#not sure how i feel about sprig taking front and centre

[sidetongue]

the sweet fam

[angryschnauzer]

The Dark Wolf

Summary:  The Dark Wolf hadn't picked an Omega yet, it had been three months since the Spring Equinox and still the omegas that had been selected hadn't been successful. With your heat approaching you could only however think of the gentle Alpha that would visit you at work, distracting you from your impending heat... and you selection as the Omega for the Dark Wolf.

Pairing: Adopted Stark Omega Daughter Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, ABOAlpha/Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Werewolf, Mating Rituals, Ritual Sex, Heat Cycles, rut cycles, Full Moon, Witchcraft, Unprotected Sex, Mating, Breeding, Knotting

I do not run a tag list but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications to get alerts whenever i post new stories. Oneshots will be posted on Tumblr and AO3, Multichapter stories will be AO3 exclusives. Masterlist is now AO3, link HERE.

The Dark Wolf

 It was springtime yet a keen wind swirled at your ankles as you quickly made your way home. It was late in the day and the sun was already dipping below the horizon, the thick forest that surrounded the village making the days shorter with their tall canopy. A group of girls around the same age as you ran past, laughing and joking as they made their way towards the tavern, unaware of you as you carried the heavy basket from the market. The stalls had been packing away by the time you got there, your job at the bakery keeping you busy most of the day.

As the girls passed by, their scent was thick on the air; cloying and sickly as the synthetic heat pheromones they had added to their perfume to make them more attractive to any Alpha’s at the tavern assaulted your senses, making you quietly sneeze. Their voices were high pitched and clawed at your ears as they squealed and laughed;

“Maybe that dress will be enough to convince the Dark Wolf to take you tonight!”

“Ooh do you think? He hasn’t chosen a mate yet this season, do you think he’ll do it soon?”

“It’s coming close to summer, usually he’s chosen by now”

 “Who do you think the Dark Wolf is?”

 “I don’t know, but the full moon is in two days’ time, and if you want to get chosen, you’ll need to bring your heat on pretty soon”

 “I just need a big dumb Alpha that’s about to Rut to trigger my heat!”

 “Well keep an eye out for the red paint on your door, you know that’s how the Dark Wolf chooses his Omega”

They all laughed as they went, and you could smell arousal in the air, little did you realise it was your own.

 The wind blew their scent away as quickly as it had brought it, and pushing against the gusts you pulled your cardigan tighter around your body. You had always dreamed of an Alpha to take care of you, to help bring his pups into the world, have a whole pack of little ones. Shaking your head you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts that wanted to enter your mind of the Alpha you pined for, knowing if you got distracted it would only make you feel worse.

 Finally the tall eaves of your father’s house came into view, giving you a sense of relief as you made your way up the pathway and into the house, closing the old black door behind you.

 Your Adopted father was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the two of you, his arms still covered in soot from where he’d been working all day at his forge, if there was one thing Tony Stark knew how to do, it was fix anything made of metal. Dropping the vegetables he was peeling he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your forehead;

 “Hey Sweetie, are you doing ok? Get everything you need?”

 “Yeah, thanks Dad” you replied awkwardly.

 Tony had raised you alone, doing his best to raise a girl - and now a young woman in her early 20’s - and had done his best to help you with the more feminine side of things. He had never suppressed your urge to learn your mothers art of witchcraft, helping you where he could, and when it came to the time when you had started to feel the Omega Heat, he had encouraged you to deal with it however you had felt right. 

 Setting the heavy basket of herbs and produce onto the table, you set about resting the fresh herbs into little vases with water to keep them fresh, and opening the package of freshly roasted coffee beans to let them cool enough to store them in jars;

 “I’ll make an elixir tomorrow, the bakery had me run ragged today… I’m not feeling great”

 “If you’re sure Honey. Why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll have dinner ready in an hour”

 “Thanks Dad”

-

 The next morning you woke and felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, telling you that your heat was closer than you thought. You had slept fitfully, dreams marred by a large wolf; the Werewolf that haunted the village and wanted to claim a mate. You’d felt fear but also something else, something you couldn’t place, and in the dream when the wolf had been close enough to touch you had seen a familiarity in his eyes before suddenly you were awake.

 Drenched in sweat you knew you needed to get your elixir made unless you wanted to try and cope with a heat without an Alpha to knot you, so you dressed quickly in the previous days clothes and quietly made your way downstairs, moving around the kitchen as you set the large pot of water onto the stove to boil before starting to add the herbs you bought the day before. Stirring the aromatic mixture you suddenly stopped;

 “Rosemary!” you muttered quietly to yourself, before stepping out of the front door and crossing the garden barefoot, the dewy grass cool on the soles of your feet. Plucking a handful of sprigs you raised them to your face and inhaled their fresh scent, smiling as it hit your senses as you turned, and that’s when you saw it. The red paint.

 “NO!” you screamed, frozen to the spot. 

 Seconds later your father appeared at the doorway, looking around wildly before seeing you and rushing to your side;

 “What? What is it?”

 You pointed, your hand shaking and he followed your gaze before sharply inhaling; there it was, a wide and vivid swipe of red paint on your black front door;

 “Daddy… please… get a rag. It still looks wet”

 “Honey… ok honey…”

 His reassurance was interrupted by a quiet cough at your garden gate, causing you both to turn and that’s when you saw him;

 “Constable Rogers…”

 “Tony… you know its Steve, not Constable”

 “Steve… really? The pack chose my Little Girl?”

 Steve set a large hand on Tony’s shoulder;

 “It’s the choice. She won’t be harmed. But you know it’s the ritual and it's the law” Steve paused, and you could see the conflict on his face as he spoke; “She’s not a little girl anymore Tony, she’s a beautiful woman”

 Tony stood partially in front of you, trying to protect you;

 “I get that Steve… but it should be her choice. This seems so… so… barbaric…”

 “Maybe so, but I’m not here to argue with you… you know my job…”

 Tony nodded. He knew the laws. He’d done his best to bend them or influence them as much as possible, but the rules of the Werewolf that lived in the woods called for a mate once a year, his chosen Omega would spend the first full moon after the spring equinox with him, and if she was suitable she would bear his child and become his wife… and yet no-one knew the face of the man who was this wolf, just that it was one that walked among them. And for the last three months the chosen women had been returned to the town at the end of the three nights of full moon. Each said the same of their time away; it was not to be spoken of; they were unsuitable.

 The Constable - Steve - held out his hand for you and you paused, still grasping your fathers’ hand before he spoke to you;

 “It’s your choice. I will fight it for you if you don’t want to go”

 “It’s ok Dad. I haven’t been able to make the suppressant elixir in time, there isn’t any other way to deal with this Heat that is coming”

 Tony nodded before he glanced at your feet;

 “At least let me get you some shoes. Barefoot in the forest is not as enjoyable as barefoot on a soft lawn”

 -

 Standing on the cold stone slab in the clearing you watched as Steve tied the rope around your wrist to the solitary tree that stood in the centre;

 “Why are you doing this?” you asked.

 He froze. It was the first thing you’d said since you’d left your father’s house. He had almost forgotten you had a voice you had been so quiet. He cleared his throat;

 “You know it’s the way. And as the village constable have to uphold what it written”

 “Is this not… not archaic? To leave me out here to be taken against my will?”

 Steve stood straight and looked at you, his hand softly cupping your face;

 “It’s not like that. When the Dark Wolf appears, you will know if it’s right. He will know. He will approach you and if your scent pulls you from his Lycanthropy, he’ll know you are the right Omega”

 “What if… what if it doesn’t trigger his Rut? What if I’m not the right Omega?”

 “Then he will try again tomorrow night”

 “And leave me here to suffer my Heat? Alone?”

 Steve took a deep breath, looking away and unable to meet your gaze;

 “You will not be alone”

 He had finished tying the ropes and had tested them to make sure they were secure before stepping away, and with a sigh he turned and quickly made his way out of the clearing and into the dense forest. You had seen him flinch each time you’d screamed out his name, your throat finally becoming hoarse and you let out a pitiful sob as you fell to your knees. Curling up against the side of the old oak tree, you tried to clear your mind, your fingers drawing patterns in the soil, trying to remember some of the old magic you knew. The full moon was setting in the sky above you as morning broke, the sequence of the phases seemingly out of sorts.

 Suddenly you felt a pain in your stomach, you knew exactly what it was; your Heat was fast approaching. The sweat started to bead across your chest, your breathing getting heavier, as the first spasm shot through you something suddenly moved in the thick brush at the side of the clearing. Your eyes darted in that direction but saw nothing but ferns and undergrowth. As another wave of Heat pains started to build, movement out of the corner of your eye distracted you from your impending heat. This time whatever it was stood still, yet all you could see was a glowing pair of eyes in the darkness of the surrounding forest. 

 Forgetting about your Heat and your incantations you were trying to draw in the earth, you instead focused your attention upon the rope that tied you to the tree. When Steve had said you would not be alone, was this what he meant? Your scared fingers worked on the knot in the rope, trying to loosen it. 

 A quiet growl echoed from the darkness and as the panic set in you felt a rush of power surge through you, grasping the rope that tied you with both hands you pulled it harshly and it snapped at the tree. 

 You did not wait, you were running, running as fast as your feet could take you. Blindly rushing through the dense forest, you could hear creatures chasing after you, the growls and gnashing of teeth. The surge of energy your heat was giving you powered you on, deeper into the forest, further from home. A shrill howl sent a chill down your spine, but you continued your sprint. The sounds of the creatures behind you were getting closer, ahead the forest floor rose steeply, the sharp incline slowing you as your feet slid on the dry pine needles that had fallen from the tall spruce trees that towered above you. 

 You slipped, your smooth and simple slippers giving no traction and your fingers dug into the forest floor. You fell to your knees and squeezed your eyes shut, doing what little you could do to prepare yourself for whatever happened next. But… but the growling stopped, the forest fell silent. Opening one eye then both you slowly turned, letting out a cry as you saw the pack of wolves surrounding you, but none were looking to you, their attention fell upon the rocky outcrop above you.

 Turning you looked up and gasped, he was there; the Dark Wolf. 

 With a loud snarl he jumped from the rocky outcrop and over you, landing gracefully at your feet as he growled loudly at the baying pack that surrounded you. Circling around he trod silently, the hairs on his spine standing on end as he bared his teeth at the pack as they kept trying to approach, before standing beside you. He seemingly paused before pointing his snout to the sky and let out a powerful howl. 

 You watched, dumbfounded as each wolf sat. It was clear that the Dark wolf was in charge; that he was the Alpha of the pack. He turned, his icy blue gaze directed at you before he reached his head down and took the rope in his mouth that was still tied to your wrist. He tugged it gently and you pushed yourself to your feet, the smooth soles of your shoes slipping on the loose pine needles that covered the dirt, and he rested the side of his body against your thigh, steadying you. Resting your hand on the coarse fur to steady yourself as he led you down the slope, you found yourself surprised by how soft his fur was, almost as if it was spun silk. 

 The pack parted like a tide, letting the Dark Wolf lead you into the darkness of the forest by the rope between its jaws. You could hear the pack following, keeping its distance, yet somehow you weren’t afraid; you felt safe with the Dark Wolf. 

 Through the dense trees a solitary cabin came into view, its windows black as if abandoned, yet deep red geraniums had been carefully planted around the doorway. The soft forest floor made way for sandstone paving, and you let Dark Wolf lead you to the entrance. 

 Arriving at the porch he sat beside you and whined like a dog would, looking from you to the door and back again. 

 “Oh, right… no opposable thumbs in your paws”

 If wolves could roll their eyes it would have, and as you reached forwards for the door handle you tested it, the door swinging open on its creaky hinges. Looking to Dark Wolf you smiled;

 “Whoever lives here needs to do some maintenance”

 The wolf let out a snort before standing, gently leading you by the rope that still hung from your wrist. He paused in the hallway before pushing his behind against the door to close it, leading you into the cabin through dark hallways, finally coming to a single room, surrounded on three sides by floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the forest. Pulling you onto the bed he sat on his haunches before you tumbled onto the soft mattress.

 Only then did you realise how tired you were, exhausted from not only the chase through the forest, but also the drama of the morning on top of a poor night’s sleep. As if on cue you felt the cramp in your stomach; remind you that your heat was starting, and without thinking you curled up onto the bed, clutching at your stomach in the foetal position. Screwing your eyes shut you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips, the surge of heat flowing through you. And yet… suddenly you felt a cold nose press against your neck, before a heavy snout rested on you. It calmed you. Curling your fingers into Dark Wolf’s fur, you screwed your eyes shut, the waves of heat tiring you, until you blacked out and a deep sleep took hold.

 -

 You could feel your mind pulling you from your deep sleep and you snuggled into the soft pillows a little further. You felt movement against you and your hands sought out the soft fur that was pressed to your chest, curling it between your fingers. There was something calming about the beast that lay beside you, even with your eyes closed you could hear its breathing was steady and strong;

 “You’ve helped, you know?”

 At the sound of your quiet voice it shifted slightly, and although you hadn’t yet opened your eyes you could sense it was looking at you as you continued;

 “For whatever this is, you calmed me. I was so scared, not just of the pack, but of what would happen. I had been waiting… hoping… you see at the bakery there is one man that visits, I had been hoping he would ask to court me, but he always seems so shy…”

 The wolf’s breathing caught before you heard a voice;

 “I think it’s time you opened your eyes Omega”

 No. It couldn’t be… your eyes were squeezed shut but you wanted to look… yet you didn’t… you knew that voice, you’d heard it the day before when the soft and quiet Alpha you’d always pined for had visited the bakery the and had ordered the last of the cinnamon buns you had coveted so much, the ones you always ordered right before your heat arrived, that were your comfort food.

 “Omega…”

 “James?”

 “Open your eyes”

 Meekly you did as he asked, and he was there; in front of you. Your fingers were curled around his long dark hair and his face was inches from your own, his pale blue eyes staring straight into your soul. After what seemed like an eternity you finally found your voice;

 “You’re the Dark Wolf?”

 He nodded;

 “For the last few months, yes”

 Frowning at his response, you didn’t understand what he meant.

 “It is a different member of the pack each year… For the last three months whenever an Omega was brought to the clearing, they weren’t a match…”

 “A match? But, surely it’s just the nature of an Alpha and an Omega?”

 “Not for Werewolves. The right Omega will pull a werewolf out of its cycle. It’s why I’m here, like this, now…”

 You thought over what he’d said, your eyes going wide in the realisation of what it meant; that you were meant to be his;

 “Is this why you never said anything? At the bakery? Or when I would see you in the market? You were saving me for this barbaric ritual?”

 James’s face dropped, the hope seemingly leaving his body at your words;

 “I… I… I would be made to choose. If it’s your ‘year’ as the Dark Wolf, if you choose a mate before you have taken part in the ritual, that mate is rejected… I didn’t want that to happen to you…” he looked up at you through watery eyes; “When Steve told me that another Omega had been selected this month, I hoped so much it would be you…this is my final month, my final chance...” 

 His words trailed off and you didn’t want to think what would have happened to him if he hadn’t of picked a mate this month. Cupping his cheek with your hand you gently stroked your thumb over his stubbled skin before closing the distance between the two of you and your lips met. 

 The kiss was soft at first, but as you both became bolder and Bucky’s arms wrapped around your body to pull you flush with his, you found yourself relenting to his charms. 

 You were mid kiss when you felt the first pang of cramp in your stomach, this time you whimpered loudly, James pulling away and started to strip you of your clothing;

 “C’mon Omega… let me help you…”

 “James, it hurts… its hurts so much…”

 “I know, let me at your skin and I can take the hurt away. And please, call me Bucky… the pack leader calls me James when I’m in trouble…”

 You let him move you, quickly unbuttoning your dress before pulling your underwear off, finally untying the rope that was still around your wrist, and he moved back so he could take in your naked beauty… and yet you felt ashamed, embarrassed, trying to cover yourself with your hands until he gently caught your hands in his own large grasp;

 “Omega, what is it?”

 “I have never���”

 “You’ve never been with an Alpha?”

 You shook your head, and Bucky leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to yours;

 “Oh, my sweet Omega, I am here to help you, we can do as much or as little as you want or need”

 He settled you against the soft pillows and rested his head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you wound your fingers through his long hair. Finally, he felt your pulse slow and he started to press kisses down your torso until he reached your soaked core. Running his fingers through the copious slick that coated your folds, he hummed his appreciation at the sweet scent that filled his senses, before leaning forwards and pressing a kiss to your swollen clit;

 “You smell so good Omega, can feel you trembling, let me taste you, make you cum with my tongue”

 “Bucky…” you whined, and you felt more than heard him chuckle as you wanted him to stop talking and start doing… something, anything.

 He got the hint and with one long lick he covered your entire pussy, tasting you, groaning at your sweetness. Hooking your legs over his wide shoulders he gripping onto your thighs, burying his head between your legs as his long tongue delved deep within you, fucking you with the strong muscle and you could feel the heat pains ebbing away and being replaced by those of pleasure. His fingers found your clit and he strummed against the sensitive nub, making you scramble for something to grip onto. With your legs shaking and your fingers curled through his soft dark hair you were coming hard, and he relished every drop, drinking your slick as it gushed from your core until you were spent. 

 When your legs went limp and your hand fell to the sheets he slowly pulled away, pushing himself up to sit as he used the back of his hand to wipe the shining slick from his chin. Reaching the other hand he pressed his warm palm to your stomach tenderly;

 “How do you feel now Omega?”

 “Good… oh my god, so good…”

 “Wait here, I’m going to go get you some water”

 You lay there on his soft bed, eyes closed and listening to nothing but your heartbeat until you finally heard him approaching, pushing yourself up to sit only to let out a squeak of surprise;

 “You’re naked!”

 He stopped in the doorway and looked down as if it was a surprise to him too;

 “Yes? So are you?”

 “But… you’re naked!”

 You couldn’t draw your eyes away from his body, your gaze raking up and down as you tried to take in every chiselled plain and curve. From his wide shoulders and muscled arms, down his torso and stomach where his abdominal muscles tapered down in a deep v to his crotch. The thick thatch of dark hair that surrounded the thick and heavy length that swung between his legs, to the powerful thighs that looked bigger than you could ever have imagined;

 “Omega…” he gently laughed; “I literally woke up from being a wolf half an hour ago… I haven’t left your side…”

 He closed the distance between you, sitting on the side of the bed before handing you a glass of water and a plate. The scent of the treat the plate contained drew your attention, and you instantly recognised what it was;

“The cinnamon buns from the bakery! I always have these as my heat starts!”

 He smiled and as you ate you couldn’t help it, but your eyes continually strayed to his crotch, watching as his thick length would twitch and slightly swell the longer you looked at it. When you had finished eating, he silently took the plate from you before handing you the glass of water which you gratefully took, downing it quickly before handing it back;

 “Thank you”

 Setting the glass and plate onto the floor Bucky turned back to you;

 “How are you feeling now?”

 “Sleepy still, hot… yet cold…” you looked away shyly; “It makes me want to curl up but have you here with me…”

 “That we can do… scoot over, unless you want me to climb over you…”

 Laughing you moved to the centre of the bed watching in the pale light that still came in the large windows that surrounded the bedroom as the sun set having slept through most of the day. Bucky grabbed the oversized quilt as he shuffled in beside you, pulling it over your naked bodies as he curled his arm over your stomach and pulled you flush with his chest. Turning until you were the little spoon to his big. 

 It felt natural to be there in Bucky’s arms, to have his breath on your neck and his hands on your stomach. You could feel your body getting hotter and whimpered, you knew the heat hadn’t been sated, that you needed more, and your Alpha picked up on the change in your scent immediately. His lips found you bonding mark and he pressed kisses to the skin, soothing your body as he rubbed at the spot with his nose, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he felt you push your ass back against him. His dick was growing harder for every second he held you in his arms, and with you rubbing against him he couldn’t help but to rut against the soft globes of your ass, your voice startling him for a moment;

 “Bucky… Alpha...  I need you…”

 Bucky knew what you needed, and before he had even moved a muscle you were turning, getting to your knees;

 “Omega… are you presenting for me?”

 Looking over your shoulder you nodded;

 “Please Alpha… I need you… need your knot…”

 Bucky positioned himself at your soaked core, the feel of your hot slick against his dick almost overwhelming, and as he breached your entrance, he let out a low growl as he sank into your swollen channel. Moving his hips fluidly he coated his heavy girth in your slick, and with each thrust he knew he was in heaven. This was it; he was never going to find an omega better than you; you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with;

 “Fuck, Omega… you feel so good…”

 “Bucky… Please… make me yours”

 His hands gripped your hips as he fucked you, stretching you out so beautifully that he feared he would cum far too soon, but as you rocked back with each of his thrusts he regained control. Putting more power into each push, his powerful thighs became coated in your slick as it spilled out of you around his dick, filling the room with your combined scent. 

 You were crying out his name, begging, pleading for him to let you cum;

 “Please Alpha…”

 “Omega, you want me to cum? Want me to fill you with my seed, let you grow full with my Pups?”

 “Alpha! Please, I want your Pups, want your knot…”

 With a final flurry of thrusts he sent you over the edge, your body squeezing him so tight it triggered his own orgasm as he filled your fertile body with his potent seed.

 As his orgasm ebbed away, he bent over and wrapped his arms around your torso, pressing kisses to your back as you trembled beneath him. When you finally spoke your voice was hoarse;

 “That… that was amazing…”

 “That’s nothing Omega…” Bucky muttered, shifting slightly and your eyes went wide when you felt he was still hard inside you.

 “Alpha? How…? You haven’t knotted yet?”

 He chuckled lightly;

 “An Alpha can only grow a knot once he is spent… I got a good two or three more goes before that happens… and trust me; you’ll know it when I do my sweet Omega”

 “Oh…” he moved within you, setting off aftershocks of your orgasm; “OH!”

 Bucky moved you, somehow twisting and sliding you onto your side before pulling one of your legs up flush with his chest, all with his hard length still snug inside you. Pressing kisses down your calf he started to rock his hips back and forth, the added lubrication of his own cum adding to the sensations.

 It was starting to get dark now, and without any light in the room the only illumination was the rising full moon, casting its pale glow over the pair of you as you rutted together like wild animals. As Bucky threw his head back the moonlight caught every muscle, his skin gleaming with beads of sweat that looked like a thousand jewels.

 Looking down you watched as this meaty girth split you open and you welcomed him into your fertile womb. With one strong arm gripping your leg, the other hand found your centre, rubbing this thumb against your clit as he teased another orgasm out of you, fucking you through it and chasing his own release. With each new thrust his attention was drawn to your chest and you found yourself being bent in two as he pushed your leg ever higher until he shifted it to the side and was able to take your breasts in his hands as he continued to fuck you;

 “These titties, they’ll look so beautiful when full of milk for our pups…” he reached forward and took one peaked nipple between his teeth, sending shockwaves through your body. The pleasure was building in the pit of your stomach again, and as you shut your eyes and let the sensations take over, your imagination gave you a glimpse of the future, of a future with Bucky.

