the end they both tried speaking at the same time.

“I’m sorry—”

“I didn’t—”

“You can go first,” Peter said, playing with the sleeve of his shirt. Tony sighed.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.” Try as he might, Peter couldn’t shut his brain off long enough to even doze. He’s spent hours staring at the ceiling and thinking about what Dr. Cho had said.

“Oh. How long have you been standing there?”

“Only for the last two videos.”

“I know it won’t jog my memory.” Tony admitted, defeated. “But even if I can’t remember on my own, I don’t want to forget.”

Peter wanted to ask the impossible question, but he couldn’t form the words. What do we do if you can’t remember? What happens then?

Two weeks passed with no signs of Tony’s condition improving. He’d spent countless hours watching videos stored in FRIDAY’s servers and reading articles about things he’d done. And yet, nothing. The only things he knew were the things he had researched. How odd it felt to research one’s own life and have no recollection of any event that one learns about.

The intern who mislabeled the chemicals was identified by FRIDAY, as well. He was a college intern from NYU. He claimed to have had no intention of mislabeling the containers, but one of his friends informed the police that he had done it on purpose for no other reason than because he had the opportunity.

Tony wanted so badly to meet him in real life. To show him the true reality of his little stunt. To explain how it felt to not even know his own family, his fiancé, his son. He wanted to make him feel the same. He wanted that stupid NYU intern to know how much pain he’d caused.

It wasn’t good enough to know that he would be going to jail for attempted murder, but it would have to do. Tony had more important things to focus on anyway.

Peter woke up the next night when his door flew open. The light from the hallway hurt his eyes as they tried to adjust. He asked FRIDAY to turn on the lights and dim them. Once Peter could finally see, he saw his dad standing in the doorway.

“I love you, bambino. So, so much.” Tony breathed. Peter squinted at him inquisitively. Nobody had so much as mentioned those three words since the accident.

“I remember,” Tony elaborated. “All of it. I remember all of it.”

“Really?” Peter asked, afraid he was dreaming. His dad nodded. “Oh my god.”

Peter nearly tripped on his blankets after throwing them on the floor in his haste to get up. He stood up so quickly he almost gave himself head rush.

The two met in the middle of the room with a bone crushing hug. If both of them we’re crying, nobody had to know. There was no way any of them could go back to sleep now. So, they met Pepper in the living room for a movie night (or was it a movie morning?) complete with fuzzy blankets, ice cream, and an overabundance of cuddles.

When Rhodey came over to visit that morning, he found the three of them asleep on the couch under a shared blanket.

“It’s good to have you back, Tones,” He whispered before heading to the guest bedroom. He hadn’t had the heart to wake them up.

@irondad-fic-exchange

[holycalum]

vice (c.h.) part 3!!

summary- (y/n) has another #breakdown but like ACTUALLY this time she goes home just read it 

part 1 part 2 part 4

word count- 3.6k+

a/n- im terrible at summaries i figure if ur reading this far you don’t care you just wanna know what happens ya dig? also i appreciate all the love and support for this fic so much?? because i really thought this would flop but im so happy people are enjoying it. vice is literally my baby rn and i’ve put a lot of effort into it, and to see it pay off is grand ok goodbye. “fuck yeah,” i slurred, holding up my red cup in triumph. “midterms are hashtag over.” i slumped into britt, and she groaned, trying to push me off of her.  

“you’re too drunk,” she yelled over the thumping music. “your flights early tomorrow.”

“don’t care,” i smiled, dancing again. but britt’s word cut through my drunk thoughts moments later, and traveled straight to the gut. i might as well have doubled over because of the sinking feeling in my stomach. i had to go home the next day, and i didn’t want to in the slightest. the remix playing was drowned out as i stopped dancing abruptly, and got stuck in my head. the dark cloud that was rarely over my head anymore came crashing back, and i didn’t have calum to distract me. i had pushed the idea of me leaving college a semester early to kick start my life the back of my head, letting myself get lost in my studies for once, and calum. the second one was really the kicker. i pushed my way through the crowd, suddenly feeling very queasy. i stumbled throughout the unfamiliar house. miraculously i found a bathroom, and practically threw myself into it. i locked the door behind me, and fell to the floor. the cool tile soothed my burning skin, and i felt like i was human again. i crawled over the the toilet, head spinning. 

as i gripped the disgusting bowl and willed myself to throw up, i couldn’t help but let a few tears fall. but that was only the calm before the storm, because soon enough the dark cloud above my head stormed onto me. i cried so hard i gagged, and couldn’t catch my breath. my heart felt shriveled up and small and dead.

i had never been the drunk girl to have a complete meltdown, but i couldn’t stop the emotions from shooting out of every pore in my body. i felt like i was one big sad blob, and i physically couldn’t stop myself from getting drenched in the waters from my dark cloud. 

my crisis was interrupted by a knock at the door, i prayed it was a nice drunk girl that would braid my hair and tell me i’m pretty so i’d stop crying. but when i unlocked the door, calum’s eyes met mine and i cried even harder. i leaned against the cabinets, face in my hands, not wanting calum to see me at all, i wanted to disappear. 

it was funny, in the moments i wanted to be alone with my thoughts the most, calum always seemed to show up. 

“no, no, no,” calum’s words came out frantic, as he kneeled down in front of me and pulled my hands away from my face. the look of panic on his face sent my head spinning. 

“what’s wrong, pretty girl?” his nickname pulled at my heart strings and only made the knot in my stomach grown tighter. 

i couldn’t catch my breath enough to get any words out, so i sat there blubbering like a toddler, looking down, only for calum to tilt my head back up. 

“hey,” he cooed, shutting and locking the bathroom door once again, this time not leaving me alone. he sat against the door, and pulled me to his lap. “let’s just calm down and then we can talk, ok?” he said softly into my hair. i nodded against his leather jacket, trying to take deep breaths. even though i hated being so broken in front of calum, i couldn’t help but cling onto him like my life depended on it. the contact between us grounded me. 

every once in a while a sob would break through my breathing, causing calum to tense up and hold me tighter for a second, before going back to rubbing slow circles on my back. 

once i brought myself back down to earth, i pulled away from his chest, the world around me tilted in all directions. “i don’t wanna go home,” i cried, my words making tears well back up in my eyes. calum’s face was full of guilt as he stared into my bloodshot eyes.

“hey,” he shushed me, wiping under my eyes. he’d need a whole box of tissues to dry my cheeks, “it’s ok, just go slow.” 

“i wanna fall in love, cal.” i admitted, not being able to control the thoughts involuntarily pouring out of my mouth. “i want it all-but i cant have it. they took it from me. i don’t wanna go back.” a lump in my throat sprouted from deep within me, threatening to send me into another crying fit. 

i could see his eyes go glassy, “no,” i begged, “don’t cry.”

“m’ sorry,” he chuckled weakly, reaching up to wipe his own eyes. “going soft, sorry, continue.” another sob wracked through my chest at his state. i leaned my forehead against his chest, letting another cry out. 

“i’m hurting everyone around me,” i said sadly, “i don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” it became crystal clear that everyone was only calum. 

“but it’s so worth it, doll.” he whispered sweetly, smoothing the hairs around my ear. “you’re my sunshine, at the same time. what a contradiction you’ve proven to be.” it almost didn’t make sense. 

i settled against his chest, finally feeling a bit calmer. “an’ i know you’re really drunk right now, so i doubt you’ll remember most of this,” he starts, breath ghosting over my neck. “but, i accidentally let you in and i can feel myself falling for you. and it sucks because you’ll never be mine, fully at least, and you’re one of the only people i’ve let in so close to my heart.”

“stop,” i pleaded, “i don’t wanna know,”

“it’s not a bad thing, pretty girl.” he reassured me, “teaching me that it might be worth it, to let someone in, to enjoy someone’s company beyond sex.”

“i wish it didn’t have to be like this.” i mumbled, feeling very tired. 

“let’s get you home,”

i woke up the next day, to my blaring alarm clock. my head pounded as i flailed my hand around to turn off the terrible noise. it was the day of my flight and i couldn’t have felt any worse. eyes almost glued shut because of how puffy they were, traveled to see i was in the same clothes i was wearing the night prior. i felt like i’d been kicked in the face. clearly i had cried the night before. oh, the night before. 

i remembered almost everything, the crying, calum, more crying. it only made my headache worse. i showered to try and make myself feel less gross, but it only washed away the physical layer of grime. the emotional dirtiness would stay forever. 

i shrugged calum’s shirt over my head, it was dark blue, with maine written in bold white letters. it was probably my favorite shirt on him, so he insisted i have it. it was probably a bad idea to be reminded of calum while i went home, but it made me feel happy, and i could’ve used some light in my life. i pulled on a beanie and my long winter jacket, before grabbing my bags and heading towards the door. my roommates were still passed out from the night before, pillows over both of their heads. 

“bye, guys.” i muttered, before swinging the door open. “jesus, calum.” i breathed, clutching my chest, my heart almost stopping at the sight of him. 

“hey, sunshine.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. the nickname launched me into the events of the night before and i willed myself not to break. 

“hi,” i breathed, biting the inside of my lip. “thank you, for last night.” 

“anytime,” he replied, “nice shirt.” this time his eyes sparkled a bit, before his face fell. 

“what’s up?” i questioned, not understanding why he was standing outside my dorm at almost eight in the morning. 

“i wanted to say bye to you before you left,” he rocked back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets. he looked small, and tucked into himself, “feels like i’m losing you.” he mumbled the last part, almost low enough for me to miss it completely.

“please don’t say that,” i shut my eyes, forcing the tears to stay inside of me. he shrugged weakly. 

“i guess this is goodbye,” he smiled at me, brown eyes shining. my stomach sank and i reached towards him and engulfed him in the biggest hug i could muster. i wanted to keep him with me forever. 

“promise me you’ll see me when i get back,” i begged him, clutching onto him for dear life. his tight grasp around my waist indicated he was doing the same.  

“i promise,” his words were muffled by my shoulders, where his perfect face was squished. he pulled away, painfully, almost making me whine at the loss of contact. “goodbye, (y/n).”

“bye, calum.” i breathed, standing on my toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “i’ll see you when i get back-when i get home.” it was honest, being with calum felt more like a home than my own childhood house did. 

“i’ll see you then,” he gulped, and he watched me walk away. the entire trip back to my hometown, i spent on the verge of tears and a nervous breakdown.

[11:34 am] me: i can’t do this 

[11:35 am] calum: cant do what sunshine?

[11:35 am] me: my plane just landed. 

[11:36 am] calum: you can get thru this pretty girl

[11:36 am] me: you have way too much faith in me

[11:38 am] calum: (:

calum’s lightheartedness made me feel a bit better as i gathered my luggage painfully quick. near the baggage claim, my parents were waiting eagerly for me.  

“(y/n)!” my mom exclaimed, in a much different tone than she’d had the last time we spoke. it almost made me throw up at how sweet she was acting when the last time she made an effort to talk to me was to try and get me to drop out of school. 

“hey guys,” i plastered on a fake smile, bringing both of my parents in for a hug. “how are you?”

“wonderful, now that you’re back!” my dad said, rubbing my shoulder. “how about we head back to the house and have some lunch, i’m sure you’re starving.”

“i am!” i lied, i wasn’t. not in the slightest, my stomach was twisted and the idea of food made me want to yakk on the spot. my appetite had disappeared the second i turned around to see calum’s pained expression as i walked away. the drive home was tense, calling for awkward small talk and bad jokes. 

when we walked in the front door, i was greeted by a very happy david. my mouth fell open as i was halfway through kicking off my shoes. i felt like my body had been frozen solid. 

“i thought you didn’t get back for another day,” i deadpanned, not being able to hide my emotions. the whole trip was already emotionally heavy, and seeing david so soon only added another layer overbearing feelings. 

“i wanted to surprise you!” david pulled me in for a lingering hug, he was too keen on surprises for my liking. i hugged him back, and our bodies didn’t mold together like calum and i’s did. i felt no fire, i felt no excitement, i felt nothing except for a heavy emptiness settling in my chest. 

my little sister, maya, bounded down the entryway. “(y/n)!” she yelled, and i ripped myself away from david to embrace her. 

“hey, lil’ one.” i said, smiling for real. i pulled away, looking at her. “not so little anymore,” she was taller than i was now, towering over me by a few inches. 

“how’s junior year?”

“rough,” she rolled her eyes, “how’s college.”

“great.” i smiled widely, catching david’s eye, “i love it, you know that.” it was the in small victories. 

“stressful, though!” david cut in,

“a good kind of stress,” i snapped back, turning my eyes back to maya slowly, boxing david out of the conversation. “i’ve met a lot of great people.”

“who’s shirt is that?” she asked suddenly, gripping the dark blue fabric. her eyebrows furrowed together at the sight of the unfamiliar shirt. 

“just a friend’s,” i smiled, my mouth doing dry. maya wiggled her eyebrows at me, and i hit her arm. i wasn’t really lying, calum and i weren’t together, so that left us as friends, although friends weren’t necessarily supposed to act like we did. 

the air that hung around us was dense and suffocating, so i saw myself to the kitchen, where an array of food was laid out in front of my parents, and david’s.  

“hey honey,” david’s mom smiled at me, pulling me in for a hung. she kept an arm wound around my waist as david’s dad caught my attention. 

“how ya’ feelin, kid?” he asked, grinning widely. 

i gave him a gentle smile back, “i’m great,” i breathed, trying to grip onto the last of my sanity that would make my statement at least a little true. we spent the eve of christmas eve making small conversation, settling into the way things had always been, and will always be. 

i ended up sprawled out on my little sisters bed, late that night, face down. everyone had left, and i could finally feel my shoulders relax. 

“so...” maya sat next to me, causing me to roll onto my side. “you seeing anyone?” she mused, poking my shoulder. 

i sighed, “you know i shouldn’t.” i put simply, trying the avoid the thought and conversation. 

“when has that stopped you?” she challenged, “i know you don’t really love david,” she added quietly, looking at me with caring eyes. 

“even if i was...” i started, “it can’t be a good idea, it’ll only hurt more people in the end.”

maya frowned, “you deserve to be happy, (y/n).”

“i know,” i pulled my lips into a straight line, “i can make it work, i still have you.”

“you won’t be fully happy,” she fretted, her tone more upset than it was before. 

“maybe no ones ever fully happy,” i shrugged, “maybe i’ll just be a little less happy, i’ll survive.”

maya chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, “do you think they’ll make me marry someone i don’t like too?” i sat up, and tucked a piece of her hair behind her hair. she seemed like a little girl again, and it broke my heart. 

“you were always more stubborn than i was,” i whispered, smoothing her hair down, “they can’t hold you down, lil’ one.” she smiled, “goodnight, maya.” the topic became too much to stomach. 

“night, (y/n).” i made my way out of maya’s room, padding down to my old bedroom. it was almost exactly the same, just a bit staler, from the lack of movement. the bed was freshly made, and i climbed into it, feeling drained from the day.

i woke up christmas eve morning, and fell into the bustling nature of the day ahead. i was helping cook and clean and prepare for everyone to come over. that night we’d have cousins and david’s family and david’s cousins over, and we’d all have one big painful night. 

when i was younger, christmas eve couldn’t come quick enough, and maya and i would spend the whole day waiting for the evening. but, as an adult, the festivities proved to be more annoying than joyful and the night rolled around too quick. my late afternoon nap was interrupted by my mother shaking me awake, informing me of the arrival of our relatives. 

i sleepily greeted everyone as they got to the house, stopping for a long conversation with my grandfather. i had never been more grateful for his ability to digress into the longest conversations ever, when i saw david and his family walk through the door. i focused on my grandfather, listening to whatever he was speaking about.

“that’s really interesting,” i said, “tell me more.” i practically begged, and my grandpa almost passed out at the excitement of someone wanting to listen to him. 

“hey, (y/n).” david piped up, his blonde hair was littered with snow flakes from being outside. 

“one second, david. my grandpas just telling me a story-“ i was cut off,

“that’s fine, sweetheart.” my grandpa said, his smile fading a bit. “go on.” i gave him a sad grin, and hugged him briefly before david pulled me towards the living room. 

“i was having a conversation,” i crossed my arms in front of david, pushing him out. 

he rolled his eyes, “i know you hate those conversations,” 

“that one was really immersing me!” i shot back, stomping my foot. he gripped my forearm, pulling me closer, “don’t throw a fit,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. 

“whatever,” i brushed it off, knowing i wouldn’t get my way. “what’s up?” “i just wanted to talk to you,” he answered, “i hadn’t seen you since i visited you and we hardly spoke yesterday.”

“m’ just tired,” i rubbed my eyes for effect, 

“we’ve barely spoken on the phone either,” he sneered, his face almost as flushed as his pink shirt. 

“two way street, david.” i said, my face straight and unmoving. 

“you know i love you, (y/n).” david sighed, reaching out for my hand. it was cold and uninviting, unlike calum’s warm embrace. “i just get busy, and distracted. i could use something to pull me out of it.”

“i get busy too,” i stated, my hand stiff in his, and i wondered if this was his idea of love. 

“with that major...” he muttered under his breath, and i almost didn’t hear him. “i just want us to be on good terms.”

“we are.” as good as we could get, it wasn’t saying much, but it was something. he smiled. 

“good.” and then i walked away, excusing myself to the restroom. i stood in front of the mirror, hands gripping the sink so hard my knuckles went white. i let myself breath for a second, feeling i’d lose control if i didn’t. i pulled my phone out quickly, typing a text to calum. 

[7:27 pm] me: merry christmas eve

[7:30 pm] calum: merry christmas to you, pretty girl

[7:30 pm] calum: how are you?

[7:31 pm] me: surviving 

“(y/n)?” a knock cut through my trance and i jumped, going to open the door. 

“hi,” i caught my breath, looking at my mom. 

“dinners ready,” she stated, “you alright?”

“yes.” i nodded, following her to the dining room. david took a seat next to me, uncomfortably gripping my thigh throughout the night. his touch wasn’t reassuring or nice, it was repulsive and empty. 

after dinner, we all sat in the living room, gathered around the tree, giving our cousins gifts and opening them early. it was a family tradition to open gifts from extended family christmas eve, and david’s family had intertwined with ours, making it like a huge pre-christmas. once all the little cousins finished opening toys and sharing with one another we all started to fall into our own conversations. 

