#oak wants light blue (which i did last time)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Knight of Dreams.

He pledged to see his father off with a smile. That last wish, he could not fulfill.

This isn’t the happy ending he wanted—open your eyes.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

He wakes to the woods.

Silver automatically recognizes his surroundings. He'd laid out at the base of a great oak, planted right in the center of a lush forest glen. Sunlight filters through the leaves, granting the place an ethereal glow.

A stream threads around a cottage with a roof of straw, shuttered windows open and smiling at him. Where the water rounds at a bend, there's an arched bridge that leads to a path winding up to the cottage. It's picturesque and cozy, an illustration right out of a fairy tale.

It's home.

Silver rubs at his eyes, dispelling the remaining shreds of his drowsiness.

I must have dozed off again. Father must be worried.

He stands, dusting himself off. There's a few blades of grass clinging to his clothes, some petals coming loose. As he runs his hands over fabric, they snag upon something small and hard in the pocket of his pants.

"Huh? What is this...?"

Silver's voice trails off as he fishes out the object. It's a chunky ring in the shape of a crown, which hangs off of a golden chain. Embedded into the ring are many small, clear jewels. In the center is a large gemstone--and when it catches the sunlight, it refracts the colors of the rainbow.

A dull pain starts in the back of his head. He frowns, gently rubbing at the spot to soothe it.

Strange. I don't recall owning something like this. Did I find it lost in the forest?

For reasons unknown to him, the vague image of a smiling man is conjured. The owner? He gropes around in his foggy memories, but comes up with no answer.

Even so, his fingers close protectively around the bauble.

"Silver!"

He looks up, finding his father in the doorway. Lilia wears a shamelessly frilled apron, KISS THE COOK emblazoned upon his chest. The fae happily waves for his son to approach, and his heart melts.

Silver jogs up the path, barely breaking a sweat when he arrives on the porch. "Father."

"Silly boy, you're going to be late for your own birthday party," Lilia teases, lightly booping him on the nose. "Well, come on in! Everything's just about ready."

Silver curiously peers inside. The cottage is clean and neat--a rarity when left alone with his father, though Silver suspects he must have enchanted a broom to do the tidying.

It seems that his father has been hard at work in the kitchen, whipping up many of his... signature dishes which radiate a noxious aura. The most edible looking thing on their tiny dining table is a tiered vanilla cake with 18 candles stabbed into it. It's leaning over, blue frosting dribbling down its sides.

Tucked in one corner of the room is a fine suit on a mannequin, stitched together in shades of pink, blue, and green. Silver raises a brow at his father, who shrugs.

"I couldn't decide on just one color!" Lilia admits.

"You didn't have to go out of your way for all of this."

"Oh, but I wanted to," his father insists, giving him a quick hug. He pulls back, but keeps his hands on Silver's shoulders. "After all, this birthday is a very special one: you're finally considered an adult."

An... adult?

There it is again, that throbbing pain. It comes stronger this time, blinking in and out like a warning light.

Silver grimaces, bringing a hand to his forehead.

Lilia frowns. "Oh dear, are you still half asleep? Maybe you ought to sit down. We can't have you feeling unwell, especially before Malleus and Sebek get here."

"Yes, I think I'll do that," Silver agrees. "I apologize for the trouble. I feel like I haven't been myself lately. Like something is... wrong."

"I didn't realize you were so anxious about aging!" Lilia jokes, steering him over to an open chair. As soon as Silver is safely seated, Lilia goes in for an aggressive ruffle of his hair. "Chin up, m'boy! There is no shame in maturing. Why, I've raised you to be an upstanding young man if I do say so myself! You've got nothing to worry about."

Silver attempts a smile. "Of course."

His clutch on the ring and its chain instinctively tightens.

Lilia notices. "What's that you've got there? You're clenching your fist rather hard."

"Oh, this..." Silver unfurls his fingers. As soon as Lilia lays his eyes upon the piece of jewelry, a shadow passes over his expression, clouding it.

"Where did you find that?" he asks softly. Lilia leans over, a hand hovering, as if preparing to snatch it up. "You weren't supposed to receive this yet. Here, give it back to--"

"NO!!"

Silver says it louder than he means to, startling his father. His body turns from him and toward the ring, intent on guarding it. He doesn't know why--but everything in him is screaming that he must not let it be taken away.

Lilia stops, then shakes his head. "... It's fine. You were going to be gifted it sooner or later."

"You know what it is?" Silver remains alert, still shielding the ring.

"It's your birthday present, from me to you. I've been saving up for quite a while to afford it for you--I wanted it to be a big surprise," Lilia pouts. "Ah, but in the end... I suppose it doesn't matter what the method of delivery is, so long as you're still happy with it."