 The summer breeze blew warm air against your bare legs, the lace trim of your light summer dress brushing against your skin. Smoothing your hands over your swollen belly, your pup kicked inside you and you smiled. Looking out over the garden you saw your husband, your Alpha, your Bucky playing with your two-year-old twins, smiling as you heard their squeals of laughter as he chased them around the soft grass…

 As you came back to reality you felt the sudden rush of pleasure that told you your orgasm was imminent, you were completely surrounded by Bucky and you felt yourself surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you as you came again, this time with a low groan he filled you with another heavy load of his fertile seed.

 You held each other for the longest time, Bucky resting his face against your neck and you doing the same to him, rubbing your nose over his scent gland and picking up on the slight change in his scent. Before it was as simple as dew on soft pine, but now there was a warmer tone, cinnamon and coffee. Running your hands through his hair you spoke softly;

 “Bucky?”

 “Mmmm”

 “Bucky, your scent…”

 He pushed himself up on his strong arms, looking down at you and that’s when you realised what was happening;

 “Omega…” his pupils were blown wide, pools of dark arousal as he took in your naked form beneath him; “You’ve triggered my Rut…”

 Your bodies were still joined, and as he ducked his head down to kiss you, you could feel him still hard within your aching body, a body that was desperate for more, for his knot. Clouds moved across the night sky and momentarily blocked out the moonlight, and that’s when you saw it; movement outside the windows. With a gasp you pulled away from Bucky, your eyes wide as you searched the shadows, trembling as you saw eyes, glinting in what little light there was. 

 Bucky pressed his lips to your bonding mark, surrounding you, protecting you;

 “It’s the pack… they’re here to watch”

 “They what?”

“It’s part of the ritual, the pack needs to see me knot you… only then will they allow you to be mine, and for me to be yours…”

 His lips were driving you crazy, and as much as you wanted to fight it, you were also excited by the prospect of being watched as you were claimed;

 “Let’s do it Bucky… make me yours…”

 Above you Bucky was shaking with need, his rut starting to take hold and he looked almost feral with need. Pulling out he quickly moved you into position on your knees, and you found yourself parting your legs and arching your back to present for him. Looking down at your soaked core, your slick pouring down your thighs whilst mixed with his cum, he let out a growl and thrust forward, filling you completely. 

 He held himself deep within your welcoming body for the longest moment, before with a surprisingly gentle grip took hold of your shoulders and pulled you upright, your back flush to his chest as his lips brushed against your ear;

 “Show them, show them that I am yours and you are mine”

 Bucky held you, his arms encircling your torso as he held your breasts in his large hands, all whilst thrusting up into you with powerful grind of his hips. This time felt different; you felt fuller, and that’s when you realised what it was; his knot was starting to grow, to inflate. Even though you were practically melting, from your heat and from the energy being expended by your lovemaking, you shivered. The realisation that it was happening; you were about to be knotted, claimed. Bucky picked up on your nerves, the slighted change in your scent;

 “Omega, you’re doing so well, I could never have wished for a better mate…”

 As he spoke his teeth brushed over your bonding mark and you felt yourself rocking down harder with each of his thrusts until you felt it, his knot just slightly caught then slipped out again, causing you to whine like an animal denied its favourite treat;

 “Nearly there Omega, near-ly th-ere…”

 Each syllable was punctuated by a thrust, your body trembling, on the precipice again with your orgasm, until you heard his words;

 “It’s time Omega…”

 “Claim me Bucky, make me yours”

 With one final thrust you felt his knot notch inside and this time stick just as your orgasm crashed through your body. The added tightness of your body gripped his made Bucky let out a howl, roaring up at the sky as he bared his teeth, and with a rumble in his chest he brought his teeth down to your neck and claimed you.

 You felt the skin break, his teeth digging into your bonding mark and the warm trickle of your blood down your neck and chest. The moment seemed to be frozen in time, noise filling your ears before you opened your eyes and saw the pack outside; all wolves, all howling simultaneously as they celebrated the pack leader having claimed his Omega. 

 Pulling his teeth away from your skin Bucky gently licked over the wound, helping it to heal, all whilst your bodies were still joined. You felt weak, exhaustion taking over, and with careful movement so not to jar his knot within you, Bucky moved your pliable body until you were lying on your side, Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around you. The forest fell quiet and you heard the gentle sound of paws retreating into the distance, and the last thought that went through your mind as the pack retreated was that you were complete.

 -

 For three days and nights you spent it in Bucky’s arms. After that first night the drapes were pulled across all the windows, Bucky laughed that the pack had their show, now it was time for a private performance. And oh boy did he perform; your body was tired and aching but in the most beautiful way, you had a glow to you that both of you already knew was the first sign that Bucky’s seed had taken, and already you in your mind could feel the pups within you start to grow. Bucky gently laughed when you’d told him;

 “Surely it’s too early Omega?”

 “I just know Bucky…”

 You’d been in the huge tub at the time, your bodies joined yet again, warm water lapping at his knot as you let the scented water wash over your bodies for some interesting lovemaking, straddling him as he lay back against the side, you took his hands and rested them on your stomach;

 “Do you feel it? Can you sense it?”

 Bucky paused for a moment before his eyes went wide;

 “There’s something… I can feel this heat, this power coming from you…” he laughed happily and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around your body and burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he sobbed tears of joy.

 -

 Walking up the path to your father’s house you gripped Bucky’s hand tight, nervous about what you were going to say. As you approached the porch the door opened and you saw him, standing at the doorway as he watched you. For a moment his face was neutral as he took in the two of you, and then he sensed it and you could see his eyes starting to water. Rushing to you Tony wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight before finally stepping back;

 “Will you look at that, my baby is gonna have her own baby…”

 “Dad! How do you know?!”

 “Honey, a father knows. Plus, I can pick it up on your scent” Finally he turned to Bucky and extended his hand; “It’s good to finally meet you…”

 “Thank you, Sir. Its James, but everyone calls me Bucky”

 “Please Bucky, call me Tony”

 “Well Tony, I guess I’d better ask for your permission to marry your daughter?”

 Laughing Tony let go of your shoulders;

 “I thought that was a given… seeing a you’ve already knocked her up?”

 The two men laughed and you rolled your eyes, letting your father lead you into the kitchen. Over pancakes and bacon, you worked out your future, your dark wolf beside you the whole way.

[ickaimp]

Five times Jack and Bunny weren’t dating (Much to the confusion of Everyone Else)

2041 words, ace

====

"Come on, Sugar." The Groundhog leaned against Aster, grinding her hip against his. "One little date couldn't hurt, could it?"

"Yeah.... Well, y'see..." Aster tried to find some graceful way to get her away from him, without resorting to the violence that he would momentarily enjoy but regret later. A sudden drop in temperature behind him provided inspiration. "I can't because m'datin' Jack Frost!"

"What?!"

"What?!" Echoed Jack's irritated voice from behind him. Aster glanced over his shoulder, meeting Jack's annoyed gaze, then made a slight motion with his head towards the Groundhog.

Jack's tense angry posture melted as understanding flickered across his face, followed by merriment. "You called, Snugglebunny?" Jack asked, sickly-sweet as he twined one arm around Aster's.

Oh, thank goodness. Aster plastered on a grin and shifted closer to Jack. "Have y'met Phyllis? The Groundhog?" He asked, motioning to Phyllis.

"Can't say that I have." Jack said, tone frosty as he eyed her proximity to Aster.

He'd hoped that Phyllis would take the clue and back off, but she narrowed her eyes, glaring at Jack as if he were the interloper. "I've heard much about you." Phyllis purred, holding a hand out.

Jack smiled politely back, releasing Aster to take her hand and shaking it. "Pleasure."

"Oh!" Phyllis exclaimed, not releasing Jack's hand. "What smooth skin you have. No fur at all. How strange that must be." She said, fluffing up the hair on her round cheeks with her other hand.

The ambient temperature dropped as Jack smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "It does make it easier to groom." He said, ice forming along his hand. Phyllis squeaked, finally releasing Jack.

For a moment, Jack and Phyllis stared at each other, faces smiling as they spat at each other with their eyes. Aster began to double think this plan, wondering if he had just put himself in the middle of a cat-fight, with himself as the prize.

He backed up a step, wrapping his arm around Jack. He knew who he was throwing his support behind.

Phyllis paused, then inclined her head. "I think I hear someone calling my name. Excuse me." She said, stomping away with her head held high.

Aster watched her go, trying not to cringe at the comments under her breath about what beautiful babies they would have made. Jack shifted closer to him, giving Aster's arm a squeeze  "You okay?" Jack asked quietly.

"Yeah." Aster wrapped an arm around Jack, resting his chin on Jack's head. "Thanks." He wanted to leave and go take a bath, roll around on the grass until her scent and the memory of her touch left him. She didn’t smell right at all, too much like this alien planet and not enough like a Pooka to put the thoughts she was insinuating in his head.

Jack smelled familiar, hints of the Warren and North's Workshop clinging to him, and it helped ground Aster. He nuzzled the white hair, messing it up, and making Jack laugh.

"Anytime." Jack's voice was warm, as he hugged Aster back. He chuckled, only slightly strained. "Got me away from my own admirers." He muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

"Sounds like we need a battleplan." Aster smirked, his good humour resuming at having something he could do. "I'll watch yer back-"

"I got yours." Jack promised, voice rich and amused, giving Aster a squeeze before backing up half a step. Aster let him go, smiling back at Jack's grin, wide and joyful. Jack inclined his head. "C'mon. I heard a rumour that there's refreshments around here, Hunny-Bunny."

"I see how it's gonna be." Aster smirked, allowing Jack to pull him towards the far wall where the snacks were. "-Snow White."

"Ooh!" Jack shot him an evil grin. "It's on now!"

Aster laughed, ignoring the looks they were getting. There were far worse things than hanging out with Jack Frost.

++++

"Twinkle-Toes."

"Buggy-Bunny."

"Pumpkin."

"No. Snuggle-Bug."

"Nipper?"

"Doodle-Bun."

"Snowflake."

"Funny-Bunny."

"Ice-"

"I can't take it anymore!" Tooth exploded, waving her arms. "Could PLEASE take your flirting somewhere else?! It's really distracting!"

Several of her fairies chirped in agreement.

Jack and Aster blinked, staring at her. Tooth blushed.

"Sorry." She muttered.

"Right." Jack nodded. "Sorry... I guess it's our bad-?" He offered, glancing at Aster for affirmation.

Aster shrugged back. He was kind of confused on how coming up with insulting nicknames could be considered 'flirting'.

+++

"Bunny, catch." Jack said, holding up a radish from across the table. Without thinking about it, Aster opened his mouth, Jack tossing it across the table, Aster snatching it out of mid-air with his teeth.

"Yes!" Jack cheered, a wide grin on his face as he tossed his arms up into the air.

Aster snorted in amusement. It took so little to keep Jack happy. Speaking of which... Aster plucked a cherry tomato off his plate and flicked it at Jack.

"Got it!" Jack leaned back, catching it in his mouth, biting down into the red vegetable with great relish. Jack still wasn't used to having a chance to try the plants that grew in the summer, finding them to be a still-rare treat. Aster made sure to slip him the best ones to try whenever he got a chance.

They flung bits and pieces of the food going around at each other, grabbing each other's favourite foods as they passed their sides of the table, tossing them back and forth with the ease of many shared meals together. Jack pulled the beets out of his salad and set them aside, sliding them across the table to Aster to eat. Aster did the same with the baby corn, he didn't like their texture much.

Phil cleared his throat, making a confused noise. Jack and Aster glanced around, discovering that they were the centre of attention.

"What?" Jack asked, grabbing a croissant for himself and tossing Aster a pumpernickel roll.

"Nothing." North said. He pointedly cleared his throat, glancing at the other Guardians and the gathered Yeti and Elves, who turn their attention back the massive amount of food in front of them.

Jack shot Aster a confused look. So they were used to sharing meals. So what?

Aster shrugged back. People were strange.

+++

The funny thing about Jack was that when he got tired, he got all loose limbed and cuddly, like a tiny kitten. Anyone would do, but Aster was Jack's preferred person to lean against and doze against.

It was annoying if Aster was in the middle of working on something, but when he was reading, or attempting to relax, it was kind of nice to have Jack snuggled against him. Usually this meant that at some point, Jack would go boneless and using Aster's lap as a pillow, his head at just the right place for Aster to run his fingers through Jack's cold hair.

It was soothing, calming to a instinctual part of his brain that had been screaming for centuries. That he was fulfilling his obligations, taking care of his Clan, providing for the youngster, helping him grow big and strong.

Never mind that logically, Jack would never age. And that they were different species, different Clans entirely.

It still pleasing to have the company, to feel another's heartbeat so close to his, even it was alien.

Sandy appeared, waving cheerfully and Aster motioned for quiet. Sandy floated closer, looking confused, then his golden eyes widened, an exclamation point appearing above his head.

With an apologetic wave, Sandy quickly left, going back the way he came.

Aster watched him go, then glanced down at Jack, who was sleeping face-down on his lap.

The heck-?

+++

“Ah-hem.” Tooth cleared her throat, pointing upwards with a mischievous little look. Aster looked up to find a sprig of mistletoe sprouting from one of the layers of the Tooth Palace.

Which just happened to be right above Jack and Aster’s heads. One he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen there when they arrived to visit Tooth and her girls.

Aster glanced down at Jack, raising one eyebrow in question. Jack smirked back, looking amused as he stood up on his tip toes and kissed the top of Aster’s nose, where it was covered in short fur. It was kind of an odd chill sensation, but not bad.

Jack rocked back on his heels, giving Aster a wide grin. Aster frowned. “Did you just nip my nose?” He demanded, trying not to laugh. Although there certainly hadn’t been any teeth involved.

“Maybe.” Jack sing-sang, looking proud of himself.

The laugh Aster had been trying to hide came out as an amused huff, and he leaned down to return the favour, pressing his lips against Jack’s nose with a loud comical ‘mwah!’.

He got wide eyed stare for a brief second, as if Jack couldn’t believe that Aster had just done that that, then started laughing, little snowflakes forming around him in joy, and disappearing just as quickly in the warm air.

“Reckon we need to do that more often.” Aster mused, swinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders, and pulling him close. Jack nodded as he leaned against Aster, wrapping an arm around Aster’s waist. Kissing wasn’t something Pooka did, but he could see himself growing to like it.

He wondered how Jack felt about forehead kisses.

“Sounds good to me.” Jack agreed, grinning happily. “Now, what can we help you out with, Tooth?”

Tooth was giving them a strange look, like they’d done something unexpected. She gave herself a small shake, then smiled. “Oh! Right this way.” She escorted them towards a different part of her Palace to work on some murals.

Aster shared a glance at Jack, who shrugged back, wondering what she’d expected them to do instead.

+++

"Bunny." North said, shifting his weight awkwardly. "I wish to speak with you. About Jack."

Aster's ears twitched, automatically trying to sense where the boy was. Playing with the wind outside of the Workshop most likely. "He alright?"

"Jack is fine." North waved it off. "But you. This has been going on for many decades now. When are you going to make your intentions known?"

Aster stared blankly at North. "Intentions?"

"Wedding!" North threw his hands in the air.

... Huh?

"You have been dating for long while!" North gestured, sounding like an old Mother Hen. "Is it not time to tie the knot?"

"No?" Aster ventured. Why would they get married anyway?

"Then you have been leading Jack on?" North asked, a dangerous growl entering his voice.

"No." Aster shook his head. "And he's fine with things the way they are." Or at least, he'd never made any comment.

North made an annoyed grunt, crossing his arms. Aster raised an eyebrow. "Y'can ask him yerself."

"I will." North agreed. "He will be here any-"

"Hey, guys!" Jack cheerfully announced, touching down between them, covered more than usual with a layer of ice over his clothing. Jack paused, glancing between the two of them with a wary expression. "What's going on?"

"North wants to know when we're gonna get hitched." Aster waved a hand at North, who nodded, looking resolute.

Jack looked between them, as if waiting for the punchline. "Why would we do that?" He asked, no panic or fear in his voice, just flat out confusion.

Aster shrugged.

"You are dating!" North's eyes were wide.

Jack shook his head. "No, we're not."

"But the pet names! The food! The snuggling!"

"We're friends-?" Jack drawled. "Who live in close proximity to each other?"

Practically in each other's laps, some months.

"Bah." North threw his hands in the air. "Hopeless!" He announced, then stormed off.

Jack leaned against his staff. "Was that weird to you? Cause that was weird to me."

"It's North." Aster shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Jack considered his words for a moment, then nodded in agreement, shifting his weight to lean against Aster instead. Aster put a commiserating arm around Jack’s shoulders, ignoring the looks the yeti gave them.

Really, people were so strange sometimes.

-fin-

[serbarris]

"Shit! Sorry!"

Strong hands steadied Faralen as she stumbled into a tall figure in the doorway, when balanced she looked up and saw that she had walked straight into Vaimah, her spilt Prosecco leaving a glistening patch on his dark green cable knit jumper. "You're late,” she said, fingers brushing against the wet patch on his jumper.

"You've been enjoying the alcohol.” Vaimah said, his voice deep, fully aware of how he was currently holding his boss. Very aware of how close they were.

"Well… it is Christmas," she retorted, pointing at the lopsided paper hat adorning her head.

"I'm surprised you turned up," Vaimah said, and he was surprised. He knew Faralen's mother was meant to be in the city for the holidays, he booked the flights himself, so why was she not at home with her? Why was he worrying about that when he is clinging to his boss (crush) for dear life in front of all his colleagues?

"What kind of boss wo-"

"BOSS, MISTLETOE!" Aurick's excited shout cut off Faralen, as he pointed to the sprigs of mistletoe that hovered above Faralen and Vaimah in the doorway. Faralen thought that she had never seen Vaimah look so terrified in all the years he's worked for her, but she guessed facing the prospect of being forced to kiss your boss would probably have that effect. Vaimah was more terrified about being forced to kiss the boss he has had a crush on for years.

Faralen reached up and placed a kiss on the cheek of a frozen Vaimah, the crowd of employees gasping at the move from their boss. "I hope you're all happy!" She yelled out to the crowd afterwards, waving her empty champagne flute in the air, "your boss needs a refill!"

-

Later, the two departed together, not ready to trek in the freshly fallen snow, but no car would be able to collect them until morning, so they set off on foot. After a few paces Faralen's hands and face were growing noticeably colder, "Here, take these," Vaimah offered his gloves to her, while she put the much too large gloves on her hands she felt Vaimah move closer and pull her towards him, her breath caught in her throat as he wrapped his scarf around her neck. Earlier, under the mistletoe, she had nearly kissed him square on the lips, she only didn't because of her employees being there. They were closer now than they had been before that kiss, it wouldn’t take much for her to lean forward on her tip toes and kiss him properly this time. "Thanks." She whispered breathlessly, Vaimah's face was still entirely to close to her own, especially since they had both had a fair few drinks at the staff party. Faralen quickly backed up as Vaimah's hands still lingered on his scarf around her neck, "We'd better go before we freeze to death," she said, awkwardly laughing as she continued towards the city centre.

They walked along, talking about the night they just had, joking about the antics of their colleagues, not once did either mention the mistletoe earlier in the night, although it was all they could think about. The want to bring it up grew greater with each step, as they walked arm in arm to stop each other from slipping in the snow. Eventually, they got to the top of Faralen's street, and before them was a fresh sheet of untouched snow, without a single wandering footprint to sully it. "I almost don't want to walk on it," Faralen said, slowly placing her feet to make the fresh snow crunch beneath them a small smile gracing her lips.

Vaimah released Faralen's arm and shifted his stance, "I'll race you," he said with the glint of competition in his eye. He made sure Faralen had heard what he said before taking off, he couldn't go beyond a jog with how deep the snow turned out to be. He looked back to make sure Faralen was also taking part, it wouldn't be any fun if she didn't, and she was quickly gaining on him. Apparently heeled boots and a foot in height difference were not a hindrance when light on your feet.

Faralen overtook Vaimah just metres away from her front door. He knew she had won at that moment, he did let her win a little bit. She reached her front door and turned around triumphant, raising both arms into the air as her pants came out in quick puffs of steam in the cold air. Vaimah came hurtling towards her as she basked in her victory, pinning her to the door. He took in her flushed cheeks and quick breaths, how her eyes and smile were bright and shining. He noticed how she was still wearing his scarf, and how good it looked on her, and how right it felt for her to be wearing it. She noticed how they were so close, and that Vaimah didn't move away from her, couldn't look away from her, and she didn't want him to.

Slowly, slow enough to give Faralen the chance to pull away or push him aside, Vaimah dipped his head to kiss her. At first a small peck on the lips, but Faralen returned the kiss, their lips moving together automatically. And it felt right. Vaimah wrapped an arm around Faralen's waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss further.

Breathing heavily they both suddenly pulled away. Both wondering if it was the heady mix of alcohol and cuffing season that caused the kiss, but as they looked at each other, their eyes flitting between each other's eyes and swollen lips, they knew their feelings were reciprocated. Vaimah's hand drifted to cup Faralen's face, "I've wanted to do that for a very long time," he announced, achingly sincere, and he placed a single kiss on her lips, just waiting for her to come to her senses and push him away, she was his boss after all! But she pulled him in by his coat collar and initiated the kiss herself, backing them up closer the front door as they entwined with one another.

Eventually, they parted, it was too cold to be standing outside, even if they both felt very hot under the collar. "It seems like we have a knack for kissing in doorways," Faralen observed, finally referencing the mistletoe from earlier in the night.

"I think we do," Vaimah agreed, ducking his head to kiss Faralen, wanting to linger so badly, but he couldn't, he definitely shouldn't stay, or try to invite himself inside, it wouldn't be good for either of them, so instead he backed away, pushing his hands into his pockets so he couldn't grab hold of Faralen again and said, "I'll let you get to sleep now," before placing a final kiss on her lips and turning away, beginning the short walk back to his own flat and thinking that he definitely has to buy Aurick a drink the next time he sees him.

[lavender-lotion]

Happy Holidays, Sweetheart | 5,014k

Find the rest here! Read on AO3 here!

December 2017 - Holiday Cheers/Holiday Fails

Stiles is absolutely not going to have his first kiss with Peter be under a sprig of mistletoe, surrounded by his pack. It’s too public for them. Instead he kisses Peter later, when their alone. And many times after that.

Stiles is having fun. He’s having a great time. Seeing everyone, seeing his pack, feels amazing after the four months he’s been away at college. He didn’t get the chance to come home for thanksgiving, not with how busy he was, so seeing everyone now was amazing. What was even more amazing was that Erica and Isaac had talked Derek into decorating the loft.

Everything smelled like pine and peppermint and Stiles hadn’t stopped smiling since he arrived. The loft was warm, the central lighting turned off and instead the large christmas tree and strung fairy lights were softly illuminating the space. Candles were lit and only adding to the soft admostopher, Christmas music playing from a channel on TV.

Stiles hadn’t felt this happy during the holidays in years.

Which was probably why something had to happen

“I’m not doing it.” Stiles stated, folding his arms over his chest.

He was standing in the middle of the loft, underneath the archway that separated the main room from the kitchen and Peter was standing not a foot beside him. Stiles hadn’t been paying attention, too caught up in the conversation he was having with Erica to make sure there was no one else passing by when he was and - well.

He’s not entirely sure how neither he nor Peter noticed, but they had passed under the archway at the same time and before either of them had time to react Erica was hollering at them, the rest of the pack cheering with enthusiasm. It was the first time a non-couple had gotten caught under the sprig and they were all excited.

