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deaf-solitude · 8 months ago

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In The Shadow of the Valley Pt. 2 (Squire!Thaddeus x Knight!Reader)

Pairing: Thaddeus x Knight!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Tags: Future graphic violence, injury and blood, branding, stitching, no use of Y/N, placeholder knight name for the reader, mostly gender-neutral but reader is called “sir” at some points, the reader is called “my lord” a lot too, reader is also a bit of an asshole but dw they soften up

Summary: You’re a knight sworn to the Brotherhood of Steel, and you’ve just lost your asshole squire to a yao guai. Maybe it’s for the better, as you prefer to work alone anyway. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood thinks otherwise and quickly sends you a replacement. Turns out that the replacement is someone you never wished to meet again, but thankfully, he didn’t know it was you! Not yet, at least.

TDLR; What if Thaddeus was assigned to be your squire instead of Maximus’?

((A/N)) I’m back!!! I’m having a lot of fun writing this, so this might turn out longer than I initially intended lol. Also I hope that I’m not too inconsistent with lore/game mechanics, I just started playing Fallout 4 last week and I haven’t gotten very far yet ToT. Anyway, enjoy!!

———

Maybe you wouldn’t kill him. Not before something else did, at least.

You were still on the path of your mission, trying to gain a bit more ground before night fell. However, a pack of sleeping junkyard dogs currently stood between you and a viable camping spot underneath a rocky outcrop, and you were not in the mood to fend them off of both you and Thaddeus. You were both crouched down behind some nearly-dead bushes, trying to figure out how to get around them without waking them up.

God, this would’ve been so much easier without having to worry about the well-being of a squire. You’d rather not be two for two for dead squires in one day.

“What do we do?” Thaddeus whispered noisily, causing some of the dogs’ ears to twitch. You whipped your head around in a manner that meant ‘shut up’, but the pneumatics of your armour made more noise than you intended. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a few of the dogs quickly lift their heads, on high alert. You and Thaddeus stared at each other, frozen in place in hopes that the dogs just… wouldn’t see you behind the bare bushes.

That unfortunately did not happen, and the feral growling of the hounds spotting you quickly spurred you into action. You pushed Thaddeus further into the brush and stepped out into the clearing, drawing your gun and beginning to take shots at the pack of dogs. A couple dropped, but the rest were eager to get a bite in on you.

“My lord, w-wait!” Thaddeus yelped, stumbling back due to the weight of his pack and falling onto his ass. He struggled to get back up, to help you as a good squire should, but he was having trouble getting the strap of his bag off from where he lay on the ground. Good, that’s what you intended.

“Fuckin’ mutts,” you grumbled, hastily blocking a lunging dog and throwing it to the floor. That didn’t deter it in the slightest, recovering before it lunged for you again. It got a good grip on a protruding piece of your armour, and you spun around trying to hit it off. “Fuck! Motherfucker, get off!”

Thaddeus became more panicked as he heard you shouting, finally slipping out of the strap and aiming his gun at the dog latched onto you. “I’ve got you, my lord!” He yelled, before blindly firing off a shot in hopes he’d hit the dog. The bullet missed, ricocheting off of your armour and startling Thaddeus further as it whizzed by his head.

“Thaddeus!” You yelled in warning, trying to prevent him from getting in harm's way. You weren’t known for things going your way, though.

One of the dogs had split off from you when Thaddeus fired his gun, now set on getting a chunk out of the unprotected human. You saw the prowling animal before Thaddeus did, but in trying to get rid of the one on you, you were too slow to react in time.

Thaddeus screamed as the dog lunged for him, quickly turning his head away and firing blindly again in the direction of his attacker. Every shot missed, and the dog caught hold of Thaddeus’ arm, trying to drag him to the ground.

“Fuck! Knight Mire! Help me!” Thaddeus screamed in alarm, wincing as the dog’s teeth tore through his jacket sleeve and into the flesh of his arm. He cursed loudly again, trying to play tug of war with a feral dog and his arm.

You promptly threw the dog on you to the ground when you heard Thaddeus’ screams, landing a solid stomp on it before rushing to your squire. With the dog preoccupied and trying to maul him, it was easy to get close and restrain it. When it refused to let go of him, you hesitated only slightly before resorting to putting your hands on its head, pressing them together and effectively crushing the dog’s skull. Its body went limp, and Thaddeus was able to rip his arm out of its loosened jaws with a whimper.

You didn’t have any time to check in on him before another dog jumped on your back, trying to rip at the back of your neck.

“Son of a bitch!” You shouted, trying to reach back and grab the dog, but your armour limited your mobility and you were unable to reach it. Thaddeus floundered where he stood, gripping his bleeding arm while trying to decide if he should help you or not.

“Uhm, m-my lord! Would y-you like me to-“

“Don’t fucking move!” You shouted at him, finally getting a shot in on the dog as you blasted it with your arm jet. It yowled, toppling off of you and attempting to limp away from the major burns you’d just given it. You shot it before it had the chance to escape, god forbid if it came back to bite you in the ass. There were only a few left now, and with some well-aimed shots from your gun, they fell quickly too.

You and Thaddeus stood still for a moment, still processing what had just happened while trying to catch your breaths. You carefully holstered your weapon while you stared at the bodies lying around, taking a breath before turning around to assess Thaddeus.

With your helmet facing towards him, he jumped, almost trying to hide his torn arm behind him. “A-ah! Am-amazing job, my lord! You-you really showed those m-mutts!” He exclaimed, a strained smile strewn across his face. You huffed, brushing past him to carry the pack instead. “O-oh you don’t h-have to do that-“

“Come on,” you beckoned, cutting him off and moving toward the outcrop you fought for with the pack slung over your shoulder. God, this thing was heavy. Thaddeus hesitated before following behind, his forced smile dropping as an anxious frown replaced it.

You threw the pack down against a nearby rock, assessing the small area. There were a few stray rocks scattered in a shape that looked like a circle, so you figured you’d get a small fire going in the middle of them once you’d dealt with Thaddeus. Speaking of Thaddeus, when you turned back around to rummage through the pack, he was already digging through it.

“You good?” You questioned, your scrambled voice causing the man to jump again. He whipped around, still trying to hide his arm behind him with a feigned smile.

“Yep! Never been better! Don’t you worry about me,” he rambled, beads of sweat welling up on his temple while he gripped a roll of bandages in his hand. You sighed, crossing your arms.

“Let me see it,” you ordered, making Thaddeus frown in panic.

“N-no!”

You raised your brow, which he couldn’t see, but he still sputtered at your silence from his sudden outburst.

“I-I mean- I’m fine, my lord, really. I-it’s nothing I can’t handle!” He reassured you, getting more nervous by the minute. You were not taking that for an answer. You carefully but firmly placed your hands on his shoulders, turning him sharply so you could get a look at his arm. Thaddeus whimpered in embarrassment, casting his eyes away from you while you inspected the wound.

It didn’t look good, that’s for sure. The dog had gotten a good grip on his arm, and the bite marks were deep. He was at least lucky enough that the dog didn’t thrash, as his flesh didn’t look too torn. It was still bleeding pretty bad, and you were sure it would be infected come the morning if it wasn’t properly looked after.

If you remembered anything from your time at the airbase, you knew Thaddeus was absolutely horrible at first aid. He’d stick a shitty expired stimpack in it and call it a day, which wouldn’t stave away any infection if he left it uncovered. But if you wanted to make sure it healed correctly, you’d need to get out of your power armour and help him. You hesitated but quickly thought of a way to keep your face hidden as you stepped back from Thaddeus.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He questioned you as you backed up against the outcrop wall, giving yourself just enough room to be able to get out from behind it. You hit the release of your armour once you were in position, scrambling to remove your arms so that you could fish a handkerchief out of your breast pocket before Thaddeus got too curious.

Tying it quickly around the lower half of your face, you stepped down and out from behind the armour, walking back over to Thaddeus.

“Give me that,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your eyes or voice while you held your hand out for the roll of bandage.

He just… stared at you for a good couple of seconds, his brain lagging to process that you’d just gotten out of your power armour to tend to him. After a little while, you started to worry that your cover had been blown until he seemed to come back to life, stuttering like a fool.

“I-I- My lord! R-really, it’s-it’s alright, I-“

You snatched the roll from his hands as he stammered, effectively shutting him up as you pushed him down to sit on the rock behind him.

“Take your jacket off,” you commanded, tucking the roll under your arm while you went to retrieve a stimpack from the pack that was next to Thaddeus. He was practically shaking at this odd behaviour from you, not understanding why you were doing this, but he complied anyway. He shrugged the jacket off quickly, along with the red button-up shirt underneath, leaving him in a white tank top.

You turned back to Thaddeus with a water bottle, rag, and stimpack in hand, positioning yourself in front of him to look at his arm. He looked up at you with that pathetic face you knew all too well: the one he’d pull when he would get yelled at by whoever he pissed off at the airbase. Though, you weren’t quite sure why he was making it now. It had been a miracle, but so far, you hadn’t degraded him too much.

“This is gonna sting a bit,” you admitted while unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. Thaddeus seemed surprised again, uneasily grasping at his pant legs.

“You-you’re gonna use clean water for a measly little bite? I’ve lived through worse,” he laughed nervously, unable to hide the twitches of pain that occasionally crossed his face.

You raised a brow, pausing. ”Would you rather die of infection? Because you and I both know the cheap ass stimpacks they give us aren’t very good at sterilizing wounds.”

Thaddeus visibly faltered at your words, not expecting such an argument from you. You were right, of course—he could remember plenty of times when an aspirant would get extremely sick from an improperly treated wound, and in the worst cases, they would die—but it didn't make him feel any better about wasting supplies on him.

“B-but why should we waste the water? I-I’m… just a squire, it’s my fault I was bit anyway. I got in the way,” he mumbled, his eyes downcast and his posture hunched like he was trying to make himself disappear. You sighed, carefully grabbing his arm to inspect one last time.

“Well, it’s a good thing I get to decide what we waste supplies on,” you quipped, unable to stop yourself from smiling a little. It seemed to have reached your eyes, though, since Thaddeus looked up and gave you a small, but grateful smile back.

“I just… didn't expect a knight to care so much,” he disclosed, wringing his hands out. That made you stop for a moment.

You hadn’t realized how much you softened up in the past few hours since you were so hell-bent on hating him when he was first dropped off. Well, it was understandable that you’d wanted to hate him. He was a bully, as far as you remembered. But this man in front of you? You hardly recognized this obedient and meek facade he put on, but his ramblings and blind loyalty were still the same.

That was it, you realized: he was familiar. You didn't get much of that in the wasteland, save for some worn-down landmarks, so you’d covet it where you could. Even if you had once hated each other, it was better than nothing. Besides, maybe having an acquaintance out here wouldn’t be too bad. You would never admit it, but you kind of missed having someone to look after, even if he was supposed to be looking after you. You never did like accepting help, though, even when you so readily handed it out.

“I care about protecting people, even if the Brotherhood has more or less lost sight of that with their tech bullshit,” you offered, beginning to pour some water on the wound to wash away the partially dried blood. Thaddeus winced at the feeling, but he perked up at your comment.

“The Brotherhood does protect people, though. I mean, if we let everyone run around all willy-nilly with post-war technology all the time, there’d be no one left to protect after they all kill each other,” Thaddeus interjected nonchalantly, causing your expression to harden slightly.

He was wrong. With what you’ve seen at the airbase and out here in the field, the Brotherhood had completely lost its way. You had seen how your fellow knights gave no regard for anyone other than themselves, looting and killing where they deemed fit, pushing people around for their own benefit. You were unsure of what they had been like before your time, but now? It felt like you were part of a band of technologically scavenging warmongers.

You were one of the few who hadn’t bought into it, and Thaddeus was one of the many who did.

You bit your tongue while you focused on Thaddeus’ arm because God forbid you said something out of line and he reported it back to the officers. They’d have your head on a stick before dawn. You simply nodded, your brows furrowed as you inspected his now clean wound. The bleeding had slowed, but not stopped, and you could now see just how deep the dog had gotten.