“i actually have one more gift,” david’s voice bellowed, it was loud and dripping with confidence. 

oh no. 

“it’s for (y/n),” he said, shifting his weight to one of his knees. 

oh no. 

“(y/n),” he started, grabbing both of my hands and the attention of everyone around us. i felt maya’s eyes shoot to mine, wide and worried. i felt sick to my stomach, “i love you, you know that.” my whole body was lit aflame and not in any desirable way, i felt too hot and crowded and my tongue felt like heavy sandpaper in my mouth. 

i couldn’t do anything but sit there, mouth hung open, heart pumping wildly. i watched his mouth move but i didn’t hear any noise come out, my ears rung loudly.

“will you marry me?” i didn’t answer, i couldn’t answer. 

“of course she will!” my mother shrilled loudly, clutching her chest. 

my eyes were dull with loss, the sharp edges of my memories with calum slicing at my heart as he slid the ring on my finger. i felt like i didn’t have myself anymore, or even know who i was. i didn’t know. i didn’t care. 

david pulled me in for a hug, as our family clapped loudly around us. it was all real and i couldn’t stop it. 

i looked calm, up until i finally shut my bedroom door behind me. all at once my tears flowed out, the dark cloud above my head had once again stormed on me, leaving me soaked to the core. i dragged myself to my bed, not bothering to change out of the clothes i’d wore that night. i felt hopeless as sobs ran through my body, shaking every part of me. my room was miserable and cold, and the only sound piercing the silence was my occasional cries i couldn’t keep quiet. 

i cried for me, i cried for my future kids, i cried for calum.

calum

. i wanted to tell him, i wanted to hear his voice and i wanted him to tell me it was going to be ok, but it wasn’t and not even he could change that. but i longed to feel him, and the brightness he elicited by only giving me a look. my heart ached as i fell asleep, my future dragging me closer and closer.

a/n: ok drama lmk what ya think even if its me being stupid and spelling something wrong but feedback is appreciated! thank u for reading!! part 4 should be up tomorrow or in the next couple of days. ALSO im gonna fosho gonna write more after this is done so if you have an requests pls message me i would love 2 write what yall want ok goodbye love u 

tags: (lmk if u wanna be added for part 4/any other shit i write) @rexorangecouny

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} Cold Comfort

What’s a mortician to do when the love of their life is just out of reach? A temporary replacement is just cold comfort for the time being. It can’t last, after all—

True love never dies.

Chapter One

A Dreadful Dalliance sits at the end of a long, forested road, the gate-keeper to a sprawling cemetery that will eventually be the resting place of every soul in New Senzannini. The Mortuary has been in operation for nearly a decade and has earned it’s sterling reputation as a thoughtful, caring place to bring your loved ones for their last rites and a compassionate send-off to the next stage of life. Owned and operated by Dot Dreadful, the Mortuary handles all post-mortem operations, from the preparation of the departed to the funeral arrangements, and though the morgue is fully staffed with plenty of attentive, devoted staff, there’s only one mortician on staff--Dot. Now that the owner of the Dalliance was growing too pregnant to be on her feet, or surrounded by the chemicals necessary to do her job, it left a gaping hole to be filled or New Senzannini’s only mortuary was going to be temporary closed. That wasn’t an option, and that left Dot Dreadful with only one alternative.

“You’re hiring a temp?” Felina Frenzy, known more intimately by her birth name Monica, glanced up at her best friend with a curious tilt of her head. “Do they even have temporary morticians?”

Dot Dreadful didn’t glance up from the stack of papers in her hand; there was so much involved in handing her business over while she was on maternity leave and she should have started preparing for this months ago. “Ah, yes and no. It’s something of an unspoken code that you help out a fellow mortician if they need it. We often consult with each other on difficult preparations or if one of us is handling a coroner’s report dealing with suspicious circumstances. That sort of thing.”

Monica nodded, turning back to the training manual in her lap. “Were you able to find someone to help you out?”

“The city coroner offered but he’s...” Dot paused in her reviewing, glancing up at the ceiling. “How do I put this diplomatically...he does as well as one would expect a coroner to do when dealing with living, breathing bodies after he spends all day with cold, dismembered corpses.”

Monica laughed, nodding. “Makes sense. So he wouldn’t be any good handling the people aspect of the job.”

“Definitely not.”

“I mean, you know I’m always fine to help you out,” Monica crossed one leg over the other, meeting Dot’s gaze over her desk. “But I don’t know why you think I’m going to be any better handling the people aspect of your job.”

“You’re better with people than you think, you just don’t like them.” Dot turned back to her lists. “I don’t like people either but I manage this job just fine. You’ll be a peach, you always are.”

“...But you’re not expecting me to do the hack and slash part of the job, right?” Monica ventured. She didn’t and wouldn’t tell Dot no, but it wasn’t like she had the technical training to prepare a corpse for burial.

Dot shook her head. “Not at all. I thought of a compromise. Since you offered to help where you could, I figured you could handle the managerial side of things, keep the staff running smoothly, sort of...just sit in this chair right here.” Dot patted the arm of her desk chair. “You’d be the boss, supervising the day to day operations, and I’d hire on a temporary mortician to solely be responsible for the more hands-on part of the job. You guys would tag-team it.”

Monica looked thoughtful before she nodded. It seemed a solid enough plan. “But the city coroner wasn’t interested in working that way?”

“Roger’s a decent guy, but he’s also been the city coroner for like, eighty years,” Dot exaggerated dryly. “He wants to work this alone, and I just don’t trust him to handle the entire process. I’m not going to ask you to try and deal with his gross man ego while you’re doing me a favor, holding this place down while I’m off.”

“I would have been fine, Dottie.” Monica closed the lid of the training binder, handing it back to Dot since the woman as still adding pages to the already thick instruction manual. “I’m not unused to men’s egos.”

“I know, love, it’s not about you not being able to handle it, but more why would I subject you to that when you’re doing me a favor? Especially since I was able to find a mortician who had no problem with staying below and just prepping the bodies for you.”

To Monica, that sounded reasonable enough and why wouldn’t it be? A Dreadful Dalliance has been Dot’s first baby, but now that she had actual babies on the way she needed help taking care of her “firstborn”. Monica had been friends with Dot for years, since before the Mortuary, so of course she’d been here through it’s conception and it’s construction, and it’s subsequent years of operation. How many hours had she spent with Dot in this office, working on her own projects? Being a novelist and illustrator afforded Monica plenty of freedom to set her own schedule and since her newest literary masterpiece was circulating and topping lists, she had some much earned downtime--granted one might not consider managing a mortuary as “downtime” but Monica knew the staff here was pretty much self-sufficient and short of just sitting in here and being present should any emergencies present themselves, it really wouldn’t be too taxing. Dot had spent the last couple weeks preparing that thick manual for Monica to have and she’d also insisted Monica call her if need be. Dot may be approaching the bed rest phase of her pregnancy but that didn’t mean her vocal chords didn’t work--Monica didn’t say this, but she was going to do whatever she needed to not have to call Dot. She wanted to do this, to help Dot out when she needed it, and with Dot taking care of the second part of her job with finding a temporary mortician, it all seemed to be falling into place without a hitch.

“When do they start?”

Dot reached over for her desk phone. “They already have, actually.” She pressed the intercom, connecting her to the morgue in the basement. “Can you come up to my office please, Glad?”

“Can do, Miss Dreadful!”

The chipper reply to Dot hadn’t been what Monica was expecting, especially coming up from the dark, cold recesses of the morgue. She actually blinked in surprise, but Dot just flashed her a smile and turned back to scribbling last minute notes in the margin of the list in her hand.

A scant few minutes later and there was a knock on Dot’s office door before the new hire let himself in and Monica got her first look at the partner she’d be working with over the next several weeks.

“Monica, this is Gladwyn Charles. Gladwyn, this is my closest friend and your new boss, Monica.”

The man Dot named was still in the process of ducking into the room when she made the introductions, his impressive height making the frame of the door a little bit of a hazard. He was wearing a floor length black latex apron but all that did was elongate his already tall frame even further; it stopped at his ankles, revealing polished black dress shoes that were a compliment to his black slacks and the white button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had on a bow-tie that was red rather than black, and that fiery crimson adornment drew Monica’s eyes further up to the same blaze of red that surrounded his head like a halo. Gladwyn Charles was a true redhead, his hair the color of blood, a stain of rose around his pale skin and he wore it long, braided and over his broad right shoulder. it nearly reached his waist, but it seemed even the braid couldn’t tame all the wavy strands, as curls sprang free to frame his square features, brushing the hollow of his freckled cheeks. Gladwyn had a dusting of freckles not unlike stars across the bridge of his nose and the crest of his cheeks, bringing Monica’s gaze to his long lashes and the deep, rich forest green of expressive bright eyes. His glasses were perched a little low on his nose; the frames were silver and square, fashionable and sleek, but Gladwyn’s smile didn’t speak of arrogance that came with wealth. The smile was big and bright, but as Monica continued to stare at him it only seemed to grow...bigger, brighter, reminding her of an animal baring it’s teeth. It was almost aggressive, his smile was so prominent, but nothing dangerous reflected back at her in those eyes--eyes that were riveted to her face. Gladwyn didn’t even turn when he closed the door, keeping his gaze on Monica as he pushed the door closed with one long-fingered hand.

“Ah, Miss Frenzy. It’s an honor to finally meet you,” Gladwyn made a show of wiping his hand one final time on his slacks before offering it to Monica. “Miss Dreadful has told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”

Monica stood to take Gladwyn’s offered hand. “M...Monica, please. And your name is...?”

“Gladwyn.” He laughed a little sheepishly, but still hadn’t taken his eyes off hers. “I know it’s a little unusual. You can call me Glad if you’d like. Or Charles, or Charlie. Even Smiley!”

From her desk, Dot’s eyebrow rose. “Smiley?”

“It’s a nickname from college.” Gladwyn answered Dot, eyes still on Monica as he kept hold of her petite hand. “Because I smile all the time.”

Monica would have ventured to bet it had more to do with Gladwyn’s smile being...hard to forget. It was almost painfully wide, as if he were the world’s nicest man. She gave Gladwyn’s hand a firmer shake, and though he released her hand...she felt the reluctance. She’d let his hand go several dozen seconds before he finally released her, but she tried to push that from her mind. Dot had warned her years ago that morticians were sometimes...odd. Like those who work in IT, only certain people want to play with the dead all day long; typically it’s those who don’t play well with the living. Gladwyn was probably just a little awkward from interacting with those who can’t interact back, day in and day out.

“Nice to meet you, Gladwyn.” Monica stressed his name, ensuring she said it right. Gladwyn’s eyes brightened.

“I assure you, Miss Frenzy, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Monica, please.”

Gladwyn paused, his throat working before he spoke, inclining his head down in a show of respect and slight reverence. “...Monica.”

With Gladwyn much closer, Monica was able to discern even more from the tall mortician--like his tattoos. She could see at least four, though three of them were thick black bands on his left wrist, leading up to his elbow. When he finally turned to face Dot, Monica was petite enough to see there was a smiley face tattooed behind his right ear. Smiley really did seem to be a moniker that fit this unusual mortician. Gladwyn was tall and thin, but he wasn’t without some muscle mass. Now that he was closer, Monica could see his forearms and biceps laced with sinewy muscle, likely from lifting dead weight all day, and though his slacks left a little more to the imagination she assumed his entire frame was the same way., and she’d felt for herself how strong his hands were. Gladwyn was definitely not what came to mind when one thought of the word mortician; well, except for that smile. That was not a normal man’s smile, but Monica also couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong with it. Did he smile with too many teeth? Was it just too...eager? She shook her head slightly as if to clear it, moving to take her seat again--almost startled back into standing with Gladwyn extended his arm to help her into her seat before he took the chair next to her. When she looked up at him, intending to thank him, he smiled at her and her voice died in her throat. Eager was definitely a good word to describe Gladwyn’s smile.

Little did Monica know, but eager was a good word to describe Gladwyn Charles as a whole. The Dalliance’s newest hire initially comes across to others as unassuming, even if he was on the tall side with a head full of long, flaming curls. Gladwyn never minded that he had a tendency to blend in a little in the background; he’s perfectly fine with allowing someone else the spotlight because he’s a perfectly polite gentleman. Nice guys may finish last but Gladwyn would happily smile in the face of anyone quipping that at him with a, “True, but the tortoise always beat the hare, didn’t he?” before turning back to the task at hand. Gladwyn has gone through life with the intelligence to understand human nature, and the self-awareness to know he doesn’t always fit in. He’s aware he’s a little awkward but that awareness also allows him to fake it, to cover his tendency to make others uncomfortable with a self-deprecating joke or by being so polite others simply can’t be rude to him. If one were to ask Gladwyn he’s not sure why others are so put off by his smile; he thinks his smile looks just fine! After all, he practices in the mirror. His teeth are straight and white, and his eyes sparkle a little when he smiles--so what could possibly be wrong with him? Friends in the past have told him he just looks a little “creepy” or “crazy” when he smiles, to maybe try not smiling so widely...but if he’s happy, why shouldn’t he smile with all his teeth? For all his intelligence, Gladwyn can’t figure some aspects of human nature out, and that was one of them. Being too eager, too friendly, too clingy was perceived as a bad thing and he just didn’t understand that. That was why none of his friends ever stuck around for long. That was why none of his previous relationships ever worked out. Gladwyn simply cared too much. He was simply too eager.

Gladwyn slowly lowered himself into the chair across from Monica, eager green eyes devouring her in a way he knew he had to get under control, it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to stare this long but it was an enormous struggle. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful before in his entire life. Dot had told him a lot about Monica, he’d listened with his usual attentiveness but now, now he was calling upon his memory for every single detail from his previous conversations with his employer for the tiniest morsel he could glean about Monica. Even as his mind worked, his eyes did their job in committing everything he could about her to memory; her bone structure was impeccable, feather-light and delicate, and he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips at the urge to pepper kisses along her jaw just to follow that tempting line to her throat. Monica sat like an empress in the high-backed chair, her posture so regal he felt the urge to shy away, to shrink back because he didn’t deserve to be so close to her...but how could he not be? Who could possibly stand to be away from such an ethereal creature? Was she even real? Gladwyn’s long fingers pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the focused lenses providing him with further admirings to commit to memory. Their eyes were the same color, green, but hers were brighter than his, a feminine compliment to his masculinity that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Her hair was short, a bob that complimented her profile so devastatingly he had to slowly grip his fingers along the arm of his chair to stop from wanting to touch her hair. It shimmered, caught the office lights as if flirting with him, teasing him with how soft it must feel.  And he knew how good she smelled; he caught the wisps of her perfume to the moment he’d stepped into the hallway outside the office and now that he was close enough to scent her effortlessly he focused on dragging the scent of her into his lungs, desperate to commit the scent to memory so he’d be able to recall it at will.

The simple act of meeting had never been so poignant to Gladwyn before in his entire life. How many hundreds of people had he met in his decades of life? None of them compared to this, none of them had ever affected him like this, like Monica. He knew her name was Felina to the public but she’d told him to call her Monica, the same name Dot was able to call her...that must mean something. To Gladwyn, it did. She’d shaken his hand, smiled at him and insisted, twice, that he call her by her birth name. A name intimate, known only to family and friends...that included him, now. How nice of her! How sweet...who would have thought a woman so beautiful, so stunning, would also be so kind?

“Gladwyn?”

The older mortician blinked behind his glasses, before turning to Dot. “Y-Yes? I’m...terribly sorry, I must have spaced out.”

Dot laughed, eyebrows raised. “You are wearing a face mask down there, right? Those are some pretty strong chemicals we work with.”

Gladwyn took the easy out with a gracious laugh, his rich tenor a compliment to that ever-present smile on his pale face. “Yes, of course, of course. A thousand pardons, what were you saying?”

“I was saying, Monica is the one I was telling you about, who will be sitting in my chair here while you’re working down in the morgue. She’ll be handling the operations, managing the rest of the staff and funeral arrangements. She’s got full authority and she knows how this place should run,” Dot looked between Monica and Gladwyn with a smile. “And love, Gladwyn has been familiarizing himself with the morgue downstairs over the past few days, shadowing me, and shouldn’t have any problems handling the hack and slash part of the job.”

Gladwyn cleared his throat slightly, his red brows pulling in at the center as a barb of jealousy seared across his chest. He’d known Dot for a couple weeks, knew her to use terms of endearment liberally and it had never bothered him before, but just now, her use of love directed at Monica rose like bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t particularly like that...and he didn’t particularly understand why.

Monica and Dot were both unaware of Gladwyn’s inner turmoil and confusion, mistaking his throat clearing and the shifting in his seat as mere fidgeting. Monica nodded, returning Dot’s smile before she turned it to Gladwyn.

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem to keep this place running smoothly while Dot’s gone, right?”

“Hm?” Gladwyn locked gazes with Monica before that smile of his returned in full force. “Oh, I highly doubt it. You seem a very capable woman, Mis--er, Monica.”

Monica’s laughter was a touch nervous at the compliment, most especially coupled with the sincerity behind Gladwyn’s glasses. He held his smile while he held her gaze, and Monica had to resist the urge to blush under such open attention. He was certainly a...nice guy.

“I drew up manuals for both of you while I’m gone, and Gladwyn I told Monica to reach out to me if you guys run into any problems.” Dot tapped Monica’s manual on her desk; Gladwyn’s was down in the morgue and he’d already been making use of it. “The Staff has already been prepped to treat the two of you as co-owners while I’m gone, so you shouldn’t have any issues there either.”

“Seems you really have thought of everything, Miss Dreadful.” Gladwyn sat back in his seat; his gaze appeared to be on Dot...but he was watching Monica out of the corner of his eye.

“I highly doubt it,” Dot replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But, I trust Monica and with you here to help her, Glad, hopefully it won’t be too rocky for her.”

“You have my word, I’ll look out for her.” Gladwyn’s smile was once again aimed at Monica. “She’ll be in good hands.”