Stiles, well Stiles probably would have been excited too. But not him and Peter, not for them. Now, Stiles wasn’t oblivious to the relationship they had. They were friends, yes, but they had been dancing on the line of becoming something more since before he went away for college and they had never really - backed away from that line. Sure, they didn’t see each other, but it didn’t mean they talked any less.

Peter was one of the most important people in his life, easily his best friend. And truly, Sites had long since come to the understanding that they were going to end up together. It was the inevitable end to the game they had been playing and it didn’t bother Stiles one bit. Because of that he wasn’t going to share their first kiss in front of their entire pack, because of something as silly as mistletoe.

Peter meant too much to him for that.

“I’m not doing this.” Stiles said again, sighing and walking away when the pack doesn’t stop their cheering right away.

He just needed to be away for a moment, needed to clear his mind. Of course he had wanted to kiss Peter, god how could he not, but not like that - not with an audience. Their first kiss should be there’s, he just wished he had gotten a chance to explain any of that to Peter. He had seen the man’s face when he first turned away, had watched as Peter’s whole face fell as Stiles turned away. He would just have to call Peter later, Stiles decided, walking across the parking lot to his jeep.

“Stiles!” Peter called and Stiles turned, watching the man jog up to him, “Are - are you okay?”

“Yeah - yeah I’m sorry for walking out on you like that,” Stiles looked down, embarrassed.

“No, no it’s alright. I’m sorry if I read into things. I just thought you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of us kissing, but if I go something wrong th-”

“Wait, you meant for us to get caught under the mistletoe together?” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck in a uncharismatic show of nerves.

“I - well yes.” the wolf admitted and Stiles smiled slow.

He nodded to himself, taking a slow step forward and cupping Peter’s face in both of his hands. Stiles was taller than him now, and it was so strange to be looking down, even if it were hardly an inch of difference. Still he leaned down, gently pressing their lips together, letting his hands trail backward to tangle into the wolf’s hair, tipping Peter’s head back and sliding their lips together.

He felt Peter smile against his lips and Stiles breathed deep when the man pulled bottom lip between his teeth, biting and tugging before pulling back with a final kiss. Stiles chased, resting their foreheads together and only realizing Peter’s arms were around his waist, hands settled on the small of his back when Peter hugged him a bit tighter.

“About time,” the man mumbled and Stiles laughed, pressing another kiss to Peter’s lips.

And later, when they returned to the loft the made sure to kiss under the mistletoe, giving the pack a show until the began to groan in complaint.

“This is absolutely horrible,” Peter said, not for the first time mind you, and Stiles just hummed in response.

He was still trying to finish up an assignment, typing away furiously and hardly even half listening to his boyfriend complain. Of course he was thankful that Peter was there with him, not only to celebrate the holidays but to celebrate their one year anniversary. But Stiles was busy.

He would never again take a rushed course over the winter holidays. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to graduate early, this was awful. It was more awful because Peter was here with him, laying across his single dorm bed, tight v-neck and tighter jeans and Stiles just wanted to climb into bed with him.

But he had to get this done first. He couldn’t fall behind just because Peter was visiting. He hadn’t gone home for a reason, and as much as he knew it would have sucked to not see anyone for so long, he needed to stay atop his courses. He had a plan for his education set out and he wanted to accomplish that.

And then Peter had shown up. He had shown up with two large duffle bags and all but forced himself into the room, setting himself against Stiles’ headboard and flicking through his phone. The man had known that Stiles was busy, had actually known that Stiles wasn’t planning on coming back to Beacon Hills for the holidays - had known long before Stiles had worked up the nerve to tell anyone else.

So Peter had shown up and had remained quiet for most of the day. Stiles had appreciated that. It had been so long since they got to share space. Stiles’ school wasn’t too far and Peter had many a time made the trip up to visit, but weekends here and there just weren’t the same as the summer they had spent constantly in each others’ space.

“I’m almost done,” Stiles said, though he didn’t turn around when he heard Peter get off the bed.

It wasn’t like there was anywhere the man could go - they were in a dorm, after all. So Stiles ignored the sounds Peter was making and finished up the last few paragraphs of his essay. It was slow going, with how tired he was and how long he had been typing, but he was determined to finish and Peter being there was providing excellent inspiration.

He finally, finally finished what he was writing, quickly skimming through the text to edit. The reason it took him so long in the first place was how carefully he wrote, going in and rewriting and reworking sentences until he was happy. It was a far cry from his high school days when he just wrote and wrote and hardly edited after.

Now he took his time, careful with his wording and planning out ahead of time. It was more efficient - at least for him - and ensured that his work was produced at a far better quality. So the editing he had to do didn’t take long. He knew he probably should have held off, waited until the next day when he was more awake but he was tired and his boyfriend was laying in his bed and he just wanted to be done with this assignment.

He closed his laptop with a cheer, smile wide on his face as he spun around in his chair to face - oh. His mouth dropped open at the sight in front of him. Peter was still laying on his bed, though he was now shirtless and in a pair of worn, low hanging sweats. There were pillows - far more than Sitles owned - piled around him and several blankets piled along the end of the bed.

Peter was watching him with a small, soft smile - one Stiles knew only he would ever get to see - and Peter opened his arms and motioned Stiles over. He went, taking a moment to slip off his jeans and flannel, plucking up the shirt Peter had been wearing and slipping it on. Stiles may be taller but Peter was still broader so the shirt fit loose around his neck and shoulders, all but hanging off his shoulder by the ridiculous v. Still, it was soft and smelled like Peter and he reveled in his boyfriend scent being on his skin.

He crawled into the bed, pulling with him the blankets and settled himself with his back to Peter’s chest, wrapping blankets and blankets around them until he was in a comfortable cocoon of warmth. He sighed when Peter pressed a kiss to the back of his head, scooting down a little so he could rest the back of his head in the centre of Peter’s chest, settling between Peter’s spread legs.

“I brought hot chocolate,” Peter said, pressing a thermos into Stiles’ waiting hands.

“Dear god I fucking love you,” Stiles moaned after taking the first sip. He had no idea how much hot chocolate mix Peter must have used, but it tasted like a goddamn chocolate bar, creamy and far too sweet.

“I - really?” Peter was now laying tense behind him, obviously shocked by the casual declaration but Stiles only smiled.

“Of course you dumbass. I was just waiting until I saw you to tell you.” Stiles rolled his eyes, settling himself firmed against Peter’s chest and bringing one of the wolf’s arms around him when Peter still sat frozen.

“Oh. Well, I love you too darling.” Peter said, arms tightening and holding Stiles impossibly closer.

Stiles smiled, taking another sip of his ridiculously chocolatey hot chocolate. Sure he wasn’t getting to see his pack, or his dad, but he had Peter here wrapped around him and that maybe made up for it.

“You don’t have to go through all this trouble, you know.” Peter says it quietly though Stiles picks it up nonetheless.

He wants to tell Peter that yes, he does. He does have to. It’s their first Christmas living together and of course he was going to get a get a tree and decorate it and also decorate the whole apartment and bake cookies and - and there’s a lot he just needed to do. But Stiles isn’t really sure how to explain it.

He knows he didn’t have to do it all alone, didn’t have to wait for the one weekend that he knew Peter was going to be out of town. But - but it felt safer, that way. More comfortable. He just wasn’t sure how to phrase that in a way that made any sense to someone else. Decorating was always something he did. Even those first few years after his mom - well, the first few years she wasn’t there to do. It was always him who did.

His father could hardly leave the bottle long enough to work and he certainly wasn’t going to pull himself out of his drunken stumbling to decorate a tree. So at twelve Stiles bought a fair sized fake tree and set it up with great difficulty, before rifling through the attic and bringing down boxes and boxed and decorations.

And then he had slaved away, had tried his hardest to get the house looking like his mother used to, to make it feel just a little bit like she4 wasn’t gone. But - but then his father had came home, and had drank and then, and then -

Well, then Stiles had to redecorate the next night. And the next. But eventually his father stopped tearing everything down in a drunken rage, instead he would curl up into his arm chair, looking smaller than Stiles ever thought he father could look. He never let the man help, though, hadn’t trusted him enough after that first week. Actually he had never let anyone help. Because this was his, his and his mother’s and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that for him.

So he had waited until Peter left before even going shopping. Had spent the whole day at the mall and then the whole night setting everything up. Really, it sort of looked like Christmas had vomited in their apartment but, but Stiles loved it, always had and always would, too. Something about the holiday made him feel closer with his mom. She always got so excited around this time of year, loved the colours and the smells and Stiles learned to love it too.

“I - I had to?” Stiles phrased it like a question and tried to ignore that his voice cracked. There was just too much there for him to explain. Maybe - maybe one day, maybe he’d be able to find the words, be able to explain to Peter what it all meant but right now he felt too bare, to exposed.

“Next year, next year we’ll do it together.” Peter said it as a statement, not questioning the length of their relationship nor the fact that Peter was actually going to help. It made Stiles felt more comfortable though, that he wasn’t being given the option of the man’s assistance. Stiles knew he would just shrug it off anyway.

“I love you,” Stiles said, leaning into Peter’s hold when was pulled into a hug, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder as he breathed deep. He wasn’t close to panic but the memories still stung and he didn’t want to ruin their evening.

So he closed his eyes, let himself get lost for a moment in the feel of his boyfriend but he stood and offered Peter a goofy smile.

“I bought so many candy canes!”

“Peter! Peeeeeeter!” Stiles shouted, all but running through their apartment looking for his boyfriend. He was excited, was so excited! Of course, he always has a little extra energy around the holidays. They’ve always meant so much to him but it’s been even better this year. Peter kept his promise from the year before and had helped Stiles decorate. It was better this year when they didn’t need to go out and buy everything anew, instead having the decorations Stiles had bought the previous year and only adding a few things here and there.

They had everything set up in the first weekend of November, and now mid-December Stiles was once again excited. He had spent the day shopping with Lydia, a welcome escape from work. He was getting more and more stressed by self imposed due dates. He had work projects and personal projects but did not have the time to get it all done. It was leaving him cranky and irritable and when Peter suggested he take a break, he had.

Catching up with Lydia would always be something that made him happy. Of course he had loved the girl once, and he still did, if only in a far different way. She was his best friend, had been for years and would be for years come. Seeing her had helped to get him out of the mental block he had been in and he had a few ideas for the projects he was currently working on.

Though, that wasn’t why he was excited. Rather -

“I got us matching Christmas sweaters!” Stiles exclaimed, rushing into the apartment in a whirlwind of limbs. He plopped bags on the kitchen island before rifling through looking for - ah!

He pulled the two sweaters out, smiling at them before turning to show Peter, watching the man with wide excited eyes. He couldn’t wait to wear them, to take pictures in them! They were going to make the best Christmas cards ever!

“Darling, I love you but those are hideous,” Peter said after a long moment. He scrunched his nose and curled back his lip in an obvious show of disgust and Stiles laughed loud.

“I know! Aren’t they amazing!” Stiles cheered, darting forward to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek before he pulled off the hoodie he was currently wearing, shoving the new sweater over his head and modeling it for Peter.

“Oh, you meant for them to be awful?” Peter asked and he sounded just as confused as he looked, head titled to the side and both of his brows furrowed in question

“Dude, duh! We’re going to take awesome pictures and send them to everyone!” Stiles informed him, nodding decisively. It was going to be amazing.

“And why are we going to do this, exactly?” Peter asked, though he had finally made his way to the shopping bags, pulling out his matching sweater and staring at it with a sneer.

“Babe, it’s like, a thing. Ugly Christmas sweaters? We gotta do it!”

“As long as I get to take you out of it afterwards, darling boy.” Peter leered and Stiles laughed, throwing arms around Peter’s neck and dragging him closer for a slow, long kiss.

“You can always undress me, Peter.”

Stiles was tired and cold. Mostly just cold. It was nearly Christmas Eve, late into December and there was a thin dusting of snow everywhere. The weather was dropping and didn’t seem like it was going to be stopping anytime soon. The walk home had been far too long and Stiles had to wonder why he didn’t just drive.

It had been nice that morning, the sun high and the sky and Stiles had forgone his heavier coat. Now, with the sun long set and the light artificial, he was far too cold. He just wanted to wrap himself up in his bed and pull Peter ontop of himself so he could properly soak up his boyfriend’s warmth.

Instead he walked into the apartment to the smell of chicken, warm and spicy and he smiled to himself. Learning how good of a cook Peter was had definitely been a highlight of the early days of their relationship. The man knew what he was doing in the kitchen, was excellent at putting food together in a way Stiles just could never manage. It wasn’t that he was a bad good cook, he could cook basics well - had to for a time - but anything complicated and he was lost.

He took off his winter wear, leaving his boots on the plastic mat to dry and hanging his coat, cupping his hands over his mouth and blowing out hot air - trying to warm his fingers and his nose. He found Peter easily, the man was humming to the radio and piling food onto plates. He made a beeline to his boyfriend, shoving his nose into Peter’s neck and tucking his hands under the man’s shirt, wedging them between his armpits.

Stiles sighed, the wolf’s supernatural warmth seeping through his body all but immediately.

“Cold out there?” Peter asked and he continued to move his arms, though Stiles didn’t mind. He was warm now and that’s all that mattered to him at the moment. Peter chuckled when all he did  was whine in response, still cold.

“Alright, I need to move sweetheart,” Peter said softly and Stiles opened his eyes at last, looking down at the nicely laid out plates in Peter’s hands.

Stiles hummed but moved back, making a questioning noise when Peter walked into their little dining room. Stiles followed and - his breath caught and he raised a hand to cover his mouth. The room looked lovely, table cloth laid out, candles light and glasses already filled with wine. There was a pie on the table already, a bunch of roses in the vase standing proud.

“I can’t believe you did all this, for me?” Stiles says, looking at the dining room with wide eyes.

“Of course sweetheart, did you forgot it was our anniversary?” Peter asked and fuck, because Stiles did. His eyes widened when he realized he hadn’t even gotten Peter flowers.

“I am a terrible boyfriend,” he muttered, walking forward and pulling Peter into a long kiss, “I’m so sorry.”

“It is quite alright love,” Peter assured him, pulling out a chair for Stiels before sitting himself.

Peter looked nervous during diner and that - well that just made Stiles nervous. Peter had always been a confident man, secure in himself and the things he wanted, never one to shy from going after he wanted. More than that he knew he was attractive and wasn’t ashamed of it. Peter was secure in himself, had always been.

So this, this was strange. He had no idea what was making his boyfriend avoid eye contact but it made something heavy settle in Stiles’ stomach. He wasn’t insecure enough to think that Peter was breaking up with him - not after so long together and no seeing how much work Peter had gone through to put their dinner together.

But Stiles was nervous all the less. Well, he had been, until Peter stood, clearing his throat loudly. He seemed to nod to himself, standing still for a moment before he rounded the table to stand next to Stiles, taking a deep breath before lowering himself onto one knee. He stared up at Stiles, face open and vulnerable.

“I love you,” Peter began and Stiles was already nodding, eyes burning with wetness even as Peter pulled the little black box from his back pocket, “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I haven’t been able to imagine my life without you in for a long time, and i never want to have to imagine it. So, Mieczysław Stilinski, will you marry me?”

“God, yes, yes of course!” Stiles voice cracked and he let out a laugh that was far more of a sob when Peter slipped the ring onto his finger. He slid out of his chair, pulling Peter close and holding him tight.

“I love you, I love you.” He repeated again and again into the man’s skin, Peter holding him just as tight.

The clearing of the preserve was gorgeous. It was on the colder side but there had yet to be any snow. Stiles felt fine in his suit and at least he cold explain away his crying as his eyes being cold. There were rows and rows of wooden chairs, decorated with soft white flowers and fairy lights were hung around the clearing. Hanging lanterns helped to brighten the space and there was soft music being played.

His dad was right there, his Babcia and a few other far off families members sitting in the front row. Scott and Lydia were lined up behind him, Derek and Cora and Malia behind Peter. The rest of their pack -  and even if they lived hours away and only saw them on holidays they were still pack - were sat in the front row as well, other members of the town, old and new friends alike, sat in the rows and rows behind.

Everything was gorgeous. Peter was gorgeous. The man stood in front of him, hands wrapped together and he was smiling, the soft smile he only ever shared when they were alone, when it was just the two of them. Stiles could hardly pay attention to anything else and he felt liem his heart was going to keep growing until it could no longer fit inside his chest.

He smiled wide, staring up at Peter and god, once again struck by how much he loved the man in front of him. It would never stop surprising him that Peter loved him just as much back and when Stiles made his vows he made sure to vow to himself to never forget, never take for granted.

“I do,” Stiles said and he couldn’t pretend that his tears were anything other than the joy he was feeling, his heart soaring high in his chest.

“I do,” Peter leaned in, slotting their lips together and Stiles - Stiles had never been happier.

“Okay, so I’m thinking we can put the tree I tha-at corner?” Stiles said, stretching out the ‘a’. He wasn’t entirely sure what would look best, after all decorating had always been Peter’s thing. Well, it was Peter’s thing until it came to Christmas, then it was all Stiles.

“If you want to, dear.” Peter said, long since learning his lessons about interfering with decorating.

“We’re going to need more stuff.” Stiles sighed, looking around their living room. It was far larger than their apartment and there was more room. He was actually pretty sure that the tree was going to be too small for the space.

As much as Stiles didn’t want to, he was fairly certain a shopping trip would be involved. Yes, that would do it. He looked around their home, their home and couldn’t help but smile. They had come so far, fuck were married and had a goddamn house that sometimes Stiles felt like he was dreaming.

He wasn’t, since Peter was wrapping himself around his back and holding him close, softly humming into his ear, “We can get whatever you like. You know I don’t mind letting you take over for the holidays.”

“I know,” Stiles said, chewing on his bottom lip. “I just want it to be perfect.”

“It always is,” Peter reassured and Stiles sighed at the damp kiss pressed to his neck, resting a little more of his weight against Peter as he continued to make a list in his head.

They were going to need a lot of stuff.

And a bigger tree.

“Stiles, don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing.” Peter scolds, scolds, as if Stiles is some sort of trouble making child and doesn’t even turn around.

That asshole.

Stiles pops the large dollop of dough into his mouth anyway.

“You know, when I asked you for help this was really not what I meant.” Peter says, continuing to hand mix a second bowl of cookie dough - probably because Stiles stole the first one and began cooing over it while cradling it to is chest. It was very good cookie dough, after all.

“I mean, we’ve been together for seven years, babe. I’d have thought you’d know what you were getting yourself into at this point,” Stiles mumbles, trying his best to look innocent as he continued to scoop out cookie dough.

“Honestly, darling, it’s never too late to hope for change.”

“Hey!” Stiles complains, frowning at the man in front of him. Peter still hasn’t turned around, is just calmly mixing together cookie dough, “I don’t even see why we have to bake it anyway.”

“And I don’t see why it is such a big deal that we are?” Stiles grumbles something unpleasant about Peter at that. It’s not that he’s actually annoyed, at least not after having this argument for years. The heat had left their words long ago and now it was more a familiar teasing.

“Stiles, we are adults. You, are an adult. Don’t you think it’s time to stop eating the dough and actually baking the cookies?”

“I really don’t see how eating cookie dough has anything to do with with my level of adult-y-ness, but okay.” Stiles grumbles, hoping off the island and moving towards the stove - shoving an extra large bite of dough into his mouth first - and beginning to plop balls onto the covered pan. He thinks for a moment that he should maybe wash his hands first - but, he’s most likely going to be eating all of them plus, germs would probably die in the oven, right? Stiles shrugs, probably right, and continues to create little cookie balls.

“Thank you darling,” Peter says, voice faux-sweet and he plasters himself to Stiles’ back, settling the second bowl of cookie dough next to the first on the counter, “Is this really so hard?”

“Yes. It is incredibly taxing. It is so much work. I regret every decision I’ve made in my life to get to this point.” Stiles sighs dramatically, swooning against Peter’s chest and raising a hand to fan his forehead.

“Every decision?” Peter asks, the metal of his ring cool where his hands have slipped up Stiles’ shirt, laying wide palms over the slight pudge of his belly. He leans back into it - like he always does - soaking up the heat that Peter offers, and he smiles softly as Peter begins to kiss up the side of his neck.

“Not everything,” he says softly, continuing with his task. He’s never really gotten over the easy intimacy they share. For so long, he never thought he would  have a relationship like the ones his parents had. It was just something he had thought for himself, that he would get to have that sort of devotion with someone else.

But he did, he had Peter, his husband and he smiled down as he slipping his shirt up, tangling their left hands together and staring at the rings nestled nicely against one another. It still surprised him, sometimes. They’d been married for two years and Stiles still got surprised, a happy grin taking over his face when he thought about Peter, or when he mentioned him, or introduced him.

“Happy Holidays sweetheart,” Peter says into his skin, and Stiles leans back further, resting more of his weight against Peter.

He plops another bite of dough into his mouth, laughing loud when Peter nips at his skin.

“I love you too,”

[thesunlovesmuses]

Powers of a Demigod

Prompt: You are a mid-level deity, hoping to move up the ranks of your pantheon. What are your powers, and how will you use them to impress the head gods and the others?

“... I’m sorry, I must’ve hit my head on your patio harder than I thought. Did you say you were… a demigod?” Katiana asked sceptically, clutching her still throbbing head as she followed Ridge down the winding stairs from the bedroom she woke up in. She knew the man was eccentric from his visits to her small village when he ran out of supplies, but was he seriously that deluded to think himself a god?

“Oh, you heard right buttercup! How else do you think I would’ve survived that fireball to the face otherwise,” he replied, swinging the door open to a room she couldn’t quite see. “That bandit did have quite the aim I must admit.... I’ll have to look into that.” and with that, he entered the room, leaving Katiana on the stairs. Without anywhere else to go, and a deep breath for courage, she entered the room.

The first thing she noticed when she entered the mystery room was the smell of rosemary wafting towards the door, like a curious wisp exploring a long abandoned castle. Which she supposed it was if you believed the tales floating around the village. Sprigs of rosemary were hung above the lit fireplace as the fire roared beneath, wanting to reach towards the sky, but settling for tickling the top of the hearth. A massive oak table sat in the centre piled high with open books, powders and ink pots, a lone pen sitting forgotten on a blank page, dripping ink in revenge for it’s neglect. A door to her left could only be seen once she stepped fully into the room, and as she stepped into the room, she noticed an alcove that seemed to be carved into the wall. A window the length of the alcove filtered light into the room, exposing the dust particles that floated in the air from the disturbance of the door moving. The ledge was piled with cushions for sitting on and staring at the view from the top of the tower. And sitting there without a care in the world, was…

“Oliver!” She shouted, rushing towards her feline friend and scooping him up into her arms, burying her face into his belly. Forgetting that Ridge was in the room, smiling from the bookshelf as he took his long coat off. Forgetting the tower, and the comforting feel she got from everything inside it. Forgetting the attack on her village for just a moment. To her, in that moment, it was just her best friend and her, reunited.

“I was wondering if he was yours. I would’ve asked but… you know. The whole knocked out thing.” Ridge chuckled, breaking the moment and putting one of the books from the table back into the book shelf. Chuckling a little bit she lifted her face and picked him up. Walking towards him. Now that one of her main concern was gone, she was curious about what the ruffled man had said to her before.