“I’m gonna have to stitch some of this up,” you concluded, not missing the way Thaddeus started shaking as you switched out the bottle of water for the stimpack you’d retrieved earlier.

“Wh-what? Stitches? N-no. No, no, no, just the stimpack will be fine,” he squeaked, attempting to reel his arm back in. You held him in a firm grip, though, readying the stimpack in your other hand.

You gave him a frustrated glare. “It’ll heal faster if we stitch it.”

He shrunk back under your gaze, wanting to protest, but he knew that was a losing battle with you. You took his silence as compliance, and while he was looking away, you quickly jabbed his arm with the stimpack. He yelped, nearly jumping to his feet, but you expected that reaction and held him down.

“What the hell, man!” He squawked, his voice cracking from the pitch it was at. “Give a man a warning, Jesus!”

“I find it’s worse if you know it’s coming,” you shrugged, discarding the empty stimpack and digging in the pack again for some needle and thread. You could’ve sworn you heard Thaddeus whimper in fear while you were practically shoulder-deep in the big ass bag he brought with him. For someone who you thought would’ve seen much worse, he was very squeamish.

That proved stitching his wound to be difficult.

The process was arduous with Thaddeus twitching and shrieking every time you made a new stitch, and he needed quite a few of them. You were just about ready to take back everything you’d previously thought about, one complaint away from hitting him over the head and leaving him here.

“There, you big baby. We’re done,” you grumbled, cutting the extra thread with your pocket knife and quickly bandaging up his arm. He loudly sighed in relief, slumping over with exhaustion.

“Oh, thank God,” he whined, sounding like he was on the verge of tears, “that was horrible.” He snatched his arm back when you were finally done, running his fingers along the starchy fabric as if it would stop the stinging sensation below it

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, putting all of the supplies you had used back in the pack, and marched off to start a fire. Thaddeus watched you go, chewing on the inside of his cheek before rising to his feet to follow you.

The fire wasn’t hard to start up on your own—you’d done so hundreds of times before—but Thaddeus’ eyes burning into the back of your head had you on edge. A simple glare up at him had him scrambling, averting his gaze as he turned his body around altogether. It wasn’t long before you had a fire going, and had cooked some of the rations packed in Thaddeus’ bag.

The two of you sat down on opposite rocks with food in hand, the fire between you and illuminating your faces. Thaddeus fiddled with his utensil as silence fell over the two of you, seeming to mull something over in his mind before piping up: “Um… so… how long have you been working with the Brotherhood?”

You debated indulging in his questions as you carefully maneuvered a spoonful of corn under your makeshift mask and into your mouth. “Since I was a kid.” You relented, your voice quiet but firm. “Some knights picked me up off the side of the road when I was twelve or so,”

Thaddeus perked up at the new information. “Oh? I’ve-I’ve been with them for a long time, too, but I… don’t ever recall hearing about you. You… were stationed at the airbase, right?”

You paused, intently staring down at your rations. Should you tell him? The last thing you wanted was to spook him off, and you were not in the mood to warm up to another squire. Your gaze flickered back up to Thaddeus, who was staring at you with a tentative expression of fear that he’d yet again pushed his questions too far.

“I was. Maybe we just never crossed paths. I tended to keep to myself.” You shrugged, shovelling another spoonful of corn into your mouth. “I also didn't stick around for very long. I was maybe… sixteen when the Elder Cleric sent me off-base to train for knighthood.”

That part was mostly true, aside from the fact that you’d just blatantly lied about the two of you not knowing each other. Apparently, the Elder Cleric had seen “promise” in you after your altercation with Thaddeus, keeping a close eye on you until he decided you were cut out to be a knight a couple of years later.

“What? How come you didn’t get a ceremony? Or-or a send-off?” Thaddeus questioned, and now you were kicking yourself for saying anything.

“I did get a ceremony, it just wasn't public,” you grumbled, trying so hard to keep him off of your trail.

Thaddeus furrowed his brows. ”That’s weird.”

“You’re weird,” you fired back nonchalantly.

Thaddeus scrunched up his nose at your response before huffing out a laugh, shaking his head as he prodded at his food. “That makes two of us, then.”

It was your turn to snicker, the sound abrupt and quiet as you tried to hold it back the best you could. Thaddeus still heard it, though, and the giant grin on his face was enough to tell you that.

“I-I’m not weird.” You fumbled to recover, but you knew you weren’t wiping that smug smile off of Thaddeus’ face anytime soon.

“Suure,” Thaddeus hummed, finally taking his first bite of food, “That’s why you insisted on patching up my arm even though you could’ve just stuck a stimpak into it and called it a day.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Oh, God forbid I take care of someone’s wounds. I didn’t know that giving medical aid was illegal now,” you joked, pulling another giddy laugh from Thaddeus.

You settled into a comfortable silence this time, and that soft smile lingered on your face as you stared down at your rations. This felt… nice. It had been so long since the last time you opened up like this with anyone. The back-and-forth banter was something you missed about being friendly with people, especially when everyone you’d met since taking up the knight mantle either ran in terror or tried to attack you.

As if on cue, Thaddeus jolted as he remembered something. “Oh! You should brand me!” He exclaimed excitedly, causing you to immediately lose any peace you had just gained as you frowned behind your handkerchief.

“Oh, fuck no. Do you even know how bad it hurts?” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose at the suggestion. Your last squire had insisted on being branded, too. When you had finally relented and gone through with it, he screamed like a little girl and wouldn’t stop complaining about how much it hurt for at least three days afterwards.

Thaddeus put on his best pouty face at your denial. “Come on, it's tradition! To show my devotion to you!” He whined, and an odd feeling holed up in your chest from him saying he was devoted to you. “And I-I’m not officially your squire until you brand me!” Well, at least it was a better reason than your previous squire’s: he had just wanted to show it off to his friends the next time he was on base.

You pushed that worming feeling in your chest aside and glared at Thaddeus, but he didn’t shrink back this time. In fact, it almost encouraged him as he leaned forward with his hands linked together in a pleading gesture. “Please?”

You sighed heavily, unable to say no to his big blue puppy-dog eyes. You set your rations down and dragged your hands down your face before begrudgingly rising to your feet and trudging back over to your power armour. Thaddeus whooped obnoxiously behind you, putting a slight smile back on your face as you stepped into your armour. It whirred back to life as the back hatch closed, and you tested out the arms before walking back over to the fire.

Thaddeus watched intently as you stuck the tip of your hand guard into the hot flames, the metal ‘M’ and the area surrounding it heating up and turning a dangerous red. Once you started to feel the heat through your gauntlet, you pulled your hand back and turned to Thaddeus, who had immediately swivelled around so that you had access to his back.

Your hand wavered as you tried to recall the words of the declaration used for branding. You got it, mostly, and recited the words plainly: ”Thaddeus, it is your most sacred duty to protect the Brotherhood. After which, it is your most sacred duty to protect… me, Knight Mire.” You paused briefly while speaking, feeling like you were forgetting another sacred duty. After a moment of thinking, you still couldn’t recall what it could’ve been. Ah, forget it. If you couldn’t remember it, it was probably dumb anyway. You continued: “Do you accept?”

“Oh, yeah. You bet I do,” Thaddeus chuckled, showing no sign of discomfort or fear. You shrugged at this; maybe it would go better than you thought.

“Okay, hold still,” you concluded before pressing the back of your hot gauntlet to Thaddeus’ back. You jolted when he suddenly let out the most high-pitched scream you think you’d ever heard from him, but you made sure to keep your gauntlet still to prevent fucking up the brand. Shouts and groans spilled from Thaddeus’ lips as his skin continued to sizzle, but he miraculously kept still with deep breaths between each pained noise. You were almost worried he’d pass out from whatever pain he was feeling to have him react this strongly.

“Hold on, hold on, it’s almost done,” you quickly reassured, your stomach starting to flip at the sight and sound of this whole process. Branding was never something you particularly liked to witness. After another second or two, you pulled back your hand, causing Thaddeus to loudly sigh in relief as he fell forward onto his knees. He continued to heave and groan, shakily crawling over to one of the rocks and sitting up against it, careful not to aggravate his fresh brand. He laughed a bit, and when you could finally catch a glimpse of his face, he had the biggest grin stretched across it, which surprised you. It seemed like he… enjoyed it.

Thaddeus reached a hand back to hover over the brand, but he quickly reeled it back when he felt heat still radiating off of it. “Woo, still pretty hot,” he noted, his hand falling back into his lap. He glanced back over to you, his smile never faltering. “Thank you, Knight Mire.”

You were a bit perplexed at Thaddeus’ joyous mood, freezing you in place as you tried to process the fact that he was talking to you. Any squire you had branded previously—in a ceremony or otherwise—would either be still reeling in pain, giving you a death stare, or complaining about how much it hurt. “Um, you’re… welcome? I guess?” You answered hesitantly, stepping back to exit your armour again.

“Man, we need a duo name now!” Thaddeus exclaimed, and before you could protest the dumbest idea you’d heard in months, he had already started thinking aloud. “Thaddeus and Mire, the- umm,” Thaddeus put a shaky finger to his lips, attempting to conjure up a name for the two of you. You promptly rolled your eyes, sitting down and running the idea over in your head before you blurted out:

“Trademark. We’re trademarked.”

Thaddeus paused, looking at you with a puzzled expression before it clicked. “Oh my god, you’re right! TM! We’re the trademark boys, yeah!” He shouted happily, throwing his fists up in the air with a gleeful expression.

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you at his exclamation. It sounded much more ridiculous coming from him, especially with how excited he was about it.

“What, so we’re like… The Trademark Boys with a TM on top of it? The Trademark Boys trademarked?” You jested, deciding to entertain the incredibly ridiculous thought.

Thaddeus pointed a finger at you, glad that you were catching on. “Exactly!”

“That’s… that's so stupid,” you sighed with a small laugh, shaking your head and pinching the bridge of your nose again.

“No, it’s genius,” Thaddeus corrected with a smirk, shrugging his red button-up shirt back on while making sure it didn't drag against his brand.

You rolled your eyes at him, returning to your half finished rations in a more joyful mood than you think you'd ever been in.

“Whatever you say, Thaddeus.”

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bonafideyapper · 9 months ago

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DAY OFF - maximus (fallout tv) x female!reader (smut)

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! 18+ // virgin maximus, you work for free because he’s just so sweet, no use of “y/n” but “your name” is typed out, subby (switch) Maximus, he’s embarrassed, I love it; reader is described as female, chubby, and southern/from the east coast, premature ejaculation (but the stamina is there fr he’s back up and ready in like 30 seconds flat); oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it ‘fo you tap it, reader), creampie, I probably forgot some but tbh I didn’t expect to get as raunchy as I did (not proofread)

(this is written to be a one-shot but if there’s enough interest in a second part i’ll work something up :))

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Maximus was pretty pissed off and worn down by the time he came across a settlement along the way to tracking down the head, or the armor, he really didn’t know what his purpose in life was at the moment. He was just tired and needed some water, maybe a snack. He kept thinking back to that vault dweller he met in Filly, her pretty big eyes and that cute little smile. He’d never see her again, but hey, at least he could have the memory.

He stumbled into the first crudely established business he could find that might serve him, taking a seat at the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. Clearly had not taken in the scenery of the bar he was in. Beautiful women stood around, each one with various male patrons. Unable to properly get the man’s attention; Maximus huffed and let his shoulders slump in near-defeat. After meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and then getting his ass kicked and losing the fucking armor, he had little energy left to give.

You noticed this from your position at the end of the bar, slowly inching your way down as he took his place at the bar. The man had barely looked up when he burst through the door, clearly not noticing he had stumbled into the only brothel for miles around. Well respectable women making money to support themselves, helping weary travelers and the occasional rough raider to get some peace and release for the night. Today was your day off, but you always loved a little challenge.