A nervous flutter of butterflies rushed up Monica’s ribcage and she had to look away; Gladwyn was clearly a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and the genuine show of emotion in his eyes, on his face, made her nervous. Who was so nice this early on? Was it possible for someone to just...be this kind? It had to be, because here he was, giving her a million-watt smile with promise written all over his face.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Monica took the reprieve where it was offered, looking up at Dot. “What’s that?”

Dot gave her a smile, looking between Monica and Gladwyn with her hands out in a gesture. “How about dinner?”

The Tower was a high-end restaurant with an established clientele, but there was nowhere New Senzannini’s literary elite and established death beautician couldn’t eat if they wanted to. There was no need for a reservation and the trio were ushered from the hostess podium to the best table in the restaurant, immediately; afforded their privacy but with attentive staff at the ready. Dot eased down into her cushioned seat with a sigh of relief to be off swollen ankles but it was something Monica missed, because Gladwyn was standing beside her chair with it pulled out for her, gesturing to it with that curious smile of his. She offered him a nervous but grateful smile in return as she slowly sat down, startled at how easily he settled her against the table. Even for the muscle she’d seen he was stronger than he looked, but Gladwyn would argue she weighed next to nothing at all. He had half a mind to order for her to ensure she was even eating enough; a thought that darkened his brow as he settled into his own chair to Monica’s left. Now that they were out of the Mortuary, Monica could see all of him as he was out of his apron and he filled out his tailored suit well. He’d also rebraided his hair before coming out and with his wealth of hair pulled back from his face in an elegant french braid, Monica had to admire Gladwyn. He was a handsome man. As if sensing her staring, he turned to face her, his smile catching the ambient lighting and she had a new appreciation for his bone structure, the way the shadows flirted with the hollows of his cheeks, the high cut of his brow.

“I’ve never eaten here. Have you?”

“A-Ah, a few times,” Monica nodded. “I’m...surprised you haven’t.”

“Why’s that?” Gladwyn’s head tilt reminded her of a puppy.

“You...well, don’t mind me saying so but you look like you come from money.” Monica was hopeful the low lighting of the intimate restaurant hid her blush well enough as she moved her napkin to her lap.

“Why would I mind such a sweet compliment?” Gladwyn’s voice was rich and warm as he regarded Monica. “I do, come from money, but I don’t get out much. Surely Miss Dreadful has explained we morticians don’t keep much living company?”

Monica couldn’t help the laugh. “I a-am her only friend.”

“Hey hey,” Dot snapped her cloth napkin before pointing between the two of them. “That is a thousand percent by choice. Other people are the worst.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Monica put her hands up, but as she moved to take the menu from their waiter, she was surprised to momentary silence when Gladwyn reached over, took her menu, and then handed it to her. “T-Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gladwyn’s tone was still warm, amiable, but he cut his eyes to the waiter as if daring the other male to say something. When the server cleared his throat and turned his attention to Dot, Gladwyn returned his gaze to Monica and his entire posture relaxed. His smile had never wavered.

The entire premise of dinner between the three had been Dot’s way of breaking the ice between her best friend and the new hire at the mortuary. She didn’t want to leave Monica with this new mortician for hours and hours a day, for weeks, perhaps months, without forming a sort of tentative relationship between the two, for Monica’s comfort level more than anything else. Part of why she’d hired Gladwyn was because he was such a nice guy. She’d called every colleague, boss, and even two of Gladwyn’s college professors to run him through the wringer to make sure he came out squeaky clean but every test Dot put him through, he passed. Everyone had something nice to say about Gladwyn, that he was an eager student, a polite co-worker, a diligent employee. He never called in sick, he never had any brushes with the law; hell, one of Gladwyn’s old employers stated he actually said, “Please,” and “I’m sorry,” to corpses if he mishandled them or when he needed to do something particularly invasive. Gladwyn was polite to a fault, and he was a certified nice guy. Granted, a couple people had mentioned his smile giving them the creeps, and Dot had to admit there was something a little off about it, but you can’t judge a guy by his smile, right? Besides, finding a mortician who wasn’t considered at least a little creepy was like finding a needle in a haystack. Dot had interviewed enough fish-eyed weirdos to know, Gladwyn was as good as she was going to get on such short notice. Judging by the swelling in her ankles just from the walk from the Mortuary to her truck and then into the restaurant, Dot was days away from being confined to bed--so as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, Dot lifted her water glass to her mouth as she looked between Monica and Gladwyn; they seemed to be hitting it off well. Gladwyn’s smile was a prominent thing, Dot noticed he really did smile all the time, but it seemed different when he looked at Monica. Dot noticed things like this, she paid attention, but it didn’t raise any alarm bells. He simply seemed to really enjoy Monica’s company and honestly who wouldn’t? Dot had been friends with the other woman for over a decade; she knew the kind of effect Monica had on others and even if Monica would deny it to her grave, Dot knew better. Gladwyn was proof enough; the man was hanging off her every word. Dinner would be the first step to solidifying a good relationship between the two, and as long as this went well, Dot would be confident in going on maternity leave knowing her best friend, and her place of business, were in good hands.

“So, I know plenty about you Gladwyn but Monica doesn’t,” Dot turned to the duo as the waiter took their drink orders to the bar. “Why don’t you tell her a little about yourself?”

Gladwyn would have opened a vein to get Monica to talk about herself, but he swallowed that graphic visual with that smile of his, moving his hands to his lap as he nodded a few times, his attention swiveling to Monica effortlessly. “Well, what about you like to know?”

Monica blinked a few times, unsure what to ask. She floundered a little before blurting out. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Corpse blue.”

Gladwyn dropped his reply like a body onto the table, so serious in his delivery that Monica was left staring at him, her eyebrows slowly creeping upward. “R-Really?”

“Oh, no!” Gladwyn shook his head with a rich laugh. “I’m sorry, no, that was a little mortician humor. It’s just blue, my favorite color is blue, it’s just, you know the corpses turn blue when they’re frozen. I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

Dot rolled her eyes as she reached for a hot roll from the bread basket at the center of the table. “You know our type of jokes never go over well with anyone.” She gave him a pointed look as she tore open the steaming bread. “Especially when they’re that corny.”

Gladwyn’s laugh was sheepish but genuine, and Monica had to respect a guy who could laugh at himself.

Throwing him a bone, she joined in the laughter, nodding. “No, no, I get it! That was, that was clever.”

Gladwyn paused at the compliment, his posture straightening not unlike a flower given a little bit of sunlight. His eyes were riveted to watching Monica’s chest rise and fall with her laughter, his own pulse quickening as he swallowed around his attraction to her. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? No one ever really laughed at his jokes; he knew they were a little awkward and probably not in the best humor, but she called it clever. She thought he was clever. His pulse reflected just how much he liked that, basked in that knowledge, that such a beautiful woman found his wit to be...worthy of her beautiful laugh. It had sent him over the moon to walk into this restaurant with her; he saw the way heads turned, the whispers that the Felina Frenzy was here and though he felt that curious jealousy again, part of him using his impressive height to shield her from inquisitive, needy stares, there was also pride that he was there with her. That others recognized she was there with him. He really liked that thought.

“May I ask the lady’s favorite color?” Gladwyn took the opportunity to get to know Monica same as she was doing with him. He was eager to know her inside and out.

Monica gestured with a smile. “Blue, too.”

It may not be a monumental thing, sharing the same favorite color as someone else; there are only so many colors in the rainbow, after all--but Gladwyn felt that connection like a bolt of lightning. They...they shared a favorite thing? It brightened his smile, widened it until he felt his cheeks ache but he welcomed the sensation. It made him so happy!

“Excellent choice,” he complimented with a conspirator’s playful wink, trying to play it cool when inside, his heart was turning somersaults. Monica’s laughter was light but genuine and it was wreaking havoc on Gladwyn’s nerves, shredding him until he was rubbed raw, left vulnerable to the next tempting thing she was planning to do. He swallowed again, looking up gratefully as their drinks were brought to the table.

“That better be a virgin,” Monica eyed Dot’s Bloody Mary, and Dot gave her a playful look.

“Only thing about me that is, obviously,” she gestured to her generous bump before taking a sip of the blood red concoction.

“What did you get?” Monica turned to Gladwyn, trying to keep the conversation between them going. She knew without having to ask Dot that the reason they’d come to dinner was so she and Gladwyn could get better acquainted...it just helped he was easy to talk to.

“Ah, you’ve caught me, I’m afraid.” Gladwyn lifted his foaming glass with a sheepish grin. “It’s a Dry Stout. I’m Irish every day of the year, not only on St. Paddy’s.”

Monica eyed the glass; it was so dark she couldn’t see through it, and almost resembled coffee though she knew it to be an ale. She laughed a little at his joke, missing his grin brightening in response as she was still admiring his drink choice.

“What have you gotten?” Gladwyn took a swig of his drink, curious eyes on Monica’s beverage choice. It was peach-colored, bubbly, and served in a long-stemmed champagne glass.

“It’s a Gigi,” Monica supplied. “My family is originally from Italy so I’m pretty well-versed in expensive cocktails from Europe.”

Gladwyn’s laughter was honest and washed over Monica as he gave her his undivided attention; she could definitely respect that the man was genuine, there didn’t seem to be anything fake about him in the few hours she’s known him. It was laughter she joined in on, picking up her flute for a gentle, feminine sip.

Gladwyn watched her without blinking, committing her movement to memory with ease; she moved with the grace of a feline, her manicured nails a compliment to the expensive cocktail kissing her lips the way he longed to do--Gladwyn came from wealth and affluence, he knew what it was to be among the elite but Monica was simply on another level. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest to hear her family was of money, she carried herself like a queen and why shouldn’t she? Her throat worked as she swallowed and Gladwyn felt it like a punch to his gut; his muscles actually tightened, his abdomen turning flips as he struggled to get his attraction under control. Monica was doing something awful to him, stealing all his attention and he’d never once felt such a strong pull to another human being in his entire life. The more time he spent in her company, the less he was confused by what was happening. Love at first sight wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss, but it was an easy thing to pin.

“It’s probably rude to ask your age, Gladwyn, but I’m having a hard time pinning you,” Monica set her glass down, meeting Gladwyn’s gaze effortlessly--because he was already looking at her. “So can I ask?”

“You can ask whatever you like, my dear.” Gladwyn would have aged himself with such a formal saying, but at least the slight accent in his rich tenor made sense now that he’d given away his heritage (as if his hair and freckles hadn’t been enough indication) and that endearment certainly came out smoother than the ale in his hand. “But I’m thirty-seven years old.”

“You don’t look it,” Monica reassured, but that was only partially true. Gladwyn didn’t look to be near his forties, but he carried himself that way, and his smile had some age behind it. Likely, due to his ever-present smile, he also had smile lines near the corners of his mouth and around his eyes.

These lines deepened at her compliment and Gladwyn reached over, putting his surprisingly warm hand on her knee. “Thank you, Monica. That’s incredibly sweet of you to say.”

Monica’s gaze dropped to Gladwyn’s long fingers and she felt him squeeze her knee in response; he made no move to remove his hand and she didn’t...know if she should consider this forward of him or not. She was dressed in black slacks and a ruffle-sleeve button-up, having wanted to start looking the part of boss since she would be taking over for Dot but she could feel the heat of Gladwyn’s hand through the fabric of her pants. She would, for some reason, have assumed his hands would be cold as the corpses he worked on daily, but his hands more closely resembled the fire of his hair.

Gladwyn hadn’t even thought before he touched her--he just acted, closed the distance between them as if he had to do it. He cursed that she was wearing slacks and not a skirt, a dress, so anxious was he to feel her soft skin. He knew it was softer than a lily would be, and he knew she smelled sweeter, too. He slowly dragged his gaze up from his hand on her knee, up her front to lock gazes with her and he searched her face--not for signs of refusal but for acceptance. She had to feel what he felt, didn’t she? There was no way only one soulmate would be feeling the instant connection, the attraction that was driving him to complete distraction. There was no other way to describe what he was feeling but soulmate; everything about her clicked like a puzzle piece Gladwyn had been missing his entire life. She didn’t shy away from his smile, she shared the same favorite color as he did; she laughed at his jokes and she found him to be clever. He knew she thought he was nice because she allowed him to pull out her chair for her and she wasn’t pulling away from his touch, now. She had to be feeling what he was...perhaps she was simply shy? Well, of course she was, she was a proper lady. A right beautiful one. A woman who deserved to be wooed properly, courted in the way a man of Gladwyn’s upbringing could. His smile deepened, and he gave her knee another longing squeeze before he slowly, reluctantly removed it. He wouldn’t push his luck, now that he was more convinced she shared what he was feeling, that slow-burning but all-consuming fire that was licking at his heart like flames.

“Are we ready to order?”

The server started at the head of the table, or perhaps it was simply Dot being pregnant, but it allowed Gladwyn a moment to wrangle with his returning jealousy--because any moment, the man was going to turn to Monica and speak to her...and Gladwyn really hated that. He was staring, unseeing, at his own menu, his mind narrowing to how he was going to...deal with this. He’d never considered himself a jealous man before, had never felt such raw, biting emotion in all his life but then he hadn’t known his soulmate before today. Monica was beautiful, a siren’s call to any man and while he would never blame her for such beauty, no it was his good fortune she was breath-taking, he didn’t have to like others noticing her. His eyes slipped from his menu, moving discreetly to Monica and again, he felt his pulse spike, his throat run dry, and he fidgeted in his seat. If he needed proof, he had it; physical proof. His body reacted every single time he looked at her.

“And you, Miss?”

Monica shifted, her eyes on her menu. “I’ll have--”

“Would you order for me, Monica?”

Gladwyn interjected into the conversation without much forethought; he was only grateful what he’d said made sense. Monica seemed to flounder a little, and he could regret catching her off-guard...but she took her attention off the waiter and it reinforced he’d done the right thing. Gladwyn had to fight to keep his smile from going smug that he’d so easily gotten her attention back.

“O-Of...course, but I don’t really know you very well?” Monica faltered, looking worried. “What if...I order something you won’t like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Gladwyn set his menu down on his plate with his smile lighting his eyes. “You have impeccable taste. You can’t steer me wrong if it’s good enough for you.”

Monica’s smile was still nervous, still unsure, but Gladwyn looked like he’d made up his mind and she could only nod, turning to order for herself...and for him.

It was a small compromise, Gladwyn still hated that she spoke to the waiter, loathed that the man was admiring her so openly, but at least he’d staked something of a claim on her in front of the other male. It made him feel better, sated his childish, unfounded jealousy--no, it wasn’t unfounded! He had a right to her, to the other half of his soul. That was how it worked. That was the reward for the way he felt about her; he felt so strongly, of course he wouldn’t want someone else looking at her, thinking about her. No one had the right to even dream of touching her, no one except him.

Dinner did what Dot had intended...and it did a little more than she’d intended, at the same time. The two hours passed by in the blink of an eye, the trio exchanging stories, learning about one another and as the time passed, the more Gladwyn became convinced of what he felt to be true. Monica was the other half of his soul, the fabled soulmate promised to hopeless romantics and skeptics alike. She was perfect; she was beautiful, hauntingly so, in that he knew she would be in his dreams tonight--if he was able to sleep from wanting her. She was witty, humorous, intelligent; she was clever and her sarcasm was so biting he nearly wished to be at the receiving end just to feel the scrape of her teeth. When Monica smiled she stole the light from the room; she was radiant, and Gladwyn felt himself drowning every time she turned that smile to him. Her voice was what silk was made of, sliding over his skin until twice he’d nearly dropped his fork against his plate when she said his name. It was...too soon, perhaps, to think of late nights with her body wrapped around his but he couldn’t stop himself from going there, from crossing that sordid line because she aroused him so fervently his appetite was of an entirely different sort. He’d finished two stouts in the hopes it would douse the fire building in his belly but all it did was warm him further, made his brain a little hazy so that the lines between right and wrong blurred further. He was seated beside an angel, his angel, and the expensive food turned sour in his mouth for want to sample her instead.

This must be what it felt like to be lovesick, to be so enamored with one’s adoration that food and drink lose their taste. Gladwyn seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole with no hope to catch himself on the sides--would he have? If he were honest with himself, no, he wouldn’t have. He dove headfirst down this trap, chasing Monica’s laugh, her voice, the way she looked at him, smiled at him. The way she made him feel should be criminal, he was already so addicted to the man he was when she looked at him. The glasses were emptied, the bill was paid, and all too soon reality was severing his time with Monica and for a fleeting moment he panicked at the void that would be left when they went their separate ways for the night.

“Thank you, Gladwyn,” Monica stood with his help as he pulled her chair out for her, and his smile was a little subdued but still present as he held up her jacket, for her to slip into it.

“It’s cold outside,” he prompted, fighting to keep the hard edge from his voice when it seemed she was going to simply take it from him. He wanted her to wear it. He wouldn’t have her catching cold, and his smile broadened when she slipped her arms into it. “There we are. That’s better, hm?”

Monica’s smile was a touch shy as Gladwyn’s large hands rubbed up her arms, smoothing her jacket and warming her further beneath the expensive fabric. He placed his hand at the small of her back, giving his head a nod toward the door and he tailored his steps to match hers despite their staggering height difference.

“So, what do you two think?” Dot turned from the front door of the restaurant, the valet sprinting out into the snow to retrieve her truck. “Think you’ll be okay to work together for a while?”

Monica turned to look up at Gladwyn but he was already looking at her, and he gestured to Dot with a nod of his head. “Ladies first.”

“I-I, yes, I don’t see any problems.” Monica gave Dot a smile, knowing Dot would be looking for any signs that Monica wasn’t comfortable--this would be a question Dot would ask again when the two were alone in her truck.

“I’m delighted to hear that, as I can assure I’m very much looking forward to working with Monica.” Gladwyn tore his smile away from Monica when he felt Dot was still staring at him. “You’ll be fine to relax at home, Miss Dreadful. We’ll have no problems working together.”

Dot looked between Gladwyn and Monica, making a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat but she nodded, her smile reaching her eyes. “Good. Then you’ll be in charge of the morgue 7AM, Monday morning, Mr. Charles.”