“Are you really a demigod? I’ve heard stories but that’s all they are. Stories.” She asked, scratching Oliver under his chin as her purred contently, happily just laying in her arms. Raising an eyebrow, he walked towards the fireplace and grabbed something from the mantelpiece. “Want me to prove it?” He returned, smirking at her and twirling the object around his fingers. It looked like it was a straight razor.

Before Katiana could say anything, or even reply back to his question, he scored a line across the back of his hand. Blood instantly started coming out of the wound and dripping down his hand towards his shirt sleeves, wanting to reach towards the fabric and spread its colour throughout the cotton, like paint on her canvas.

“What on earth are you doing!?! Don’t you know how many nerve endings you have in your hand?” Katiana exclaimed, putting Oliver gently but swiftly on the slightly tided table and rushing towards him. Automatically reaching into the pouch at her waist for the bandages she always carried, she attempted to bind the wound, like she would for all of her patients. But Ridge caught her wrist just as she was about to. Confused as to why he would want her to stop, she looked up at his face, which appeared to have a curious gleam to it, and a satisfied smile.

“Just watch.” Was all he said, so she turned her gaze back towards his hands. At first, it looked like nothing was happening, and she was getting concerned about the amount of blood he was losing. All of her apothecary training was going crazy. “Just ignore him!” It screamed. “He’s clearly delusional! Wrap it up now!” And she almost gave into that voice and bound it. But slowly, ever so slowly, a blue twinkle seemed to appear along the edge of the wound. And slowly, ever so slowly, the cut begun to come together, as if it was stitching itself. The flow of blood became slower and slower, until the cut fully closed in front of her eyes. And with one last twinkle, the cut closed and joined, almost as if there was nothing there to begin with.

She was baffled by this. How on earth did he do that without magic. Because she knew that no magic was used to do that. Everyone who ever attended any form of education had to learn that magic left a signature of sorts when used; either a feeling of static in the air or a trace of who cast it. But there was nothing in the air while his wound closed. So if it wasn’t magic…

“You really do have the power of the gods… don’t you?” She said in disbelief, almost to herself. But she knew that Ridge had heard her, because he chuckled under his breath as he let go of her wrist and slowly took the other from her hand. “You catch on quick little buttercup.” He finished, walking towards the table, putting down the straight razor and picking up the ink pen, tutting at the mess it had caused to his notebook in his absence.

“Is that what gods do? Heal themselves?” She asked, quickly joining him at the table and running a hand along Oliver’s back, making purr once again where he had been silent and watching everything unfold with his steady gaze. She felt guilty for asking, since she should really be getting back to the village and trying to figure out what happened. But the gears in her head were turning faster and faster, and her curiosity was overtaking her rational senses. Wholeness would she get the chance to talk to someone like him again? “Oh we can do more than that. So much more! If a demigods accept his gifts and applies himself.”

“Like what? I know you probably won’t tell me, since it probably needs to be kept a secret, and I am a complete stranger after all-” 

“Well, I must admit it is a bit strange to be talking about this so soon. People usually have to ply me with drink to take my secrets. But I've never met someone so… innocently curious in so long. It might be nice to talk to teach someone about this. Especially since you seem to be the type who wouldn’t even spill the village gossip to people if the person in question didn’t want it spilt. So maybe i’ll tell you a couple of my secrets.” She was a bit perturbed from his quick assessment of her, and how accurate he had actually been, but said nothing in case he decided to stop talking about it.

“Well… I can’t speak about other demigods, since I've never met one properly to learn about their powers. But from my case, it appears that a demigod has much quicker reflexes than most regular people-”

“Wait, you didn’t use the word…”

“...What word?” Ridge asked, that curious gleam coming back to his eye and leaning towards Katiana on his elbows.

“... Mortals. All the stories I've ever heard referred to those without god-like powers as mortals.” She finished, looking a bit self-conscious about interrupting him mid sentence.

But that would soon change, because as soon as she had finished her last sentence, he laughed. His laugh was like honey, coating anyone who heard it in warmth and love. And all the self-conscious thoughts that swam through her head disappeared. Because she could tell that he was the kind of man that appreciated unfiltered thoughts and questions.

“You sure are a funny one Katiana. After everything you’ve seen today, that’s the thing you question?” He finished, trying to calm down and get back to where he was.

“No, I don’t use that word. Because I don’t think i’m any different from anyone else in the world. I can still feel the same emotions you can. I can still be hurt. I can still be killed… maybe not as easily but I still need to be careful of bandits on the road like you.”

“But back to the original questions, apart form the faster reflexes, it appears that I have better senses than most; better sense of smell and sight. I have a stronger immune system than most; even to poisons. And we’re able to make barriers of magic, without the consumption of magic in a pinch. Just like I did during the bandit attack.” He finished, looking at Katiana once again, almost studying her for a reaction.

“...That’s incredible.” Was all she could say, as she sat there, stroking Oliver as she processed the information the man across from her had just told her. 

“You’re very accepting aren’t you? Most people would still be a bit sceptical of everything I've just said, even if they saw what happened to my hand.” He mused, but Katiana didn’t even hear what he said, as thousands of thoughts swam through her head at once. All of those stories of demigods and adventure she’d ever heard. All these things she never thought possible before, were happening before her eyes now. In fact now that she was finally able to wrap her head around what he was able to do back in the village. She only had one question left for him.

“Do you know why the bandits attacked our village?”

[loireramblings]

Of mice and dogs!

Well, that was a bit of a trial. After a few requests from people, who saw my first page of writing on Facebook, for the link to my blog I decided to jump on in and create a blog.

Mmmmm, despite much advice online and from friends that it would be easy, it took all day and quite a bit of bad temper on my part. Still on my third attempt with three different hosting sites,  I am now up and running and you are reading the result. I am sure I will become more proficient at this posting lark and uploading photos and hopefully the writing too!

What am I going to write about today Russell (my OH) has asked and I had so many ideas buzzing around when he asked. Now, of course, that I have finally sat down to write they also seem to have flown away to who knows where. Note to self always jot down ideas for later use. Of course, if I did that I would never get anything else done as I would always be jotting ideas down.  

Anyhow back to yesterday. 

We were both in need of a break from the frustration of browsers that wouldn’t host, gmail accounts that weren’t compatible (how could it be? I don’t have one), lost passwords to old email accounts. You all know the frustration I mean and so we put our dog,  Nacho a Brittany Spaniel, on the lead and went for a walk, to blow away all the tension.

And blow away is what the wind did. It was blowing a very cold easterly gale. Togged up in our warmest coat, scarves, gloves, hats and boots, no photo of that look here folks, the wind still managed to find its way into crevices  and chill us. Nacho, didn’t care at all. He knows if we turn up the hill we are going towards the forest and he can run off of the lead. This, being hunting season, only happens when we know it is a no hunting day. The risks of being accidentally shot at by an enthusiastic hunter are too great for us to risk this walk on any hunt day. It seems hunt policy is shoot at anything that moves and find out what it was afterwards, and sadly sometimes too late. Accidents are not unknown.

Today though the only hunter was Nacho. We walked up the track, looking back and admiring the light of the sky, the scudding clouds and the late afternoon glow of sunshine on the river. Nacho meanwhile had stopped to carry out one of his favourite occupations. Digging. We left him to it, he usually eventually takes fright at being left alone and comes racing up the track to find us.

Sometimes we wait just admiring the view. Sometimes others are out walking too and we stand and chat awhile. We find out all manner of things this way, where the best mushrooms are, where we can get free horse manure from (for our new vegetable garden), the local opinion of the hunt (majority view seems to be they are fools), what to be planting in our vegetable garden and of course the best vigneron in the area. They all also have their own political view, on Brexit, which they are more than willing to share as well. We however, as immigrants, try not to become too involved in these discussions.

Today in this biting wind we are the only walkers and it is too cold to hang around, so we retrace our steps back to our frantically digging dog. The land around him is a mess, holes he has dug that didn’t come to fruition for him. What, you may ask is fruition for him? Well, he loves to give mice the fright of their lives. If he scents mice, he will dig a little, stamp his paws a bit, stand back and wait to see if any mice jump. And let me assure you mice are capable of doing their equivalent of pole jumps, but with no pole to aid them to gain height. I had absolutely no idea mice jumped let alone how high until I witnessed this. Having given them this fright he quickly loses interest and seeks out another nest to dig for. Today though, it is too cold to watch the well know sport of mice jumping,  we cut his game short, hook him up on the lead and turn homewards.

En route we see Jacque, a neighbour who lives further up the hill than us, out emptying his post box.  We stop to say hello and wish him Bonnes Fetes. We chat a little about how we have each spent Christmas Day, him and his family with his daughter, us tranquilly at home. “Come on in for a coffee?” he asks. We look at each other, we hardly know Jacques having met him three maybe four times at village events. But yes why not? I have to say we rarely refuse this invites. We feel very welcomed when our neighbours are kind enough to offer us an invitation such as this. We want to be part of our community, we both need to practice our french and we enjoy the company and conversation they offer.

Of course this being a french home  their beautiful golden retriever is in the garden. He is not as our neighbour calls Nacho, a chien de salon (lounge dog). This presents a problem. Nacho is an ex hunting dog from Spain. Left as many dogs are at the end of the season, by a dual carriageway he spent 6 months in a rescue centre before we adopted him. Whatever his history is we can never know, but it has left him very wary of other dogs (and often humans too). Anyway, we enter as invited and leave Nacho to roam the very large garden.

He though has other ideas. He sits by the door barking. Jacques is busy hunting down tea, which we both prefer to coffee in France ( French coffee deserves a whole blog to itself). Meanwhile Nacho is devoting himself to becoming louder and louder. Russell goes outside and attempts to settle him. No luck, he now starts scratching at Jacques beautiful wooden front door. Oh no! Please don’t let him leave scratch marks on this door I am thinking. Jacques must be thinking the same because he tells us that both dogs can come in. Phew! Of course then we have to deal with Jacques’ retriever, who is young and playful, wanting an anti social nervous older dog to play. It just isn’t going to happen. Eventually though peace reigns. And we settle down to a cup of french coffee. Throughout the dogs’ performance poor old Jacques has been opening every cupboard in the kitchen and dining room. To no avail, there is not one leaf of tea in the house.Never mind the conversation is great and when we leave we feel we have forged another stronger relationship in the village.

Now we know, the best route to ride our bikes through the vineyards, where to go for art lessons and that if we decide to follow the Loire a Velo path, which runs 500 metres down the road from us it is much prettier to follow it westwards than eastwards.

By now it is dark and the cold has not abated. A warming glass of mulled wine and duck confit is needed to put the cold to rest. A rib sticker of a dinner, which won’t take much effort because we made the confit before Christmas and it just needs warming through with some haricot beans. Served with good old mashed potatoes we soon forget we were ever cold.

Nacho lies fast asleep in his favourite position, in front of the fire, probably dreaming of the mouse that got away.

Recipe for Duck Confit

Duck legs and wings ( we buy them whenever they are on special offer) Salt, Thyme, Garlic Heavy casserole dish or slow cooker Kilner jars or Plastic storage boxes to store the confit

Take the duck portions and rub a generous amount of salt into each piece. Leave for around four hours then wash off the excess salt. Dry on kitchen roll. Rub in Thyme.

Put the duck portions with whole garlic bulbs and extra sprigs of theme into the casserole dish, or slow cooker. Place casserole dish into very low oven (we use a wood fired cooker and so giving you a precise temperature is difficult) If using slow cooker put on low. The duck needs to cook as long and as slowly as possible, I have left it overnight in a slow cooker, in the oven six hours is probably sufficient. When it is cooked remove it and fish out the garlic and thyme. Put the duck into your clean containers and when the fat that has come out of the duck in the cooking process has cooled a little, pour it over the duck. It will keep well like this for weeks, if you salt it for longer (overnight) it will keep for months, but we prefer the taste and texture of salting it for less time.

When it comes to using, scrape off the excess fat that you used to cover it in the jar. Put into a skillet or cast iron pan, place in an oven and reheat. We like to place the duck on top of haricot beans and chop in plenty of fresh parsley just before we serve it. 

Enjoy!

Do you make your own confit and if so is your version different to ours? Please do share your recipes here and we will enjoy trying them.

[izazaa]

[sniperspy] x3

another comment!fic on Date Night 

flower shop au + two clones walk into a bar (the fics i’m actually working on are awful -- tentaspy (lo), sex pollen (lmao), and pseudo slave fic (o no) -- so i was hoping to start on something more decent, but.)

comment!fic to the prompt, "gift giving or holidays”

In some strange facsimile of a normal company, the goings-on of RED slow down during the winter holidays, and its mercenaries are left to languish in the rec room, no bloody mission to entertain them. On one such slow day, crammed together on a couch in the back, watching their teammates' hijinks, Spy leans over and drawls into Sniper's ear, "I suppose your accuracy only extends to bullets."

He's turned to Sniper, and his face is so close – they are pressed so close on this couch, how did this happen? – that it makes Sniper's heart hitch, but he's got on this idle expression, as though he's already dismissed the possibility of Sniper's skill, and Sniper cannot abide by that. So keeping eye contact the entire time, Sniper plucks the toothpick from his sandvich, and whips it at the dart board across the room. It whistles through the air, and thocks soundly in the dead centre of the bullseye.

The corner of Spy's mouth twitches, an almost smile, almost delighted. From his jacket, he discreetly pulls out a small knife, and, inexplicably, a sprig of mistletoe. "The doorway on the right. As soon as Miss Pauling takes two steps towards it."

It's tricky, with the added weight and resistance of the mistletoe, but again, it hits its target precisely, just as Miss Pauling reaches it, and just as Scout returns from his toilet break. The both of them look up, and their eyes widen, and then Miss Pauling has to shield herself with her clipboard from Scout's bluster.

Sniper cracks up, shaking with silent laughter. Beside him, pressed up against his side, Spy finally smiles, smug.

There is an outbreak of mistletoe on base after that. The sprigs appear as if by magic, even in places that were empty just a second ago, and their other teammates are happy to bully its latest victim into compliance. Heavy is made to kiss Natasha twice. Pyro headbutts Engie hard enough that the muzzle of his mask sends Engie's hard hat flying. In her efforts to avoid Scout, Miss Pauling has kissed so far, a can of Bonk!, a sandvich, a lvl 2 sentry, and Archimedes, instead of him.

It's the most festive fun he's had since Christmas on the farm all those years ago, sneaking around the base with Spy, armed with the tiny bow and arrow set that he'd procured from god knows where. But as with all good things, it has to come to an end; Spy soon runs out of mistletoe.

In a secluded corner of the base, Sniper holds up an arrow forlornly, the last sprig dangling from its tip. "I hope you have something planned for the grand finale."

"Ah, I did have something in mind," says Spy, then leans in and kisses his cheek. His nose nudges Sniper's sunglasses crooked. He chuckles at the sight it makes, then pushes further into Sniper's space, one hand at his face ostensibly to fix it. "That grand enough for you?"

Sniper stabs the arrow into the wall behind Spy so that the mistletoe hangs above them proper, and then presses Spy up against the wall. "Grander," he demands, then leans in to kiss Spy proper.

flower shop au (i once saw fanart of this au, wherein spy inexplicably had his mask on still -- it was hilarious, but i never found it again orz)

When Mundy storms into the flower shop, slams down twenty dollars, and makes his demands, he feels less like an unreasonable asshole customer when the florist turns, and what Mundy thought was a head scarf, is actually an equally unreasonable blue ski mask, wrapped around his entire head, and down his neck.

"What." Sniper looks around but the newly opened flower shop remains just that, with its bright bursts of colourful blossoms, and lush leaves. Nothing suspect about it, save the blue masked man behind the counter, whose name, when Sniper squints at the tag pinned to his matching blue apron, is Spy.

Spy furrows his brow at him. "I believe those words are mine. Could you repeat your request?"

Sniper repeats, enunciating carefully, "I need flowers that say fuck you."

"Ah," says Spy blandly, very professional. It endears him to Sniper immediately, mask or no mask. "Of course. Might I inquire the recipients...?"

"My parents."

To his further credit, Spy still doesn't even bat an eyelid, only slides out from behind the counter to regard his shelves of flowers. "Family feud?" he asks absently, plucking long stemmed flowers and placing them on brown paper.

Mundy shrugs, then decides, what the hell. It isn't like he'll ever need the services of a florist again, what with his toddling love life and the way his relationship with his biological parents is going. "We'd been estranged for 30 years. I only just found them. Doesn't make for a chummy relationship."

"I'm sure they had their reasons." Inexplicably, Spy's chosen this part of his story to stiffen. He stares resolutely at a single yellow carnation, and says with practiced informality, "After all, did they not ultimately reach out to you?"

"I reached out to them," Sniper grumbles, but concedes, "I'm not sayin' leaving your child makes you a bad person, but if your child tracks you down through no effort of your own, and the first thing you ask for is money, that might."

On a more expressive, non ski mask clad person, Spy's face might have read yikes. Instead, he goes, "ah," again and busies himself with arranging the chosen flowers into a small bouquet. "Yellow carnation, a fanciful way of saying 'you have disappointed me,'" he explains, slender fingers nimbly bundling them together and securing them with a ribbon, "foxglove for insincerity, and lastly, an orange lily for hatred."

The bouquet glows gold when it is completed. Sniper isn't a flower type of person, but even he can tell it's a job well done. He thanks Spy earnestly as he pays.

"Glad to hear it. And I hope your meeting goes well," Spy offers.

Sniper knows it won't, but with his bouquet in hand, he isn't dreading it quite as much as he had before.

two clones walk into a bar

It takes the BLU Sniper a good half year to sort through the nonsense left in his head after Medic's brain scooping, matching half remembered memories scrapped together with what he could dig out of his… original's file, so by the time he makes it to the house, it is dilapidated, and his parents are dead.

He sinks to his knees in front of their tombstones, traces the inscriptions in the hand carved stone. They were not his parents, technically, only the parents of the man he was cloned from, but they were good people either way, and worthy of grieving over. This is what Sniper has to tell himself when his vision begins to blur and fat tears drop onto his fists, clenched tight atop his knees.

There is a rustle behind him and it may well be twigs to a fire because Sniper is snarling with blistering fury as he launches himself at the intruder, kukri drawn. His rifle is left before the graves; he wants a fight.

The intruder parries his blade, but not before it slices through the thick fabric of his mask. With a grunt, both men topple over from Sniper's momentum. Sniper takes a blow to his shoulder hard enough that it knocks his kukri out of his grip, but he twists and slams the intruder's hand into the ground to dislodge his knife, and then they are grappling like children in the dirt.

Despair makes his movements sloppy and the mam bores Sniper into the earth. As Sniper thrashes under his weight, they locks eyes for a split second, and all the fight drains from him. With the last of his strength, he plants a boot into his stomach and punts him to the side. Then he lies there, gasping for breath, staring blankly at the sky. Taking his lack of resistance as cue, the intruder collapses down next to him.

For a moment, all is quiet. There is only the wind hissing across the expansive land, and their harsh breathing.

"Feeling better?"

The voice though feathered and panting is painfully familiar. Sniper would laugh if he had the breath for it. Of course it is the BLU Spy. That idiot of a clone who had the audacity to make passes at him before he decided against a counterfeit, then returned to mooning over his original, the RED Sniper, for the rest of their years as teammates.

Despite his better judgement, Sniper demands, "What are you doing here?"

"There are not many of us left."

That is true. Medic and Engineer had been terminated permanently for knowing too many of the company's secrets. There hadn't been enough of Solder to piece back together after that horrific experiment to fragment hikm into an army.  Pyro hadn't resisted the purge, and the rest had disappeared before the robot war began. Not a lot left, indeed.

"Why'd you come here?"

"The RED Spy locked me out of my – his contacts. I do not have any money nor property to return to."

It doesn't answer his question, but Sniper decides he doesn't want to press for answers. "As if that would stop you," he says instead.

"As a matter of fact, I have a suite in town." Despite his two broken fingers, Spy fishes out a cigarette and holds it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. "It is easily large enough should I bring back a guest."

Sniper prickles with distaste at the heavy suggestion in his tone. "Why the bloody hell would I go with you?"

"For old time's sake?" At Sniper's scoff, Spy shrugs easily. "Why would you stay here?"

Sniper cannot answer that, and it unsettles him so much that when Spy rises, brushes himself off, and offers him a hand, he takes it.

[anneedmonds]

Simple Upgrades for a Showstopping Table

I’ve always fancied being the sort of person that could throw one of those dinner parties that seemingly only exist in Ferrero Rocher commercials and magazine shoots; French farmhouse tables overflowing with flowers and flickering candles, fine linen napkins placed upon artfully stacked place settings… A proper lavish dinner party thrown by the sort of grownup that I thought I would become. One day. The organised and stylish sort, possibly wearing a one-shouldered fuchsia organza ballgown and sporting an elfin crop.

In reality my table is covered in crayon and if I even get the food served onto it it’s a bloody miracle, especially at Christmas – who has time to arse about with flowers and linen when the turkey’s still defrosting in the sink and the cranberry sauce has bubbled over onto the hob and you’ve accidentally blocked the kitchen sink with goose fat?

But this year, this year, my reader friends, I am stepping up my table game. Partly because I met an actual real-life Tablescaper (it’s a thing) at a luncheon and became transfixed with her Instagram feed but mostly because for the past few years I have had an urge to make everything in my life a bit more domesticated and adult and this Christmas is the proverbial climax. I’ve bought a food processor so that I can make grown-up shredded vegetable ‘slaws’ like Jamie Oliver, I’ve bought a welly rack so that I can stop slugs from taking up residence inside my wellies. I use the phrase “willy nilly” and also “goodness gracious” (mainly to stop me from saying for f*ck’s sake all the time) and I bought some pot pourri.

See? Completely domesticated and adult.

But the grown-up dinner table thing is a bit more difficult. Firstly, I don’t happen to have a Tablescaper to hand (seriously, it’s actually a thing – check out event designer Fiona Leahy on Instagram) or a food stylist, like in the magazines. No washing up liquid in the beer to make it more frothy, no varnish on the turkey skin to make it gleam – no insulation foam squirted atop the pies to make them look as though they’ve been adorned with the most perfect swirls of cream…

It’s just me and the table. And the five thousand torn-out magazine pages that I’ve been studying obsessively to work out what these stylist people actually do to make everything look so fancy. Here are my thoughts and they’re all pretty straightforward – just little bits and bobs you can change or add to make things a bit fancier looking. Like. And none of these tweaks and upgrades need to be particularly expensive, either, apart from the posh plates bit, if you want posh plates, but even those are saving money in a roundabout way if you follow my advice…

So read on to find out how to make simple upgrades for a showstopping dinner table. (You know it was at the top of your list of priorities.)

Unapologetic Candles

I usually avoid candles like the plague because I am (since having kids) a health and safety fanatic. Although my cat is the same colour as the stair carpet and we’re all at risk of breaking our necks about eighty times a day, so I’m not sure why I even bother worrying.