“Emmett! Would you be a dear and get me two waters?” You leaned over the bar and flashed the old man a big smile, he had always had a soft spot for you since you’d always slip him a big tip from whatever you made upstairs. Emmett filled up two glasses of water and slid them across to land in front of you, “On the house, beautiful.”

You turned to get a good look at the man, fighting back a laugh as he stared at the glass of cold water in your hand, almost resembling a panting dog. “Here, honey; this is for you.” He muttered out a ‘thanks’ as he took the glass and took it down in three gulps, setting it back down on the counter between them.

Maximus was smitten the moment he laid eyes on you, his literal saving grace. He finally took in his surroundings and cleared his throat, trying to put on that macho attitude of a knight, but really just an awkward little guy (with and) without that armor. “Thank you, um, I didn’t seem to catch your name?” He tried not to notice the obvious – that you were a whore, and he was a lying squire. He figured you two were one in the same, he was the lowest rung of the Brotherhood’s hierarchy, and you were, well, a prostitute. Max didn’t really care though; he had never seen someone as captivating as you, especially not in the wasteland.

You told him your name, and Maximus swore he had never heard anything so beautiful before. He watched you take small sips from the glass in front of you as you spoke with him for the next few minutes, realizing he had yet to offer you his name. To lie or not to lie, that is the question.

“M-Maximus. That’s my name.” He told you, offering up a piece of knowledge about himself. Hey, he figured he’d never be back in this part of the wasteland, telling you his real name wouldn’t hurt nobody. “I uh, I don’t have any caps, so if you’re looking for a customer…” He trailed off, thinking you were only there for one thing.

“Well, lucky for you, today’s my day off.” You flashed him an award-winning smile, one that would’ve been plastered on billboards in the old world.

The two of you talked for awhile, neither of you too worried about the environment around you. You filled in most of the silence with some stories about your past. He found out you were close to his age, had come to the western wasteland from what used to be the Carolinas, and were working in the saloon until you could find someone to take you back to Appalachia. You both sat there until closing time, Emmett giving you signal with a jerk of his head towards the stairs leading up to your room with an eyebrow up as if asking, “Charity work on your day off?”

“Hey Maxie, you wanna go get some sleep? Only five caps for a nice place to rest.” You squeezed his arm gently, leaning towards him, “No business, just as friends.” Maximus had never had a nickname before, other than the verbal insults spat at him by his fellow brothers. After spending quite some time with you, he decided that he liked the nickname, and would not let the abuse of the Brotherhood affect his brief time with you. He found himself nodding without thinking over your offer, blindly following you once you moved your dainty little hand to grab onto his larger one. Once he was behind you, he took notice of the way your dress moved as you walked, swaying slightly with each step. He tried to remain honorable and not stare at your ass as you went up the stairs, believing you were telling the truth when you claimed that no ‘business’ would happen.

Boy had he been wrong.

Once you had him safely in the confines of your room, your lips were on him like flies to honey. He desperately kissed you, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you’d float away if he didn’t anchor your body to his. Or, maybe he felt like he’d float away if he didn’t hold onto you.

“No, no no no no! This can’t be happening.” Maximus broke away from your lips suddenly, trying to push you from his lap at the feeling of his growing erection.

“Hey hey, calm down.” You frowned and grabbed onto his hands, distracting him by putting them firmly on your thighs and looking up into his frantic eyes, “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I think my cock is about to explode.” Maximus panicked and frowned when you just laughed in his face, not taking his worries about the brainwashed BoS sex ed seriously. Your hands floated up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb ghosting over the scar running along his chin.

“Oh, bless your heart. Maxie, that’s what‘s supposed to happen. Do you trust me to make that feel good for you?” The way you cooed to him in a condescending way in that sweet southern accent made him whimper. His head nodded on instinct, going into this with blind trust for you since hey, you were a professional. With him finally voicing the consent on the matter, you flashed him a big smile and resumed making out with him. Your hands drifted down between your two bodies, palming him gently through the front of his pants and eliciting sweet whimpers from the virgin.

His hands were clumsy as they explored your body, but you didn’t really mind. He finally discovered the places his hands felt like home, one landing on the soft, plump flesh of your hip as the other found its place on your lower back. He pulled your body closer, seeming to gain more courage as the night progressed. Something about a safe bed and a good-looking woman in his lap just did it for him, y’know?

Max shifted you both down so he could lay his upper body back against your pillows, just trying to get comfortable and not think about the way his cock felt–you made it very hard (pun intended) to think about anything else. You broke your lips away from his and let out a melodic giggle as he chased your lips. You needed him out of that white t-shirt that oh-so-deliciously clung to his biceps, so naturally your hands reached to pull it over his head.

You really were the best at what you did, and you knew it, Maximus could tell. You expertly removed his belt and pants without him even noticing, only detaching your lips from his because you had started to leave a trail moving down, down, down…

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you thought to yourself. Taking time to press open-mouthed kisses along any scars that may have been on his abdomen, you glanced up to see his eyes locked on you. Half-lidded brown eyes stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat as you finally reached your destination. You carefully opened his pants and tapped his hip gently, asking him to lift up to make this a little easier for you. As he obeyed, you pulled his pants down in one swift motion, smirking when you saw his cock. Perfectly shaped, thick and girthy, just how you liked it, and rock-hard as it sprung up out of the confines of his briefs.

“Still trust me?” You whispered to him before you put your hands on him again, basically salivating over the thought. Maximus didn’t even need to hear the rest of your question, nodding frantically after you uttered the first syllable. Taking his cock in your hand, you easily began working him, keeping your eyes on him. You loved the look on a virgin’s face when you touched them for the first time, and Max was no different. His eyes had closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Absolutely fucking beautiful, in your professional opinion.

His hands found their way to your hair as you licked a drop of precum from the tip of his cock, humming softly in delight at the salty substance before immediately getting to work. You wrapped your lips around him and gathered enough saliva to really make it enjoyable for him, not even having time to really get sloppy with it when the pretty boy had busted in your mouth with a profuse apology. Greedy, you pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed down the load. You thought it was cute how apologetic he was at how quick it had happened, so you wiped your mouth and leaned up to kiss him again. “Don’t apologize, I’m not done.”

Max didn’t know what else to expect, already astonished that it had gone on this long and his cock was still attached to his body. With his cock standing staunch and almost painfully erect again, Maximus let out a pitiful whine when you lifted your dress over your head. You guided his hands to your hips again, starting to work a rhythm against him with your hips.

“You okay if I ride you, honey?” You asked him, peppering kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Maximus nodded quickly and dug his fingertips into your pudgy hips, moving you in his lap the way that he wanted. He thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this sex thing, until you lift yourself up and he feels the warmest, softest grip he’s ever felt before. He thought your mouth was the best thing he had ever felt, until he felt the way your pussy gripped his cock alll the way down until he was buried inside you.

“Shit, Maxie, you might be the biggest I’ve ever taken.” You mewled, leaning over his body in a way that perfectly positioned your breasts above his face. You put your weight on your hands on either side of his head, propping yourself up to start moving your hips. Grinding into him for a moment to really feel how deep he was before lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down to test the waters with your new toy.

Meanwhile Maximus couldn’t focus, at this moment he had completely abandoned his faith in the Brotherhood, creating a new religion in your body. Maybe he was just delusional over getting laid but he would worship the ground you walked on after this. His mouth found one of your nipples and latched onto it almost instinctively (don’t mommy kink shame me), rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud before pulling back to give the other some well deserved attention.

You finally fell into a good rhythm, leaning back on him and grabbing onto his legs behind you for support as Maximus figured out that if he thrust his hips up just right, you’d let out a new sound. At some point you realized he had taken over, his hands digging roughly into your hips and thighs as he fucked up into you.

Maximus grinned when he realized that not only did this feel great, it looked like you were actually enjoying it too. He was a quick learner, figuring out which ways to move his hips that would elicit the sweeeetest noises from your throat. He decided to get cocky with it and put those squire muscles to good use, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you in place against his body as he pistons his hips quicker. Admittedly becoming more sloppy, but he soon realized that it was because you had come completely undone in his arms.

Your eyes had rolled back as soon as he help you in place, nothing but the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans that were getting higher and higher in pitch. “Max- fuck- Maximus—“ you tried to warn him that you were going to cum, burying your face in his shoulder and white-knuckling the blanket as you exploded instead, a gush of what Maximus thought was piss (he would later learn that no, you didn’t just urinate on him) coating the two of their abdomens. Never deterred him though, because soon after Max had let the explosion feeling take himself over, pumping his heavy load into you. You swore you could feel it literally hit your cervix and hoped you weren’t ovulating.

Maximus kept his arms tightly around you as you laid on top of him for a moment, moving only slightly in a way that would allow his cock to slip from your velvety walls. Leaving you with the ejaculate mix dripping down your thighs. His fingers traced up your spine gently before his dropped his arm to the side, letting you get up if you so pleased.

You did, but only after hovering your face over his to brush your lips against his in an almost-tender kiss. Your legs were shakier than you’d like to admit as you crawled off of him, cleaning yourself up a bit before wrapping yourself in your nice robe. Maximus sat up a bit on his elbows to watch you float around the room, smiling up at you when you came back to him with a wet rag to clean him off.

“Get some sleep, Maxie.” You pressed your lips to the skin just above his bellybutton, then one against his sternum, finally one more pressed to his lips that lingered as long as he allowed it to. To you, aftercare was important to both parties, and since you were the more experienced, you’d have to teach him a thing or two about that. “You’re safe here with me, I promise.”

Maximus watched you slowly make your way up his body, wrapping his arm back around you to pull you closer to deepen your kisses. Both of you had just exploded and yet he could still probably go again, but the exhaustion of his journey had finally hit him, and he knew he had a lot of ground to cover in the morning. He nestled his head against your bosom and closed his eyes, not used to any sort of cuddling but definitely just wanting to feel your softness as long as he could before everything got hard again.

You had a fond smile on your face as you looked down at the man in your bed, it wasn’t often that you took a serious liking to any of the men that strolled through the saloon doors, but something about the “I can fix him”-ness of the false knight under your covers was intriguing. You wrapped your arm around him and gently traced your finger over some raised skin between his shoulders, too tired to make out what the shape was.

You had woken up before him the next morning and had already gotten dressed and ready before deciding to wake him, a plate of biscuits and a cup of badly-made coffee on her side table. Maybe, you hoped, if you made his time really worth it he’d come back to see you again. Maybe as a customer, but you wouldn’t charge him any caps for your services. He’d be your exception, something about a friends discount.

Maximus opened his eyes slowly when he felt a small hand massaging his back, turning his head to look towards your figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Mornin’, honey. You gotta get goin’, I got business to attend to.” You watched as he rolled onto his back and looked up at you fully. Max cracked a smile as he reached over to grab your face, pulling you down but leaning up to meet you halfway and capture your lips in a kiss.

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise.” He whispered against your lips, thinking back to your conversation the night before about working there until you found a companion to guide you across the vast wasteland. He’d find the knight’s armor and return to prove himself worthy of being a knight by rescuing the fair maiden.

“I’ll hold you to that, Maxie.” You pulled away from him and gestured to the clothes on the edge of the bed, “Get dressed, there’s a fire escape out my window. My boss will be so mad if she sees you leavin’ this late in the morning.” Maximus redressed himself pretty quick and peeled his head out the window to see the makeshift ladder hanging down the side of the building. He turned back to try and steal one more kiss, but you had already fled the room.

a/n: ok so I wrote this at work & when I got off work I was exhausted but I neeeeeded to finish it so this went way off the rails, wasn’t expecting myself to do all that, but hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @judgementdays-girl (you requested a max fic after i had already started so here's this :))

gif by @mancandykings

dividers by @cafekitsune

#maximus fallout x reader #maximus fallout x you #maximus fallout imagine #fallout tv imagine #squire maximus #ren writes #fallout tv series #maximus x reader #maximus x you #maximus fallout x oc #maximus fallout

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sixpossumsinaclownsuit · 3 years ago

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Hello, Tumblr! This is Red Batty speaking.