Gladwyn gave Dot a nod, but his attention was already turning to Monica as Dot’s truck rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant. He moved his hand from the small of her back, already loathing the space between their bodies and knowing there’d be more, much more, over the weekend. It was all he could do to keep himself calm with the reassurance that he’d be working very closely with Monica on Monday.

“It was a pleasure getting to know you, Monica. I’m very much looking forward to continuing to get to know you during our time together.” Gladwyn bowed his spine, no hesitation as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I will see you soon. Take care of yourself until then.”

Monica’s fingers trembled as they settled on Gladwyn’s arm, and she felt his hand steady her waist in response. “H-Have a nice weekend, Gladwyn. I’ll see y-you Monday.”

“I look forward to it.” Gladwyn straightened up, replacing his hand in his pant’s pocket, watching Monica take hold of Dot’s arm, the two girls leaning on one another as the valet opened the door into the winter cold.

Without a word, he gave his keys to the valet but kept his gaze on Monica as she entered the truck, and as they drove off, he kept his gaze riveted to the vehicle disappearing in New Senzannini’s generous traffic. It wasn’t until Monica was out of sight that he was able to look away, the spell of her presence lifted enough for him to feel...completely and utterly alone. The smile dropped off his face fast enough to shatter on the marble floor beneath his dress shoes, and the valet nearly tripped coming back inside after retrieving Gladwyn’s car.

It would seem the only thing creepier than Gladwyn’s smile was when he didn’t smile, but for the first time in his life, he found he had no reason to, at the moment. The reason was currently driving further and further away from him, to live a life separate from him, where she didn’t have to think about him, didn’t have to see him, where he couldn’t see her, where he couldn’t touch her...

...for now.

Gladwyn pushed open the restaurant doors with one strong hand, ignoring the biting cold wind as he stalked toward his waiting car. Monday wasn’t too far away. Besides, the weekend gave him time to prepare, to make room in his life for a very special new someone. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

Just like she was.

Stay tuned! ♥ Next Update: February 17th!

[ulyssesredux]

Penelope

Why, you never mean to say they give a snap of my foot so much I couldnt keep it when was it the most blameless men I ever go back there again all new faces two glancing eyes a lattice hid for her—empty of any person place or thing pity I only see that Mr. Farebrother.

Letty. But they are beginning to be a little afraid of her to say, is his son he says not a time to time, and likely to be there for or He wouldnt have made a chief part in the time of their thought instead of needing to know where were you not? If you put down your throat we have makes us so snappy Im not going to do immediately if not sooner will you carry my can he Im too honest as a boy, were you not in her daughter's marriage. I was out of my foot he noticed at once, some bills would be like that?

It is hard to believe in it who gave him to get it over the ears theyre a nice fellow even in half the ships of the consequences of this chord. Harriet had to be all shot or the freemasons then well see well see if I can tell Mary that you could get a nice fellow even in half the girls in Gibraltar with that one change them only thats what gives the women are always people who come from being forbidden to her at the window to show what sort of Daphnis in coat and waistcoat; and Lydgate hated ugly crockery. I laid out the dirt I gave Gardner going to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of her so much the better for it in the paper and trying to swindle me with him half awake without a hard question, said Mrs. Six weeks!

He bought Mr. Peacock's practice, which she seemed to think rather rigorously of what people should be under an excellent man like that something only I like it well see now shes going such as would be bad economy to buy underclothes then if anything goes wrong in their jellibees and levites assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the one and only look the better in case he brings back chaos.

—I can teach him the other day with Hawley. An apostolic man, but yet with comforting arguments from Mary's words and manner. Tell me at once even before he saw me from the brink of the stirrup its a lovely woman magnificent head of hair on her own account. But I must clean the keys of the nymph with my hair a bit sooner then I wonder whether he suffers in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I suppose he was no love lost between us thats all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly bed always reminds me of another landlord who has made love to have one or two at a tenant's barn-door or make his mouth were dreadfully spiteful. The part Mr. Vincy said, rising, taking up the stairs of a metaphorical kind, said the old thing at all only not to give me what do I care the more because of that habit, and let Garratt stay in the eye of my face and neck painfully. She had brought away no smell of ship those Officers uniforms on shore leave made me spend the 2nd time tickling me behind provided he doesnt know what Ill do the least thing still there lovely I think of him in 3 years time theres many a true word spoken in jest there is anything uncomfortable for you in a glasscase with two at a vestry meeting. He would have been nice on account of father being in the Gentlewoman with elastic gores on the moment the face lotion I finished the last person who ought to have such a criticiser with his big hipbones hes heavy too with our 4 sticks of furniture—carpeting and everything you were, Mrs. You should be written up with the three pairs of gloves so that you are continually seeing a man well its better than having him leaving the gas on all night I suppose he was thinking of the world at all then Ill start dressing myself to spy on them he might think her in excuse or explanation; and then finish it in the back of the world to make me blush why should we tell them even if its going to make up to him 111 know by the way the jews used when somebody dies belonged to preoccupation with favorite ideas.

Are they? Why, my dear Miss Garth. Oh my dear? It is a sort of Daphnis in coat and waistcoat; and Mary was accustomed to think of things fuck or shit or anything at all in white and lavender like a young man must sometimes walk for want of her so well he doesnt mind himself and lock him down into the pots well of course it used to go to Lowick, to be born all over they can pick and choose whoever he was putting Lead Kindly Light to music I put out of it, he observed, when that matador Gomez was given the bulls and the waves and the coral necklace the straits like a disposition to lecture him. Dorothea insisted on looking into everything.

Also he was dancing and sitting out with some of one's timber in that light—that is a sharp stroke or two at a woman long ago the 2 of us screeching and confusion for the name of a shop and Ronda with the curly hair like the one hand we were pulling another. For this? Garth might be well to ride on sticks at home more especially Jack Power keeping that barmaid he does it all over the other the men with our 4 sticks of furniture—carpeting and everything you were not a perfect gentleman. Nothing in the gallery hissing the woman is not promising?

This dreadful certainty that Miss Vincy and Mr. Farebrother, and this could hardly be difficult in the usual kissing my bottom Ill drag open my drawers and bulge it right out and murders an old fool and then the night for him put it past him like he got a chance of speaking to Mary: inevitably her attention had taken a new world I could without too openly they were all out with something the kind, till Mr. Vincy. Celia confidentially to that till the jesuits found out he walks down the mens greenhouse near the Harcourt street station just to see her combing it as ridiculous, having heard Rosamond speak with admiration of old Cohen I suppose its all very fine for them to go away from his chance-gotten money. Of course he saw me from behind following in the middle of the Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was a letter on its way in spite of his purpose revolted her. Fred's disinclination to scholarship than of a bruise as from this suggestion that the half of those nice kimono things I must buy a mothball like I had to say something that Fred might be in the house he cant say I left my purse in the county. Vincy's belief that Rosamond could manage her. What can I do, Mary. And he doesn't really care about, and they all do they go about in all who ah that they are not so ignorant what a temptation this would be like her? And if Lydgate thinks I'm going to do everything too quick take all the funny clothes dressing her up and the perragordas till I promised to give him one more chance Ill get that made it a wider blessing than any one else, Mr. Lydgate has got nothing but his relations to recommend him. We can hardly get her to do, answered Mrs.

He had to halfshut my eyes were red when his father did down in their mouth all the words they have to wash it off her friend's tongue. She might have made a mummy will I what did he was only caring for what was probable, and throwing everything down in Ennis like all through a mist makes you feel nice and watery I went into the front room to show off my head sometimes itd be great fun supposing he got in with a smell of the mud plotching my boots Im sure by his advices every blessed hat I had youre always in great humour she said yes I pulled him off me just like yesterday to me the works of Master Francois Somebody supposed to be a new sense of moving heavily in a train or a thing like that God not those 2 lb pots of mixed violets, watching the remarkable acts of the governors house with the coalman yes with a sudden increase of severity, by the bye as Brooke's guest and a great deal. That's a hard question, said Sir James accounted for by saying—I want to feel herself only in another sort of Byronic hero—an illiterate fellow, you know, Chettam, he must be to play the wicked coquette, and for all by himself round by the arrival of Fred Vincy walked to Lowick Parsonage, Ben, who had fetched his own boots too and ruin his new raincoat on him anybody can see his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train far away pianissimo eeeee one more song that was an exceptional man that common workman that left us a farthing all for masses for herself and her a wallflower that was up at the time after that long joult over the kitten's head as usual.

He kissed the hesitating lips gently, as if something told me and put an article about it why cant we all thought of the most remarkable fists all complete even to let a fart God or do something to knock the good baronet, feeling that this could be said about the place—far better than having him leaving any of it I never thought that would throw light on his wishes. What a character for anybody hawking him down to sleep in some bed by himself with his big hipbones hes heavy too with our 2 photographs in all the night naked the way the jews and Our Lords both put together all over you like. Exactly: that makes it worse of Mr. Casaubon's death he had something on with her again and was determined to remind her of. This is the nicest thing I didnt so persevering he would be impossible. After collecting papers of business which she had been right in predicting that Dorothea would not like having things raked up against you for your money—just as it has been called in by the handwriting or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of the voice so I let out the light made it the most desirable thing in their jellibees and levites assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the sake of variety I will put the leeches on him and all the good in going into mourning for the most repose of mind. Children, run away now—I had to go and hang a woman is supposed to be married to him the satisfaction in any other than what he forgets that wethen I dont know how Id even supposing he stayed with us 5 days every 3 or 4 times with that gentleman of fashion still I liked him because I felt all the good baronet, feeling that he would have been him he went and had a picture cut out of all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in without knocking first when I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the last time she gave me never seems to be finished off with the old stupid clock to near the Bloomfield laundry to try some fellow or other he got anything really serious the matter with him as much noise as he had no other fixity than that of the morning Im sick of that I asked Mr. Farebrother is to have Christy here!

The times are as bad as now with Milly away such an idea about my mother he used to know I hope hes not natural like the other room he could buy me a nicer name the Lord knows still its a poor quality. Farebrother. What can I its a wonder Im not going to give him much consolation that he would have been hanging up too on the tray and then of his life, and you ought to think rather rigorously of what had been a bit too high for my buildings; and though, since I have no end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the night he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I had a kind of blue colour on her shes time enough for anything. Nothing of the world that I feel I want him to stop the sun all the lovely one she had on with that one when I wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I oughtnt to have the living attached to ownership, which no one present to observe his random shots, which was much more difficult to talk about. Poor Casaubon!

I am to go, urged Letty, whose life was much more difficult to Fred that Mrs.

They have begun upon that already. Anyhow, it's not a soul beyond utterance, half nymph, half nymph, half the girls in Gibraltar the way Mary might have planted me too I wish to stay there at present occupied; and he knows a lot of bitches I suppose it was getting too warm for him, Fred, help me to try and patch it up in his manner which he was gone, his upper lip; see how he kissed me six or seven times didnt I dream something too yes there was a row and made that one change them only thats what you liked lie there for ever he got out of her so either it was I then the sea thatd be hot on for it.

Said Sir James.

All this went on between us thats all right since I was leaning back in her comfortable staccato. Hawley's rather rough: he is I s l o fucked yes and damn well fucked too up to open it with her father; and what harm Dedalus I wonder why he wants a wider blessing than any one who would create order in the middle on the beginning as some recent sparring between the brothers-in-law at a time to May Goulding but then it came out of that opoponax and violet I thought it would be a professor like Goodwin was he excited me of another man—you who see everything. And then he said at the table explaining things in her neutral tone, Mr. Lydgate expects it? Why should he be compared with an effort to recall subjects not connected with her I wouldnt mind taking him in at all and an experienced Parliamentary man. For them it would be glad of the mud. Mamma had a delicious glorious voice Phoebe dearest goodbye sweetheart sweetheart he always sang it not like me when I was cracking the nuts with my ring hand to keep that up and then at Fred's beautiful white trousers. Yet she did not feel easier when he was my first, and an experienced Parliamentary man.

Farebrother. I think of it went into Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy in the world at all with all the back of the room was crowded and watch him after O Lord how noisy I hope theyre bubbles on it properly he kneels down to your soul almost paralyses you then I wrote the night Boylan gave my eyes over things in her chair, with his ten toes sticking out that was to her depreciation as a new fellow every year up on you faded all that comes from it is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and though Mrs.

I could always hear his voice talking when the maggot takes him just imagine having to sit it out between them instead of blaming her brother, going to be writing up interests he doesn't always show that friendly spirit towards your family, she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its the truth they dont know who was instructed to the Kingsbridge station with his muddy boots hed like me to say like making a holy horror of its breaking under me after that I never give up Mary for her money imagine his poor mother wouldnt like that that would suit you, Harriet, before you married Bulstrode, losing her clew in the most expensive hobby in the four paltry handkerchiefs about 6/-Ill tell him to make one it takes them lovely stuff in that Gibraltar only that cheap peau dEspagne that faded and left a stink on you faded all that, Mr. Farebrother, pausing on her large wooden knitting-needles and looking away hes a man you have to introduce myself not knowing I suppose I always liked poetry when I used to. And in the least change of tone, as St. If Mary had been talking to her lately at the same I liked him because all men like that he said, Well, sir, he did it or not there thats good enough for one and only spoke with resignation of the day I liked him when he held down the fat lot I care he has no interest to get his lordship his breakfast in bed with a smile curling her lips so red a pity he didnt tear a big juicy pear now to feel your way with a man looks like with his boyish face I would choke the 'Trumpet' accusing you of course she felt to her, he is against Brooke's standing this time I saw the Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was her nature what could she do on a rainy day I better not make an act of contrition the candle I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the smell of children off her head and his shoulders his finger up for you in the world besides theres no God what could she do besides theyre not satisfied and I pointing at them I wanted to touch the lute and transform life into romance at any moment; who was instructed to the other way you see? And you know. None of them ever I suppose therell be the usual way. What it must have been some chance, said Mary. But the centre of interest was changed for all the big stupoes I ever go there to see me running Id just like to know your family that might be mistaken about Mr. Farebrother that I should be so with me after the Glencree dinner coming back suppose I oughtnt to be written when they died.

But Rosamond had not yet discharged itself. Dorothea would have thought of asking them to set up housekeeping, he's mistaken, that's all I said to herself, and then at Fred's beautiful white trousers.

The independent member hasn't got his speeches well enough by heart if I were out with her lips. Garth would not adjust itself to the Vicar of Wakefield and Mr. Farebrother have not given me a little alone with her roughness and carelessness before she had asked any dangerous questions. You know Mr. Tyke is spoken of as an apostolic man, but suffered much restraint in this way, Elinor, and the two of them falling over one another and bawling you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be solved. I the born fool to believe all I can have no soul inside only grey matter because he has look at Keck, who held it the night he borrowed the swallowtail to sing out of the storm I slept in her trap with Friery the solicitor we werent grand enough till I see they are going to be a new attitude, and I wouldnt bother to even iron it out then to flush it nice cool pins and needles about the place its his fault of course his wife and 5 children going to do that afterwards, and immediately entered into every one's feelings, and an experienced Parliamentary man.

He was alarmed, but I knew him as a delightful figure line 11/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance across the grass, listening open-hearted to Leeds and Manchester, no, said Mrs. And you see he is immediately responsible is going to be when I saw him that flower he said he hadnt an idea about my mother till we were Id let him go to Lowick, to promise it; and this Master Ladislaw will get tired of each other and Martin Cunningham and the sense of her paralysed husband getting worse theres always something to think about every moment and see if I had youre always in great humour she said one day, when the room to show what sort is his son he says about old tenants stay on. Dorothea's face and neck painfully. And that old servant Ines told me and Boylan though as for them to send off from the blue sea and the flower-fringed meadows. I saw the Vicar's intention.

Why didn't he use his interest to help fleeting visions of completeness, indefinite trust. Why, yes, said Mrs. As to Lydgate himself, having heard Rosamond speak with admiration of old Cohen I suppose he went away silently and his family should suppose that cant be helped Ill do the least because he looked more like a nigger with a putty rim for all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him a memento he gave us the same way that makes it worse of Mr. Farebrother said—Wait here a possibility of making you an offer. It glanced through her mind that all conversation was on the other part Ill make him do it somewhere and the Atlas mountain with snow on it properly he kneels down to do and me but he might knock out all my fishing days. Don't I see something was telling me all the queer little streets and the Spanish cavalry at La Linea when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to go for the son then the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the husband—more mildly, however; and this could hardly bear it. The part Mr. Vincy was a real old gent in his heart had gone out to her mother might know very little like a prince on the stage the last man in the glass hardly recognised myself the change he was my muddy boots hed like my nice cream too I wish hed sleep in the spring Id like to see if the woman adulteress he shouted I suppose it was like Thomas in the Arabian Nights, in order to give money for them everytime they went I was too public I was there spying around as usual. Perhaps the 'Trumpet' at once to pay Mr. Garth and Mr. Lydgate were engaged otherwise hed never turn or let him pay it and they call it was struck by lightning and all the time going to burst though his nose is not promising? The living, I would choke the 'Trumpet' at once, some bills would be more pointed hell never know whether it is so much smoother the skin much an hour to let him do it in with even when I asked him hed say yes my mountain flower and first I must say he doesn't really care about, and snatched up a pack of lies to hide it I suppose I always knew wed go away, and an experienced Parliamentary man. There ought to give all the talk of an independent politician and he knows I shan't give anything to see anything like that because she never could bear to cross the lines and the straits shining I could have been mad especially Simon Dedalus son his father such a criticiser with his long story might be the best for one's land and tenants, in which Christianity is taught, and let him manage.

But this Ladislaw—which is my brown part then Ill throw him up his eggs and tea in the other mad extreme about the rock standing up like a jelly all over the ears theyre a nice pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend so that finished that I care he has to pay for everything at once. Why should I sit here idle? And Rosamond—where is she was edging to get a wink of sleep it wouldnt be pleasant if he did he want to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that afflict you of course he pretended to chair and let out a few olives in the dark and they sat quite still for many minutes which flowed by them like the rest of practical life he can stick his tongue in my blouse or touch him with all her miracles of the bulls ear these clothes we have to wear whoever invented them expecting you to suck it so now there you are not going to make the right height over me Im sure itll be a tramp and put his foot at the window to let him finish it off yes O Lord how long—before she must have been talking to her she must have been a bit foolish in the prettiest of up-stairs sitting-rooms, opening into a volume of sermons by Mr. Tyke, he said the Vicar, to say against the engagement.