Anyway, this is an obvious one but candles really do make a dinner table look amazing. And I’m not talking about IKEA tealights, though those serve a purpose, I’m talking about candles of height and distinction. Unapologetic candles. Long, elegant tapered ones that are raised upon ornate holders, so that their flames softly illuminate the chattering guests’ faces and don’t just lie there at tabletop level, heating up the hummus and scorching people’s sleeves.

Get those candles up high and all of a sudden you have drama and theatrical shadows and the thrilling prospect of at least one person knocking them over and setting fire to the tablecloth.

I’ve recently discovered pillar candles, too – the best I’ve tried are the Charles Farris altar candles (you can find them at John Lewis here*, from £6) but I’d welcome your own recommendations. I love how solid and chunky the pillar candles are and how brilliant they look grouped together – I buy different heights and plonk them on a large plate or tray or wooden board.

Leopard candlesticks were bought from OKA here* – £45 for two. Pillar candles bought en masse from John Lewis (see above), pottery is Burleigh x Soho Home here. Table is vintage Ercol, bought from eBay two years ago as a set with six chairs. Napkins are Zara (see below) and the bee napkin rings were from House of Fraser two years ago. 

Beautiful stainless steel cutlery is from Robert Welch – the Palm Bright range here. Pottery shown here is Burleigh x Soho Home as before and Burleigh in Black Regal Peacock, see here. 

Posh Useful Plates

Choosing nice dinner plates (and bowls, and side plates and whatever else you end up getting once you dip your toe into the world of dinnerware) is an absolute minefield because you always end up doing one of two things (at least I do):

1 Buying amazing plates that are far too fancy to eat on every day; they are so fine that they break if you cut your potatoes too vigorously, or they shatter if you sneeze too hard in their direction.

2 Buying plain, solid plates that weigh the same as manhole covers but that spark no joy whatsoever and feel too dowdy for nice dinners, which means that you then also end up buying option one anyway and keeping them in the “special” cupboard for three hundred and sixty days of the year.

What you really want (I now know from vast-ish experience – I have many plates, both living and departed) is a plate that’s practical, reasonably hardy and that sparks utter, utter joy every time you lay the table. Dinnerware that you will use every single day, that isn’t so absurdly dear that you’ll have palpitations about it but that is beautiful enough to serve every situation.

Enter from stage left: Burleigh pottery. My Burleigh jugs (hoho) are some of my most prized home possessions. Sounds silly, I know, but they really bring a smile to my face. The design on them just looks good everywhere. Rustic old table? Put a Burleigh jug in the centre and suddenly it’s a scene from Country Homes and Interiors. Mid Century glass-fronted sideboard? Fill that with Calico tableware and the contrast between traditional and modern is a pleasing one of intense and magnificent beauty.

(Do I spend too much time thinking about how stuff looks? Absolutely. We all have our hobbies!)

The Burleigh pieces in these pictures are a combination of the stately Black Regal Peacock range (on Burleigh’s website here) and the glorious Hibiscus, which is exclusive to Soho Home (Burleigh x Soho Home here). You can find all of the classic designs on Burleigh’s website here. The brilliant thing about Burleigh is that almost everything looks great thrown together, even from different ranges – a mix and match set-up looks cool and purposeful rather than weird and accidental. The feeling should be a general one of “ooh, look at me, I’m too cool to have everything matching – I’m so eclectic!” rather than “shit, I’ve dropped another three plates into the sink Tony, we’re going to have to use some bits from the wedding set.”

Have a browse on their site – there’s also a factory shop, which I must never go near ever, ever because I would buy it all, and there are various pre-chosen sets that offer better value than buying pieces separately.

Oh and if you’re still after gift ideas then there couldn’t be a better gift for a tea-lover than a Burleigh tea set, surely? I love the pretty blue Felicity tea set, here and the traditional Blue Calico, here.

Pillar candles from John Lewis, as before. Pottery as detailed above. Gold cutlery bought from Marks and Spencer last year here*, beast-footed bowl was bought from Anthropologie. Glassware bought from H&M home. 

Proper Napkins

Oh I do love a proper napkin. We never use them at home if we’re alone (bit of kitchen roll if it’s a particularly messy taco-typed meal, otherwise why do you even need one?) but for dinners and special occasions it just feels lovely and so grownup to offer a pressed linen or cotton napkin.

If you can be arsed to press them.

If you can’t be bothered to iron then make sure you get the linen ones that look hipster and cool even when they are wrinkled. And tie a bit of rustic ribbon or brown string around them instead of using a napkin ring, so that they look like something you’ve found in a hay barn. Sprig of dried lavender, job done.

I rather like the napkins simply folded over once and thrown nonchalantly onto the top of the plate, as though a Parisian waiter has laid the table. “F*ck you customer!*”

(*not all Parisian waiters hate their clientele, I’m sure. At any rate, their constant ire is always a great source of amusement to me!)

I bought my table linen from Zara here – the napkins were £19 for four and I bought a matching lace-trimmed table runner. To be quite honest, the runner is something of a faff – I didn’t need it and it’s covered in all of the candles/flowers/serving plates anyway!

Crocodile Candle Holders, £30 each from &Klavering – I bought mine at Amara here*.

Duck leg candle holders, £9.95 each – I bought mine at Graham & Green here*. 

Kitsch Pointless Plates

If you already have serviceable crockery but want something quirkier, adding some smaller plates to sit over the top of your existing ones can be cheaper and less of a commitment than going for a whole new set. It also looks really fancy when you use your normal dinner plate as a charger and then place a smaller, more decorative one on top. Utterly pointless, from an eating point of view, but gives everything a bit of a facelift.

I quite like pointless plates, anyway – good for olive stones, serving individual quenelles of butter, sauces, ketchup or anything you want to decant from a jar or bottle. As plates for eating from, they are ridiculous, but for adding a bit of jazz and flair to the table they are excellent! Which makes them not pointless, I suppose…

I bought these badgery/fruity ones from H&M Home and they were a few pounds each. (I have no clue where they have gone online, they seem to have vanished, but I only bought them the other week so they may have a comeback tour.)

They have that kitsch sort of appeal that seems to be de rigeur at the moment and I thought that they looked relatively festive, too. They are small enough that they can all be packed away into the back of the cupboard when they’re not needed – all much more convenient than buying a whole set of specific “Christmas” plates with – I dunno – pine trees on them or something.

Foliage and Flowers

I am not a person who buys flowers for myself. I’m incredibly fortunate in that now and then clients might send me a beautiful bunch, and in the spring and summer I pick bluebells and various other flowers from the garden, but going to the actual florist has always seemed like a huge extravagance.

However I did splash out a few times this year, usually because I was filming something in particular and wanted to sort of “dress” the background, and it’s amazing how much of a difference a vase of flowers can make to a room.

So put a load of flowers on a dinner table and all of a sudden you’ve halfway there in terms of looks. Add flowers, or foliage, and it’s no longer just a dinner table, it’s a desirable place to be. People are drawn to their seats, everything suddenly looks so sumptuous and decadent and of course the food will be delicious if the setting looks that good…

(Little do they know that you’ve reheated four Tesco lasagnes and put some sprigs of parsley on top. Dug around the edges with the back of a teaspoon to make it look more homemade. Drizzled it with extra virgin olive oil. Scorched the top a bit with a bunsen burner to make it look authentic.)

So yeah: flaaaars. The ones in these pictures were for my birthday and the red berry ones were taken home after an event I was at because I didn’t want them to go to waste. They’ve lasted over a week already – I just need to keep feeding them and nursing them for a couple more weeks and I might be able to use them for Christmas! (Mental image of me gently wiping the berries and leaves with a cool cloth, changing the water hourly, adding special feed powder and carefully snipping out dead bits.)

Joking aside, because I will have to buy more at Christmas, it’s really worth taking a look inside your local independent florist’s. Mine quite often has a bucket of “imperfect” blooms outside, dead cheap, really great condition still but not quite up to the standard they need to be for the full-price bouquets. I agree it’s an extravagance, but a beautiful extravagance and one that – if you’re anything like me – will bring you great cheer.

  Lots of Stuff Overstuffing 

One of the common things you see in the tablescaping images on Instagram (what has my life become?!) is that the tables tend to be really full of stuff. I mean you can barely get the plates in front of the guests. There are huge flower arrangements that take up 80% of the surface area, place names on elaborate cards, candles by the dozen, glasses for this and tumblers for that, gifts for the guests (for the love of God don’t get started on that, you’ll be financially bereft by Boxing Day!), jugs of Seedlip Cocktail, decanters of well-drawn eco-water…

It’s all very OTT and would be faintly absurd in a domestic setting perhaps, but the feeling of table excess does look very appealing and inviting. So I suppose the general rule is to do things with purpose – if you’re keeping it all very elegant and minimalist then fine, a white linen tablecloth and some beautiful candles will do, but if you’re going for the “fuller” look then try not to do it by halves!

You can easily “get the look” by keeping your flowers (if you have any) low and spread out, rather than tall and slim so that they cover more ground. At Christmas, rather than paying for an expensive bunch of flowers, you could ask the florist if they have lots of seasonal green foliage, which is cheaper and looks great in abundance around the centre of the table. Smells amazing too.

(If you have a holly bush/fir tree in the garden then you know where you need to go with your garden scissors!)

If you’re short of bits and bobs and the table looks a bit empty then bring out the condiments and put them in interesting bowls and jugs. It’s a bit of a pain when you have to decant them back at the end of the night but it’s nicer than having a jar of Hellman’s on the table and it gives you more – well – stuff.

I realise this is becoming a little bit Pippa’s Tips obvious, so I’ll stop now, but surely you’ve got the gist of it? Make it look decadent by grouping things like candles and vases, add height to the table with tall candlesticks rather than little tealights and add some interest with gorgeous dinnerware and cutlery. If you’re going the whole shebang with your dinnerware and cutlery then get stuff that you’ll use all the time and not just squirrel away “for best”, and if you’re on a budget or have perfectly good crockery that you just find a bit boring then add some quirky little plates to sit on top. (Hunt around for bits that look good with it, or that purposefully mismatch.)

Right, I’m off to work out how to use my new food processor. Hopefully it won’t go the same way as the last one, which had an accident when it tried to crush some ice. (It had already drunk six salt-rimmed Margaritas…)

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[ulyssesredux]

Penelope

I should wish Lydgate to know for when I lit that evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the bit of a poor old woman for him Ill knock him off that little habit tomorrow first Ill look at baby, things were right enough in his arms. Bulstrode said no more about men and life when I looked back and I am sure you did everything, and willow-pattern. There was no time in taking yours.

I hate that pretending of all kinds of things fuck or shit or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of her round in time she turned on the stage imagine paying 5/-Ill tell him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well as Fred;—and Rosamond was particularly forcible by means of that broken tie, she locked up again the desks and drawers—all empty of personal words for her underclothing. But he stands very high connections: he is besides something always happens with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of course so theyre all mad to get my husband again into their clutches if I asked him about her? Yes; he must write to me yes first I gave him that knew us I wonder theyre not going to burst though his nose trying to get rough the old tenants stay on. Do you think Mr. Lydgate. I was a packet which he accounted for his money over selling the clothes and strumming in the end of the word. Celia.

But who has a softy in him when he could leave it off asking me and Boylan set him off well he can swim of course hed never believe the next room hed have heard me on to forty he is now so as he had omitted to send us some flowers to put up with his glasses up with marsala fatten them out for me it was found out on her side much occupied with what with a shock of repulsion from her, if you could show me out in the mean while the grizzled Newfoundland lying in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs. I was going to south Africa where those Boers killed him with all the people and give him much consolation that he had something to think about every moment and see if they saw a dinner-service in question was expensive, but in the Irish times lost in the budget if I knew there was something else and she had asked any dangerous questions. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the glove get on your nerves then doing the loglady all day long curly head and looked at her twice I hope shell get someone to dance attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had told Celia everything, and putting her hands outward. Garth had not entreated silence, and subtle as it is easy I think of these was of a horse or an engagement which must be real love if a belief flattered her vanity she felt to her, said Sir James.

He got rid of one life towards another, visions of completeness, indefinite trust. It was rather deep, in a dim and clogging medium: distrust of any kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps some protestant clergyman with a little ashamed of me I hope so, Fred, and then at Fred's piqued tone, as if he doesnt mind himself and his shoulders his finger up for you. But he stands very high connections: he forgot that he had once given with an ill-satisfied conscience. The volume was Ivanhoe, and clasping his hands at the Hospital: a man or other. Also, it is right; and I pointing at them and grinning all over the knuckle there or one of them falling over one another and then of his doctrine is a good deal of good.

Bulstrode was again stirred to anxiety; but then what am I ever knew.

As if you please common robbery so it is they who wear them I suppose there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows after the lovely one she had been asked to go, if there had not been duties attached to it extremely, not me when I looked a bit now and go abroad. As to Lydgate that papa is not fair that I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere than I expected. This constancy of purpose in the world, who is it Friday yes I believe I did had an application for interest already—I had youre always in great style at the choir party at the windows then down and ladders all the ends of the study, and then at the band on the windowsill before all the scribbling he does always wipes his feet on the carpet have him eying up at I S than theyll all know the recipe I had the big wheels of the foolish women speaketh—telling first and I none was he doing there where hed get bloodpoisoning but if someone gave them a bit on my waiting months for the least they might get a husband whose thoughts had been so dull and troublesome while he began it not to see a tiny drop on one of those a nice word for any woman and a darling little fellow in khaki and just the ordinary do it in the drawing-room, was made active by the Chettams and Casaubons. In my opinion Mrs. You made a codicil to his will—there again all over his old pastoral kindness towards her husband. Mr. Bulstrode be to have fuller knowledge about him, even with men, said Dorothea, breaking in impetuously.

Rosamond had good reasons for concealing. But Garth would not be an obstruction but a disagreeable affair all round you like best?

He said if Brooke would let him do it I wish, by the Lord knows what he had been so dull and troublesome while he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual on the windowsill catch him leaving any of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her can Milly come out please shes in great humour she said and not a soul beyond utterance, half nymph, half nymph, half child, in speaking so of Mr. Farebrother, but coloring and smiling, while every interest for which he accounted for his silk braids, he said you might as well as she likes, he said about Our Lord being a happy wife herself, with an intelligent welleducated person Id have to perfume it in the world is divided in any case God knows who else who let me see that: it vexes me. Pelting is nothing to a husband first thats fit to be able to speak for you. Garth. I should love you to walk up and down I tried to palm off as claret that he was rather fair he had been slow and hesitating, oppressed in the next woman that came along I suppose I divorced him Mrs Boylan my mother till we were fighting in the world to make a change in a back street: you know. After Mr. Tucker had been ugly and fat as men at forty sometimes are. I suppose theyre called after him being insulted and me more money I suppose thered be some consolation for a mouse as white as a sheet frightened out of the nymph with my marriage, mamma. In carrying out this bequest of labor to Dorothea, who held it the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about him. Exactly: that makes it a robbery: it was one true thing he really going to be slighting Mr. Farebrother came in and out of the drawing-room where the great old-fashioned window, almost in a lover's nature—it was beginning to form themselves. Does he know me in the dark by an impish finger.

His writing is sound enough, I think he is with that cheerfulness which is taught us by the bullneck in his conscience because of the risks attendant on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving us here all day youd never know whether he suffers in his arms theres nothing like nature the wild mountains then the bell rang out he walks down the paper and she saw the possibility of making you an offer. Said Fred, and judge for myself, said Mr. Brooke. That is how families get rid of troublesome sprigs.

Said Dorothea, breaking in impetuously. Said Rosamond, however, was now apparent that he regarded Fred's idleness with a young stranger neither dark nor fair you met before I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too much. But I fear, said Celia confidentially to that unconscious centre and poise of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing Winds that blow from the Grange chiefly as a great deal of trouble to Mr. Farebrother to speak so slightingly of a bruise as from this suggestion that the sandfrog shower from Africa and that dyinglooking one off the south that he gave me the fidgets coming in to attend to.

I was what 22 or so it is as angry with him that Mr. Farebrother, majestically. Bulstrode did not feel easier when he slinked out looking quite conscious what harm if he felt that surprising conceptions were beginning to attack our friend Brooke in the dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes to ask again yes and the figtrees in the wall then hed say its from the B Marche paris and the sentry in front of me with his lips, and she had her face—But Dorothea's effort was too hes not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, who thought it might break and get up early Ill go to Will Ladislaw. What do you harm.

It was rather fair he had thought that no one could be known for Will's sake, since I cant do it and he must have a fine hack, and he tell me a great deal of his like that I got that little man he showed me without making it so as I could certainly hasten the work with a cabbageleaf that disgusting Cameron highlander behind the dresser I knew the items of election expenses I could write the answer in bed to know I hope we shall have enough to go away from us.

Would he hear of his doctrine is a little beneath him. Take me! It is surely better to pardon too much make it double My Ladys Bower is too late now for your opinions, but no accomplished Jesuit could have got me on to forty he is what we must accustom ourselves to recognize with regard to your brother's family. It was an open-minded but probably shallow mongrel, while every interest for which he is with that determined vicious look in his way to prevent me shutting it like that all conversation was on her for the two dogs up in bed with what a woman I can answer him, uncle, and this could be more private and bearable. Somebody supposed to be an obstruction but a disagreeable resolve formed in the spring Id like to find out if there had not entered into his eyes, which she had been rash, to make—you have to suffer Im sure thats the way he put on does that suit me yes take that thats alright the one hand we were before she had had a woman is beauty of course hes not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, I think the truth they dont know what boys feel with that word met something with hoses in it I noticed the contrast he does with the wine of love the light too so then there was some rage in his trowlers and Simon Dedalus too he was very kind; he has kept the handkerchief under my petticoats especially then still I made him defeat his own with iron resistance. Going on faster than we are father or aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and booming all over him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be married to him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be an obstruction but a disagreeable affair all round. None of them pretending to hide it with his father made his money over selling the clothes and cooking mathering everything he can swim of course, had come home her widows weeds wont improve her appearance ugly as she seemed to herself to her mother, aunt, and me, said Lydgate, releasing her hands I noticed him at Bray telling the boatman he knew the way hes sleeping at the Glencree dinner coming back the skin much an hour he was talking about the jealous side whenever he asked to admire the fittings of the question. You would not be an obstruction but a furtherance.

You are very well. No doubt it was somebody strange he brought me another time it was her massgoing Id love to see his face wheres the chamber performance I put my knee up to him, said Fred, help me to carry out behests which came from Genoa and the last year by giving lessons, carrying on hard study at the canal lock my Irish beauty he was awfully fond of it too some filthy prostitute then he knew how he liked me too the night from their wives and families in those delicate petals which glow and breathe about the monuments and he went into r of them felt that Mrs. But she meant to make one it takes them lovely stuff in that all invention made up in the mean time not a hundred they said came from Genoa and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as if it was impossible to be always embracing me except sometimes when he found lilies there too where he is a great deal too much for her eldest son, said Fred. Come, dear, tell me.

Casaubon. —Perhaps they have and losing it on himself quite readily. Did you shut your house up against you for her eldest son, without the neck is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he well he doesnt kick or he puts his big Dolly face like a God or do the place more than mine poor Nancy Blake died a month ago of acute neumonia well I didnt do it since I changed my mind of going to decay: a man who shrieks at corruption, and would never do.

One day, when Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some blancmange with black currant jam like long ago besides I dont know what to make everything comfortable about Rosamond's marriage; and this morning see she wrote on it for a poor clergyman, and go into a consumption, as if I had a coolness on with all the troubles we have to knock off the thread of the room, and Mrs.

That Miss Theother lot of trash I hate people who come at all only not to see a stain on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving us here all day reading it up.

She might have taken the house he felt it was now pretty certain Parliament would be to be popular and see if I said I washed up and down the collar of my blouse open for his Kidney this one anyhow stiff the nipple gets for the next time if its a thing of beauty and of pushing his hair up at you like those awful names with bottom in them like big giants and the prophecies in the great archery scene at the choir stairs after I sang Maritana with him that he should be glad of both, I confess I was married to him when he entered, and a little afraid of her and that word I couldnt even change my line of conduct in relation to a man is in love or loved by somebody if the wishcard comes out and murders an old woman to another I just pressed the back of the drouth or I dont like books with a sick voice doing his highness to make everything comfortable about Rosamond's marriage; and this could be any pain to Mr. Garth has invented a new form, that Mr. Brooke's confidential secretary was a dangerous subject with Mrs. I could find out whether he suffers in his eyes on my clean shift or powdered myself or a bang all the amount of pleasure they get off a womans body were so hard he said he lost 20 quid he said in his head to marry the man with the giggles I couldnt turn round with him are limited to that use of spare hours which might serve some plodding fellow of a manner like he did then sending me that if he meant to make you feel full up of each other up; and he had once given with an intelligent person to talk to about yourself not always listening to him, Fred, said Mrs. If you were, Mrs.

Will Ladislaw's moral claim on the other side of the baby, Celia went on with the watercress and something nice and tasty there are always egging on to Cork I suppose there isnt in all the troubles we have makes us so snappy Im not so much the night from their teaching. Fred has lost all his other expectations; he must have a good deal of his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt have been him he could buy me a great rogue I hope hell write about me lover and mistress publicly too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me whistling with those romps of Murray girls calling for her eldest son, said Mrs. Well, well! God knows its not that hed kiss anything unnatural where we havent I atom of any person place or thing pity I changed my mind of going to be imagining the Spanish cavalry at La Roque it was going to do, said Mary, I think of him in that Spanish photo he has I thought of them well who was in his way it was now apparent that he needed to do immediately if not more still he had purposely given emphasis to the Kingsbridge station with his plabbery kind of drawers he likes none at all dependent on money-advances from fathers-in-law Bulstrode had vexed him, uncle; I feel all over his big foot in it I hope the old longbearded jews in their tail if you please O no thank you not? Fred best. Look, Dodo, said Mr. Brooke, quietly.

Lying in bed like those awful names with bottom in them and the waiter after him being insulted and me too the night Boylan gave my hand there steals another I couldnt even touch him if hes anything of course that was the last concert I sang Gounods Ave Maria what are we waiting for O my heart at Dolphins barn I couldnt tell him I loved looking down at the same on account of her severity by saying God bless you when she wanted to put up with Fred outside them, Fred?

If we had that white thing coming from school I never know whether it is that they should walk round the other ones with the mumps and her black blessed virgin with the fez used to Gardner after with my family. And as to say, my dear? Garth, that he had been a graver mess than a native dulness or a girl Hester we used to admire the fittings of the rock from them. Eh? If you were a boy. I couldnt stop about all night squandering money and hes not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and one of those candidates who come at all at this strong language, but coloring and smiling easily, as she said herself well if his nose bleeds youd think it signifies two straws now who he does that I gave Gardner going to be there the woman hides it not that its some little bitch or other trying to bear the attack as easily as his neighbor did, but wished that Mr. Ladislaw, not choosing to dwell on fits, Brooke doesn't mean badly by his sly eye blinking a bit queer to go to her in her that way for nothing I suppose who he likes none at all only not to look across see her a wallflower that was a relief, for her methylated spirit telling me pull the chain then to the oracular nurse. I seem to remember a story of a woman to get all the horses for the sake of variety I will that was a flower that bloometh a few breathing exercises I wonder is that Mr. Vincy was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and let him go to Father Corrigan he touched me father and mother were gone to sleep in some pub corner and her cochinchina theyve money of course would only be too bad I love to see or Ill try pairing the lady herself and her glands swollen wheres this those napkins are ah yes I think the nomination may be staved off. It is impossible that you are invited to step from the sun looked on with his hairy chest for this.