I'm all done with school now so, hey! I thought I'd open my ask box for fic requests.

Smut is A-Okay! NSFW, Angst, the works. I'll just have to make the final call, but I can do the same prompt but milder if I'm not comfortable with the ask. No Yandere either, there's too many impressionable teens on this hell site that might think that's true love and I'm not risking it. I also don't do sad endings or major character death, because. I don't want to <3

Below are the characters I'm willing to write for!

Justice League Dark

John Constantine

Etrigan/Jason Blood

Zatanna Zatara

Deadman/Boston Brand

Batman/Batfamily

Batman/Bruce Wayne

Robert Pattinson/Batman 2022 version

Comics version

Christian Bale/Dark Knight version

Arkham games version

Anything more niche than that literally just ask I'm probably down, like if he's voiced by Kevin Conroy, I'll probably write for him

Nightwing/Dick Grayson

Red Hood/Jason Todd

I haven't played Arkham Knight yet so Arkham!Jason isn't available yet

Red Robin/Tim Drake

Batgirl/Cassandra Kain

Oracle/Barbara Gordon (I can do Batgirl!Babs also)

Spoiler/Stephanie Brown

I'm also open to do Spotlight/Duke Thomas but I know f$%king nothing about him so if its an ask generic enough to apply to any Robin I'm down.

Rogues Gallery

Comics, Arkham games and animated series versions only right now. Well, that and Nolan!Rogues. Just not Bane, don't make me write fic for Rises.

I could do Gotham but it'd have to be plot nonspecific or you'd have to be specific about the ask (not against that) but still,,, yeah ahem anyways

Harley Quinn

Arkham games version

Comics version

Animated series version

Still haven't seen BoP or Suicide Squad so not those versions yet,,, sorry gang

Poison Ivy

I WILL do Harlivy if requested, and Harlivy x reader, and Harlivy x Selina x reader… Basically just send me your ideal fictional polycule and I'll do it. Love wins.

Mad Hatter/Jervis Tetch

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

WOOF Cillian Murphy too fine, if not specified that's the version I'm writing

Riddler/Edward Nygma

NOT PAUL DANO VERSION. I'm sorry but the 2022 la version is a little creep and I won't write fic for him

If I get a Joker ask It better be the f$%king Lego Joker ONLY.

Bane

Catwoman/Selina Kyle

Zoe Kravitz Selina my beloved, so hmu for 2022!Selina if you like also

Uhhhh I'm tired and ran out of ideas, If I missed one literally just ask

Justice League

just animated series and comics. No, I haven't seen Snyderverse. Yes, I'll be a little bitchy about it. Shazam and Aquaman and Wonder Woman can stay though. I'll write for live action Aquaman and WW, but not Shazam bc he's. Literally a child. Mkay.

Superman/Clark Kent

Batman (see above)

Green Lantern

John Stewart

Hal Jordan

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

Aquaman/Arthur Curry

Flash

Wally West

Barry Allen

Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

Arcane (League of Legends)

Haven't seen Arrow in years so bear with me if you want arrowverse!Ollie

Sandman/Neil Gaiman!DC

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless

Death of the Endless

The Corinthian

Hob/Rob Gadling

Rob x Morpheus x Reader

Constantine (Joanna or John, see above)

Caitlin

Vi x Caitlin x Reader or any other polycule for that matter

Viktor

Jayce

Silco

Vander

Bethesda

Jinx

Skyrim

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

John Hancock

Paladin Danse

McCready

Piper

Preston Garvey

Fallout (TV Show)

Lucy

Maximus

The Ghoul/Cooper Howard

Brynjolf

Mercer Frey

Vilkas

Farkas

Aela

Serana

Cicero

Adrianne and Ulfberth War-Bear (at Shieldmaiden's)

this one is niche as hell they're not even companions or marriable but I'm putting it on the list

Mortal Kombat

If there's anyone missing just talk to me about it, thanks guys love u

I'll do the game or the movie I'm just a bit rustier on game lore, pls bear with me.

Scorpion/Hanzo Hasashi

Sub-Zero/Kuai Liang

Kenshi

Liu Kang

Raiden

Johnny Cage

Sonya Blade

Johnny x Sonya or Johnny x Sonya x reader

Kotal Khan

Cassie Cage

Marvel

Takeda

I'm having a bit of a love/hate relationship with the MCU right now so these are the few I'm writing for, if there's someone you want me to write for from comics lore, just hmu and we'll see what I can do for you

Moon Knight

Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, all together or individually

Doctor Stephen Strange

**or any of his variants.

Also AUs. I'm down for AUs like "in this universe of DS he's like [blank]" so when mcu!DS comes through its like [blank]... you get the idea.

Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximo

Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

I'll do Peter Maximoff also but X-men get their own special section, see below

Loki

2012!Loki

TVA!Loki

President!Loki

Disneyland Loki

X-Men

Its not that I think I'm better than people because I prefer writing comics/animated series it's just. I know that better. And the movies make my head hurt sometimes but a few of them are cool it's literally random so just. Ask.

Cyclops/Scott Summers

(This one for my bestie mwah)

Emma Frost

Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

Deadpool (does he count? Fuck it, he was a trainee)

Colossus/Piotr Rasputin

Mystique/Raven Darkhölme

Magneto/Erik (Magnus) Lensherr

This is one I will write straight from the movies because good lord is his character hot as fuck compelling and a dilf well written

Shadowcat/Kitty Pride

Rogue/Anna-Marie

Gambit/Remy LeBeau

Gambit x Rogue x reader, and any other polycule basically

Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

Storm/Ororo Munroe

There's so many at this point I can't remember them all just ask

Defenders

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Jessica Jones

Foggy Nelson

Karen Page

Punisher/Frank Castle

I ask that you keep my punisher reqs spoiler free as I'm catching up on the show right now

Spiderverse

Peter Parker

Peter B. (ITSV)

Tom Holland

Andrew Garfield

Tobey Maguire

(I'm rustier on the live action babies so give me grace here)

Spiderman 2099/Miguel O'hara

Spider!Gwen

Spiderman Noir

Spider!Gwen x Andrew Garfield!Spiderman

Spiderman/Miles Morales

He WILL be aged up or shipped with a teen reader, anything else will get doused in gasoline and set on fire.

Eddie Brock/Venom

Note: I'm more willing to do spiderverse x ocs bc I know the spidersona brainrot is real. Hell, at this point, I might do oc x oc content for spiderverse because I've been there (and I've got a bestie with two spider ocs in a ship, love u cas)

Doc Ock/Otto Octavius

Doc Ock/Liv Octavius

Lmao I might do liv x aunt may if its funny or wholesome enough

Mysterio/Quentin Beck

It'll only be mcu!beck if explicitly stated that's what you want.

Green Goblin/Norman Osborne

Electro/Max Dillon

Sandman/Flint Marko

Lizard/Dr. Curtis Connors

If you think I'm missing someone just ask

Umbrella Academy

Luther Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Viktor Hargreeves

Fka Vanya for anyone not up to speed, he's going by Viktor now that Elliot Page has come out

I will not use she/her pronouns or the name Vanya, if I get a req for Vanya it will be written for Viktor.

Star Wars

Prequels/Clone Wars

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Captain Rex

Commander Cody

Padme Amidala

Original Trilogy

Luke Skywalker

Leia Organa Skywalker

Han Solo

Lando Calrissian

Mandalorian/Post War Era

Mando/Din Djarin

Bo Katan-Kryze

Cobb Vanth

I know I'm missing some I know it just ask and I'll let yall know

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Ghost/Lt. Simon Riley

Soap/Sgt. Johnny MacTavish

Gaz/Sgt. Kyle Garrick

Captain John Price

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Rudy/Sgt. Rodolfo Parra

Commander Philip Graves

Monster AU

AU is NOT MINE: it belongs to @/bluegiragi I just think it's sexy

Ghost/Lt. Simon Riley: Wraith

Soap/Sgt. Johnny MacTavish: Werewolf

Gaz/Kyle Garrick: Harpy

Captain John Price: Dragon

Colonel Alejandro Vargas: Nagual

Rudy/Sgt. Rodolfo Parra:

Commander Philip Graves: Vampire

For my König gays and girlies, I love him, and I will write for him, but I don't know a lot about him so bear with me here, I'm trying.

I'll write Monster!AU König as well just ask <3 and the ask doesn't have to be within the confines of the AU "canon," or any canon for that matter

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hellouniversegoodbyeworld · 4 years ago

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Martial, Epigrams. Book 1. Bohn's Classical Library (1897)

BOOK I.

TO THE READER

I trust that, in these little books of mine, I have observed such self-control, that whoever forms a fair judgment from his own' mind can make no complaint of them, since they indulge their sportive fancies without violating the respect due even to persons of the humblest station; a respect which was so far disregarded by the authors of antiquity, that they made free use, not only of real, but of great names. For me; let fame be held in less estimation, and let such talent be the last thing commended in me.

Let the ill-natured interpreter, too, keep himself from meddling with the simple meaning of my jests, and not write my epigrams for me.1 He acted honourably who exercises perverse ingenuity on another man's book: For the free plainness of expression, that is, for the language of epigram, I would apologize, if I were introducing the practice; but it is thus that Catullus writes, and Marsus, and Pedo, and Getulicus, and every one whose writings are read through. If any assumes to be so scrupulously nice, however, that it is not allowable to address him, in a single page, in plain language, he may confine himself to this address, or rather to the title of the book. Epigrams are written for those who are accustomed to be spectators at the games of Flora. Let not Cato enter my theatre; or, if he do enter, let him look on. It appears to me that I shall do only what I have a right to do, if I close my address with the following verses:----

1 Let him not make them his own, by the false interpretation which he puts upon them.

TO CATO.

Since you knew the lascivious nature of the rites of sportive Flora, as well as the dissoluteness of the games, and the license of the populace, why, stern Cato, did you enter the theatre? Did you come in only that you might go out again?

I. TO THE READER.

The man whom you are reading is the very man that you want,----Martial, known over the whole world for his humorous books of epigrams; to whom, studious reader, you have afforded such honours, while he is alive and has a sense of them, as few poets receive after their death.

II. TO THE READER; SHOWING WHERE THE AUTHOR'S BOOKS MAY BE PURCHASED.

You who are anxious that my books should be with you everywhere, and desire to have them as companions on a long journey, buy a copy of which the parchment leaves are compressed into a small compass.1 Bestow book-cases upon large volumes; one hand will hold me. But that you may not be ignorant where I am to be bought, and wander in uncertainty over the whole town, you shall, under my guidance, be sure of obtaining me. Seek Secundus, the freedman of the learned Lucensis, behind the Temple of Peace and the Forum of Pallas.

1 That is, a copy with small pages; a small copy.

III. THE AUTHOR TO HIS BOOK.

You prefer, little book, to dwell in the shops in the Argiletum,1 though my book-case has plenty of room for you. You are ignorant, alas! you are ignorant of the fastidiousness of Rome, the mistress of the world; the sons of Man, believe me, are much too critical. Nowhere are there louder sneers; young men and old, and even boys, have the nose of the rhinoceros.2 After you have heard a loud "Bravo!" and are expecting kisses, you will go, tossed to the skies, from the jerked toga.3 Yet, that you may not so often suffer the corrections of your master, and that his relentless pen may not so often mark your vagaries, you desire, frolicsome little book, to fly through the air of heaven. Go, fly; but you would have been safer at home.

1 An open place, or square, in Rome, where tradesmen had shops. 2 Have great powers of ridicule, which the Romans often expressed by turning up or wrinkling the nose. 3 People will take you into their lap, and then jerk you out of it, as if you were tossed in a blanket

IV. TO CAESAR.

If you should chance, Caesar, to light upon my books, lay aside that look which awes the world. Even your triumphs have been accustomed to endure jests,1 nor is it any shame to a general to be a subject for witticisms. Read my verses, I pray you, with that brow with which you behold Thymele 2 and Latinus 3 the buffoon. The censorship 4 may tolerate innocent jokes: my page indulges in freedoms, but my life is pure.