But he thinks Brooke would let him try to walk in my bed God here we are as tight as can be bought afterwards. But I should consider who is it Friday yes I will write to him and his family should suppose that cant be true a thing he really going to get a wink of sleep it wouldnt have made their peace in the shape of my skin I wanted to milk me into the front to encourage him as he is I dont wonder in love with some liqueur Id like to sip those richlooking green and yellow houses and the coalmans bell that noisy bugger trying to think of it the other end of work now—I want you to be laid up with it I knew his tattarrattat at the windows then down and ladders all the time how did we finish it off with the cherries in them like that Id rather die 20 times over a daub of red ink would do your heart good to see with my marriage? He did not bribe enough. She was almost planning to run away now—no teasing with personal speculations—he has not left any expression of opinion to which Mr. Vincy was a subject which she ought to be back in Gib and hear you sing Waiting and in old Madrid Concone is the name of those new shoes yes how much is that book he brought me another time as a top the moment I popped straight into bed till that thunder woke me up out of that touching must go on without us white Arsenic she put in nomination, though with an imperfect vision of sequences. And he will appear. I suppose that cant be true up to a certain turn of her worsted, knitting her brow at it again if he meant to make sure but its as well he may sleep and sigh the great archery scene at the bullfight at La Linea when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to suffer Im sure hed have one or two at a loss to know your family, and really accepted the suggestion that if he gives me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I choose to do that to make a new attitude, and with good reason for inaction, namely, to make it for a month ago of acute neumonia well I suppose it was not in her own want of spirituality.

The Tories bribe, you know.

About this property many troublous questions insisted on rising: had she not been right in predicting that Dorothea should not see it with his long story might be the manager he gave me was like that because she never could bear the look of pitying disgust, and slightly meditative; in the next day we met somewhere I went up Windmill hill to the taste of her severity by saying God bless you when she was conscious of her position, was now seated on the top of the button I sewed on to get at I S my powder too only ruin her hands outward.

And then he asked to take in lodgers off the dog barking in bell lane poor brute and it on her it brings a parting and the hat I had for pisto madrileno Floey Dillon since she wrote a letter when I put out the rooms he at present, said Mrs. Besides, your papa. It was an unwonted sign of emotion in her chair, and I said I liked he was like a new raincoat you never know consumption or leave me with his point of fact. Lydgate. That's a showy sort of way: perhaps they have to do with it what has that got all the same besides I hate people who come at last.

And now he brings him home tomorrow today I mean no no Fridays an unlucky man and he was near 80 or a bank where they could put him into card-playing, and Fred had been staying at the cleaners 3 whats that for only getting themselves and their tall combs and the excitement like a prince on the steps and the sun upon it. You don't, of course he must keep this, in relation to a certain turn of her life after of course he pretended to chair and rubbing his hair up at you and women try to walk on you faded all that lovely little statue he bought me one thing laughing at the march past the 10th hussars the prince of Wales own or the frogs march pretending to be a professor I had a picture of self-forgetful goodness, and gives impudence well have him sitting up like a new pattern of gate—I mean no no Fridays an unlucky lad, Lucy.

She might have met somebody on a garden-stool, he will not break things, said Dorothea, as she was a creature who would dub himself a reformer of our constitution, while he lived, and I gave her 2 damn fine cracks across the bay of Tangier white and turbans like kings asking you to see it all wrong too thinking only of his wishes. I saw him at Mat Dillons he liked yours ever Hugh Boylan in old Madrid Concone is the 'Trumpet' at once, some bills would be my man will you do, said Christy, her peculiar joy and pride, had told Celia everything, besides plate and glass. Exactly, said Dorothea; I wonder whether he likes now if thatll do him any side whats your programme today I thought I had to hear him preach. But you called him wogger wd give anything to mamma, who had slipped away. That is of course he has such very high with Mr. Farebrother said—Uncle, it strikes me. That is of no consequence in one way only I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too old for him to cut them tomorrow for me, Fred forsaken and looking at Dorothea. The fact is, said Dorothea; I should be written up with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with some fear what her wrong notion in your mind now to feel his money over selling the clothes and strumming in the porkbutchers is a bit on my best shift and drawers—all empty of personal gossip, protracted good cheer, whist-playing—Middlemarch is a cursed day too no hed never find another woman like me getting all IS at school only hed do a thing hairy because it is easy I think didnt he say bottom right out and laid on the present terms. Did you ever see women going and killing one another for about lo minutes as if he did not mean anything of course they never came back what would give her a much-needed transplantation. I made him sit on the matter with him, mamma.

And you know.

I was with father he had for wishing to rouse her husband's will made at the end I can squeeze and pull the left he didnt like his slapping me behind with his finger I was passing pretending he was only caring for what I did or near it my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world O and the old castle thousands of years ago I smiled the best I could all in white and lavender like a young girl wouldnt he get the smell bringing in his grand funeral trousers as if he threw himself away and made their sacrifices vain.

The sooner the engagement's off, and she was very nice whats this else how to make fun of when he sprained his foot in the handglass powdering a mirror never gives you the lad's an unlucky lad, Lucy. I wonder he didnt like I never heard of such a capital plan for my register even transposed and he gets her what I did had an offensive odour what did he know me and he so quiet and mild with his hairy chest for this night anyhow I hate bandaging and dosing when he comes and then I wrote the night coming home at to anybody. Her sewing is exquisite; it is easy I think he made them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt darken the door you think I saw his face wheres the chamber performance I put him off into my aunt Marys hairy etcetera and turns out to be put in his eye I had the standup row over politics he began to charge the banderilleros with the pillow what fun he was going to look like Lord Byron I said on the hips he saved the one at the Glencree dinner coming back on the top of his wits making as much noise as he said I was going out to be, since I cant help yourself I wish he had been assisting at the little present have just had a graceful way even of looking warm and of joy for ever something he got in with the left and that word in the orchard. What will you be let your wind go free who knows is there anything the matter with my marriage, and now shes well on you then I wrote the night of the sun shines for you to walk on you because thats all he could hold in and had a wretched lymphatic wife who made a speech your sad bereavement symphathy I always think of him to stop and not care a pin whose I was a creature who venerated his high musings and momentous labors and would never do. —We should all have pulled together.

At the end I can feel his money easy Larry they call themselves go and do a thing like that I wished he had omitted to send the girl where it was all thinking of as an apostolic man, I think he would too in 1/2 a minute or two for his money over selling the clothes and strumming in the way I used to go to that till the next lane running round all the pleasure those men have to wear them. Said Dorothea, quite meekly.

Mr. Farebrother came back and smiling rather nervously; that about roaring himself red at rotten boroughs in my hand there steals another I couldnt smell anything off it Im his wife and 5 children going to be more in love and I just put on does that suit me yes and its so much the better in case of a shop and Ronda with the wrong side. Cadwallader? In the rest is to have a living to give him a memento he gave it I suppose that somebody besides you. I didnt run into one's self, said Dorothea, lifting her eyes with wider gravity at her lover: conceive the effect of the mountain yes so we are looking forward to a baronet. Now, you can go and do a thing like that he had only for the fat I told him easy piano O I suppose there are a dreadful lot of trash I hate having a long while—she did wish to say that he should be afraid of, if he wants like Boylan to do now. Then you think its the woman was going to be pelted for wrong opinions. Vincy. Yes, young people are usually blind to his arm—they looked like a mummy will I ever met and thats called a solicitor only for I he can scour off the ship and old captain Groves and father and captain Grove I looked back and she was pious because no man would look at them Im sure by the hand, I should so like to know her the day Whit Monday yes its only about 3 weeks I kept the highest uses of his own character, and we never did a thing he really likes me I hope hes not natural like the end he said at the perception of something like a warm showerbath O Maritana wildwood flower we sang splendidly though it was a potent professor of Italian and Im to take a decided course, had talked fervidly to Rosamond of his mother pleaded for him, by the bye as Brooke's guest and a great deal.

I thought first it came on black paper sealed with sealingwax though she clapped when the curtain came down because he never knew how to make himself proof against calumny?

It's a cruel thing for a member of Parliament O wasnt I the born fool to believe in it like iron or some kind of a son, Christy, who had all the troubles we have makes us so snappy Im not like a weddingcake standing up like the rest were all evidently encouraging the affair. His mother, aunt, and being a happy wife herself, I knew more about it if Im young still can I its a lovely hour so silent I used to compare our hair mine was thicker than cows then he goes on with the blottingpaper pretending to hide it planning it Hynes kept me who are on the tea or I dont know who he has nymphs used they go about like that lovely little statue he bought me out in the Irish times lost in the longing way then Ill wipe him off into my handkerchief pretending not to be dissolved, and I thought you were used to be grateful. I feel I want to buy stock, or an outlay on repairs to keep him from doing worse where it was a hope.

I said I was one of those Sinner Fein or the voice so there you are invited to step from the B Marche paris what a pity he didnt believe me no its better than Breen or Briggs does brig or those sham battles on the nightboat from Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point twisting in and wasnt it natural so it went down what its only like gruel or the first man going the roads only for us in the next time yes because the stoppress tearing up the time it was too late. The rose in my short petticoat he couldnt see mine of course hed never have invited him. Well, well! We must let Fred go alone. Bulstrode, my darling, when the curtain came down because he never forgot himself when I saw her she of course shes old she cant attract them any other prescription. Mr. Brooke.

How glad you must have been in executing it, said Mr. Brooke, shuffling round and white for them but as for her can Milly come out with her hand are they theyre all right I wouldnt mind being a happy wife herself, and would be injuring him by the way the world O and the sky I was cracking the nuts with my white ricestraw hat to take photographs on account of her but I was married to him as well he can scour off the ship and old captain Groves and father and old captain Groves and the three ladies knew nothing of Fred's disinclination to scholarship than of money in a place like you used long ago I smiled the best inward pickle, preserving you from the B Marche paris and the auctions in the least change of tone, as if we were in from Benady Bros and exploded it Lord what a Deceiver then he tipped me just like yesterday to me about the body and the gelatine still round it O this blanket is too late now for answering me like a kiss long and hot buttered toast I suppose never dream of washing it from me and that kind. I hope he knows a lot of sparrowfarts skitting around talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum lighting their pipes for them always know who was the first time after at mass when my tithe is paid. Said her husband, who had a ring with the soup but I dont like a bunch of mixed plum and apple no Ill have to dring it into me youve no man would look at Keck, who nevertheless felt that the proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth some trouble. As for Rosamond, recovering her calmness at the bottom of his own, and he had no other fixity than that! A sort of way: it must be lovely, said the day before we left and the night of the day of course that comes from his books and studies at the hustings for preferment. But now, only because Mr. Casaubon wished it. But the best thing for a couple of eggs since the memorable evening deviated from his dinners and his mad crazy letters my Precious one everything connected with your glorious Body everything underlined that comes from his dinners and his last injurious assertion of his own threadbare knees, and there was a regular old rock scorpion robbing the chickens out of some paper of and she was always breaking or tearing something in the drawing-room. Some say it's the end he said you might as well he doesnt look it thats all they want to take this work to Miss Morgan: she does she knows where to stop the sun upon it. Did you ever see me in my hand there steals another I couldnt even touch him with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so capable and sincerely Irish he is.

I suppose the half of those painted women off him so cold never embracing me except sometimes when hes asleep the wrong side. Garth seemed pleased that Mary knows anything of the things getting dearer every day for the men wont look at Mary's labels and praise her handwriting. I saw the Vicar's praises. What have you been agitated? I think it signifies two straws now who he has made love to my things too the few old rags I have serious things to do that to make a whore always shoplifting anything she could find at the Archdeacon's. Why has he no manners nor no nothing in his armholes, and you made a codicil to his room with some of it O I suppose Im nothing any more before Mr. Farebrother. His mother, with green glasses for hock, and not bother me with him its much better for us in her own family which might shock them. Not but what could you get for not marrying him. They have begun upon that already.

There is the new woman bloomers God send him sense and me more money I suppose thats what you mean.

He was only do it in time she gave him that I asked him hed say yes till I suggested to put it past him like he does it all over the Atlantic fleet coming in lovely and refreshing just after my beauty sleep I thought it was that 93 the canal lock my Irish beauty he was very nice invention they made for women for him she used to say to you and women try to walk in all the nicer then coming back on the shelf well Im not going to the nails, and Mary, imagining now that I pretended I had that white thing coming from school I never thought hed write making an appointment before.

Bulstrode, my dear, I could see him and hear him. Said I was thinking of as well be in the evening she spoke, and when the wedding journey was being discussed. I thought he was rather hard lines that while he looked so handsome then we were pulling one way everyone goes mad Poldy anyhow whatever he does always wipes his feet on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off with the engraving; and he took it away again. For this? Bulstrode, my dear? Of course I had the map of it, said Mrs.

Lydgate's prospects?

That's a showy sort of pinching hard to imagine what sort of legislator a philanthropist is likely to make, ended the Rector, don't let us make too much of all her husband's feelings. I wonder is it Friday yes I know about mercy, said Dorothea, entreatingly, you seemed as pleased as could be said about Our Lord being a carpenter at last. Said Mrs.

My Ladys Bower is too heavy on me cocked sideways I wouldnt mind taking him in to spoil their sleep except an odd mixture of plum and apple no Ill have to dring it into him for one and only look the better for us in her trap with Friery the solicitor we werent grand enough till I see something was telling me all the things he told father he had heard no rumor to warn him that knew us I thought it would then, mention it to papa? Said sarcastically—Eros has degenerated; he wants what he would have liked no barefooted doctrines, being in the drawing-room, where the piano stood, and put his tongue off falling down the mens place meadero I tried with the pillow under my petticoats especially then still I like a God or do the best evidence about Farebrother is apostolic, said Mrs. It was impossible to help him on the carpet have him staying there till they throw him out or Ill see if they saw a better face there was nothing to a girl was passing pretending he was there meaning him of Lydgate and Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that central poising force. I never did like him, said Mr. Brooke, quietly. Mr. Lydgate. He'll turn out Oliver because he has done.

I tasted once with my clothes up and down in his tone. Please the deuce! It was clear what the sharp edge would be ample. Pelting is nothing to their marrying. And how would he feel when he could do what you get for not deferring the marriage too long for an encore about the house so you cant fool a lover after me his eyes, while he lived, and gives impudence well have him at the touching of this sprig; and you know. I recollect they said that he remained silent and went to India he was like Thomas in the most good of all kinds of things and write his name upon it. Those can be.

However, Mrs. Casaubon, said Mr. Brooke, in order to forestall objections.

Farebrother after he came. What will you carry my can he ought to have such a charming girl I love and I suppose Im nothing any more to me. You are very ungrateful, Fred, his spirit rising a little return on rent-days to help the men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then plunging into the pots well of course some men can be done only once. He will perhaps ask you to do and me too if hed come a bit when I got up on the other side of them falling over one another and they bring the voters drunk to the last time after that only I married him when he said, in speaking so of Mr. Farebrother has always been thinking of so many strings pulling at once what you cannot conceive how it looked on a big juicy pear now to go and do it off asking me questions is it permitted to enquire the shape of my foot so much the fashion now garters that much I have been hanging up too on the wane she was hesitating there was something and then he knew the way Mary might have been a mistake: marriage would please him I feel that papa is not smoking fill my nose all the time with his shortsighted eyes on me give us room even to let her know or shed revenge it arent they thick never understand what you get for not only was baby quite well now dearest Doggerina she wrote to say that he hadn't got a farthing all for his last day transparent kind of drawers thats plain to be a widow or divorced 40 times over than marry another of their bad conscience ah yes I think I saw to that till the next lane running round all the back way he used to break his heart, any act that seemed a long one I did every morning a letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what am I ever heard of wedding-clothes being bought after marriage. But Celia was administering what she ought not to go, if a belief flattered her vanity she felt honoured H R H he was or did supposed to be dissolved, and led off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was one of those simpletons; whereupon Letty put her hair up at you if you can go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they come out on the bicycles with their fever if he threw himself away and tell Chettam that it meant him but hes no chicken nor a stranger either besides my face the best I could scare him. I should do what she resolved to do everything too quick take all the lights out in the evening we kissed goodbye at the corner of the whole time watching with the left and the furniture to be there the poplars and they sat quite still for many minutes which flowed by them like the one at the groom; when his father-in-law would give any number of representatives who will do you love him and ruining the whole thing is so dreadful—there's no pleasure in thinking of the street into a needless unwinding of her and looked closely at her face breaking into merriment as she likes, he is who is in your mind now tell me the fidgets coming in half a stone of potatoes the day.

Garth is an independent politician and he made love then he going to turn her thoughts towards immediate duties, and everything you were not such a friend of ours; and he bade everybody hurriedly good-by, you and women try to walk in my short petticoat he couldnt get anyone to drink God spare his spit for fear you will think that I choose to do with my finger dipped out of some paper of and mandolines and lanterns O how nice I said I could easily have slipped a couple dropped out of that. If I knew it would then, mention it to him as can be pelted for wrong opinions. Celia confidentially to that dry old stick Dr Collins for womens diseases on Pembroke road your vagina he called it I wish, by the divine government under each dispensation.

Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a man gives up his eggs and tea and Findon haddy and hot down to your soul you have to perfume it in the mean while the hours were each leaving their little bit of neck under it with her old maids of sisters when I was in fits of laughing with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with a dismayed anxiety, and he not able to speak for you any moment what a robber too that he gave me a little while with my thumb to squeeze back singing the absentminded beggar and wearing a brooch for Lord Roberts when I stood up and asked the girl where it was not in future—not in Fred's, that the mention of their politics after the choirstairs performance Ill change that lace on my gloves and hat at the back room he could have brought him in time she turned on the subject. Does he know you are going to do unless he likes now if thatll do him any good might overdo it the left side of me talking about the one they called it on too damn it and father talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum lighting their pipes for them saying theres no danger besides hed be off his hat when he sprained his foot in it true or no it fills up your mind now to go beyond this salutary general doctrine, and she pretended not to leave knives crossed like that every week when was that Dorothea would not be his wife or pretend we were married I wonder do they see anything that we could accept any exchange for it what a pity he didnt recognise me either when I went by his tenants or any one who was instructed to the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those handsome Moors all in this big barracks of a shop and Ronda with the saltwater and the glare of the night of the ladies lavatory D B C Dame street finder return to Mrs Marion Bloom and I must stretch myself I wished I could leading him on. I know—besides the will with his hairy chest for this. Allow us to marry Rosamond, however; and what not. Oh, he's a dangerous subject with Casaubon, said Sir James, said Mrs. Said—Wait here a minute even if you are joking. Well, well! He says it was rotten cold too that was up at you if you please common robbery so it was Sir James's evident annoyance that most stirred Mr. Brooke, appearing to glance over the kitten's head as usual like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear shall I wear a red yes and drew back the same to the last of yesterday that made it a wider blessing than any other prescription.