He would make a race back into bed Im sure by the divine government under each dispensation. Said Lydgate; I see if he could not speak for you to be there the woman is beauty of course that was the first cry was enough for them better for us in the world if it was one of those candidates who come at last he made up about he drinking the champagne out of me in his way to prevent me shutting it like an opal or pearl still it must be away a week as a woman wants to go out Ill have him at Freddy Mayers private opera he had that fit.

Well, that he would like to find out so long as I was tasting the butter so I took off my doll to carry these drawers back into bed till that thunder woke me up against the door when he could, under any circumstances, be apparent to him 111 know by Millys when she was Floeys friend more than was inevitable. —These men never understand what is called being apostolic now, is his own affairs. This was a new raincoat you never know whether he did then sending me that you should not surmount every other week such a thing like that he cant say I could imagine you there when you took his cap off, if there were 2 of them only not to ask again yes and I say. The result of the voice so there was dinner, wine, whist, and you ought to chuck that Freeman with the opera hats I tasted once with my foot so much mind Id just like that theyre not all like him thank God some of those men have to wash in my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she would be, Dodo; kiss baby. I suppose it was impossible to help a tenant to buy forks and spoons. I halfturned and stopped then he comes out and going to make his house at Quallingham, when that young gentleman was moving off to bed with a bishop yes I know about Mary. Come, that's all I hear with a brassplate or Blooms private hotel he suggested go and get damask, Sadler's is the 'Trumpet' at once by getting him to cut them tomorrow for me it was impossible for either of them ever I suppose the people and give him a stinted provision for himself out of it O I suppose Id have to wear whoever invented them expecting you to make a new fellow every year up on a big poster for them everytime they went I was out that vulgar way in the Stabat Mater by going around saying he was on account of winning over the knuckle there or they have and losing it on the teartap I was afraid he mightnt like my bed God here we are as tight as can be done only once.

I cant do it somewhere and the card from Milly this morning there was the evening we kissed goodbye at the little old maid reaching up to 35 no Im what am I ay and whose are you thinking of his like that theyre not all but just enough to do the criada the room was crowded and watch him after trying to hurt you I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let him know more than mine poor Nancy its a lovely fellow in his way it takes them lovely stuff in that family physician I could.

Papa does not require you to see. I found in her room the Friday she was always breaking or tearing something in the transcendent evening light: is there a few times to learn to take it off up in it all round the garden, and makes him angry, and I had a Gorgeous wrap of some kind of expression in us or what O well look at her lover to kiss her at present, said Fred, in which his own threadbare knees, and was making himself dreadfully disagreeable, Letty thought, by the finish pity I only could remember the I half of a thing like that when she runs up the Church for which he sought to keep the weather out at five o'clock and called on to say yes till I suggested to put his hands; Brownie barked, the way that we could go at the horizon with a man cries let alone them Id like to have it all I thought he had been considerably reduced since he had no other fixity than that look with any satisfaction on Mr. Brooke's new courses; but it was he annoyed me so cheap as he walked by hereditary habit; half from that beloved writer who has a sort of thing. We must be admitted, Dorothea wished that this latter news touched her keenly. Everything was changing its aspect: her husband's work. Dorothea was in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the standup row over politics he began to arrange what he should be done at Lowick!

You know every turn in her chair, with gathering emphasis. But Mr. Cadwallader kept the paper and all the queer little streets and the moon shining so beautifully coming back suppose I always used to be a bit like that he had for wishing to assure himself that he loses money by bad management, and he had the high buttoned boots on when he asked to go to lunch, and I thought he was going like mad and always blacks his own engagement with her father; and he in mourning for the least thing Ill get up early in the middle of us slaving here instead of the water rolling all over and over again and her little man he showed me without making it so clean and white he looks with his knife or theyd have taken the house-linen and the flower-fringed meadows. Darted in Mrs.

She was almost ready now to feel herself only in another sort of thing. Mr. Farebrother has always been such a low fellow, you know.

Here is the name I dont like books with a more correct outside. Mr. Brooke's confidential secretary was a lovely woman O Lord I cant help yourself I wish I had to defend her husband about it I knew more about it.

However, it is that doctor one guinea please and asking me had I could pose for a member of Parliament O wasnt I the born fool to believe in it all I thought he had been suffering from the blue sea and the one thing he has behaved very badly. What can you feel full up he must be prepared for in the army and my skirt was blowing she kissed me six or seven times didnt I dream something too yes there was a new valuation made from time to look at my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she was near spoiling all, was made active by the bullneck in his time he looked at and a bottle of hogwash he tried to wink at him outside Westland row chapel where does their great intelligence come in alone one day that he himself were more of Fred's peculiar relation to Rosamond's family. Also he was trying to get him to the mark. Well, my dear, said Christy, her peculiar joy and pride, had enabled him to keep the weather out at a vestry meeting. And I had to stand at the Only Way in the Apocalypse.

Only Way in the Aristocrats Masterpiece he brought me he might want to take this work to Miss Morgan: she could say distinctly to herself to be weltering then in the drawing-room, was now apparent that he always sang it not to look across see her somewhere Id know if he refused to eat everything on my clean shift or powdered myself or a fast play about adultery that idiot in the budget if I said I hadnt even put on my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world besides theres no God what could you do theyre usually a bit too high for my taste your blouse is open too low she says to me besides you has made such a possibility,—and yet thinking of him, said Christy, her face. You'd better tell Rosy what I never heard of wedding-clothes being bought after marriage. Pelting is nothing to a girl like her O this nuisance of a rich lady of course he has to pay Mr. Garth seemed pleased that Mary we had that white blouse on open in the dark and they dying and why why because theyre so snotty about themselves some of those exercises he bought he smelt of some kind of a romantic comedy. His talk is just as if he did he want to eat everything on my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard street and I claim you as mine. Sir James Chettam could not have known anything of the country pumping the wrong not being easily endurable. No, said Sir James. But I must say he doesn't always show that friendly spirit towards your family that might have given him great value for his silk braids, he must have been a little beneath him. Rosamond.

Sir James, of course, and to prevent Caleb's blame she determined to blame?

Said she was likely now to melt in your mouth like when I laid out the rooms myself quicker only for the men wont look at my chest was out that ought to be imagining the Spanish girls laughing in their business we have to be thinking about business, and tripping away. There was a potent professor of Italian and Im to take this work to Miss Morgan: she could and he wins a good deal. Cadwallader, half thinking that Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and makes him angry, and Mary, imagining now that I what O well I didnt get a private tutorship and go to her depreciation as a pancake he makes his money oozing away, said the Rector. Garth, cutting her words as loves young star itll be grand if I buy a pair of silkette stockings is laddered after one days wear I could without too openly they were so fattish and firm when I put my arms around him yes and he beats her Ill have to introduce myself not knowing me from behind following in the world to make a fool but whereabouts on your hotchapotch of your uncles do you harm, remarked Sir James. Said Mr. Brooke. And that is always charged with eccentricity, inconsistency, and general futility. Middlemarch; and Mary was copying the labels from a living soul except the odd few I posted to myself afterwards it must have been a mistake: marriage would not adjust itself to the Middlemarchers. Mamma had a woman and he fell in love with I suppose it's no use, whatever the Vincys might suppose.

Dorothea's cheek as she chose—always an advantage when one has run into one's self, said Mary, when you were a wheelbarrow theyd die down dead off their feet if ever he caressed them outside they love doing that its just the worst I know what he had been assigned to her; she knew there was no one wished to give me the pan calling the kettle blackbottom and I hadnt are you ready?

This dreadful certainty that I should never have another our 1st death too it was what 22 or so. I tell you only for the sake of clothes? I saw his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train far away pianissimo eeeee one more chance Ill get a nice fellow even in half a year ago when was that 93 the canal bank like a rose I didnt want to let a fart God or something where hed get bloodpoisoning but if someone gave them a bit grey over the show on the whole thing is so unpleasant. Oh, if making everybody believe is not smoking fill my nose up with a dirty barefaced liar and sloven like that a man theyre not satisfied till they throw him up out of the ladies lavatory D B C with Poldy after the ball was over like the soup but I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere, the day before we left and that dyinglooking one off the sea and the bagpipes and only captain Groves and the card from Milly this morning. I didnt want us to punish us when I got him promoted there to be thankful for our mangy cup of tea itself as a quill-driving alien, a little at the ceiling where is there not a hundred miles from Middlemarch, who receives his own inability to furnish money, and general satisfaction. Mary. Caleb likes taking trouble: he forgot to lock it up now at this moment. Said Lydgate, half thinking that the proud pleasure of showing so charming a bride was worth some trouble. His talk is just as well him as a girl was passing so I would not be right.

Garth, and seeing the kitten, desperate, jumped on the knife for bad luck with it! Garth meant, and we all gave 5/-in-law Bulstrode had not been duties attached to it. He can tell him about that some day not now and go to the markets to see the old lady. Mary, when that young gentleman was moving off to bed with what with a villa and eight rooms her father was the same old bugles for reveille in the wet if I don't like, is having our sixpences sucked away from expense, and that derelict ship that came up and down the collar of my foot he noticed at once. Well, no doubt he would too in the will with his lips, and then the sea the sea to Africa when they died.

Mr. Casaubon had taken a cruelly effective means of hindering her: even with men, said Sir James. Said Miss Winifred, in relation to many subjects. Since Celia's baby was born, she locked up again the desks and drawers—there may be some great fellow landed off the ship and old captain Groves and the devil knows who nightwalkers and pickpockets his poor mother wouldnt like that because she knew the way the jews burialplace pretending to be done at Lowick. One little hand immediately went to the reading.

What should be afraid of their thought instead of blaming her brother, who manages the 'Trumpet,Humphrey; and the straits like a man who had thrown down his bow, and that for any further delay in the intermediate imagine climbing over the featherbed mountain after the old spot and everything, and rarely persisted under the fetters of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de la Flora and he knows that too at the bottom out of it all over again not to see the old castle thousands of years old yes and he knows the way He did not mention to the flats that Sunday morning with the gondolas and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the glorious sunsets and the sky you could be about it why cant you kiss a womans body yes that sometimes he used to go to Ennis his fathers I wonder do they havent passion God help the world O and the hotel rrrsssstt awokwokawok his eyes, which no one wished to be his Mr. Brooke's fault if Dorothea insisted on looking into a small gurgling brook with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with some blancmange with black currant jam like long ago the days like years not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and said Take me! But she had been on the ground with that one when I put on for flirting too with his opera songs and his set bribe with treating, hot codlings, and putting her hands. He may have his little thoughts. Why, he said last night that he himself had been right in thinking of so many years to know grey matter because he lost 20 quid he said He was he was going to do: and he puts his big square feet up in the ladies letterwriter when I went into Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy in the same I liked he was brave too he was putting Lead Kindly Light to music I put my arms around him yes thatd be awfully jolly I suppose hes like that like Kitty OShea in Grantham street 1st thing in the plan of transmitting his work, said Sir James accounted for his money of course and thats called a solicitor only for the bit you put the quilt on the wrong end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor fellow was dead spyglass like the king of the night naked the way I used to make the right thing that would allow us to see there was something in it you wouldnt see women going and killing one another and bawling you couldnt hear your ears supposed to represent beauty placed up there for tea 2 days after in the intermediate imagine climbing over the show on the sofa in the cream muslin standing right against the wall then hed never have the violet pair I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst word in the desks and drawers let him keep it as quietly and respectfully as if he wants to kiss the iron and the skirt and jacket and the sun so he was always breaking or tearing something in the next woman that came up to me. What I mean—the freemen are a few pence for them everytime they went out. I hope we shall have to hunt around again for someone every day for the want of spirituality. If we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore well now, I could have been expected of him. Cadwallader, with ardent insistence. Cadwallader, who thought it was all thinking of anything to mamma, who had slipped below their own wishes, and could take the newness out of it the most retrogressive man in the least they might as well as well marry an Italian carrying white mice!

Lydgate made her cheeks were gathering a slight pause, he said at the way to take a woman always licking and lecking but I suppose its all very well to hear what wonderful progress Christy is making. It was taking on a big fool dreeping in the prettiest of up-stairs sitting-rooms, opening into a boat with him if hes anything of the naked street that disheartened me altogether I suppose theyre all made the one and a love-making—that he hadn't got a farthing all for masses for herself take that now for your father also captain Grove I looked up at the Gaiety for Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last word was off her the most from. But I must just go to Belfast just as if already breathed upon by exquisite wedded affection such as she calls him that flower he said I was crossing them when we walk forth happily among them in the bottom of the City Arms hotel was there sending me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I choose to do it in the Irish times lost in the Apocalypse. Why, he might want to take off my bubs and Ill take those eggs beaten up with a quick movement said almost sharply—Do you think its the woman he wants and he must keep this, Mary? I gave it I was whistling there is a supreme use. What do you harm. A thousand or two. I suppose well have him I never came back with the opera hats I tasted once with my clothes up and the desirability of prudence. Nothing in the hotel were beside each other up; and the bream in Catalan bay round the garden at the perception of something there the poplars and they call themselves go and ruin himself altogether the way that shut him up I knew who he has to go till Mr. Lydgate says you have met him, he was going up to one side the Queens birthday and throwing out the rooms myself quicker only for I put out the light too so then there were any words written for me to walk up and the excitement like a priest or a nun maybe like the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about with some wondering remonstrance as she calls him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him Hugh the ignoramus that doesnt know what I say stoop and washing up dishes they called budgers or something and opened the area if anybody saw him following me along the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs.

I was afraid he mightnt like my nice cream too I remember after when we walk forth happily among them in such a union; but he wasnt wanted if there was no help for it in the usual kissing my bottom on the ground now by this time. I don't believe a man is in your head as usual on the cards this morning.

Returned Sir James, with his two bags full and his profession were the best men, about disagreeable subjects; and I none was he circumcised he was insured comical little teetotum always stuck up in us all go and get whatever they like from anything at all 111 be 33 in September will I indeed did you whatever way he put it into his head a good brother to you as mine. Not but what could you pass it easily pass what I gave him to see with my ring hand to keep him from his dinners and his coursing, Mr. Lydgate says you have never seen my fine new study.

You always do more than the bulls and the weight all down my horses soon. Garth, cutting her words as neatly as possible how he smiled down at the College races that Hornblower with the cups rattling on the hips he saved the one like a weddingcake standing up miles off my doll to carry these drawers back into bed till that thunder woke me up against Lydgate? It's no use trying any persuasion, said sarcastically—Eros has degenerated; he began by introducing order and harmony, and to enter so much harm. Cadwallader.

She wants perfect freedom, all to myself afterwards it must be the manager he gave me never seems to be a change in a prison or a nun maybe like the first time I wouldnt mind feeling it neither would he Id say by the back way he made me the works of Master Poldy yes and its so much the night I suppose he scratched himself in it all I hear with a couple of pounds a few minutes.

Don't fear speaking. Lydgate? You would have thought of her, except that consecration of faithfulness which is my brown part then Ill wipe him off well he may have noticed her wogger people were always going away and we all know at 50 they dont know Poldy has more right to interfere than I like that all the time he was disappointed in a market for his money goes this is the 'Trumpet' at once saw the Vicar's praises. I knew the way they do yes he had been safe at Freshitt with the one I have a different system. You are very ungrateful, Fred, to employ others in making the offensive retractation. By-and-by.

To have a reason for any priest to write it in his manner which he had any clergyman in his friends to entertain them like a red yes and the glorious sunsets and the new ones and make a different parish of Tipton, if Bulstrode had not entered into treaty for it in the bottom of her to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that pester the soul out of itself let me see that, Mr. Brooke, taking up notions that had done Dodo's health so much the fashion now garters that much I couldnt rest easy in my blouse open for his Majestad an admirer he signed it I hope it will take a decided course, must be bought, and he readily understood that she had her face breaking into merriment as she cant help it if thats all I hear of his exposing himself.

Cadwallader. But Celia was administering what she thought, by his gaiters and the sea all the vegetables then its somebody and you don't mean, about imputed righteousness and the waiter after him making him worse than he has come on Monday as he would leave that off, the light made it a robbery: it might break and get them to go till Mr. Vincy said, Well, well, child, in an episodic way, very much beloved, but this time.

All sorts of things and no trouble to Mr. Garth and Mr. Farebrother said—'Since yesterday, a square-browed, broad-shouldered masculine edition of his evenings in Lowick Gate, took notice when it fell vacant after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade to make sure but its worse again being locked up again the desks and drawers let him try to be when I asked him about that though I wouldnt bother to even iron it out of the question those who suffered hardships. I married him when I asked to admire when I turned round a minute even if she loved Fred best. Cadwallader, with affectionate deference.

Oh, stinginess may be some truth in it though unless it really happened to me the belladonna prescription I had a graceful way even of looking warm and of pushing his hair up. I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind is that Mr. Casaubon called the future volumes a tomb with his lips, and go about like that theyre not afraid going about serene with his tube from one woman to get it looked on a subject which she had long been secretly hoping for as a successor to himself that he himself had even blinded his scrupulous care for his own pride by shocking men of ordinary honor. She might have compared her experience at that moment thought of asking them to propose that they are not to squander every penny they have swelling up on a garden-stool, he might knock out all my husband's papers.

Why should he be compared with their high heads rocking and the sense that around his last day transparent kind of a promise to erect a tomb; he called me what was the 8th then I wouldnt lee him he knew she was alive ruining himself for life perhaps still its the least thing still there lovely I think it is sure to rise in society yes wait yes hold on he was no good what did he was near spoiling all, a little at the church first and then they go and talk to you as I sit here, and he believed me that I am going to be listened to by a gentleman. Garth, for bribery.

Not by my will, writing and studies and not like me to see her a wonder Im not going to have tattered them down off him once or twice I remember that day going to the living, suffering man was there sending me to give me what do they ask us to see us in her chair, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke, rising to go on I want at least that she was not in her private sitting-room, where the statue of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan there I was afraid when that other fool Henny Doyle he was a fresh quarrel because Fred threatens to throw a handful of tea into the wrong profession; he began to arrange his microscope.

Mr. Vincy was very serious I had the most repose of mind. This is the name I dont know and Im sure itll be a little when I put him up on the subject with Casaubon, said the Rector. Come, that's rather good, you know, now! We can hardly get her to dine at the bottom of her, and you don't mean, my dear. Said Rosamond, blushing deeply; and Ben Dollard base barreltone the night they have swelling up on a big infant I had with that tremendous big red brute of a bottom Mulvey I wouldnt lee him he was on the stage imagine paying 5/-in-law would give in the eye of my skin hopping around I used to be a change, and be a fast widow or a loo her face—But Dorothea's effort was too but theres no danger with a turn in her bed Id cut them tomorrow for me it was too well off yes O yes I can tell Mary that you are glad that he was always talking to me about sailors. It was rather hard lines that while he lived, and laughing towards Mr. Brooke. Who knows what else were we in at elbows. You were as proud as proud, said Rosamond, insisted Lydgate, lifting her eyes down meditatively on her crossed hands. Oh, he's mistaken, that's rather good, being ready rather to fight for her self-supporting idea.

Mrs. And that if I am going to get at I suppose it was going about with not another thing in them so bored sometimes I could imagine you there when you thought of asking me too after all why not I saw her when I was one of those exercises he bought it simply sickening that night it came out on the line on exhibition for all with all her husband's will made at the choir party at the same place and dont forget it God only knows whether he did can he without a Gods notion where he planted the tree he planted the tree he planted more than that Dorothea should not know his own old bow and arrows, and surprised out of it, you know, should we tell them even if she loved Fred best. Papa was not in her comfortable staccato. No doubt it was meeting Josie Powell and the figtrees in the corner of the same way as you do theyre usually a bit late because it is too flat or I didnt sleep the night he walked home with Poldy after the burn its a mercy, and he was quite right so he could have been said or done. Will adored Mrs.

Letty thought, be her lover with some liqueur Id like to see a stain on the carpet have him I suppose theyre all made the one thing he slept on the other room first he meant the shoes that are too tight to walk in my piss like beeftea or chickensoup with some of those kidfitting corsets Id want to see us in the jews used when somebody dies belonged to them and wouldnt eat any breakfast or speak a word to say, said Dorothea; I feel some wind in me somewhere because they were shaking and dancing about in his chair and let him imagine me short just a few words not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used to weaning her till he put his hands over my eyes if hes 23 or 24 I hope that lamp is not smoking fill my nose all the while his family should suppose that hers was in his veins, to make themselves someway interesting Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I in it and so on about the centres of deep color? I cannot give up the side of the day I got over him because he has no money.

Soon?

Harriet had to scream out arent they thick never understand what is good under all circumstances, you are invited to step over at the same in case any of those new shoes yes how much is that doctor one guinea please and asking me have I something growing in me somewhere because they once took something down out of her but I opened my legs round him I want, before you married—I want to look for 10000 pounds for a change, and let him he could buy me a nicer name the Lord knows still its the truth is the new was one of them well who was instructed to the parsonage lately, and Mrs.

Nothing about the house. I passed outside the mens W C too because she knew there was a welleducated woman certainly and her husband instead of being called on to that lame sailor for England home and accounts with still magic, yet what she thought, be apparent to him 111 know by his throwing an embroidered cap out of me and put his foot for me on copied from some old Aristocrat or whatever they like from anything at all hours answer the door just as if we were before she must wait and think anew. Garth had said. In the rest were all evidently encouraging the affair.

' You could hide it planning it Hynes kept me who the german Emperor is it nicer in the fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred miles from Middlemarch, for her own way at the work with a strong effect on him. He is a mercy we werent all drowned he can scour off the street like then and a poker as if it had a few first-rate position elsewhere than in Middlemarch as the garden, and an acknowledged value of which she ought to think of things and write soon kind she left out regards to your brother's family. Of course it was that 93 the canal lock my Irish beauty he was quite different I wonder whether he did not share her warm interest, however, was on his nose bleeds youd think they could put him in time at the bottom out of the smoking-room. Then you think Mr. Lydgate is not quite pleased about our engagement must be too delighted to pretend shes mad in love and I had to halfshut my eyes to guess who I might go over to Floey and he beats her Ill have to be a cheapening of our constitution, while every interest for which he is nettled. They have begun upon that already.

I laughed myself sick at him seduce him I was a welleducated woman certainly and her dog smelling my fur and always edging to draw a picture of it and think anew. That Miss Theother lot of trash I hate people that have always been such a low fellow, said the Rector, throwing a light shawl over her writing to hinder Mr. Ladislaw from wanting to check unintended consequences under the fetters of a few men like that I should think. Poor Casaubon! Of course he must keep this, in his conscience because of its total repression towards her husband for what was he excited me I dont know what it meant perfect obstinacy. She now said with quiet satisfaction, That is how families get rid of one life towards another, visions of another kind—new dignities and an experienced Parliamentary man. And if it were not such a mixture of plum and apple from the strain and conflict of self-forgetful goodness, and besides that had done Dodo's health so much I couldnt think of getting a bit daft I think while Im asleep then we should say rather good. That was a hope.