1 In allusion to the jests which the soldiers threw out on their generals while they were riding in the triumphal procession. 2 A female dancer. 3 A dancer in pantomime; a sort of harlequin. 4 Alluding to Domitian having made himself perpetual censor.

V. THE EMPEROR'S REPLY.

I give you a sea-fight, and you give me epigrams: you wish, I suppose, Marcus, to be set afloat with your book.

VI. ON A LION OF CAESAR'S THAT SPARED A HARE.

While through the air of heaven the eagle was carrying the youth,1 the burden unhurt clung to its anxious talons. From Caesar's lions their own prey now succeeds in obtaining mercy, and the hare plays safe in their huge jaws. Which miracle do you think the greater? The author of each is a supreme being: the one is the work of Caesar; the other,2 of Jove.

1 Ganymede. 2 Comp. Eps. 14, 22.

VII. TO MAXIMUS

The dove, the delight of my friend Stella,3----even with Verona4 listening will I say it, ---- has surpassed, Maximus, the sparrow of Catullus. By so much is my Stella greater than your Catullus, as a dove is greater than a sparrow.

3 A poet of Patavium, who wrote an elegy on the dove of his mistress Ianthis. See B. vi. Ep. 21; B. vii. Ep. 13. 4 The birth-place of Catullus.

VIII. TO DECIANUS

In that you so far only follow the opinions of the great Thrasea and Cato of consummate virtue, that you still wish to preserve your life, and do not with bared breast rush upon drawn swords, you do, Decianus, what I should wish you to do. I do not approve of a man who purchases fame with life-blood, easy to be shed: I like him who can be praised without dying to obtain it.

IX. TO COTTA.

You wish to appear, Cotta, a pretty man and a great man at one and the same time: but he who is a pretty man, Cotta, is a very small man.

X. ON GEMELLUS AND MARONILLA.

Gemellus is seeking the hand of Maronilla, and is earnest, and lays siege to her, and beseeches her, and makes presents to her. Is she then so pretty? Nay; nothing can be more ugly. What then is the great object and attraction in her? ----Her cough.

XI. TO SEXTILIANUS.

Seeing that there are given to a knight twice five pieces,1 wherefore is twice ten the amount which you spend by yourself, Sextilianus, in drink? Long since would the warm water have failed the attendants who carried it, had you not, Sextilianus, been drinking your wine unmixed.2

1 Ten sesterces, the usual sportula, or donation from the emperor. 2 The Romans used to drink their wine mixed with warm water.

XII. ON REGULUS.

Where the road runs to the towers of the cool Tivoli, sacred to Hercules, and the hoary Albula 3 smokes with sulphureous waters, a milestone, the fourth from the neighbouring city, points out a country retreat, and a hallowed grove, and a domain well beloved of the Muses. Here a rude portico used to afford cool shade in summer; a portico, ah! how nearly the desperate cause of an unheard-of calamity: for suddenly it fell in ruins, after Regulus had just been conveyed in a carriage and pair from under its high fabric. Truly Dame Fortune feared our complaints, as she would have been unable to withstand so great odium. Now even our loss delights us; so beneficial is the impression which the very danger produces; since, while standing, the edifice could not have proved to us the existence of the gods.

3 A plain near Tivoli.

XIII. ON ARRIA AND PAETUS.

When the chaste Arria handed to her Paetus the sword which she had with her own hand drawn forth from her heart, "If you believe me," said she, "the wound which I have made gives me no pain; but it is that which you will make, Paetus, that pains me."

XIV. TO DOMITIAN.

The pastimes, Caesar, the sports and the play of the lions, we have seen: your arena affords you the additional sight of the captured hare returning often in safety from the kindly tooth, and running at large through the open jaws. Whence is it that the greedy lion can spare his captured prey? He is said to be yours: thence it is that he can show mercy.

XV. TO JULIUS.

Oh! you who are regarded by me, Julius, as second to none of my companions, if well-tried friendship and longstanding ties are worth anything, already nearly a sixtieth consul is pressing upon you, and your life numbers but a few more uncertain days. Not wisely would you defer the enjoyment which you see maybe denied you, or consider the past alone as your own. Cares and linked chains of disaster are in store; joys abide not, but take flight with winced speed. Seize them with either hand, and with your full grasp; even thus they will oft-times pass away and glide from your closest embrace. 'Tis not, believe me, a wise man's part to say, "I will live." To-morrow's life is too late: live to-day.

XVI. TO AVITUS.

Of the epigrams which you read here, some are good, some middling, many bad; a book, Avitus, cannot be made in any other way.

XVII. TO TITUS.

Titus urges me to go to the Bar, and often tells me, "The gains are large." The gains of the husbandman, Titus, are likewise large.

XVIII. TO TUCCA, ON HIS PARSIMONY.

What pleasure can it give you, Tucca, to mix with old Falernian wine new wine stored up in Vatican casks? What vast amount of good has the most worthless of wine done you? or what amount of evil has the best wine done you? As for us, it is a small matter; but to murder Falernian, and to put poisonous wine in a Campanian cask, is an atrocity. Your guests may possibly have deserved to perish: a wine-jar of such value has not deserved to die.

XIX. TO AELIA.

If I remember right, Aelia, you had four teeth; a cough displaced two, another two more. You can now cough without anxiety all the day long. A third cough can find nothing to do in your mouth.

XX. TO CAECILIANUS.

Tell me, what madness is this? While a whole crowd of invited guests is looking on, you alone, Caecilianus, devour the truffles. What shall I imprecate on you worthy of so large a stomach and throat? That you may eat a truffle such as Claudius ate.

XXI. ON PORSENA AND MUCIUS SCAEVOLA.

When the hand that aimed at the king mistook for him his secretary, it thrust itself to perish into the sacred fire but the generous foe could not endure so cruel a sight, and bade the hero, snatched from the flame, to be set free. The hand which, despising the fire, Mucius dared to burn, Porsena could not bear to look on Greater was the fame and glory of that right hand from being deceived; had it not missed its aim, it had accomplished less.

XXII. TO A HARE.

Why, silly hare, are you fleeing from the fierce jaws of the lion now grown tame? They have not learned to crush such tiny animals. Those talons, which you fear, are reserved for mighty necks, nor does a thirst so great delight in so small a draught of blood. The hare is the prey of hounds; it does not fill large mouths: the Dacian boy should not fear Caesar.

XXIII. TO COTTA.

You invite no one, Cotta, except those whom you meet at the bath; and the bath alone supplies you with guests. I used to wonder why you had never asked me, Cotta; I know now that my appearance in a state of nature was unpleasing in your eyes.

XXIV. TO DECIANUS.

You see yonder individual, Decianus, with locks uncombed, whose grave brow even you fear; who talks incessantly of the Curii and Camilli, defenders of their country's liberties: do not trust his looks; he was taken to wife but yesterday.

XXV. TO FAUSTINUS.

Issue at length your books to the public, Faustinus, and give to the light the work elaborated by your accomplished mind,----a work such as neither the Cecropian city of Pandion would condemn, nor our old men pass by in silence. Do you hesitate to admit Fame, who is standing before your door; and does it displease you to receive the reward of your labour? Let the writings, destined to live after you, begin to live through your means. Glory comes too late, when paid only to our ashes.

XXVI. TO SEXTILIANUS.

Sextilianus, you drink as much as five rows of knights 1 alone: you might intoxicate yourself with water, if you so often drank as much. Nor is it the coin of those who sit near you alone that you consume in drink, but the money of those far removed from you, on the distant benches. This vintage has not been concerned with Pelignian presses, nor was this juice of the grape produced upon Tuscan heights; but it is the glorious jar of the long-departed Opimius 2 that is drained, and it is the Massic cellar that sends forth its blackened casks. Get dregs of Laletane wine from a tavern-keeper, Sextilianus, if you drink more than ten cups.3

1 Seated on the benches allotted them in the theatre. See Ep. 12. 2 The vintage of B. C. 121, in which year L. Opimius was one of the consuls, was extremely celebrated, and is frequently mentioned by the Roman writers. 3 The number to which persons at feasts usually restricted themselves.

XXVII. TO PROCILLUS.

Last night I had invited you----after some fifty glasses, I suppose, had been despatched----to sup with me to-day. You immediately thought your fortune was made, and took note of my unsober words, with a precedent but too dangerous. I hate a boon companion whose memory is good, Procillus.

XXVIII. ON ACCERRA.

Whoever believes it is of yesterday's wine that Acerra smells, is mistaken: Acerra always drinks till morning.

XXIX. TO FIDENTINUS.

Report says that you, Fidentinus, recite my compositions in public as if they were your own. If you allow them to be called mine, I will send you my verses gratis; if you wish them to be called yours, pray buy them, that they may be mine no longer.

XXX. ON DIAULUS.

Diaulus had been a surgeon, and is now an undertaker. He has begun to be useful to the sick in the only way that he could.

XXXI. TO APOLLO, OF ENCOLPUS.

Encolpus, the favourite of the centurion his master, consecrates these, the whole of the locks from his head, to you, O Phoebus.1 When Pudens shall have rained the pleasing honour of the chief-centurionship, which he has so well merited, cut these long tresses close, O Phoebus, as soon as possible, while the tender face is yet undisfigured with down, and while the flowing hair adorns the milk-white neck; and, that both master and favourite may long enjoy your gifts, make him carry shorn, but late a man.2

1 Encolpus, a favourite of Aulus Pudens the centurion, had vowed his hair to Phoebus, is order that his master might soon be made chief centurion. Martial prays that they may both obtain what they desire. 2 Extend his youth as long as possible.

XXXII. TO SABIDIUS.

I do not love you, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, I do not love you.

The following lines, in imitation of this epigram, were made by some Oxford wit, on Dr John Fell, Bishop of Oxford, who died in 1686:

I do not love thee, Doctor Fell; The reason why I cannot tell. But this I'm sure I know full well, I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.

XXXIII. ON GELLIA.

Gellia does not mourn for her deceased father, when she is alone; but if any one is present, obedient tears spring forth. He mourns not, Gellia, who seeks to be praised; he is the true mourner, who mourns without a witness.

XXXIV. TO LESBIA.

You always take your pleasure, Lesbia, with doors unguarded and open, nor are you at any pains to conceal your amusements. It is more the spectator, than the accomplice in your doings, that pleases you, nor are any pleasures grateful to your taste if they be secret. Yet the common courtesan excludes every witness by curtain and by bolt, and few are the chinks in a suburban brothel. Learn something at least of modesty from Chione, or from Alis: even the monumental edifices of the dead afford hiding-places for abandoned harlots. Does my censure seem too harsh? I do not exhort you to be chaste, Lesbia, but not to be caught.

XXXV. TO CORNELIUS.

You complain, Cornelius, that the verses which I compose are little remarkable for their reserve, and not such as a master can read out in his school; but such effusions, as in the case of man and wife, cannot please without some spice of pleasantry in them. What if you were to bid me write a hymeneal song in words not suited to hymeneal occasions? Who enjoins the use of attire at the Floral games, and imposes on the courtesan the reserve of the matron? This law has been allowed to frolicsome verses, that without tickling the fancy they cannot please. Lay aside, therefore, your severe look, I beseech you, and spare my jokes and gaiety, and do not desire to mutilate my compositions. Nothing is more disgusting than Priapus become a priest of Cybele.

XXXVI. TO THE BROTHERS LUCANUS AND TULLUS.

If, Lucanus, to you, or if to you, Tullus, had been offered such fates as the Laconian children of Leda enjoy, there would have been this noble struggle of affection in both of you, that each would have wished to die first in place of his brother; and he who should have first descended to the nether realms of shade would have said, "Live, brother, thine own term of days; live also mine."

XXXVII. TO BASSUS.

Yon deposit your excretions, without any sense of shame, into an unfortunate vessel of gold, while you drink out of glass. The former operation, consequently, is the more expensive.

XXXVIII. TO FIDENTINUS.

The book which you are reading aloud is mine, Fidentinus but, while you read it so badly, it begins to be yours.