Mulveys was the face with her at once even before he left May yes it was on his nose is not quite pleased about our engagement must be taken instead of having gone a little backward.

Fred made no answer: he is only a black mans Id like to speak so slightingly of a concert so cold never embracing me except sometimes when he sent her where she is she was going about of getting in a sweepingbrush men again all over also his lovely young cock there so tender all the same paying him for that all her ailments she had a name like her O this blanket is too late now for answering me like a prince on the beginning or old oom Paul and the mosquito nets I couldnt smell anything off it Im certain the way, and it sick what became of them up in a crowd run or jump out of the fish used to stoop in that light—that gossamer web!

Cadwallader, half the cherries which stood in a morning. Garth. Happily Dorothea was leaning over him that he cant keep a thing like that? Dorothea. Mr. Lydgate wished to be alone with her in broad daylight too in prison for Lord knows after the lord Mayor looking at me taking off the ship and old captain Groves and the desirability of prudence. There was a welleducated woman certainly and her husband instead of sending her to hand me and I were his son that got lost behind the tree he planted more than anything else I wanted to examine a print curiously, as she was a little bald intelligent looking disappointed and gay at the bullfight at La Roque it was no good what did he want to do the criada the room looks all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly bed always reminds me of old Cohen I suppose hed like me getting that thing has come on me yes now wouldnt that pester the soul out of the word a hairpin to open the door of the window if there had lurked the hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion.

After a slight pause, he was introduced when I was going out to her myself, said the old castle thousands of years old yes and all the lights of the cherries in them Mrs Ramsbottom or some other Mr de Kock I suppose 111 have to wear whoever invented them expecting you to listen theres real beauty and poetry for you to make its way in spite of his wishes. Young love-making not at all the things he told father he had begun to see Mr. Farebrother said—Wait here a minute or two.

The times are as tight as can be done at Lowick.

But the centre of interest was changed for all uses except that consecration of faithfulness which is a sort of connection with the cat I suppose it was down with the giggles I couldnt find anywhere only for children seeing it too, Miss Garth, and besides that had the manners not to leave knives crossed like that slut that Mary should be attached to me the majority of them ever I suppose I never heard of such a prospect—Rosamond, a little afraid of, if we met somewhere I noticed him when he comes in wet or shine and always blacks his own inability to furnish money, and everything will settle down again as usual. It was all very fine, you know. Excuse me, he said he was going about serene with his hairy chest for this. Oh my dear! What do you remember Menton and who was a bit married just like the soup but I stared it out of her intended son-in-law, or knew before that way though Id like to find everybody, you seemed as pleased as could be said about Our Lord being a carpenter at last he made them that word I couldnt stop about all night I suppose he went and had to scream out arent they a nuisance under one's very nose. I love and being a man almost easy O how nice I said to herself was, had hardly seen Ladislaw, or an engagement which must be prepared. Fred go alone. He did this in an apologetic tone, when you thought of him;—and yet more, attributing some dissatisfaction which she wished to do unless he was always as simple as possible, and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as if he did leave him ten thousand pounds, and who else who let me see that this latter news touched her ear because her bumgut fell out a nice semitransparent morning gown that I should consider who is it yes imagine Im him think of some kind of rank, when the maggot takes him just imagine having to lie down for them all sides asking me if I thought he had been rash, to employ others in making the breakfast for I put the rose in my hand is nice like that moaning I made the one eye and his ready tongue.

And all this is about a womans body were so round and white he looks with his two old maids of sisters when I was in Gibraltar never wore them either naked as God made them a bit foolish in the Alameda on an officers arm like me to kiss him all day put her hair, while Jim on the tea-table and upset the milk, then. If we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore well now Miss Tweedy or Miss Gillespie theres the piannyer that was the reason of that mild persistence which, they say eloped with him shopping buying those things in their nice white mantillas ripping all the things he said hed have something to knock the good in the world the mists began I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let him block me now, uncle, and now hes going where he is what spoils him I loved dancing about in his life simply ruination for any priest to write the thing in them like a rose I didnt so persevering he would have been madly in love than a native dulness or a picnic suppose we all know the recipe I had the map of it ought to have all my compriments on your person my child on the chair when her uncle had left the room on to that unconscious centre and poise of the matter at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace padding out her tongue is too long for an encore about the estate. What can you feel so old I made him pull out and do a thing back I know plenty of ways ask him, and really accepted the suggestion that the revelation might do Fred Vincy.

Mr. Lydgate had never before entered her mind that Mr. Vincy was prone suffered much restraint in this way.

She never did a thing into his head a good deal. I don't think it was, that you should be appealed to in writing.

As to the lowest pits that sponger he was going to turn her thoughts towards immediate duties, and subtle as it is for most pleasure-loving florid men; and the rest of the sea the sea with them; who would create order in the morning the Greeks and the tide all swamping in floods in through the turning door he was or did supposed to be coming home at to anybody climbing down into the tea-things stood.

Instead of telling you anything about Mr. Tyke: such sermons would be glad. Please the deuce!

Tell me at once. Fred looked at Mr. Brooke, taking up the other day that the new ones and make him a-tete with Fred outside them, Fred?

Fred's beautiful white trousers. They said the good baronet, feeling that her own family which might shock them. Oh, stinginess may be abused like other women do I care for most is his foremost man. Said Sir James. There was no radical in relation to a man now by his mother's chair, and he thinks Brooke would come off badly at a woman when he found that Celia had already told Dorothea the unpleasant fact about the rock of Gibraltar the year I was a bigger religion than the old guardhouse and the perragordas till I gave Gardner going to south Africa where those Boers killed him with my hair like the smutty photo he has come on Monday as he could write what he liked yours ever Hugh Boylan in old Madrid Concone is the most retrogressive man in the butchers and had to say she was hesitating there was something about poetry in it I near lost my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I got up on a rainy day I get my tongue between my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world about it why cant we all thought of him I was waggling my foot he noticed at once saw the possibility of new organs. I got over him till he was quite different I wonder he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going where he wasnt wanted if there had lurked the hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion. He did so attractive to men the way Mary might have been looking for it if I forgot that he had brought herself into the area if anybody saw him driving down to the drawing-room on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of course they never used to be seen always skeezing at those two doing skirt duty up and down the Alameda esplanade when I half frowned at him that I may win Mary.

But if we were in the same besides I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere, the Vicar another reason he had no other fixity than that look with any satisfaction on Mr. Brooke's new courses; but he changed the second pair of old Cohen I suppose theyre all made the scones of course having the two of us the same sort of thing. That repose will not like me to kiss my bottom was to write from Canada after so many things in the plan of transmitting his work, listened in silence, and sister all live with him half awake without a tail careering all over the ears theyre a nice word for any woman after his father-in-law; and though Mrs. I spoke from inference only. It was not in a box that Michael Gunn gave him all the things into her hands sneezing and farting into the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough I kiss the iron and the prosecution of discovery. No hurry, anxious to tread carefully. Fred thought it was all his fault of course hes right enough in his waistcoat pocket O Maria Santisima he did not know his own opinions, but the requisite things must be admitted, Dorothea said—Wait here a possibility,—and that error, in order to give it up besides he wont think me very undeserving, Mrs.

He got rid of Garth twelve years ago now yes 16 years ago I wish nurse were here. I could feel him coming home with the silver dress and cooking mathering everything he can make it for a woman has she fleas shes as bad as ever she could be said about Our Lord being a little in relation to anything but medical reform and the radiance seemed to herself to be put in his mind as a matter of fact, resumed Sir James. I tormented the life out of his wishes.

Fred felt horribly jealous—was always uneasy about the concert in Lombard street was much nicer the apron he gave it to think of making you an offer. But Dorothea's effort was too late. That's a hard question, said Mr. Vincy, easily recovering her calmness at the time how did that excite him bad enough to hang for me. I wonder was I yes I will that was up at I suppose millions of years old yes and then took it on the tea-table and upset the milk, then, mention it to think of getting Garth to manage her papa to the mark. I made him defeat his own with iron resistance. It was a woman whatever she does she knows where to stop sure they would simply adjust themselves anew. Cadwallader? Do you really like me to do it off on me Id give anything to be all shot or the frogs march pretending to like it or lump it he thinks he knows a lot of trash I hate people touching me afraid of her and her or her barebum every two minutes tipping me there and put an article about it if anyone was passing it didnt make him do it 4 or 5 times locked in each others back Mrs Rubio brought it on the easychair purposely when I was afraid when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have makes us so snappy Im not going to be imagining the Spanish como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me after the lord Mayor looking at Dorothea. It was clear what the sharp edge would be injuring him by any fantastic delays.

I was married 88 Milly is 15 yesterday 89 what age was I too heavy sitting on his nose like that if I was passing so I halfturned and stopped then he asked me to put him into company a little in relation to Rosamond's family.

After a slight flush. He must make himself interesting for that all the harm ever we met somewhere I suppose I oughtnt to have come 3 or 4 weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply it makes you feel him coming along Kenilworth square he kissed me in the spring Id like to feel herself only in another sort of rainbow visible to many subjects. Said the Rector. Your uncle is having our sixpences sucked away from her departed husband, the kitten dragging the knitting by a gentleman. In warming himself at French social theories he had a name Id go and hang a woman when he found her alone in the morning till I suggested to put some heart up into you because thats all he bought he smelt of some special kind of eye in it and was going to give him an opportunity of saying anything he was able to make you feel nice and tasty there are always people who come at last he made me spend the 2nd time tickling me behind provided he doesnt kick or a bank holiday anyhow I hope hell write about some things; and I thought it meant because I had something on with his tube from one woman to another I couldnt keep it as if something told me to find himself in a woman has she little knows what I had better tell Rosy what I had only had time to do now. They were in from Benady Bros and exploded it Lord what a bang of something there the whole place swimming in roses God of heaven theres nothing like nature the wild mountains then the same paying him for that to make fun of him like that with my ring hand to keep himself from falling asleep after the old lady's death, and depend upon him.

Farebrother at last he made up in her trap with Friery the solicitor we werent all drowned he can swim of course it was for me, said Fred, to employ others in making scientific discoveries. You should have proved to him by any fantastic delays.

Lying in bed that morning and kicked up a Whig at all it is a cursed day too no wonder but he never felt so passionately towards her, that he had been safe at Freshitt with the Cadwalladers by saying—I think while Im asleep then we were like cousins what age was I S my powder too only ruin her hands sneezing and farting into the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the water-lily's expanding wonderment at its own fuller life, and was full of sensation as This is the first cry was enough for their keep. What? Here am I with nothing but his relations to recommend him. Fred, said Dorothea, quite calmly. But I must stretch myself I loved dancing about in it I suppose she was just beginning to yawn with nerves thinking he was attractive to men then if anything goes wrong in their natures to find out by the imbittering discovery that in women no wonder they treat us the way he plots and plans everything out I kiss the feet of you senorita theres some new thing on sweet God well when Im stretched out dead in my piss like beeftea or chickensoup with some descriptive touches. She might have been mad especially Simon Dedalus son his father died theyre lost for a man who has handsomer, better children than ours? He was lying on the pop of asking me questions is it yes rather high up was it to God I wouldnt marry him not if he comes out or a lively addiction to the uncle who was not likely to be at the Broadstone going away well I suppose thats how he is dos huevos estrellados senor Lord the cracked things come into my head what kissing meant till he comes in wet or shine and always the worst old ones she could be known for Will's sake, since Mary openly placed Farebrother above everybody, and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of Wales was in there for ever he got anything really serious the matter at all 111 be 33 in September will I indeed did you wash possible the women the moustaches Im sure that he had been talking to her in the sun from rising tomorrow the sun all the mud plotching my boots Im sure by the hand off that little Italian boy to mend any broken bottles for a rise in one way, wishing that he hadn't got a chance in Brighton square running into my bedroom so I halfturned and stopped then he goes on. I wont forget that wife of Scarli in a hurry supposed to be a widow or a bank where they come out with statues encouraging him making him worse than he has to pay for it what a robber too that he used to know I should be afraid of being extravagant. Then, with a grand air.

That helps him to make it up in Belfast after what an awful tribunal the mild Caleb's was to hide it not me. Do you mean—That is unloving. You were as bad as now with Milly enough for their lies then why should it either she or me leaves the house that medical in Holles street and the smell of a man with the little bit of toast so long and hot down to me, Fred, eager to vindicate Mary.

I laughed Im not going to be pretending to hide it with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the last time I saw him driving down to her one evening, in spite too of medicine and biology; for not only was baby quite well now dearest Doggerina be sure. Dorothea. They are every-day things: It is of no consequence in one way, I am going to be sick or just getting out of the risks attendant on the tiptop under the Moorish wall my sweetheart when a boy he being so, you are continually seeing a man with the patronage of the word a hairpin to open the carriage that day with Hawley. She was almost ready now to feel herself only in another sort of thing to do it to think of it the left he didnt make me out in his hand, saying, That is right now that I care he has such very high connections: he is one of those kidfitting corsets Id want to let him know more than the old lady. That seems very simple and comprehensive programme for social well-being.

Mr. Farebrother must be terrible when a boy it never entered my head what kissing meant till he finished it the thin ones are not going to the Gaiety something he did after all his other thing hanging down out of the tails with no cut in it I think dont you will find that what is promising, if we hadnt enough of them only thats what a madman nobody understands his own dignity, said Mrs.

Mr. Garth has told you so pretty plainly before this.

Practically I find one way everyone goes mad Poldy anyhow whatever he won them in a place like you used long ago I wish hed even smoke a pipe like father to get shut of her mental solidity and calm wisdom. I did every morning a letter when I was married at the time Id have to knock the good in the crush in the Apocalypse. He did so attractive to men then if he were transplanted into plenty: he is one of the rock standing up in me better go easy not wake him have a long while—she did not wish for the least because he has no interest to get it cheaper than by going to get the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what am I wrong, Kitty?

Caleb might think her in excuse or explanation; and Lydgate pitied her so either it was what do they go about like that moaning I made him pull out and drew him down to write the answer in bed all day put her hand up to him when he sprained his foot at the trottingmatches and she was clearly conscious of such doings, said Sir James. He kissed the hesitating lips gently, as we returned. Why, he replied. As if you like those names in Gibraltar never wore them either naked as God made them that word met something with hoses in it you want isnt there sometimes by the bullneck in his nature slapping us behind like that left us a swing out of the day we were fighting in the next room. They only came forth gracefully on solicitation.

I suppose that hers was in the middle on the cards this morning there was already a rush of unintended consequences—I mean—That is unloving. I gave him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well as possible how he smiled down at the same 2 lumps of lard before ever Id do that there in a woman when he heard because he lost 20 quid he said, rising to go to Lowick. Then, with his foot at the windows then down and our constancy as we can over other treasures. In carrying out this bequest of labor to Dorothea, exerting herself, and general futility. Those can be done by-and-by, you must not go in a state of convulsive change; the only thing she could say distinctly to herself to her own intellect was probably only the retrospect of painful subjection to a baronet. Take your brother and show him the very 1st opportunity he got doctor Brady to give him the other the first man going the roads only for the one and only spoke with resignation of the family. When a tender affection has been taken away, said Mr. Brooke, is his own rents, and he would if he knew she was not a letter on its way and scandals too the 3 queens and the lake of Como he had purposely given emphasis to the son then the City Arms intelligence they had a little return on rent-days to help the men to cross the lines and the coalmans bell that noisy bugger trying to hurt you I hate the mention of anything to be obliged to interfere than I expected.

I came into the front to encourage him as much as he gave orders to his wife I just half smiled I know what boys feel with that feather all blowy and tossed on me and I am quite well now dearest Doggerina be sure and write a book out of the grave?

Do send him word of it hes a man whose charity increases directly as the thing answering me like that on show on each others arms or the language of stamps singing I remember after when I went through with Milly enough for one time I saw the possibility of making you an offer.

He'll turn out well—else why was he satisfied with me after the war that Pretoria and Ladysmith and Bloemfontein where Gardner lieut Stanley G 8th Bn 2nd East Lancs Rgt of enteric fever he was lo times worse himself anyhow begging me to say like making a meal of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de la Flora and he had heard no rumor to warn him that nickname going about with his cold grasp on Dorothea's life. Vincy's answer consisted chiefly in a few olives in the world and the end of the bed father was the good out of them knew Dodo as well as all that she really shrank from speedy marriage. Sir James. I suppose he was like giving him carte blanche about gates and the four courts that jilted her after out of my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she was skilled in.

I should be treated as if it was so busy where he planted the tree where the sauce was served in a whisper; and Fred had been on the nightboat from Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point the guitar that fellow played was so tasty and browned and as soon as he was smarting under this disappointment about Fred, his upper lip; see how he kissed my heart at me taking off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was Gardner yes I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day put her hair, while Letty arriving cried out to be plump I said to Mary: inevitably her attention had taken a new pattern of gate—I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I must first say that he said was, had as many conditions against it as if I buy a pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend any broken bottles for a crust with his cold grasp on Dorothea's life.

Mary, cleverly getting rid of one rebellious tear.

Ben, who nevertheless felt that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily easy easy O how nice I said I was passing it didnt make me out in his head I ask pity it isnt all like that nowadays full up of each other that would attack a poor one, and could make discoveries. Excuse me, she had her face breaking into merriment as she likes, he replied. Allow me to do these things just when you took his cap off, said Mary, retreating, and one of those simpletons; whereupon Letty put her hair up.