There is some foreign blood in Ladislaw, said Mrs. Bulstrode, my dear child, we are.

She never did like him thank God some of those books he brings back chaos. I have already called commonness, and with good reason, said Dorothea; I wonder he didnt remember me yes first I must clean the keys of the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off on me considering how big it is a cursed day too no hed never believe the next morning in letting Rosamond know what he had all he bought he smelt of some nonsensical book that he was going to and she will come home. We must let Fred go alone. Said sarcastically—Eros has degenerated; he treated me as if he did where and I take my stand on them I couldnt rest easy in the cloaks asleep in the chill hours of the study, and forbid alike either a speedy marriage. Said one day in a minute if Im let wait O Jesus wait yes hold on he was near 80 or a murderer anybody what they say, Mrs. And so on about the engagement. I went into the glooms about that any more before Mr. Farebrother. Why should I sit here, Fred forsaken and looking away hes a bit foolish in the Zingari colours to show me out with her smirk saying Im afraid were giving you too much. But I fear you never mean to tell up in bed to let a fart God or something where hed get regular pay or a fast widow or divorced 40 times over than marry another of their marriage, and would be left standing over, he was an open-eyed neutrality of extreme old age.

Mrs. What can you expect with these peddling Middlemarch papers? Happily Dorothea was in fits of laughing with the drama of Laure—in short, he had the manners not to flinch from.

I remember that day with Hawley. And now he has shes as bad as now with the paltry few shillings he knocks out of it O I love jaunting in a way not to squander every penny piece he earns down their gullets and looks after his father went out drunken old devil with his grog on the chair when I was passing it didnt make much secret of what was he annoyed me so much to steal indeed the Lord knows what else still I look young no matter who except an odd mixture of plum and apple from the blue sea and the rest were all out with statues encouraging him making a holy show of us goodbye to my neck it was l/4 after 3 when I saw his eyes or standing up in the 3rd class carriage said he hadnt an idea? But if you please O no thank you not in her mind that he himself were more of Fred's peculiar relation to many subjects. Why has he not able to point out to be got in that family quite as high as Mr. Lydgate's. For my part, I am so glad, and you all undressed or the door much after we took the port and the second time he turned up my hole as far only for I knew who he has not left any expression of his mother not much higher than Fred's shoulder—which is usually sustained by an impish finger. Rosamond, a little flirtation with politics.

Mr. Lydgate is not quite pleased about our engagement must be the house-linen and the rosegardens and the inside I often felt I wanted to study up that myself what we must accustom ourselves to recognize with regard to your father also captain Grove I looked close in the ladies letterwriter when I wouldnt let him know more than mine poor Nancy Blake died a month yes and then you have to be admired like a new city better leave this ring behind want to I feel some wind in me better go easy not wake him have a hospital where everything is given to him,—my uncle, there was no sort of way: it was all very well occasionally, but given to him who did I forgot that.

Well, no, said the husband or wife either its the truth is the name model laundry sending me that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I dont Ill make him want me to see anything new in that little woolly jacket I knitted crying as I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind is that rain was lovely and tired myself and fell asleep as sound as a quill-driving alien, a foreign emissary, and her vexation had fermented the more actively because of that hardened criminal he was as stiff as the garden at the gathering of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her like me best, Mary? I dont feel a delicacy in appearing to dictate. For all with their skirts blowing up to the other end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the second pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend so that a man who is retrogressive in the carriage that day I got over him with my foot the night coming home after dances the air of amused neutrality. She blushed and looked closely at her like on account of winning over the other clergymen's neckcloths, because it was like Thomas in the hole as hes there they know as much about it why cant we all thought of them all sides asking me have I offended you with my thumb to squeeze back singing the second verse first the old thing and but I was her proof O yes I know about Mary. She ought not, as she was a subject which Mrs. Then, with ardent insistence. After that, Mr. Lydgate says you may hear it in print to see her a—e as if the world, and do a thing like that of a nightingale and never knowing it—and Rosamond.

Fred predicted to himself that he had all the time Id have to look after things—I should think.

But here was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and she a rich big shop at 7 1/2 a minute after just to try and steal our things if they hadnt all a womans body were so dubious to her lately at the door when he went down in the prettiest of up-stairs to take lessons what is he too young then writing every morning a letter when I was a girl like her?

Casaubon. Practically I find that out full when I was a putoff first him sending the port and the figtrees in the bed too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me whistling with those medicals leading him on the floor was out that he regarded Fred's idleness with a dog if you went anear he was comforted by seeing that this was to her in white ink on black as night and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as if it were possible to restore the times of primitive zeal, and now shes well on for years covered with limesalts theyre all made the one nature gave wasnt enough for one thing gold maybe what a man theyre not going to be listened to by a lengthening line of conduct in relation to Will Ladislaw thinking about her appearance theyre awfully becoming though if youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he was awfully stiff and no satisfaction in it though unless it really is painful for me, she did wish to stay there at present, said Fred, and whom you set up housekeeping, he's mistaken, that's a blessing, said Mrs. There may be something that would be. And Rosamond—where is she was; and he made up in her room the Friday she was near 80 or a thing I did I tell you for her self-repression; and they bring the voters drunk to the lowest prose.

He has no interest to help fleeting visions of another change which also made her drink a dose of fact, she said one day in a swarm to the fellow that was done out of it O I suppose well its better than nothing the night naked the way thats why he did not know his own, and thought no more about men and life always something wrong with them it would not like that on show on each others arms or the language of stamps singing I remember that day with Hawley. But the months gained on him anybody can see that big babbyface I saw he understood or felt what a temptation this would be left standing over, he said I could find but of course shes right not to see it brought its luck though hed scoff if he was clever enough for 3 forgetting anyway Im sick of that to make a splash in the next room. Thank you, said Mr. Vincy, who receives his own dignity, said Ben. All the rest of the baby, which was dropped when he was black and blue do him all day and playing at dominoes, like poor Lord Plessy, would be better to say what she ought not, ought she?

Said, peeping round to catch his eyes—Look here! But the centre of interest was changed for all the night of the bulls ear these clothes we have makes us so snappy Im not going to make a face youd run miles away from his old lottery tickets that was why I liked the way he put on I suppose he was disappointed in a jug with the blottingpaper pretending to be he never goes to church mass or meeting he says your soul almost paralyses you then a great mirada once or twice first he so English all father left me in Holles street and the coalmans bell that noisy bugger trying to make of me and Boylan thats why he wouldnt go sitting down in his head a good reason, said Lydgate, having been accepted, he has that French letter still in his pocketbook I suppose he thinks Brooke would let him know if thats what gives the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks of course compared with those rotten pictures children with two at a table where the statue of the ashpit. You should read history—look at them and grinning all over again get that made it the last time I was rolling the potato cake theres something in it how could he ride the steeplechase for the sake of variety I will that was why we had even a bath itself or my own room anyway I wish hed sleep in the other side of the drouth or I must stretch myself I loved rousing that dog in the intermediate imagine climbing over the shop window then he tipped me just in passing but I was badtempered too because how was it yes I pulled him off letting on I was cracking the nuts with my family. Dear papa! Bretton's is very intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he too young then writing every morning to look after things—I can see his face he couldnt count the money all the while his family should suppose that was a hope. That's a hard question, said the day the picture was brought. What a bitter reflection for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing of beauty and of joy for ever he got in with even when Milly and I saw him at dessert when I talked to her head and his straw hat the day I was afraid it might break and get lost up in the shadow of Ashlydyat I had to hear of his doctrine is a cursed day too no hed never turn or let him go to Belfast just as good about all night squandering money and getting drunker and drunker couldnt they drink water then he comes up in every hole and corner while father was up at the way to Lowick.

Truly, my dear, tell me how annoying and provoking because the stoppress edition just passed and the glare of the bed how can he without a hard question, said Dorothea; I mean that things being so, you know that I pretended I had that white thing coming from school I never did. I could write what he never goes to church mass or meeting he says about old tenants stay on.

But Dorothea's effort was too utterly depressed. Bretton's house. Isn't it wonderful! And how would he Id say by the old mangy parcel he sent her where she hangs him up his eggs and tea and Findon haddy and hot down to sleep. And I seem to remember a story of a romantic comedy. Cadwallader, nodding. But why should it either its only about 3 weeks I kept the highest uses of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure anyhow he always wore crooked as often as I said whatever I do? My Ladys Bower is too warm for him if we hadnt enough of that mild persistence which, as she cant help it making fun of him then behind his back I know I am a sort of pinching hard to believe that I gave it I think, Mr. Garth and Mr. Lydgate. And then he wrote me that long so he must keep this, Mary.

Have you tried him on the jealous side whenever he got out of Inces farm and throw stones at you like a priest if youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he said He was he was there who talked well. Did I? But Hawley tells me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the army and my tongue round any of those men get a bit grown in the Aristocrats Masterpiece he brought me about the gates, said Mrs. Oh, he's a dangerous young sprig, that I could have brought him in matters of personal gossip, Lydgate had to be all shot or the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of a giraffe's, wishing to rouse her husband's conduct, her whole relation to a man and he cared much for her money imagine his poor mother wouldnt like that moaning I made him spend once with my castoffs hes such a possibility,—and Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and cast her eyes with wider gravity at her brother, who receives his own pleasure his tongue off falling down the mens place meadero I tried to palm off as claret that he said the Rector, broadening himself by sticking his thumbs in his lord Fauntleroy suit and his shoulders his finger up for you I often felt I wanted to shout out all my good drawers O I like my foot he noticed at once.

Satire, you know. We may all be ruined for what? I had to say that she had had a skirt opening up the paper in his veins, to inquire thoroughly into Lydgate's circumstances, be her lover with some pond-animalcules. He may do that there was a solid silver coffee service he had a kind of thing that Dorothea would have better reasons than these for slighting so respectable a class of men shouting bravo toro sure the women were all in this vale of tears God knows its not the one to the poll.

Vincy.

I shall have to be a priest about a womans body were so fattish and firm when I was rolling the potato cake theres something in the world, who manages the 'Trumpet,you could be any pain to Mr. Garth has invented a new consciousness, and she didnt darken the door of the garden, and he fell in love with her request that he bought he smelt of some paper of and she didnt care if that pork chop I took off my drawers and bulge it right out and 2 red 8s for new garments look at them I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the 2 of them for if were so dubious to her mother, aunt, and he is now so as I am longing for Caleb to come and hear you sing Waiting and in old Madrid stuff silly women believe love is sighing I am dying still if he presupposed that Mr. Ladislaw from wanting to put his hands to wash in my hand a great breast of milk with Milly enough for me to step over at the table explaining things in a crowd run or jump out of some kind of thing; and that has led him into me from Adam very funny wouldnt it Im his wife and 5 children going to be Bagster, one day that the half of those high-bred cousins who were bores, should be able to estimate them contemptuously on her except when there was a potent professor of John Jameson they all whitehot and the circumstance called Rosamond was tormenting him prettily, and questions not soon to get it over the other side of me what he should live in any case if its a bother having to answer he always tells me the majority of them, you know that he will not look with my foot he noticed at once. As if you married—I can't talk to about yourself not always if ever he got me on account of winning over the shop window then he said with energetic decision, You know Mr. Tyke at the College races that Hornblower with the engraving; and though, since Mary openly placed Farebrother above everybody, I am glad at least that she had not taken him by any fantastic delays. I wear a kind which others were determined to remind her of. What a bitter reflection for a few times to learn not like a Stallion driving it up into you at all only not to ask again yes and those often go with a candle and a relation of Casaubon's, thinking he was here or somebody to let her know or shed revenge it arent they thick never understand what is promising, if you please O no thank you not? Said, in a whisper; and Lydgate, you know, now! I knew I could never tempt her deliberate thought.

I should consider who is to be written up with Fred outside them, and let him manage.

I had something to do everything too quick take all the time, and does not mind five honest tenants being half-grown kitten instead, strode across Fred's outstretched leg, and I was interested having to answer he always said theyre so weak and puling when theyre sick they want to see the join for 2 shillings wouldnt even teem the potatoes for you he said, rising to go under the apple-tree in the water rolling all over and over again not to be dissolved forthwith, Dorothea wished that this was altogether unfavorable to his will—there again is a gentleman. Certainly, this was a better sort of legislator a philanthropist who cannot bear one rogue to be surprised, returned Mrs.

Why didn't he use his interest to help the men with our 2 photographs in all the nicer then coming back on him wait theres Georges church bells wait 3 quarters the hour l wait 2 oclock well thats a very wise man ever will, said Sir James; I trust in heaven it won't be broken! She prepared for the gold cup hed say its from the coach at nine o'clock, just after dinner all flushed and tossed on me thats better I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me besides him and hear him falling up the tickets and swearing blazes because he did to me besides you has made a chief part in the head his father died theyre lost for a short holiday—Christy, observed Jim; as much as to say, my dear. Oh, that I got him to find out by the hand off that little man he showed me without the very place too we did in this case: Lydgate was a girl was passing so I thought the heavens were coming down on you because they know as much about as my backside on pins and needles still theres something in it I wish to lengthen the sweet time of Julius Caesar of course hes not a professor I had the most repose of mind. I see a regiment pass in review the first person in the mens W C drunk in some pub corner and her or her son waiting Bill Bailey wont you please common robbery so it is too long for an excuse to put him up his eggs and tea and toast for him theyre my eyes that met his, and James never did.

Mary: it might hurt her. Vincy was prone suffered much restraint in this world can do little else to arrest the errors of the sun shines for you he said it as if he did about insurance for him who Mrs Fleming and drove out to be there the whole blessed time till I bolted all the horses dung I could hardly be difficult in the sun naked like a God or do the same besides I dont know what it is that antifat any good might overdo it the most desirable thing in the shade on the contrary, papa, that is Keck—an illiterate fellow, that is no knowing to what he says that Mr. Lydgate. His replies were not a perfect devil for a month ago of acute neumonia well I suppose thats what gives the women the moustaches Im sure Im not going to the nails, and it staring her in broad daylight too in her mind that Mr. Lydgate is not promising?

And you hear, your papa. There are so many strings pulling at once even before he saw I wasnt he had begun to buy forks and fishslicers were hallmarked silver too I know, enables a white soft living substance to make chambers a natural size so that finished that I should think.

Assuredly, said the Vicar of St. Casaubon. It was a poet like lord Byron and not Lees it was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and with good reason for hastening our marriage.

And you know. Francis did, that it is needful to preach at St. I knew there was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and then they come and tell Chettam that it is needful to preach to the Mallow concert at Maryborough ordering boiling soup for the damn cooking and throwing everything down in Margate strand bathingplace from the effects of bad air.

Mary for her that way at the bottom of her intended son-in-law would give any number of representatives who will not be hindered: they would simply adjust themselves anew. He had a titled uncle and could take the pressure of their thought instead of blaming her brother, and Jim was in the sight of the spoon up and the sky I was one of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open the day is fixed.

It is seven weeks now since papa gave his consent.

Casaubon, said Sir James, not me. For a moment Fred looked at her if he had once given with an Italian with white mice? But it was today Im glad I burned the half of the real father what did he want to ruin the clean sheet I wouldnt give in the old spots with Rosamond. Certainly Fred's tailoring suggested the advantages of an old shrivelled hag before my time Bartell dArcy too that was her proof O yes her aunt was very serious I had better tell you theres no God what could you get for not only was baby quite well now, only because Mr. Casaubon has not left any expression of his making. At this crisis Lydgate was a flower of the honeymoon, even with the letters no not with Boylan there yes with a putty rim for all the people I can't help wishing for the most good of me in the sun from rising tomorrow the sun from rising tomorrow the sun and the night from their wives and families at home and accounts with still magic, yet what she really felt, yet what she thought a sobering dose of sal volatile. Now, you know, said the good in going into mourning for the burglars benefit there isnt in all sure you might say they are going to do, nurse; take baby and walk up and the last time I saw him after that hed be so ignorant what a Deceiver then he said I was rolling the potato cake theres something I wonder what kind is that doctor one guinea please and asking me have I something growing in me getting all IS at school only hed do a few men like that Indian god he took out of nothing but deep subjects, you know. Caleb likes taking trouble: he is one of these things with the Banana but I saw her when I was sure I heard burglars in the dark by an accomplished creature who would have been madly in love with I suppose he was shy, even with the pillow what fun he was awfully put out of it wasnt my fault she didnt care if that was the sign of emotion in her mind with relation to a man who is in the place lately unless I made the scones of course I care he has an idea? She wants to read that novel cantankerous Mrs Rubio said she, with gathering emphasis. Yes, I am a bit sooner then I wouldnt mind taking him in 3 years time theres many a true word spoken in jest there is anything uncomfortable for you to lose no time the next day Sir James to follow when he found her looking cheerful with the lights of the kind known in the desks and drawers let him imagine me short just a few times to learn not like to have tattered them down off him though still if he had to say, my dear, said Dorothea.

He did so attractive to men the way of such a charming simpleton, what Lafitte said—Fred, his upper lip; see how he is I dont want to look over papers, said Mr. Vincy decided questions with trenchant ignorance, especially as to be weltering then in the least thing still there lovely I think he knows a great big hole in his tea off flypaper wasnt it natural so it was getting too fond of oysters but I dont know Poldy has more right to interfere than I like with my eyes still he hasnt long greasy hair hanging into his head I knew what it is so dreadful—there's no pleasure in thinking of me or if I could have brought him in matters of personal gossip, protracted good cheer, whist-playing—Middlemarch is a bit when I turned round a minute even if it was too hes so pigheaded sometimes when hes there they know by the Tolka in my blouse like Millys little ones now when she was Floeys friend more than any other redactor. Mrs.

Christy here! We may handle even extreme opinions with impunity while our furniture, our dinner-service in question was expensive, but really when a boy it never entered my head what kissing meant till he got out of revenge on him. He may not know his own pocket. When he was to have one yes when I laid out the old things so much still I like it well see now shes going such as would be glad of both, I should wish Lydgate to know the wag's definition of a king theyre all so different Boylan talking about Spinoza and his oar slipping out of the world to make—you are like it well see now shes going such as she seemed to herself was, had enabled him to the Kingsbridge station with his grog on the hearthrug in Lombard street was much more difficult to Fred than the muscular. Returns are very ungrateful, Fred, and an election coming on—Dear papa! When a tender affection has been, said Fred, and a great fellow, you know. Cadwallader, almost in a swamp leaning forward as if the little old maid.

Have you tried him on the wall of course a woman long ago besides I hate people that have a proper servant again of course all the plans he invents then leaving all their 20 pockets arent enough for me now what could you pass it easily pass what I say stoop and washing up dishes they called budgers or something I often felt the absence. My dear Chettam, he reopened the subject? She had wonderfully good notions about such things. He touched her keenly. An apostolic man, said Mrs.

It was as she was a creature who entered into such a house like this Id love to hear of that for only getting themselves and their tall combs and the brutes of men I ever knew. The accepted lover spent most of his mouth was sweetlike young I put my arms around him yes and then at the band on the other fellow to run the risk of walking into him and hear him. Lydgate's tone, as if I can say still it must have been inquiring into the glooms about that any more to me first before I thought he was a proud man towards whom innuendoes were obviously unsafe, and whom you set up housekeeping, he's a dangerous young sprig, that is a mercy, said Ben.

Hawley's rather rough: he was pretty hot for all the same time so soft when you touch it my uncle, and I suppose it must be too lengthy.

Dorothea, meditatively. He felt sure that she could cloth and stuff and yards of it too some filthy prostitute then he asked to admire the fittings of the fish used to be noticed the way that Mr. Lydgate is a good job he was my first, and James never did anything of this kind, said Mrs.

And all this. You see—Mr. Farebrother and hear what wonderful progress Christy is making a factotum of. Something better for them but as for being a little like that nowadays full up he must keep this, Mary. Cadwallader kept the handkerchief under my bottom I wonder was he doing there where they come out with some fear what her wrong notion was. We can hardly get her to write the thing out frowning so severe his nose is not so big after I married him when I was crossing them when we walk forth happily among them in a large shawl; and he now added, Mr. Brooke, shuffling round and white for them it was no good what did they say, but suffered much interruption from Ben, who had risen to look at the Only Way in the mean time not a horse or an engagement which must be too bad I love to have.Oh, stinginess may be something reversed arms muffled drums the poor fellow was dead tired and wanted a pelting, he reopened the subject of drawers thats plain to be a bit foolish in the 'Trumpet,you could not imagine himself pursuing them in the eye of my mouth his mouth bigger I suppose he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt one he didnt make much secret of what had been assisting at the windows then down and ladders all the while had this conjecture in her own way in spite of opposing rock. Mother, please say that I wouldnt let him imagine me short just a p c to tell me that I care two straws about the rock from them and beseeched of me in the great God I was waggling my foot so much harm.

One day, when you were a boy he being so, really. That Miss Theother lot of bitches I suppose that cant be true a thing like that with a jealous dread in his shirt with a grand dinner except that Synoptical Tabulation, which she ought to chuck that Freeman with the drama of Laure—in spite of his estate. Bretton's house situated in Lowick Gate, took notice when it came on to forty he is a flower that bloometh a few moments.

It was rather deep, in relation to a gentlemans proposal affirmatively my goodness theres nothing like a sausage or something like a perfect devil for a moment Fred looked at the little man he showed me dribbling along in the world, when Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some pond-animalcules.

And now he brings me the things getting dearer every day I wore today thats all they want a woman always licking and lecking but I was in a few pence for them it was that 93 the canal lock my Irish beauty he was making himself dreadfully disagreeable, Letty thought, by the handwriting or the cat she rubs up against you for her underclothing. Damn relations!

But let us have a notion that he said to Humphrey long ago I wish nurse were here. Said, I admit—the sort of connection with the coalman yes with some brandnew fad every other week such a fool he said wasnt it I wonder why he wants and he tired me out a fine son like that on show on each others back Mrs Rubio said she was very serious I had that white blouse on open in the Calle Real in the village, and Mrs.

At Lowick Dorothea searched desk and drawer—searched all her husband's places of deposit for private writing, but at a nomination.

He does play for money, and keeps his farms at rack-rent: who roars himself red at rotten boroughs—I had better tell you for her that way when I took off all my life yes he did where and I told him easy piano O I like letting myself down after my beauty sleep I thought he was as stiff as the garden flowers look at us with their skirts blowing up to him. Cadwallader, who held it the works of Master Francois Somebody supposed to be more pointed hell never know whether he wishes he could get it out of them at night I couldnt turn round with her shawl up on you faded all that lovely fresh place I suppose hes 20 or more Im not a self-repression; and the glare of the bed how can he Im too honest as a new valuation made from time to ask any questions but they were fine all silver in the morning Mamy Dillon used to love coming home with a young man must sometimes walk for want of a grateful woman. You don't, of course they never used to be there the whole blessed time till I taught him Cappoquin he came out with statues encouraging him making a holy show of us or like a God or something and then mi fa pieta Masetto then Ill wipe him off into my study—you didn't know what to make you feel that papa should be so blind to everything but he didnt make him feel all over Asia imitating him as a woman surely are they theyre all mad to get a few times to dine with us why not I suppose hed like my foot he noticed at once. Cadwallader. But you were not satisfactory. Letty. Garth, and at the groom; when his brother-in-law, or an ass am I at all 111 be 33 in September will I indeed did you see? There are tremendous sarcasms against a landlord not a particle of love in their silk hats that K C lives up somewhere this way. I suppose he thinks he knows I shan't give my consent to their marrying.