With fruity accents, and so vile a tone, You quote my lines, I took them for your own. Anon.

XXXIX. TO DECIANUS.

If there be any man fit to be numbered among one's few choice friends, a man such as the honesty of past times and ancient renown would readily acknowledge; if any man thoroughly imbued with the accomplishments of the Athenian and Latin Minervas, and exemplary for true integrity; if there be any man who cherishes what is right, and admires what is honourable, and asks nothing of the gods but what all may hear; if there be any man sustained by the strength of a great mind, may I die, if that man is not Decianus.

XL. TO AN ENVIOUS MAN.

You who make grimaces, and read these verses of mine with an ill grace, you, victim of jealousy, may, if you please, envy everybody; nobody will envy you.

XLI. TO CAECILIUS.

You imagine yourself Caecilius, a man of wit. You are no such thing, believe me. What then? A low buffoon; such a thing as wanders about in the quarters beyond the Tiber, and barters pale-coloured sulphur matches for broken glass; such a one as sells boiled peas and beans to the idle crowd; such as a lord and keeper of snakes; or as a common servant of the salt-meat-sellers; or a hoarse-voiced cook who carries round smoking sausages in steaming shops; or the worst of street poets; or a blackguard slave-dealer from Gades;1 or a chattering old debauchee. Cease at length, therefore, to imagine yourself that which is imagined by you alone, Caecilius, you who could have silenced Gabba, and even Testius Caballus, with your jokes. It is not given to every one to have taste; he who jests with a stupid effrontery is not a Testius, but a Caballus.3

1 See Juvenal xi. 163, and Mayor's note. 3 A play on the word Caballus, which, as an appellative noun, meant a hack-horse.

XLII. ON PORCIA.

When Porcia had heard the fate of her consort Brutus, and her grief was seeking the weapon, which had been carefully removed from her," You know not yet," she cried, "that death cannot be denied: I had supposed that my father had taught you this lesson by his fate. She spoke, and with eager mouth swallowed the blazing coals. "Go now, officious attendants, and refuse me a sword, if you will."

XLIII. ON MANCINUS.

Twice thirty were invited to your table, Mancinus, and nothing was placed before us yesterday but a wild-boar. Nowhere were to be seen grapes preserved from the late vines, or apples vying in flavour with sweet honey-combs; nowhere the pears which hang suspended by flexible twigs, or pomegranates the colour of summer roses: nor did the rustic basket supply its milky cheeses, or the olive emerge from its Picenian jar. Your wild-boar was by itself: and it was even of the smallest size, and such a one as might have been slaughtered by an unarmed dwarf. Besides, none of it was given us; we simply looked on it as spectators. This is the way in which even the arena places a wild-boar before us. May no wild-boar be placed before you after such doings, but may you be placed before the boar in front of which Charidemus was placed.1

1 By Domitian, to be torn in pieces. See Sueton. Life of Domit.

XLIV. TO STELLA.

If it seems to you too much, Stella, that my longer and shorter compositions are occupied with the frisky gambols of the hares and the play of the lions, and that I go over the same subject twice, do you also place a hare twice before me.

XLV. ON HIS BOOK.

That the care which I have bestowed upon what I have published may not come to nothing through the smallness of my volumes, let me rather fill up my verses with Τὸν δ̕ ἀπαμειθόμενος.1

1 Let me rather use frequent repetitions, just as Homer frequently repeats these words.

XLVI. TO HEDYLUS.

[From the Loeb translation]

When you say "I haste; now is the time," then, Hedylus, my ardour at once flags and weakens. Bid me wait: more quickly, stayed, shall I speed on. Hedylus, if you do haste, tell me not to haste!

XLVII. ON DIAULUS.

Diaulus, lately a doctor, is now an undertaker: what he does as an undertaker, he used to do also as a doctor.

XLVIII. ON THE LION AND HARE.

The keepers could not snatch the bulls from those wide jaws, through which the fleeting prey, the hare, goes and returns in safety; and, what is still more strange, he starts from his foe with increased swiftness, and contracts something of the great nobleness of the lion's nature. He is not safer when he courses along the empty arena, nor with equal feeling of security does he hide him in his hutch. If, venturous hare, you seek; to avoid the teeth of the hounds, you have the jaws of the lion to which you may flee for refuge.

XLIX. TO LICINIANUS.

O you, whose name must not be left untold by Celtiberian nations, you the honour of our common country, Spain, you, Licinianus, will behold the lofty Bilbilis, renowned for horses and arms, and Catus1 venerable with his locks of snow, and eased Vadavero with ita broken cliffs, and the sweet grove of delicious Botrodus, which the happy Pomona loves. You will breast the gently-flowing water of the warm Congedus and the calm lakes of the Nymphs, and your body, relaxed by these, you may brace up in the little Salo, which hardens iron. There Voberca 2 herself will supply for your meals animals which may be brought down close at hand. The serene summer heat you will disarm by bathing in the golden Tagus, hidden beneath the shades of trees; your greedy thirst the fresh Dercenna will appease, and Nutha, which in coldness surpasses snow. But when hoar December and the furious solstice shall resound with the hoarse blasts of the north-wind, you will again seek the sunny shores of Tarraco and thine own Laletania. There you will despatch hinds caught in your supple toils, and native boars; and you will tire out the cunning hare with your hardy steed; the stags you will leave to your bailiff. The neighboring wood will come down into your very hearth, surrounded as it will be with a troop of uncombed children. The huntsman will be invited to your table, and many a guest called in from the neighbourhood will come to you. The crescent-adorned boot 3 will be nowhere to be seen, nowhere the toga and garments smelling of purple dye. Far away will be the ill-favoured Liburnian porter 4 and the grumbling client; far away the imperious demands of widows. The pale criminal will not break your deep sleep, but all the morning long you will enjoy your slumber. Let another earn the grand and wild "Bravo!" Do you pity such happy ones, and enjoy without pride true delight, while your friend Sura is crowned with applause. Not unduly does life demand of us our few remaining days, when fame has as much as is sufficient.

1 Catus and Vadavero are names of mountains near Bilbilis. Botrodus is a small town; Congedus and Salo, riven. 2 The name of a town. Dercenna and Nutha are fountains. 3 Worn by senators. 4 See Juvenal, iv. 75.

L. TO AEMILIANUS.

If your cook, Aemilianus, is called Mistyllus, why should not mine be called Taratalla?1

1 A meaningless jest taken from Homer's words (Il. i.465).

LI. TO A HARE.

No neck, save the proudest, serves for the fierce lion. Why do you, vain-glorious hare, flee from these teeth? No doubt you would wish them to stoop from the huge bull to you, and to crush a neck which they cannot see. The glory of an illustrious death must be an object of despair to you. You, a tiny prey, canst not fall before such an enemy!

LII. TO QUINCTIANUS.

To you, Quinctianus, do I commend my books, if indeed I can call books mine, which your poet recites.1 If they complain of a grievous yoke, do you come forward as their advocate, and defend them efficiently; and when he calls himself their master, say that they were mine, but have been given 2 by me to the public. If you will proclaim this three or four times, you will bring shame on the plagiary.

1 A poet that recited verses to Quinctianus; the same, probably, that is mentioned in the next epigram. 2 Manumitted; released from my portfolio.

LIII. TO FIDENTINUS.

One page only in my books belongs to you, Fidentinus, but it bears the sure stamp of its master, and accuses your verses of glaring theft. Just so does a Gallic frock coming in contact with purple city cloaks stain them with grease and filth; just so do Arretine1 pots disgrace vases of crystal; so is a buck crow, straying perchance on the banks of the Cayster, laughed to scorn amid the swans of Leda: and so, when the sacred grove resounds with the music of the tuneful nightingale, the miscreant magpie disturbs her Attic plaints. My books need no one to accuse or judge you: the page which is yours stands up against you and says, "You are a thief"

1 Earthen pots from Arretium, a town of Etruria.

LIV. TO FUSCUS.

If, Fuscus, you have room to receive still more affection, (for you have friends around you on all sides), I ask you one place in your heart, if one still remains vacant, and that you will not refuse because I am a stranger to you: all your old friends were so once. Simply consider whether he who is presented to you a stranger is likely to become an old friend.

LV. TO FRONTO.

If you, Fronto, so distinguished an ornament of military and civil life, desire to learn the wishes of your friend Marcus, he prays for this, to be the tiller of his own farm, nor that a large one, and he loves inglorious repose in as unpretending sphere. Does any one haunt the porticoes of cold variegated Spartan marble, and run to offer, like a fool, his morning greetings, when he might, rich with the spoils of grave and field, unfold before his fire his well-filled nets, and lift the leaping fish with the quivering line, and draw forth the yellow honey from the red1 cask, while a plump housekeeper loads his unevenly-propped table, and his own eggs are cooked by an unbought fire? That the man who loves not me may not love this life, is my wish; and let him drag out life pallid with the cares of the city.

1 Stained with vermilion.

LVI. TO A VINTNER.

Harassed with continual rains, the vineyard drips with wet. You cannot sell us, vintner, even though you wish, neat wine.

LVII. TO FLACCUS.

Do you ask what sort of maid I desire or dislike, Flaccus? I dislike one too easy, and one too coy. The just mean, which lies between the two extremes, is what I approve; I like neither that which tortures, nor that which cloys.

LVIII. DE PUERI PRETIO.

[Untranslated]

LIX. TO FLACCUS.

The sportula1 at Baiae brings me in a hundred farthings; of what use is such a miserable sum in the midst of such sumptuous baths? Give me back the darksome baths of Lupus and Gryllus. When I sup so scantily, Flaccus, why should I bathe so luxuriously?

1 Sportula. A present from the richer class to the poorer; nominally the price of a supper. See Dict. Antiqq. s. v.

LX. ON THE LION AND HARE.

Hare, although you enter the wide jaws of the fierce lion, still he imagines his mouth to be empty. Where is the back on which he shall rush? where the shoulders on which he shall flail? where shall he fix those deep bites which he inflicts on young bulls? why do you in vain weary the lord and monarch of the groves? 'Tis only on the wild prey of his choice that he feeds.

LXI. TO LICINIANUS, ON THE COUNTRIES OF CELEBRATED AUTHORS.

Verona loves the verses of her learned Poet; Mantua is blest in her Maro; the territory of Apona is renowned for its Livy, its Stella, and not less for its Flaccus. The Nile, whose waters are instead of rain, applauds its Apollodorus; the Pelignians vaunt their Ovid. Eloquent Cordova speaks of its two Senecas and its single and preeminent Lucan. Voluptuous Gades delights in her Canius,1 Emerita in my friend Decianus. Our Bilbilis will be proud of you, Licinianus, nor will be altogether silent concerning me.

1 See b. iii. Ep. 20.

LXII. ON LAEVINA.

Laevina, so chaste as to rival even the Sabine women of old, and more austere than even her stern husband, chanced, while entrusting herself sometimes to the waters of the Lucrine lake, sometimes to those of Avernus, and while frequently refreshing herself in the baths of Baiae, to fall into flames of love, and, leaving her husband, fled with a young gallant. She arrived a Penelope, she departed a Helen.

LXIII. TO CELER.

You ask me to recite to you my Epigrams. I cannot oblige you; for you wish not to hear them, Celer, but to recite them.1

1 To plagiarise them from me, and then to recite them as your own.

LXIV. TO FABULLA.

You are pretty,----we know it; and young,----it is true; and rich,----who can deny it? But when you praise yourself extravagantly, Fabulla, you appear neither rich, nor pretty, nor young.

LXV. TO CAECILIANUS.

When I said ficus, you laughed at it as a barbarous word, Caecilianus, and bade me say ficos. I shall call the produce of the fig-tree ficus; yours I shall call ficos.1

1 An untranslatable jest on the double meaning of the word ficus, which, when declined ficus, -i, means piles or someone afflicted with it; and when ficus -lis, a fig-tree.