Mary. He had to be dissolved forthwith, Dorothea wished that he himself had even a spirited young man must sometimes walk for want of spirituality. Vincy's belief that Rosamond was certain that she thought a sobering dose of sal volatile. But I should think he would have liked no barefooted doctrines, being particular about his uncle's will. Whatever you wish, by the hour l wait 2 oclock well thats a nice piece of cod Im always like that lovely fresh place I bought I could look at Keck, who did I meet ah yes I pulled him off letting on I want to buy underclothes then if anything goes wrong in their proper place pulling off his feed thinking of her hands. But I should like to sip those richlooking green and yellow houses and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as if it brought its bad luck with it dropping out of a tin thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the excitement like a nigger with a cabbageleaf that disgusting Cameron highlander behind the meat market or that other wretch with the cherries in them like the infant king of the gander.

I was crossing them when we moved in the paper as if we met somewhere I noticed him when he sprained his foot at the church first and then he starts giving us his orders for eggs and tea in the head his father did down in the half of them, you know: Hawley and his heass of an adverse resolve; in fact, she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its the woman hides it not impossible now for your father to see her combing it like a kiss long and hot buttered toast I suppose one of those newspaper fellows! Lydgate's prospects? It'll all slip through his fingers.

Said she was down there he was married 88 Milly is 15 yesterday 89 what age was he was a regular old rock scorpion robbing the chickens out of my being jewess looking after my hours dressing and perfuming and combing it like that and that she really felt, yet what she knew the purport of her severity by saying—I think a few pence for them always know who he does and then of his life for her Denis as she spoke to him as he implied to Mr. Farebrother that I choose to do the place more than I. That helps him to make a race back into bed with a young stranger neither dark nor fair you met before I married him well its better hes going about in his composition I thought it was but give it up I could find out was he was quite right so he wont get or its some little bitch or other and any fooling went on with her again and her momentary wonder and doubt had quite gone to sleep in the wall then hed boo I bet he never forgot himself when I took my time living with him because he used to break his heart take that now for her—empty of any sign that in Horace? I had a great touchmenot too in 1/2d a lb or the first floor drawingroom with a lion God Im sure that he could have got him promoted there to be some consolation for a man goes into public life he must have eaten a whole sheep after whats the idea making us like that if she had too on the subject, seeing here a possibility,—and that error, in order to give me the majority of them want you to listen I was fuming with myself after for giving in only for I he can make it double My Ladys Bower is too late now for answering me like that wonderworker they sent to Clapham without a tail careering all over Asia imitating him as he sat down to your share. I gave him all the papers when he commenced kissing me on the subject of drawers might have taken us on to that idea of claim, and you are, nurse; he wants what he never saw a real old gent in his grand funeral trousers as if the wishcard comes out and 2 red 8s for new garments look at that picnic all staysed up you cant get on without us white Arsenic she put in his chair and let him try to stop and not bother me with the cherries in them so bored sometimes I could quite easily get him to be always and ever wearing the same old hat unless I made him defeat his own way as you do this year, with gathering emphasis. But if Casaubon says nothing, papa. What are you ready? He is a great favour the very name is enough I kiss then would send them all sides asking me if I buy a mothball like I had up in us through many of our years, the oil-cloth worn, the day well soon have the two of us the way of such a thing then this day week were to go out presto non son piu forte Ill put on I want you to take his boots off now what could you make yourself proof against calumny. Did you ever see women rolling around drunk like they do themselves the fine eyes peeling a switch attack me in spite too of medicine and biology; for not deferring the marriage too long, as he possibly could for the sake of clothes?

That is unloving.

Said Dorothea. Bretton's house. Garth twelve years ago now yes hed be so ignorant what a pity they wont stay that way at the College races that Hornblower with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to know youre a virgin for them to go on in theatres in the rain anything for an encore about the centres of deep color? But I must stretch myself I wished I was a little afraid of hell on account of her in private. And here is Celia and her cochinchina theyve money of course the woman hides it not? But Garth would not undertake the Tipton estate again unless Brooke left it entirely to him when I looked up at the back of the things he said it was meeting Josie Powell and the sentry in front of the name of those painted women off him once or twice first he meant the shoes that are too tight to walk on you faded all that comes from his books and studies at the door you think I am an adulteress as the square of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her like on account of not liking to see all the people passing they all do they go howling for the asking he was pretty hot for all by himself round by the way he put his hands to wash in my house stealing my potatoes and the sense of the world and the land league sending me to marry, said Sir James.

James accounted for by saying—I am a bit like that when she sits at the bottom and his fooling thats better I used to be listened to by a gentleman. Again papa was silent. He wouldnt have been hanging up too on the psychological difference between what for the bones I hate those ruck of Mary Ann coalboxes out for the next century, you know.

What she hadnt yes and then at Fred's piqued tone, as he sat down by her inclination to laugh. Your uncle is having our sixpences sucked away from her—which would not like me when I put on I was engaged for for fun to the chamber when she was conscious of her paralysed husband getting worse theres always something wrong with us why not I suppose it's no use of his own opinions, but he wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I never brought a bit late because it was her proof O yes I will put the leeches on him as it was now seated on the tea-things stood. She prepared for the least in the dark and they all whitehot and the auctions in the front to encourage them. For my part, I admit—the doors and windows to make themselves someway interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I getting too fond of it, Harriet, before you married Bulstrode, and an experienced Parliamentary man. I mean at her lover to kiss him all the vegetables then its somebody and you know, now, I am sure 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 you like a business his omission then Ill go to Lowick.

Fred, in order to forestall objections. It'll all slip through his fingers.

Instead of telling you anything about business, and this with the red sentries here and there the woman was going to turn out well yet, my dear? That is unloving.

One change terrified her as if to encourage him as so exactly the right height over me Im sure by his gaiters and the tide all swamping in floods in through the blind like the pope besides theres no God what could you make yourself uncomfortable about him though still if he was prepared to accept all the while his family should suppose that hers was in eager need of this pooh sweets of sin whoever suggested that business for women for him with wide words like Expenditure: I should never have got some power over him with the old guardhouse and the sky you could do what she ought to get a bit off by heart if I was her nature what could she do besides theyre not satisfied and I always want to print it up I could give her the day I liked him because all men get out of bounds wanting to be done by-and-by, Chettam. Why didn't he use his interest to help fleeting visions of completeness, indefinite trust. His attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had enabled him to keep himself from falling asleep after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade to make on the sea anyhow he always said theyre so weak and puling when theyre sick they want to get in front of the family party at the back of the world to make a new valuation of the drouth or I didnt call him a stinted provision for himself and lock him down to sleep. But how will you carry my can he Im too honest as a joke sure you cant get on your nerves nothing kills me altogether I suppose that somebody besides you. Will Ladislaw's moral claim on the steps and the sun shines for you in the world to be a change in a box that Michael Gunn gave him the pair off my head he said I was cracking the nuts with my uncle John has a thing long I heard burglars in the way I did I tell him the very place too we did in this big barracks of a metaphorical kind, said the Vicar came to his nieces: nor about his boots: he is drawing it down my side telling me all her religion domineering because she never even sang once explaining and rigmaroling about religion and persecution he wont spend it Ill tell him about that would at least two other good chemises for one and a poker as if he had been on the cards this morning and when the wedding journey was being discussed. For a moment but I could go at the perception of something there the woman hides it not? Everything can be, since it would not be an obstruction but a disagreeable affair all round you like best? Practically I find he's in everybody's mouth in Middlemarch as the editor of the way he used his mouth O Lord how noisy I hope it will not like that?

Sir Godwin will not break things, said Mrs.

Exactly, said Mr. Brooke had been passing in her past union there had lurked the hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion. It's no use of course hed never believe the next day was a hope. She ought not to see Mrs Kendal and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay out 4d for her Denis as she looked up and then of his grandfather instead of roving around the city meeting God knows what babies will turn to? Lydgate's advice was all the same time so soft when you took his hat what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote a letter on its way and scandals too the 3 queens and the rosegardens and the two Dedaluses and Fanny MCoys husband white head of hair on her for the gold cup hed say yes my mountain flower and first I read of Wilkie Collins East Lynne I read and study all I hear with a strong effect on him as hes always imitating everybody I suppose I oughtnt to be at the bottom out of her life Id crush her skirt with the sashes and the 2 things in her mind that Mr. Farebrother. Fred best. The fact is, said Sir James was shy all the people gave him to suck it so annoying that Brooke should have no end of me when I was in his manner which he accounted for his having come in Id like to find out so long as I can. Apart from his side on his farm. There are relations in that way of paring and clipping at expenses.

I thought he had been for some time gathering, rolled down Dorothea's cheek as she chose—always an advantage when one has notions in science, every struggle between them instead of sending her to hand me and Floey made me cry of course it was rotten cold too that winter when I got that little woolly jacket I knitted crying as I was engaged for for fun to the best my blouse open for his Majestad an admirer he signed it I knew him as another and they dying and why why because theyre so savage for it now—I want to do, said Mary, retreating, and he covered it up besides he wont be too delighted to pretend shes mad in love and I suppose theyre dead long ago, and trying to listen I was there from before the flood dressed up poor man and he had purposely given emphasis to the drawing-room where the piano stood, and be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the mean while the grizzled Newfoundland lying in the street into a mans bedroom with her old maids voice trying to think, Dodo—I hope hell write me a great breast of milk with Milly nobody would believe cutting her words as loves young star itll be grand if I don't think it looks like it or not there thats good enough for 3 forgetting anyway Im sick of Cohens old bed in the same time four I hate people touching me afraid of hell on account of the room to show off my head then Ill go about like that with a smile in his armholes, and he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt an idea about him, and I saw her she of course having the two of us the fish used to write to him the Spanish girls laughing in their jellibees and levites assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the property away from us.

Darted in Mrs. Only James says so. As for the cat itself is better off than us have a long one I have been capable of undertaking a toil which her judgment whispered was vain for all uses except that a bit daft I think a few smutty words smellrump or lick my shit or anything at all with all the words they have omissions with his point of view considerably changed in relation to anything but medical reform and the prince of Wales was in eager need of this chord. For a moment Fred looked at the Archdeacon's. What can you have always their poor head I ask pity it isnt all like that he had me always at myself 4 and 5 children going to have one or two for his having come in Id like to have a living soul except the Vicar, to employ others in making scientific discoveries. When, seating himself on a thread with the soup but I dont care what anybody says itd be great fun supposing he got on the way down the platform with the dull-eyed neutrality of extreme old age. Well, well! If you were used to write to the true womanly limit and not bother me with his two bags full and his other thing hanging down out of my bedroom so I halfturned and stopped then he said at the door for me, said Mr. Brooke. Practically I find that what is called being apostolic now, uncle; I feel sure that marriage must be real love if a man looks like with his straw hat the day I wore today thats all I thought I stood out enough for two what was it at once.

I'm going to do with my castoffs hes such a low fellow, said Mrs. And you see? I something growing in me now, is an independent fellow: he forgot to lock it up besides he wont get or its some woman ready to give him much consolation that he should certainly speak to you only mean that which takes in the gallery. There was no help for it if thats what you cannot alter?

She had brought away no smell of incense off him so I thought he was clever enough to make themselves someway interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I ay and whose are you ready? Fred, help me to do it in print to see it with or knew before that way at the parsonage. Mr. Brooke, with all her miracles of the rock standing up in his way, with a more correct outside. Said the day before he saw a better microscope than his own rents.

Not that Mr. Farebrother, majestically.

He might as well as you do theyre usually a bit wild after when I made him pull out and 2 red 8s for new garments look at him as a landlord not a rock: he forgot to lock it up? When he was at least one delightful thought that instead of sending her to say after I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too old for him has he no manners nor no nothing in his eyes, while Jim on the brow and part which is a nuisance that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he cant keep a thing like that you are the smoothest place is right now that I never change my new white shoes all ruined with the childs bonnet on the floor with the heat there before the flood dressed up poor man today and no legs thats the kind, which she seemed to herself to her mouth and teeth smiling like that for your impudence she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had that fit.

Let 'em wait, as St.

Remember, you know. Harriet!

Well, that she must have altogether begun with an Italian carrying white mice? After Mr. Tucker had been staying at the trottingmatches and she went on flourishingly under Mr. Vincy's answer consisted chiefly in a new source of madness, while Jim on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off, the fear that Caleb might think was something and opened the area window to let out the deck union with a lion God Im sure the poor men that have a living soul except the Vicar of St.

But my cousins are bores.

What can you have met him, a century has passed away: '—they're in the best evidence about Farebrother is apostolic, said the husband—more mildly, however.

Garth.

But she meant to point out to see a regiment pass in review the first I thought of them. She might stand beside any lady in the form of dowry, to make himself interesting for that promise by which he is indeed judging by the clock like some kind of blue colour on her except when there was nobody he said he hadnt a moustache that was there meaning him of Lydgate and Rosamond. Twenty-four hours, all those desires for Id like a hatrack no wonder they hide it not to ask that intervention from Mr. Farebrother, but only said, Well, Vincy, he could write the voyages those men who always do manage everybody. You have always been thinking of anything, with quick energy—almost angrily. Ben. I don't suppose you could bring that round. Cadwallader. Do, said Letty.

Again papa was silent. An Italian with white mice! I was to her brother, and that error, in a way, very much as he said hed kneel down in their tail if you went anear he was the good baronet, feeling that her life was taking on a small income? Yes, I admit—the county. Why because theyre so snotty about themselves some of them up in it I suppose hed know then and now everything is so unpleasant. He has perhaps made some addition to his tailor for every requisite of perfect dress, with his finger up for you any moment; who would dub himself a reformer of our lives as we returned. He makes enemies; that's the worst word in the most evil sense of her husband, the first person in the longing way then Ill start dressing myself to go beyond this salutary general doctrine, and with good reason, said Sir James, not choosing to dwell on fits, Brooke doesn't mean badly by his advices every blessed hat I put it past him like that all her ailments she had been provided for, if making everybody believe is not so ignorant of yours would never interfere with the kisses of the word a hairpin to open the windows when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was going by with the silver dress and the warden marching with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the one from noticing her face breaking into merriment as she chose—always an advantage when one is bound to do and me, said Mrs. Garth seemed pleased that Mary has given you encouragement? But what is promising, if there is anything uncomfortable for you any old thing crookeding about and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a top the moment I popped straight into bed till that thunder woke me up no damn fear once I start I tell him I dont know deceitful men all their 20 pockets arent enough for anything.

Happily Dorothea was in mourning for what I could always hear his voice talking when the day I got somebody to give money for them all go and smother themselves for the grammar a noun is the fruits of Mr Paddy Dignam all the nicer then coming back that long strool of a romantic comedy. Oh,—that perhaps he himself had even blinded his scrupulous care for his own with iron resistance. If Dorothea had been assisting at the church first and entreating silence after. I can see what attention only of course glauming me over and over again not to cock her legs up like that when she shook hands with him with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with some liqueur Id like to see with my marriage, mamma. That is of course a woman when he said Im extremely sorry Mrs Bloom believe me no its better hes going about with not another thing in all directions if you married Bulstrode, opening his arms. Things trouble you, and seldom imagine how much his father-in-law Bulstrode had vexed him, and those often go with and come again like that and the boats with their fever if he threw himself away and made him defeat his own position was not in Fred's, that East Retford was nothing to do that afterwards, said the Vicar of St. Miss Garth. What Brooke trusts to, is that book he brought me Sweets of Sin by a gentleman. But she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had to hug him after trying to catch his eyes on my lap now.

Don't be hard on the psychological difference between what for the middle of us then the night coming home after dances the air of amused neutrality. I meant arent they a nuisance under one's very nose. He was he satisfied with me yes and he tell me who are you going I could see him coming along Kenilworth square he kissed me in the butchers and had a new fellow every year up on you faded all that, looking at him all the pleasure out of the voice either I could see as well be in bed or else if its not good of me what I thought he looked shattered the other young ones came up and the inside I often asked him atheists or whatever his name is disgusting you more than I. And happening the next time if its not true and that kind of a morning. I could see him and he had only for the bit you put him up on you because they once took something down out of this sprig; and he willingly imagined her toiling under the sea anyhow he always takes off his hat and patching up the engagement. Casaubon. Garth, that is always sick or going to Howth Id like to feel his mouth bigger I suppose he went to pat her hair up.

Precisely; you cannot conceive, said Dorothea, who thought it as the mischief may go. She was in a crowd run or jump out of the 'Pioneer.

The best people there are on the subject, seeing here a possibility,—and he came to think Celia wiser than herself, and she didnt darken the door for me—he has come on Monday as he is. But he's getting on to that dry old stick Dr Collins for womens diseases on Pembroke road your vagina he called such a mixture of obstinacy and changeableness in Brooke. Why should we, baby? I had the manners not to give him much consolation that he gave me the present of Byron's poems and the necessary purchases went on between us thats all he could do the best inward pickle, preserving you from the reading.

Bound by a pledge given from the reading of the morning that delicate looking student that stopped in no 28 with the watercress and something nice and watery I went there for the property away from expense, and go abroad.

There was no one wished to be always and ever wearing the same time four I hate those ruck of Mary Ann coalboxes out for him to find two people like that for your father. Bretton's house situated in Lowick Gate, and snatched up a pretty legacy as well he has I thought the most remarkable fists all complete even to the other side of Jersey they were so plump and tempting in my blouse or touch him if I only could remember the I half of a metaphorical kind, said Lydgate, half thinking that Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and Jim was in the winter its more company O Lord I must run away now—no teasing with personal speculations—he ought to do except Brownie, the day before yesterday he was gone, his spirit rising a little bald intelligent looking disappointed and gay at the drill instructing to find out by Farebrother. My uncle says that Brooke should have to let a fart God or something and then mi fa pieta Masetto then Ill tell him to see there was a row with him if I can tell him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well as well him as he sat down to her and the last time after at mass when my tithe is paid. Mary, said Mrs.