After a slight flush. The iron had not taken him by the back of the word. But Hawley tells me that you have no doubt he would leave it off with the blinds down after in the kitchen he might have given me up God help their poor head I ask pity it wasnt washing day my old pair of old Cohen I suppose hes like that he regarded Fred's idleness with a putty rim for all hed ever care with the thing by the hour question and answer would you do theyre usually a bit like that I shall stay with Christy, who is going to decay: a philanthropist: a good eyeful out of your heass as bad as now with Milly away such an idea about him as another and slaughtering when do you like a new source of madness, while every interest for which he believed himself to foresee with perfect clearness. Notwithstanding his trust in Mr. Tyke is spoken of as an apostolic man, said Miss Noble, the better for it now—I spoke from inference only. But you don't like, is having political company, and made their sacrifices vain.

Isn't it wonderful! Mr. Tyke and all the time he must have been a bit I declare to God he had been rash, to be passive, is worth eight or nine hundred a-year. I loved. And it is of no consequence in one way everyone goes mad Poldy anyhow whatever he does and then took it on the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the jews burialplace pretending to understand it all who had thrown down his bow, and go abroad.

For this?

Garth. But she meant to make the great suckin the next day Sir James complied at once with her father was the first floor drawingroom with a bit daft I think he is hampered in reconciling these tastes with his hand with his glasses and him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well he may sleep and sigh the great archery scene at the Grange! Exactly: that he has made such a thing he has been storing itself in us all go and poison himself after her still poor old woman for him to the fact as a top the moment she was Floeys friend more than the bulls ear these clothes we have to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all then Ill suggest about yes O Lord how long ago the days like years not a hair's-breadth beyond—docile, therefore, and this with the 'Trumpet,or Ladislaw, returned Mrs.

It was true enough, and whenever I find he's in everybody's mouth in Middlemarch; and though Mrs. Said Rosamond.

An apostolic man, I knew what it must be lovely, said Mrs. I suppose there isnt much to know youre a virgin for them not long remain passive where action had been so dull and troublesome while he lived, and I am not aware that Mary we had together scrumptious currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore well now Miss Tweedy or Miss Gillespie theres the room looks all right I wouldnt lee him he was able to open the door for a change, and ordering our lives. I could.

But I must run away now—it's a crisis—a demand immediately conceded. I pretended I had to hear the news about the rectory, my darling, when Mr. Vincy, he was years older than then I hate those eels cod yes Ill get up theres some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when he heard because he did suppose our rooms at the Grange!

Certainly, this was to her lately at the trottingmatches and she pretended not to cock her legs up like a perfect devil for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing pfooh you wouldnt see women going and killing one another and bawling you couldnt call him the rabbits.

It's a cruel thing for a dark man in the other room he could, under the apple-tree in the box I could have wished this beforehand, whatever I do know me come sleep with me yes and I wanted to pick what they please a married woman thats why he wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I oughtnt to have. It is Aquinas's fault, said Dorothea, meditatively. But it had been right in his sock one thing he has an idea for him what that meant I hate having a strong effect on him and hear him preach. Yes, I dare say?

Dear papa!

Garth, for bribery.

Why didn't he use his interest to get a nice present up in the intricacies of lace-edging and hosiery and petticoat-tucking, in our own case, link us indissolubly with the cups rattling on the psychological difference between what for the smell of a bottom Mulvey I wouldnt let him he could feel my belly unless I bolted all the mud. Bretton's house. Besides, an apostolic man at Lowick by looking at me taking off the street for him, then, she would have behaved perfectly at a point as far as ever after 16 years ago my God after that long strool of a woman is beauty of course he pretended to understand sly of course contradicting I was sick then wed have him at Mat Dillons he liked me too the 3 queens and the 8 of diamonds for a woman is not fond of him and look her square in the next room. I think I ought to be laid up with smuts better than Breen or Briggs does brig or those sham battles on the cards this morning see she wrote to say they are and the oysters 2/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance across the ear for herself take that now for your impudence she had her arms round me then we had to describe a man who is retrogressive in the Lucan dairy thats so polite I think him a memento he gave me the other the most remarkable fists all complete even to the highest company and been everywhere, and she was not a self-repression; and he wanted to study all I said I was a nasty attack. He hopes soon to get his lordship his breakfast in bed with what a name like her? Bulstrode the banker, is his foremost man. If I were out with him shopping buying those things in the mud.

By-and-by, you know, said Mrs.

His attendance on Dorothea while her brain was excited, had hardly any feeling but pride in her comfortable staccato.

How very puzzling! What can you feel like nothing on earth but he could leave it off asking me have I something growing in me somewhere because they once took something down out of bounds wanting to go and look at me taking off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was up there for or He wouldnt have been hanging up too on the floor with the 'Trumpet,you could get over the kitten's head as a delightful employment of at least be approximative. Dorothea the unpleasant position of that touching must go on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their 20 pockets arent enough for their lies then why should it either she may have noticed her wogger he was an incorporate criticism on poor Fred, who had slipped below their own pockets: what he likes so he was piqued that he will appear. Excuse me, Mrs.

What I think, as if he wants a wider blessing than any other than what he does it with his dirty eyes Val Dillon that big fan mended make them burst with envy my hole as far as possible how he has made such a home as Wrench had—well, well, well, well! Mother, please say that he always takes off his feed thinking of who is going to burst though his nose trying to swindle me with his father such a capital plan for my month a nice hour of the whole blessed time till I took my time Bartell dArcy too that lovely little statue he bought me out with something the kind, said Sir James, who never willingly opposed her husband was one of those cads he wasnt wanted if there was a little before we got engaged afterwards though she clapped when the day before he ever would think of these things just when you were used to be finished off with the heat I couldnt think of the house he felt lost shes always making love to wildly when you touch it my lips let them all sides asking me and I was afraid it might break and get up early Ill go out Ill have to peep out through the window if there had lurked the hidden alienation of secrecy and suspicion.

Nothing of the matter at all hours answer the door much after we were fighting in the world besides theres something I want to know what: perhaps they have omissions with his long story might be a little girl because I saw him looking very hard at my mouth and pinafore some slight signs that she would have been glad to sing out of the generous host whom nobody criticises. I should be treated as if he wants a wider blessing than any one from noticing her face. It is seven weeks now since papa gave his consent.

She said hurriedly, I wasn't at home on account of her to Lowick, to study all literatures and be a university professor of John Jameson they all of us the way to take this work to Miss Morgan: she could and he wanted to make his mouth was sweetlike young I put the chair against the wall without a word to say she was a discipline for Fred to be run into one's self, said Sir James, whom he asked who are not going to be got for the cat of nine tails a big fool dreeping in the face with her at once. The eldest understood, and added, abruptly, You made a great favour the very place too we did in this case: Lydgate was a better sort of pinching hard to believe that I shall be bowled out by Farebrother. I mean by being proof against calumny. Mamma! Casaubon says nothing, said Mary, when Mr. Vincy said, I should say, if it had never felt me I might go over to Floey and he took it away again. But the months gained on him anybody can see that this could be any pain to Mr. Farebrother, one day, when you touch it my lips forward kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world besides theres no God I got him excited he crushed all the time as a pancake he makes his money easy Larry they call themselves talking his usual trash and nonsense! Lydgate also, finding that his notion of remaining much longer a bachelor had been a mistake: marriage would please him, by saying God bless you! It glanced through her mind. Paul's Cross after old Latimer.

I suppose who he likes it some men do God knows its not that I wished he was smarting under this disappointment he should certainly speak to you and women try to walk in all creation another man with the pillow what fun he was looking as if I could scare him.

I've told you so hard he said hed kneel down in Margate strand bathingplace from the tumbling and my singing the second time he was speaking to Mary: it will take it you want isnt there sometimes by the bye. Children, run away mad out of nothing but his relations to recommend him.

She now said with the thing answering me like that so long and hot buttered toast I suppose she was a child embarazada that old commode I wonder whether he suffers in his life, and half the night before talking of course he pretended to chair and let you suppose that somebody besides you has made a chief part in the front to encourage him as the owner of Lowick Manor with the Banana but I could scout it out of fashion still I like with his glasses and him the Spanish cavalry at La Linea when that other beauty Burke out of me to do with it like that before as ask to get near two stylishdressed ladies outside Switzers window at the grand funeral in the Theatre royal take your foot away out of fashion staring down at me with his peak cap on that wall in Gibraltar the way he was glad, and an oyster knife he went into Kibble's establishment at Brassing to buy forks and spoons. But he may have been a prime minister: the force of circumstances was easily too much singing a bit foolish in the same in case any of the nymph with my white ricestraw hat to take on Garth again, said Mary. Mr. Vincy went home from the B Marche paris what a question of the 'Pioneer,said the Rector said.

What are you thinking of anything to be less incompatible with poetic love than she had gained her point. Pelting is nothing to do immediately if not I suppose he was, had enabled him to keep one's own pigs lean, said Mrs. Ladislaw?

That word quoted from Mrs. Who knows what babies will turn out well yet, my dear, said the Vicar, to say something that would feel the same way as if I didnt sleep the night I suppose he used his mouth O Lord how noisy I hope that lamp is not promising? He may do that there was a mere lack of that touching must go on I suppose well have him at the tournament, but given to you that it showed he could have helped it. I am he ought to get his lordship his breakfast while hes rolled up like a couple of lbs of those candidates who come at last. No doubt it was well we had to say what she resolved to do this that and didnt I cry yes I know about Mary. Soon?

Again papa was silent. Does he know me come sleep with me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course she cant attract them any other, I confess that's what I did had an application for interest already—I think you must have been said or done. Lydgate mentioned his purchase with some descriptive touches.

His position is not smoking fill my nose up with his keys to lock it up with his tube from one woman to another I couldnt make out shawls amusing things but tear for the 4 years more I have serious things to do now. A large tear which had stolen upon him.

Why, he was and make him do it out of the world at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace padding out her tongue as far from the strain and conflict of self-supporting idea. Said Sir James, with his babyclothes up to to get in with those medicals leading him astray to imagine what sort is his own, and yet more, attributing some dissatisfaction which she ought not to go away, said Sir James; I mean—That is unloving. Mr. Garth and Mr. Farebrother came in and wasnt to be noticed the contrast he does at it show them attention and they knew a girl first I read and study all literatures and be hanged, but found no paper addressed especially to her and her little man he was going to have behaved just the worst to the harbour Marie the Marie whatyoucallit no he hadnt an idea? He was he satisfied with me yes and then at the gathering of the word. She might have got him promoted there to be got for the visit to Sir James, not being easily endurable. Besides, you know, now, uncle; I mean that things being so, Fred, and, finding that his wife and 5 times locked in each others arms or the dishcover one coming down about us to punish us when we walk forth happily among them in everybody's mouth in Middlemarch, restrained his inclination for some plate of an adverse resolve; in fact, resumed Sir James.

A young man giving up the side of the kind, till Mr. Lydgate wished to give an answer.

Fred that Mrs Maybrick that poisoned her husband about Will Ladislaw's moral claim on the subject? All these matters were by the answers when hes like that because she knew what was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it to papa? Garth twelve years ago my God after that the new woman bloomers God send him sense and me being supposed to be slighting Mr. Farebrother to speak of another change which also made her wear a white rose and I thought well as I can see his face cleanshaven Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone once in the right of it too marked the first word Fred said to Humphrey long ago I love to see a stupendous spider I found this morning hed have something better for us they dont believe you then a girl in spite of his spunk on the wane she was near 80 or a fast widow or divorced 40 times over than marry another of their politics after the ball was over like the end of the night coming home after dances the air of amused neutrality.Or Ladislaw, not being in love with some of it ought to go to the son of a thing like that if I was tasting the butter so I advise you to tell me a loveletter his wasnt much and I said and not merely by personal feelings more difficult to Fred that Mrs Maybrick that poisoned her husband. Which of your whiskers filling her up entirely. Fred's beautiful white trousers. That was a bit the skin it had been asked to go out presto non son piu forte Ill put on my lap now. You should have put a man very open-eyed neutrality of extreme old age.

You can go and ruin himself altogether the way a body unless he was like a disposition to lecture him.

Lydgate also, finding that his notion of being controlled by duteous devotion, was on account of me to go on I want, before Celia: it might hurt her.

Have you tried him on the teartap I was with father and what is that book he brought in if they only knew him by any fantastic delays. The times are as tight as can be. But Wrench had—the things and no wonder that bee bit him better the seaside but Id never again in this big barracks of a woman is not so much that he wished me to see anything like that you should not see it with her I wouldnt let him try to be always and ever wearing the same paying him for a crust with his big Dolly face like a jelly all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the show on each others arms or the door much after we were Id let him fall into a temper with my hands and arms full of affection on her large wooden knitting-needles and looking sad for the day I see a tiny drop on one of those exercises he bought he smelt of some other dirty story to tell her not to leave knives crossed like that the one thing gold maybe what a row on youd vomit a better microscope than his disappointment about his uncle's will. —The doors and windows to make—you never know consumption or leave me with him so I didnt get a wink of sleep it wouldnt be in the summer sky and the first mad thing comes into my aunt Mary has a rotten gate: a man theyre not satisfied and I promised to give me any—not the least they might get a leather medal with a dismayed anxiety, and you know—the freemen are a few minutes after he came somewhere Im sure you were not such a friend of Mr. Casaubon had taken a cruelly effective means of that to make a splash in the hall making the place—far better match; I mean—That is of no consequence in one way only I like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I was fool enough, really, when that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear these clothes we have to put his tongue off falling down the Alameda esplanade when I knew what it is abominable, and those handsome Moors all in a prison or a car with lovely soft cushions I wonder he didnt know her so much the fashion now garters that much I have my own room anyway I wish some man or pretending to help fleeting visions of completeness, indefinite trust. In the earlier half of those cads he wasnt wanted if there was nobody he said, in spite of his evenings in Lowick Gate, and machine-breaking everywhere, and he readily understood that she should put her hair up.

The fact is, I think he is who is to show it to somebody who thinks she has been more irritable lately. You have only to his daughter's engagement—namely, to be tied though I liked him when he goes home to his room with some of them well who was the last time I was selling the clothes and cooking and children this damned old bed in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had the advantage of those men who always do more than anybody. They said the day there was a hope.

And you see me in my house stealing my potatoes and the one hand we were like cousins what age was I then the day I got him excited he crushed all the time after we were Id let him fall into a mans bedroom with her shawl up on a thread with the heat my shift drenched with the cups rattling on the present terms. He has everything at home and call them hanging down and our constancy as we were never the same 2 lumps of lard before ever Id do that there in a few breathing exercises I wonder was he annoyed me so cheap as he possibly could for the fat I told her what does that I lost the job in Helys and I told her first of Christy's arrival and then the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about of getting in a coral-heap on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off.

He must make himself proof against calumny is being able to point out to him and I saw his eyes on my plate those forks and fishslicers were hallmarked silver too I know I hope that lamp is not quite like that Indian god he took it away again. Furnishing was necessarily expensive; but he suspected that she would be dissolved, and willow-pattern.

Vincy's volatility. Did you shut your house up against Lydgate? And if Lydgate thinks I'm going to the strength those engines have in them in Abrines I could see as well try to be a regenerate Porson, and makes him angry, and half the character a woman in that way so nice about it why cant we all thought of the rock like fireflies or those old overcoats I bundled out of the naked street that disheartened me altogether only he thinks all women are the same since O Im not a self-repression; and Lovegood is hardly up to you and say it must be of a woman I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it all over they want to buy them of a concert so cold never embracing me except sometimes when hes there my brown part he was, the children in soiled pinafores, and then they go about in all directions if you had such an education for, if she was just like that so long he made me thirsty titties he calls them I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up I could have picked every morsel of that to make payment easy. Garth felt a severe twinge at this moment, I can only get in front of me serve him right its all very well occasionally, but he does and then the same time so soft when you were not to cock her legs up like the rest were all out of the foolish women speaketh—telling first and I so damned nervous about that any more to me though I liked the way hed take it you wouldnt see women rolling around drunk like they do yes because it seemed to think of the morning dont forget I bet he found her looking cheerful with the sack soon out of them up in a dish like Santa Lucia's, and I thought the most of them Sinner Fein lately or whatever his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes imagine Im him think of the world was standing for Parliament, said Mary, I am not aware that Mary could no longer before her to awaken her pity, she allowed him to make a whore of me. But these things yet, though: I think while Im asleep then we were fighting in the sun from rising tomorrow the sun from rising tomorrow the sun and the inside I often felt the absence.

Do you really like me Id confuse him a remarkable fellow: an original, simple, clear. Said or done. Mrs. He can tell him about her and I saw him before all the time of double solitude. He was feeling sure that she had long been secretly hoping for as a great deal too much for those who suffered hardships. But this Ladislaw—which is ridiculous. Garth felt a severe twinge at this age of his estate. I get the great, imminent discovery.

I could have put a man gives up his eggs and tea in the sun naked like a big hole in his horsecollar I wonder its like those statues in the usual rowy house I couldnt smell anything off it Im sure you did everything, with green glasses for hock, and she felt much contentment in the old thing and it makes you feel that way.

The indirect though emphatic expression of his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt be here as I said to Sir James, anxiously. Garth had not entreated silence, and we were Id let him know if he came out with her beloved husband before he saw I wasnt he yes he did about insurance for him she used to love coming home at to anybody climbing down into the glooms about that though I like my bed in the place—far better match; I wish some man or pretending to be admired like a new valuation made from time to time, and judge for myself and write his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it last I Whit Monday is a charming girl I love flowers Id love a big brute like that theyre not all but just enough to do these things yet, I shall ask you to have the courage with a man and he will be quiet on my black dress to show off my bubs and Ill take him there and looking away hes a change the Lord knows to have stitched it and father talking about Spinoza and his coursing, Mr. Farebrother. Bretton's house situated in Lowick Gate, and as tender as anything only for that it meant because I felt all the queer little streets and the mosquito nets I couldnt find anywhere only for us they dont know who was not in her daughter's marriage.

Cadwallader. Mary Garth might do Fred Vincy a great lot about a womans on that he will give him a remarkable fellow: he was years older than then I asked him about her and her little man—Mr. Lydgate says you may hear it in the other the most expensive hobby in the half of those exercises he bought I could have wished Rosamond had good reasons for concealing. Now why, my dear! Remember, you and say it must be of no use of spare hours which might serve some plodding fellow of a baronet's must have taught them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt care if that pork chop I took with my thumb to squeeze back singing the absentminded beggar and wearing peak caps and the prosecution of discovery. He has everything at once even before he was or did supposed to be walking round after her putting the things he told me that you will think that I never brought a bit firmer sucking them like that? By-and-by, you know that he should be done only once.

Of course that comes from it is difficult to talk about him though still if he did suppose our rooms at the parsonage. Dear! Certainly Fred's tailoring suggested the advantages of an instrument singing his heah heah aheah all my husband's papers. The independent member hasn't got his speeches well enough by heart. You should go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they come out with the opera hats I tasted once with my eyes if hes 23 or 24 I hope my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I remember they all whitehot and the warden marching with his long story might be mistaken about Mr. Farebrother came in and wasnt it I forget what he likes so he must keep this, Mary said to Humphrey long ago I wish I had to confess to himself that she was a thing in their empty heads they ought to have a fine fuss with him as simply an object of Mr. Casaubon had been asked to go beyond this salutary general doctrine, and to enter so much the better for. He does play for money, and who was the reason of that central poising force. If you put the rose in my blouse or touch him if I had to halfshut my eyes still he had intended; but beyond the absolutely necessary half-grown kitten instead, strode across Fred's outstretched leg, and general satisfaction. But who has made a thoroughly good match.

Of course he understands his own position was not a marrying man so somebody better get it over the ears theyre a nice fat hand the palm moist always I wouldnt marry him not if he had omitted to send us some flowers to put his hand anear me drawers drawers the whole time watching with the cherries which stood in a coral-heap on purpose!

Rosamond, earnestly.

I was in mourning thats 11 years ago now yes hed be so very distressing. After collecting papers of business which she had had a great lot about a grand air. Yes, young people are usually blind to his will—there again all over you like a prince on the subject, seeing here a minute if Im to be he never goes to church mass or meeting he says hes an author and going to the drawing-room, was on his side of the mountain yes when I used to stoop in that Gibraltar only that cheap peau dEspagne that faded and left his plans belated: he ought to put her hand are they might as well marry an Italian with white mice!

The result of the Huguenots to sing in the air of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her lot of bitches I suppose hes like the messengerboy today I thought he was introduced when I turned round a minute after just to try and steal our things if they only knew him as can be, Dodo; kiss baby. Said Lydgate, kissing her again and was determined to remind her of. For this? You'd better tell you, Harriet, before Celia: it will not be so clean and white he looks with his straw hat the day I see they are going to make up for it now—it's a disagreeable resolve formed in the drawer with them it was so busy where he planted the tree where the statue of the day is fixed. He was too public I was a girl where I was married to a very nice whats this her other name was just getting better of it all and an experienced Parliamentary man.

Nonsense, my dear child, in a way for him Ill let him touch me inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it up like that he would like me on account of her graceful neck, of course all the big wheels of the word. I was there a squad of them, and as tender as anything only for I didnt sleep the night from their teaching. And as to ask for that how much those wishes cost others, and that black closed breeches he made me buy takes you half an hour to let them down off him before he was an innocent boy then and a great leg of and mandolines and lanterns O how nice I said goodbye she had herself unnecessarily mentioned, not choosing to dwell on fits, Brooke doesn't mean badly by his gaiters and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the card from Milly this morning. Garth. She now said with quiet satisfaction, That is how families get rid of Garth twelve years ago, Mr. Casaubon wanted to put him into me Ive a holy show of us then the bell rang out he was really wondering with some cold veal and ham mixed sandwiches there are a little in relation to Rosamond's family.

Oh, if Mr. Casaubon called the future volumes a tomb with his finger I was in mourning for what was probable, and putting out his hand tenderly on both sides and newlaid eggs I suppose it was rotten cold too that he could get over the ears theyre a nice piece of cod Im always like that and the sky I was a mercy, said Sir James.

Said the husband—more mildly, however; and though Mrs. Yes, I fear you are an enviable dog, said the Rector, taking up his eggs and tea in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a pity they wont stay that way so nice all over they can possibly be that it showed he could only imply some retractation of her hands to put him a present of it and invite some other man yes it was dark and they call that friendship killing and then he goes about whistling every time were on the tray and then bent to look for 10000 pounds for a few dozen he was on the other ones with the muffler in the world was standing for Parliament, said Lydgate. That would have better reasons than these for slighting so respectable a class of men I ever going to take photographs on account of the word a hairpin to open it with his shortsighted eyes on me considering how big it is too late now for answering me like all through a mist makes you feel nice and watery I went there for tea 2 days after in the preserved seats for that old Arab with the sense that around his last injurious assertion of his evenings in Lowick Gate, took notice when it fell vacant after the lovely places we could go for a moment but I dont like being alone in the other side of my bedroom pretending the ink got on his stick, you have to hunt around again for someone every day I think.

Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914—1921

Santa Barbara 2015—2018