LXVI. TO A PLAGIARIST.

You are mistaken, insatiable thief of my writings, who think a poet can be made for the mere expense which copying, and a cheap volume cost. The applause of the world is not acquired for six or even ten sesterces. Seek out for this purpose verses treasured up, and unpublished efforts, known only to one person, and which the father himself of the virgin sheet, that has not been worn and scrubbed by bushy chins, keeps sealed up in his desk. A well-known book cannot change its master. But if there is one to be found vet unpolished by the pumice-stone, yet unadorned with bosses and cover, buy it: I have such by me, and no one shall know it. Whoever recites another's compositions, and seeks for fame, must buy, not a book, but the author's silence.

LXVII. TO CHOERILUS.

"You are too free-spoken," is your constant remark to me, Choerilus. He who speaks against you, Choerilus, is indeed a free speaker.1

1 Free from all restraint, for he may say all sorts of things against you without fear of contradiction.

LXVIII. ON RUFUS.

Whatever Rufus does, Naevia is all in all to him. Whether he rejoices, or mourns, or is silent, it is ever Naevia. He eats, he drinks, he asks, he refuses, he gesticulates, Naevia alone is in his thoughts: if there were no Naevia, he would be mute. When he had written a dutiful letter yesterday to his father, he ended it with, "Naevia, light of my eyes, Naevia, my idol, farewell" Naevia read these words, and laughed with downcast looks. Naevia is not yours only: what madness is this, foolish man?

LXIX. TO MAXIMUS.

Tarentos,3 which was wont to exhibit the statue of Pan, begins now, Maximus, to exhibit that of Canius.

3 Tarentos, a place in the Campus Martius, in which was a temple consecrated to Plato, and filled with statues of Pan, the Satyrs, and other deities or remarkable personages. On Canius, a humorous poet of Gades, whose statue, it appears, was put there with Pan's, see above, Ep. 61; B. iii. Ep. 29.

LXX. TO HIS BOOK.

Go, my book, and pay my respects for me: you are ordered to go, dutiful volume, to the splendid halls of Proculus. Do you ask the way? I will tell you. You will go along by the temple of Castor, near that of ancient Vesta, and that goddess's virgin home. Thence you will pass to the majestic Palatine edifice on the sacred hill, where glitters many a statue of the supreme ruler of the empire. And let not the ray-adorned mass of the Colossus detain you, a work which is proud of surpassing that of Rhodes. But turn aside by the way where the temple of the wine-bibbing Bacchus rises, and where the couch of Cybele stands adorned with. pictures of the Corybantes. Immediately on the left is the dwelling with its splendid facade, and the halls of the lofty mansion which you are to approach. Enter it; and fear not its haughty looks or proud gate; no entrance affords more ready access; nor is there any house more inviting for Phoebus and the learned sisters to love. If Proculus shall say, "But why does he not come himself?" you may excuse me thus, "Because he could not have written what is to be read here, whatever be its merit, if he had come to pay his respects in person."

LXXI. TO SLEEP.

Let Laevia be toasted with six cups,. Justine with seven, Lycas with five, Lyde with four, Ida with three. Let the number of letters in the name of each of our mistresses be equalled by the number of cups of Falernian. But, since none of them comes, come you, Sleep, to me.

LXXII. TO FIDENTINUS, A PLAGIARIST.

Do you imagine, Fidentinus, that you are a poet by the aid of my verses, and do you wish to be thought so? Just so does Aegle think she has teeth from having purchased bone or ivory. Just so does Lycoris, who is blacker than the falling mulberry, seem fair in her own eyes, because she is painted. You too, in the same way that you are a poet, will have flowing locks when you are grown bald.

LXXIII. TO CAECILIANUS.

These was no one in the whole city, Caecilianus, who desired to meddle with your wife, even gratis, while permission was given; but now, since you have set a watch upon her, the crowd of gallants is innumerable. You are a clever fellow!

LXXIV. TO PAULA.

He was your gallant, Paula; you could however deny it He is become your husband; can you deny it now, Paula? 1

1 He was said to be your gallant when your first husband was alive. You then denied it. You married him as soon as your husband died. Will you deny it now?

LXXV. ON LINUS.

He who prefers to give Linus the half of what he wishes to borrow, rather than to lend him the whole, prefers to lose only the half.

LXXVI. TO VALERIUS FLACCUS.1

Flaccus, valued object of my solicitude, hope and nursling of the city of Antenor,2 put aside Pierian strains and the lyre of the Sisters; none of those damsels will give you money. What do you expect from Phoebus? The cheat of Minerva contains the cash; she alone is wise, she alone lends to all the gods. What can the ivy of Bacchus give? The dark tree of Pallas bends down its variegated boughs under the load of fruit. Helicon, besides its waters and the garlands and lyres of the goddesses, and the great but empty applause of the multitude, has nothing. What have you to do with Cirrha? What with bare Permessis? The Roman forum is nearer and more lucrative. There is heard the chink of money; but around our desks and barren chairs kisses 3 alone resound.

Though midst the noblest poets you have place, Flaccus, the offering of Antenor's race; Renounce the Muses' songs and charming quire, For none of them enrich, though they inspire. Court not Apollo, Pallas has the gold; She 's wise, and does the gods in mortgage hold. What profit is there in an ivy wreath? Its fruits the loaden olive sinks beneath. In Helicon there's nought but springs and bays, The Muses' harps loud sounding empty praise.

1 The author of the Argonautica. 2 The city of Patavium, founded by Antenor 3 As tokens of applause.

LXXVII. ON CHARINUS.

Charinus is perfectly well, and yet he is pale; Charinus drinks sparingly, and yet he is pale; Charinus digests well, and yet he is pale; Charinus suns himself and yet he is pale; Charinus dyes his skin, and yet he is pale; Charinus indulges in [infamous debauchery], and yet he is pale.1

1 That is, he does not blush at his infamy.

LXXVIII. ON FESTUS, WHO STABBED HIMSELF.

When a devouring malady attacked his unoffending throat, and its black poison extended its ravages over his face, Festus, consoling his weeping friends, while his own eyes were dry, determined to seek the Stygian lake. He did not however pollute his pious mouth with secret poison, or aggravate his sad fate by lingering famine, but ended his pure life by a death befitting a Roman, and freed his spirit in a nobler way. This death fame may place above that of the great Cato; for Domitian was Festus' friend.2

2 Cato said that he died to avoid looking on the face of the tyrant Caesar.

LXXIX. TO ATTALUS, A BUSY-BODY.

Attalus, you are ever acting the barrister, or acting the man of business: whether there is or is not a part for you to act, Attalus, you are always acting a part. If lawsuits and business are not to be found, Attalus, you act the mule-driver. Attalus, lest a part should be wanting for you to act, act the part of executioner on yourself..

You act the pleader, and you act the man Of business; acting is your constant plan: So prone to act, the coachman's part is tried; Lest all parts fail you, act the suicide. L. H. S.

LXXX. TO CANUS.

On the last night of your lift, Canus, a sportula was the object of your wishes. I suppose the cause of your death was, Canus, that there was only one.1

1 He had hoped for several largesses; he died of mortification at receiving only one.

LXXXI. TO SOSIBIANUS.

You know that you are the son of a slave, and you ingenuously confess it, when you call your father, Sosibianus, "master".2

2 The mother of Sosibianus had been guilty of adultery with a slave. When Sosibianus calls his reputed father Dominus, as a title of respect, but which was also a term for a master of slaves, he confessed himself a verna, or born-slave.

LXXXII. ON REGULUS.

See from what mischief this portico, which, overthrown amid clouds of dust, stretches its long ruins over the ground, lies absolved. For Regulus had but just been carried in his litter under its arch, and had got out of the way, when forthwith, borne down by its own weight, it fell; and, being no longer in fear for its master, it came down free from blood-guiltiness, a harmless ruin, without any attendant anxiety. After the fear of so great a cause for complaint is passed, who would deny, Regulus, that you, for whose sake the fall was harmless, are an object of care to the gods?

LXXXIII. ON MANNEIA.

Your lap-dog, Manneia, licks your mouth and lips: I do not wonder at a dog liking to eat ordure.1

1 A sarcasm on the foulness of Manneia's breath.

LXXXIV. ON QUIRINALIS.

Quirinalis, though he wishes to have children, has no intention of taking a wife, and has found out in what way he can accomplish his object. He takes to him his maid-servants, and fills his house and his lands with slave-knights.2 Quirinalis is a true pater-familias.

2 Equitibus vernis. (See Heinrich on Juv. ix. 10.) Eques verna, the offspring of a knight and a slave.

LXXXV. ON AN AUCTIONEER.

A wag of an auctioneer, offering for sale some cultivated heights, and some beautiful acres of land near the city, says, "If any one imagines that Marius is compelled to sell, he is mistaken; Marius owes nothing: on the contrary, he rather has money to put out at interest." "What is his reason, then, for selling?" "In this place he lost all his slaves, and his cattle, and his profits; hence he does not like the locality." Who would have made any offer, unless he had wished to lose all his property? So the ill-fated land remains with Marius.

LXXXVI. ON NOVIUS.

Novius is my neighbour, and may be reached by the hand from my windows. Who would not envy me, and think me a happy man every hour of the day when I may enjoy the society of one so near to me? But, he is as far removed from me as Terentianus, who is now governor of Syene on the Nile. I am not privileged either to live with him, or even see him, or hear him; nor in the whole city is there any one at once so near and so far from me. I must remove farther off, or he must. If any one wishes not to see Novius, let him become his neighbour or his fellow-lodger.

My neighbour Hunks's house and mine Are built so near they almost join; The windows too project so much, That through the casements we may touch. Nay, I'm so happy, most men think, To live so near a man of chink, That they are apt to envy me, For keeping such good company: But he's far from me, I vow, As London is from good Lord Howe; For when old Hunks I chance to meet, Or one or both must quit the street. Thus he who would not see old Roger, Must be his neighbour----or his lodger. Swift

LXXXVII. TO FESCENNIA.

That you may not be disagreeably fragrant with your yesterday's wine, you devour, luxurious Fescennia, certain of Cosmus's1 perfumes. Breakfasts of such a nature leave their mark on the teeth, but form no barrier against the emanations which escape from the depths of the stomach. Nay, the fetid smell is but the worse when mixed with perfume, and the double odour of the breath is carried but the farther. Cease then to use frauds but too well known, and disguises well understood; and simply intoxicate yourself!

1 Cosmus: a celebrated perfumer of the day, and frequently mentioned.

LXXXVIII. ON ALCIMUS.

Alcimus, whom, snatched from your lord in your opening years, the Labican earth covers with light turf, receive, not a nodding mass of Parian marble,----an unenduring monument which misapplied toil gives to the dead,----but shapely box-trees and the dark shades of the palm leaf, and dewy flowers of the mead which bloom from being watered with my tears. Receive, dear youth, the memorials of my grief: this tribute will live for you in all time. When Lachesis shall have spun to the end of my last hour, I shall ask no other honours for my ashes.

LXXXIX. TO CINNA.

You always whisper into every one's ear, Cinna; you whisper even what might be said in the hearing of the whole world. You laugh, you complain, you dispute, you weep, you sing, you criticise, you are silent, you are noisy; and all in one's ear. Has this disease so thoroughly taken possession of you, that you often praise Caesar, Cinna, in the ear? 1

1 When his praise ought to be proclaimed aloud everywhere.

XC. ON BASSA.

Inasmuch as I never saw you, Bassa, surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and report in no case assigned to you a favoured lover; but every duty about your person was constantly performed by a crowd of your own sex, without the presence of even one man; you seemed to me, I confess it, to be a Lucretia.

XCI. TO LAELIUS.

You do not publish your own verses, Laelius; you criticise mine. Pray cease to criticise mine, or else publish your own.

You blame my verses and conceal your own: Either publish yours, or else let mine alone! Anon. 1695.