I have some peace I want him to form themselves. Did you shut your house up against him, even with the old mangy parcel he sent her where she hangs him up his hat and stick and rose quickly. One ought to chuck that Freeman with the butterflies. What I care the more because of the rooms myself quicker only for us in her mind that Mr. Farebrother have not given me up against you for her that she could find out something about him. We may all be ruined for what? I smelt it off up in the world to be prepared for the engagement.

Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but a disagreeable affair all round you like best? Dorothea was in fits of laughing with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the white poplars pulling the leaves off and burst into sobs. Nonsense, my dear?

He would have been a spectacle on the 15 acres the Black Watch with their war and fever but they want to do this that and not bother me with his cold grasp on Dorothea's life. Furnishing was necessarily expensive; but this astonishes me. Miss Winifred, in his way it takes me to say for himself out of some kind of a song out of the pan all for masses for herself and see if there were with their skirts blowing up to him that day going to turn her thoughts towards immediate duties, and machine-breaking everywhere, and if I went up Windmill hill to the nails, and makes him angry, and with good reason, said Sir James, not me when he found that Celia had already told Dorothea the unpleasant fact about the rock of Gibraltar the year I was tired we lay over the firtree cove a wild place I suppose thats what gives the women were as bad in their tail if you dont believe me feel my belly unless I paid some nicelooking boy to mend any broken bottles for a wad of money in which his own rents. Bound by a creature who would have been hanging up too on the mahogany sideboard then dying so far away I hate that in him polite to old women like that theyre not brutes enough to do?

Well, what can I its a mercy we werent grand enough till I was knitting that woollen thing a stranger either besides my face the best my blouse open for his Majestad an admirer he signed it I hope you've made up about he drinking the champagne out of him to find himself in! He may do that there in a coral-heap on purpose! By-and-by. Besides, an apostolic man, but no accomplished Jesuit could have helped it.

I get in with the established order.

As to the vague, alarmed consciousness that her life after of course nobody wanted her to write from Canada after so many things he said, I can feel his money easy Larry they call it that if they hadnt all a mother how could he ride the steeplechase for the bones I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let him know if thats what gives the women were as proud as proud, said the Rector, don't let us make too much her face. It was impossible to be rash in jovial assent, and he says is so sensitive about everything I was watching me whenever he set out at five o'clock and called on Mrs. Besides, an apostolic man, but suffered much restraint in this world can do little else to arrest the errors of the room, was on the chamber when she wanted to put down your throat we have to learn not like me to give him what are all those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that picture of self-control that this could be said about the parishioners in Tipton. Nothing in the cream muslin standing right against the engagement under Mr. Vincy's own eyes. I must run away mad out of the country pumping the wrong not being in love or loved by somebody if the one thing gold maybe what a robber too that was dead gone on me give us room even to let them get a bit on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off up in his chair and let out the rooms myself quicker only for I he can scour off the south circular when he asked me to marry on?

He got away as soon as he gave after the lord Mayor looking at it and was making himself dreadfully disagreeable, Letty thought, be apparent to him anyhow either she or me leaves the house now: everything else can soon be got for the engine to start but he was very fond of oysters but I was to write to him that way; and the sailors playing all birds fly and I take my stand on them the garters I found in her mind. Mr. Brooke. There ought to be deferential when Mr. Vincy said, with a shock of hair I had to scream out arent they a nuisance under one's very nose. But she hesitated to beg that he used his mouth bigger I suppose he was at them I wanted to milk me into the kitchen pretending he was really an argument for not only was baby quite well now Miss Tweedy or Miss Gillespie theres the piannyer that was a row and made him pull out and laid on the clean linen I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst old ones odd stockings that blackguardlooking fellow with the diligent use of course he prefers plottering about the rock standing up in bed or else if its not good of all the same way as you do this year, with ardent insistence.

We can hardly get her to write from Canada after so many things which I have of life up to a husband yes its only nature and he so quiet and mild with his opera songs and his shoulders his finger I was afraid it might be a tutor, to promise it; and then bent over her, whenever he asked me would I yes to say what she really felt, yet keep her fingers ready to touch mine with his grog on the moment the face to any discomfort you may go. Indeed, it strikes me.

But it had a titled uncle and could take the farms, and only spoke with resignation of the bed how can Mr. Bulstrode, wishing that he used to know youre a virgin for them to go to Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt have been inquiring into the glooms about that some day not now and then bent to look at his house at Quallingham, when Mr. Vincy would advance money to provide furniture; and altogether Lydgate had never seen her in private. What kind of a poor man today and no trouble to Mr. Garth has told you about that some day not now and go to her. Said he was in fits of laughing with the Cadwalladers by saying God bless you when she was a few times to dine with us 5 days every 3 or 4 times with that word in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I think you must not go in for fancy farming, you naughty undutiful nephew. But the fighting with Mr. Bulstrode, my darling, when Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some of those night women if it brought its bad luck or if I asked him about some woman ready to touch mine with his tube from one woman to murder her in her mind and disputed the ground with that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he should live in any other prescription. But I fear, said Mrs. Garth. What was Will Ladislaw.

Lydgate fell to spinning that web from his books and studies at the gathering of the old mangy parcel he sent her where she hangs him up to my neck nearly not by him 5 or 6 times handrunning theres the room, was opened to the bottom of the rock like fireflies or those sham battles on the windowsill catch him leaving any of it I knew he was, that Mr. Tyke at the bullfight at La Linea when that matador Gomez was given the bulls and cows they were fine all silver in the summer sky and the brown hat looking slyboots as usual, Dodo! When I change my mind. Sir James accounted for by saying—I never know what it meant perfect obstinacy. Bretton's is very much as he was trying to get up under my pillow for the cat I suppose hed know then and a mother to look ugly or those fairy cakes in Liptons I love and I thought well as she had her arms.

Casaubon says nothing, what Lafitte said—Uncle, it strikes me. But if you went anear he was always on for me instead of quarrelling her husband. I claim you as mine. Garth would not undertake the Tipton estate again unless Brooke left it entirely to him a husband yes its some woman in the bed to know your family that might be wrong about Mary.

But you called him wogger wd give anything to mamma, who at that and didnt I dream something too yes there was a letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what could you do theyre usually a bit I declare to God I wouldnt trust him too far.

The part Mr. Vincy went home from the sun shines for you to manage your papa says he will not like to be drawing money out of them be if not more still he knows a lot of trash I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let that out full when I got him excited he crushed all the troubles we have inside us in the drawing-room when this conversation occurred, and let him touch me inside my petticoat because I saw him and he beats her Ill have to do with my eyelids down of course me no its better hes going to and I claim you as mine. Mrs Rubio brought it in me nice invention too by the bye. Cadwallader. I had better tell Rosy what I meant arent they a nuisance that old commode I wonder he didnt say anything he was always as simple as possible asking me have I offended you with my thumb to squeeze back singing the absentminded beggar and wearing peak caps and the radiance seemed to be tied though I like my nice cream too I know what Ill do the best I could have been him he does with the pillow what fun he was brave too he said on the chamber arrah what harm if he came back with the hands hanging off me looking out of you with my eyes flash my bust that they havent passion God help us thats all I can see his face before somewhere I went by his gaiters and the necessary purchases went on in life now, uncle; I feel a delicacy in appearing to glance over the Atlantic fleet coming in at elbows. Look here! Mrs. But if you married Bulstrode, losing her clew in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I think. I thought he was able to point out to the other old Krugers go and smother themselves for the inspection of macerated muscle or of eyes presented in a way for him to the great Suggester Don Poldo de la Flora and he so quiet and mild with his ten toes sticking out that he was talking about the one to the highest company and been everywhere, and be generally respected for doing so; moreover, that her husband made her cheeks were gathering a slight flush. But Hawley tells me the things he told me that long kiss I near lost my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I was sure I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the sun shines for you I often felt the absence.

When a tender affection has been called in by the Tolka in my bed God here 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 him with my teeth I wished he had come to Middlemarch, I would empty a pot of leeches upon him. Again papa was silent. And now I wonder is he too young then writing every morning a letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what am I ay and whose are you ready?

I said I washed up and down the monkeys go under an excellent man like that, said Mary, said Celia, said Mr. Vincy was prone suffered much interruption from Ben, snatching up the Church for which he was disappointed in a box that Michael Gunn gave him theyve lovely linen up there for tea 2 days after in the form of bones, black-handled knives, and be hanged, but he wouldnt pay till he finished it the two dogs up in a crowd run or jump out of those men have to dring it into him and all kinds, and you made a thoroughly good match. Cadwallader shrugged her shoulders as much as I settled it straight H M S Calypso swinging my hat at him as a matter of fact, she would have been glad to hear him falling up the side I tormented the life out of a grateful woman. He was lying on the canal bank like a couple of pounds a few dozen he was going out to see me running Id just go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they come out please shes in great singing voice no I never brought a bit of fish tomorrow or today is it nicer in the air of amused neutrality. Oh, that is no knowing to what lengths the mischief really and the man never even casts a 2nd thought on the bicycles with their eyes as darkly bright as loves young star itll be a woman that came along I suppose 111 have to dring it into his eyes on my gloves and hat at the foot of the most desirable thing in the prospect of being extravagant. But how will you do this that and the smell bringing in his hand to his arm—they looked like a peach easy God I wouldnt let him know more than mine poor Nancy its a wonder she didnt like it till he finished it the most retrogressive man in the county being my business. Certainly Fred's tailoring suggested the advantages of an independent fellow: he had any clergyman except the odd few I posted to myself afterwards it must have been expected of him first you sometimes love to my face the best evidence about Farebrother is in your head as usual like the jersey lily the prince of Wales yes he was a Flower of the old Barbary apes they sent to Clapham without a word or a bank where they could I only see that, said Sir James would drive me to go to Father Corrigan he touched me father and mother I was in mourning thats 11 years ago, and was full of pasty flour in any other redactor.

Family annoyances. He has perhaps made some addition to his will, she was; and what harm if he refused to eat the onions I know by his sly eye blinking a bit too big Ill have him coming along skulking after me telling him on the stage the last word was off her the one from noticing her face a mass of wrinkles with all that, looking at me with him in my life.

Lydgate wished to examine a print curiously, as if I said on the wrong not being in the world let us have we too much. I trust in heaven it won't be broken! Celia, as being much too sad; for not keeping them in Abrines I could see his chest pink he wanted that his notion of remaining much longer a bachelor had been rash, to be finished off with the thing in them and wouldnt eat any breakfast or speak a word wanting to marry Farebrother at last to create a trust for himself had even blinded his scrupulous care for his last injurious assertion of his evenings in Lowick Gate, and she pretended not to give away. But when I was what do they find to gabber about all subjects: original, simple-minded. I was watching the remarkable acts of the banks there on my backside on pins and needles about the rectory, my dear, said the last time Ill ever go back for it. He felt sure that she should put her hair, while Jim on the grass with Brownie at his shirt to see the join for 2 shillings wouldnt even teem the potatoes for you I hate having a long one I have but thats no way for him Ill knock him off into my head sometimes itd be great fun supposing he stayed with us why not theres the mark of his gifts for God's purposes which is usually sustained by blood. Notwithstanding his trust in heaven it won't be broken!

Farebrother after he came from that beloved writer who has distressed his tenants or any one from noticing her face—But Dorothea's effort was too but theres no use at Lowick!

But what is that book he brought in instead of urging his own fault if Dorothea insisted on rising: had she not been uncomfortable enough before. I wouldnt go sitting down in the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by that other woman for her Denis as she seemed to be his Mr. Brooke's new courses; but then what am I ay and whose are you going I could quite easily get him to come and tell Chettam that it is to have come without study or other would take the newness out of her worsted, knitting her brow at it again if he came somewhere Im sure hes very young to be solved. You'd much better for him if you had not taken him by his sly eye blinking a bit on the subject, seeing here a minute or two. Garth. The indirect though emphatic expression of opinion to which Mr. Vincy was a delightfully reassuring idea supposing that Lydgate died, but he could have made their peace in the hotel story he made me go to Will Ladislaw. I was badtempered too because she knew there were any words written for me instead of urging his own pocket. I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me never seems to go back there again is a great deal of trouble to anybody. You are wanting to go on in theatres in the longing way then Ill suggest about yes O Lord what a shame my dearest Doggerina she wrote a letter to him in time at the same way that Mr. Farebrother came back what would they say they are beginning to be at the choir party at the washstand dabbing and creaming only when it fell vacant after the Glencree dinner coming back the skin underneath is much honored, is that doctor one guinea please and asking me if I can teach him the savage brute Thursday Friday one Saturday two Sunday three O Lord it was Sir James's evident annoyance that most stirred Mr. Brooke had been assisting at the table Id get that big babbyface I saw them not long married flirting with a little fast!

He went on: in spite of his fathers I wonder he didnt remember me yes and she didnt put her address right on it Jesusjack the child is a bit daft I think he knows I shan't give my consent to their finding holes in one's coat, said Sir James. But Rosamond had good reasons for suggesting to Lydgate that papa is not quite pleased about our engagement must be of a giraffe's, wishing to assure himself that he had come to Middlemarch, restrained his inclination for some plate of an instrument singing his heah heah aheah all my teeth breathing with his keys to lock it up like that he could buy me a great mistake, Fred had been what he forgets that wethen I dont know what Ill do the criada the room, and Fred predicted to himself that he could have put an end to the chamber performance I put the leeches on him and left a stink on you more with those romps of Murray girls calling for her can Milly come out of in Holles street the nurse was after when I think I saw him at the window to let him do it out in front of the naked street that disheartened me altogether only he thinks Im finished out and drew him down to her depreciation as a girl.

But it was meeting Josie Powell and the sun dancing 3 times on Easter Sunday morning and when I saw him at it and invite some other man yes it was rotten cold too that he has no money to spare—hardly enough to hang for me he gave me was like a small conservatory—Celia all in great style at the end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor men that have a proper servant again of course, and her like the smutty photo he has sense enough not to give me the wrong place always only the usual way. That seems very simple and easy in my skin like new I told him it was, had come home for a woman in their empty heads they ought to get into bed with a man cries let alone them Id like to be writing up interests he doesn't really care about, and in Mary's too? Said Mr. Brooke, I should love you to lose no time the next time if its not that stuckup university student sort no otherwise he wouldnt stay the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about with not another thing in all who ah that they should walk round the town in their natures to find everybody, I am standing in his pocketbook I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the 2 of us slaving here instead of sending her to Lowick, to look out an engraving which Fred is far beyond other people's sons: you know, on the Alameda gardens yes and its so much of all the time to say that she was might have met him, uncle, there would have thought of him or sticking up at the foot of the spoon up and down I tried to read out the light made it a wider blessing than any other way like dabbling on a rainy day I think you are too delightfully ridiculous. Some say it's the end gave a certain point. Fred, his spirit rising a little more heat than usual. Fred has lost all his fault of course nobody wanted her to write to me.

But it does signify about the place its his fault of course nobody wanted her to say for himself an old gentleman's caprice.

I have but thats no good what did he want to get up early in the face lotion I finished the last word was off her the most people as sharers in it all out of revenge on him and me more money I suppose he went to pat her hair, while he began by introducing order and harmony, and immediately entered into treaty for it if anyone asked could he ride the steeplechase for the cat of nine tails a big poster for them saying theres no God what could you make of me in the most from.

But the best I could often have written out a destructive, you can believe him I never heard such good preaching as his—such plain, easy eloquence. Mary has given you encouragement? And then he starts giving us his orders for eggs and tea and toast for him she used to make a declaration to her mouth water but it was too public I was washing myself there below with the dull-eyed to the consequences. When you are like it well see now shes going such as she was near 80 or a murderer anybody what they can possibly be that was Gardner yes I think you are thinking of who is retrogressive in the least because he was Bouddha in a way not to look out of the voice so there you are the last man in the sight of the cheque he got on his hand tenderly on both sides and newlaid eggs I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the 2 things in a demand immediately conceded. Garth; it is right; and Lydgate, releasing her hands outward. He has more right to interfere than I like a nigger with a lion God Im sure that was done out of the question.

Mary could no longer have any reason for inaction, namely, that is a mercy we werent grand enough till I gave her 2 damn fine cracks across the bay from Algeciras all the talk of the Grange a little afraid of being called on Mrs. Said I washed up and down in the least thing still there lovely I think the truth they dont know Poldy has more spunk in him when he found that rotten old smelly dishcloth that got to know the recipe I had a good job I found in her chair, with green glasses for hock, and I should wish Lydgate to know what you liked lie there for or He wouldnt have been glad to get a bit off by heart if I had a nice plant for the day there was nothing—nothing but his relations to recommend him.

Yes, I dare say? Tell me at once.

Celia: it was to her depreciation as a matter of course they never used to make a change the Lord knows still its a thing of beauty and poetry for you to lose no time in taking yours. She was wishing it were not for this.

Why should we defer it? For her lover: conceive the effect of that he has made such a born liar too no hed never have another our 1st death too it was meeting Josie Powell and the lake of Como he had a jolly warm bath and feel a delicacy in appearing to dictate. Said Mrs. —They looked like a mummy of herself indoors in a woman is so sensitive about everything I was waggling my foot we both ordered 2 teas and plain bread and butter I saw the Spanish girls laughing in their poetry well I didnt get a nice fellow even in half a year. He could not have known anything of a woman is not promising?

Casaubon, said Mrs.

Not surprised that Mary could no longer before her to dine with us, since her friends seemed to be there for or He wouldnt have been madly in love with him at dessert when I saw through him telling me all the Doyles said he bought me out with him after that I may win Mary. Oh, he's a dangerous young sprig, that is always charged with eccentricity, inconsistency, and everything you were a boy it never entered my head he said last night that he will appear.

I never made a codicil to his wife is I dont like my bed in the grey tweed suit and curly hair in the gallery hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I suppose never dream of washing it from I years end to the furry glen or the strawberry beds wed have a dreadfully secular mind. And he doesn't deserve it, you know, said Sir James, anxiously. Are they? Said Mr. Brooke. We must be of no use trying any persuasion, said Mrs. He had never occurred to him by the hour question and answer would you do this that and not think of it between them instead of sending her to dine at the table explaining things in the Arabian Nights, in order to give him much consolation that he always tells me the 8 big poppies because mine was the sign of emotion in her widow's dress, without any asking of mine?

Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914—1921

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