XCII. TO MAMURIANUS.

Cestus with tears in his eyes often complains to me, Hamurianus, of being touched with your finger. You need not use your finger merely; take Cestos all to yourself if nothing else is wanting in your establishment, Mamurianus.2 But if you have neither fire, nor legs for your bare bedstead, nor broken basin of Chione or Antiope;3 if a cloak greasy and worn hangs down your back, and a Gallic jacket covers only half of your loins; and if you feed on the smell alone of the dark kitchen, and drink on your knees dirty water with the dog;

Non culum, neque enim est cuius, qui non cacat olim, Sed fodiam digito qui super est oculum.4 Nec me zelotypum nec dixeris esse malignum: Denique paedica, Mamuriane, satur.

2 Mamurianus is ridiculed for his sordid and licentious life. He had but one eye, as appears from what is said below. Cestus was Martial's servant. 3 Names of courtesans, from whom Martial intimates that Mamurianus would accept broken vessels. 4 A play on the words culus and oculus. A common threat was, "Oculos tibieffodiam," often used in Plautus.

XCIII. ON AQUINUS AND FABRICIUS.

Here reposes Aquinas, reunited to his faithful Fabricius, who rejoices in having preceded him to the Elysian retreats. This double altar bears record that each was honoured with the rank of chief centurion; but that praise is of still greater worth which you read in this shorter inscription: Both were united in the sacred bond of a well-spent life, and, what is rarely known to fame, were friends.

XCIV. TO AEGLE THE FELLATRIX.

[Not translated in the Bohn - adapted from the Loeb]

Badly you sang while you fornicated, Aegle. Now you sing well; but I won't kiss you.

XCV. TO AELIUS.

In constantly making a clamour, and obstructing the pleaders with your noise, Aelius, you act not without an object; you look for pay to hold your tongue.

That bawlers you out-bawl, the busy crush, No idler you, who bring to sale your hush. Elphinston.

XCVI. TO HIS VERSE, ON A LICENTIOUS CHARACTER.

If it is not disagreeable, and does not annoy you, my verse, say, I pray, a word or two in the ear of our friend Maternus, so that he alone may hear. That admirer of sad-coloured coats, clad in the costume of the banks of the river Baetis, and in grey garments, who deems the wearers of scarlet not men, and calls amethyst-coloured robes the dress of women, however much he may praise natural hues, and be always seen in dark colours, has at the same time morals of an extremely flagrant hue. You will ask whence I suspect him of effeminacy. We go to the same baths; Do you ask me who this is? His name has escaped me.

XCVII. TO NAEVOLUS.

When every one is talking, then and then only, Naevolus, do you open your month; and you think yourself an advocate and a pleader. In such a way every one may be eloquent. But see, everybody is silent; say something now, Naevolus.

XCVIII. TO FLACCUS, ON DIODORUS.

Diodorus goes to law, Flaccus, and has the gout in his feet But he pays his counsel nothing; surely he has the gout also in his hands.

XCIX. TO CALENUS.

But a short time since, Calenus, you had not quite two millions of sesterces; but you were so prodigal and open-handed, and hospitable, that all your friends wished you ten millions. Heaven heard the wish and our prayers; and within, I think, six months, four deaths gave you the desired fortune. But you, as if ten millions had not been left to you, but taken from you, condemned yourself to such abstinence, wretched man, that you prepare even your most sumptuous feasts, which you provide only once in the whole year, at the cost of but a few dirty pieces of black coin; and we, seven of your old companions, stand you in just half a pound of leaden money. What blessing are we to invoke upon you worthy of such merits? We wish you, Calenus, a fortune of a hundred millions. If this falls to your lot, you will die of hunger.

C. ON AFRA.

Afra talks of her papas and her mammas; but she herself may be called the grandmamma of her papas and mammas.

CI. ON THE DEATH OF HIS AMANUENSIS DEMETRIUS.

Demetrius, whose hand was once the faithful confidant of my verses, so useful to his master, and so well known to the Caesars, has yielded up his brief life in its early prime. A fourth harvest had been added to his years, which previously numbered fifteen. That he might not, however, descend to the Stygian shades as a slave, I, when the accursed disease had seized and was withering him, took precaution, and remitted to the sick youth all my right over him as his master; he was worthy of restoration to health through my gift.1 He appreciated, with failing faculties, the kindness which he had received; and on the point of departing, a free man, to the Tartarean waters, saluted me as his patron.

1 I.e. I wish my gift could have restored him to health.

CII. TO LYCORIS.

The painter who drew your Venus, Lycoris, paid court, I suppose, to Minerva.2

2 Represented Venus less beautiful than she is, in order to please Minerva, her rival for the golden apple.

CIII. TO SCAEVOLA.

"If the gods were to give me a fortune of a million sesterces," you used to say, Scaevola, before you were a full knight,1 "oh how would I live! how magnificently, how happily!" The complaisant deities smiled and granted your wish. Since that time your toga has become much more dirty, your cloak worse; your shoe has been sewn up three and four times; of ten olives the greater portion is always put by, and one spread of the table serves for two meals; the thick dregs of pink Vejentan wine are your drink; a plate of lukewarm peas costs you a penny; your mistress a penny likewise. Cheat and liar, let us go before the tribunal of the gods; and either live, Scaevola, as befits you, or restore to the gods your million sesterces.

1 That is, before you had four hundred thousand sesterces; which was the fortune that a man must have before he could be a knight

CIV. ON A SPECTACLE IN THE ARENA.

When we see the leopard bear upon his spotted neck a light and easy yoke, and the furious tigers endure with patience the blows of the whip; the stags champ the golden curbs; the Libyan bears tamed by the bit; a boar, huge as that which Calydon is said to have produced, obey the purple muzzle; the ugly buffaloes drag chariots, and the elephant, when ordered to dance nimbly, pay prompt obedience to his swarthy leader; who would not imagine such things a spectacle given by the gods? These, however, any one disregards as of inferior attraction who sees the condescension of the lions, which the swift-footed timorous hares fatigue in the chase. They let go the little animals, catch them again, and caress them when caught, and the latter are safer in their captors' mouths than elsewhere; since the lions delight in granting them free passage through their open jaws, and in holding their teeth as with fear, for they are ashamed to crush the tender prey, after having just come from slaying bulls; This clemency does not proceed from art; the lions know whom they serve.

CV. TO QUINTUS OVIDIUS.

The wine, Ovidius, which is grown in the Nomentan fields, in proportion as it receives the addition of years, puts off, through age, its character and name; and the jar thus ancient receives whatever name you please.1

1 Being mellowed by age, it maybe called Falernian, Cecuban, or any other name given to the best wines.

CVI. TO RUFUS.

Rufus, you often pour water into your wine, and, if hard pressed by your companion, you drink just a cup now and then of diluted Falernian. Pray, is it that Naevia has promised you a night of bliss; and you prefer by sobriety to enhance your enjoyment? You sigh, you are silent, you groan: she has refused you. You may drink, then, and often, cups of four-fold size, and drown in wine your concern at her cruelty. Why do you spare yourself, Rufus? You have nothing before you but to sleep.

CVII. TO LUCIUS JULIUS.

You often say to me, dearest Lucius Julius, "Write something great: you take your ease too much." Give me then leisure,----but leisure such as that which of old Maecenas gave to his Horace and his Virgil -- and I would endeavour to write something which should live through time, and to snatch my name from the flames of the funeral pyre. Steers are unwilling to carry their yoke into barren fields. A fat soil fatigues, but the very labour bestowed on it is delightful.

CVIII. TO GALLUS.

You possess----and may it be yours and grow larger through a long series of years----a house, beautiful I admit, but on the other side of the Tiber. But my garret looks upon the laurels of Agrippa; and in this quarter I am already grown old. I must move, in order to pay you a morning call, Gallus, and you deserve this consideration, even if your house were still farther off. But it is a small matter to you, Gallus, if I add one to the number of your toga-clad visitors; while it is a great matter to me, if I withhold that one. I myself will frequently pay my respects to you at the tenth hour.1 This morning my book shall wish you "good day" in my stead.

1 The tenth hour from sunrise, corresponding to our four o'clock is the afternoon. SeeB. iv. Ep. 8.

CIX. ON A PET DOG AND THE PAINTER.

Issa is more playful than the sparrow of Catullus. Issa is more pure than the kiss of a dove. Issa is more loving than any maiden. Issa is dearer than Indian gems. The little dog Issa is the pet of Publius. If she complains, you will think she speaks. She feels both the sorrow and the gladness of her master. She lies reclined upon his neck, and sleeps, so that not a respiration is heard from her. And, however pressed, she has never sullied the coverlet with a single spot; but rouses her master with a gentle touch of her foot, and begs to be set down from the bed and relieved. Such modesty resides in this chaste little animal; she knows not the pleasures of love; nor do we find a mate worthy of so tender a damsel. That her last hour may not carry her off wholly, Publius has her limned in a picture, in which you will see an Issa so like, that not even herself is so like herself. In a word, place Issa and the picture side by side, and you will imagine either both real, or both painted.

CX. TO VELOX.

You complain, Velox, that the epigrams which I write are long. You yourself write nothing; your attempts are shorter.1

1 Imperfect; abortive; ending in nothing.

CXI. TO REGULUS, ON SENDING HIM A BOOK AND A PRESENT OF FRANKINCENSE.

Since your reputation for wisdom, and the care which you bestow on your labours, are equal, and since your piety is not inferior to your genius, he who is surprised that a book and incense are presented to you, Regulus, is ignorant how to adapt presents to deserts.

CXII. ON PRISCUS, A USURER.

When I did not know you, I used to address you as my lord and king. Now, since I know you well, you shall be plain Priscus with me.

CXIII. TO THE READER.

If, reader, you wish to employ some good hours badly, and are an enemy to your own leisure, you will obtain whatever sportive verses I produced in my youth and boyhood, and all my trifles, which even I myself have forgotten, from Quintus Pollius Valerianus, who has resolved not to let my light effusions perish.

CXIV. TO FAUSTINUS.

These gardens adjoining your domain, Faustinus, and these small fields and moist meadows, Telesphorus Faenius owns. Here he has deposited the ashes of his daughter, and has consecrated the name, which you read, of Antulla;----though his own name should rather have been read there. It had been more just that the father should have gone to the Stygian shades; but, since this was not permitted, may he live to honour his daughter's remains.

CXV. TO PROCILLUS.

A certain damsel, envious Procillus, is desperately in love with me,----a nymph more white than the spotless swan, than silver, than snow, than lily, than privet: already you will be thinking of hanging yourself, But I long for one darker than night, than the ant, than pitch, than the jack-daw, than the cricket. If I know you well, Procillus, you will spare your life.

CXVI. ON THE TOMB OF ANTULLA.

This grove, and these fair acres of cultivated land, Faenius has consecrated to the eternal honour of the dead. In this tomb is deposited Antulla, too soon snatched from her family: in this tomb each of her parents will be united to her. If any one desires this piece of ground, I warn him not to hope for it; it is for ever devoted to its owners.

CXVII. TO LUPERCUS.

Whenever you meet me, Lupercus, you constantly say, "Shall I send my servant, for you to give him your little book of Epigrams, which I will read and return to you directly?" There is no reason, Lupercus, to trouble your servant. It is a lone journey, if he wishes to come to the Pirus;1 and I live up three pairs of stairs, and those high ones. What you want you may procure nearer at hand. You frequently go down to the Argiletum: opposite Caesar's forum is a shop, with pillars on each side covered over with titles of books, so that you may quickly run over the names of all the poets. Procure me there; you will no sooner ask Atrectus,----such is the name of the owner of the shop,----than he will give you, from the first or second shelf a Martial, well smoothed with pumice-stone, and adorned with purple, for five denarii "You are not worth so much," do you say? You are right, Lupercus.

1 The pear-tree. The name of some spot near which Martial lived.

CXVIII. TO CAEDICIANUS.

For him who is not satisfied with reading a hundred epigrams, no amount of trouble is sufficient, Caedicianus.

This text was transcribed by Roger Pearse, Ipswich, UK, 2008. This file and all material on this page is in the public domain - copy freely.

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Early Church Fathers - Additional Texts

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