Silver's brows crease. Something about the comfortable narrative does not quite roll of the tongue smoothly.

A present from his father...

He stares down at the large gem laid in the center of the ring. It's facets twinkle, pink and blue and purple. Just like his eyes.

My... eyes?

A buzzing sound rings in his ears. His father's deep voice rises up through the white noise.

"It must be what your parents wished for. That their child's eyes may remain like this jewel, clear and unclouded... It suits you, Silver."

That is...

Silver sits up straight.

All at once, everything looks different. The world, shifted, and the glowing filter over his lens, gone. This house is not his home, and this man is not his father.

"Hm? Why are you staring at me like that, Silver?" Lilia giggles. "Don't tell me you're daydreaming again."

"... No. No, it's not that."

Silver's eyes flick to the door. It seems so far away.

"I... just remembered something. I forgot to greet the bluebirds." His stomach sinks as he speaks the lie into existence.

"Oh? That's not like you. You're becoming forgetful at age 18!"

Silver nods. "I won't have the time to speak with them once the party begins. May I quickly go to them?"

"Oh my, you're heading out already? So eager to leave the nest."

"... Yes. But please don't worry about me." Silver closes a hand around Lilia's and squeezes. Even if this is all fake, a facsimile, it's still very much the face of his father he is gazing into. He offers reassurance. "I'll be back soon."

"Kufufu. Alright." Lilia squeezes in return. "I'll be waiting then. Don't be late now."

Silver heads for the door.

At the threshold, he looks back one last time. At this, the happy ending crafted for him. A quaint little cottage in the woods, where he would spend the rest of his days with his beloved family.

But it's not what Lilia would have wanted for him. For everyone.

Silver painfully looks away. "Farewell, father. I promise... I will see you again."

Out there. In the real world.

He shuts the door, putting the dream behind him. Silver takes a deep breath.

"Those I've met and will someday... Meet in a Dream."

And then he is gone.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Silver #Lilia Vanrouge #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst anni #twisted wonderland anni #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anniversary #I've been dreaming... #book 7 spoilers

[orginllazyblog]

Making head canons for my fav afk arena family: Gavus, Eugene, Lucilla, and Liberta

Why? Bc we need more content

Some of the headcanons are inspired by ao3 fics

Psst! Lilith, you can make so much money with this

They went to a different place to rebuild their home instead of going back to their old house in the dark forest in case the other celestials & hypogeans tried to separate them again. They were thinking of moving to the oak inn, but there were some celestials/hypogeans living there, so that plan was scratched.

During the mid-winter festival, the couples game, Eugene used this as an opportunity to confess to Gavus but failed to tell afterwards

For their new house, the twins wanted to do the work while their dads took the time to catch up. In the end, the four of them work together and completed their new house

The twins question their dads, which one was the oldest one. Gavus told them that they were "born" on the same day, while Eugen suggested the twins should do rock-paper-scissor.

Their new house seems small, but when you enter, it's a lot bigger than you expect. The location is unknown.

Eugene is the dad who does the crafting. One of Eugene's crafts for furniture was Gavus couch, the twins bed, a walk-in closet, and lastly, the kitchen table. The rest was bought

Liberta picked a hobby of baking, and Lucilla picked up sports

When it comes to going out as a family, either they tag along with others (Thane and Baden) or stay at home. Gavus and Eugene did teach the twins of self-defense in case they're in big danger.

If there was modern technology like ours, the family would do game night. Such as Let's Dance, Mario Party, Mario Kart, and other competitive games. Gavus and Eugene would have one of those couple fights.

"Pigeonhead! You threw another blue shell at me!"

"And I'll do it again."

"Liberta, let's team up. I got the banna peals ready.

"I got my red shells ready too!"

Back when the twins were children, Gavus and Eugene would take turns to sing them a lullaby. Gavus was surprised by how well Eugene could sing well and almost flustered, which Eugene caught him. 🤨📸

"My my~ Was that a blush I see, Gavus~"

"One word out of your mouth, then you're sleeping on the floor."

How Gavus and Eugene started having feelings for each other was different. Gavus fully started trusting Eugene more even if he's a hypogean. With Eugene, he was touch starve (given the video clip on YouTube), so he misses Gavus warm affection.

That one time when the twins got themselves in big trouble: Liberta and Lucilla began to question if Gavus and Eugene may be more than just friends. So they sneak out to find Estrilla, knowing she might have the answers. And when they got back home, they saw one of the lights on.

"Do you think we're in trouble?"

"I did leave a note saying we will be back."

When they tried to sneak into the house, they saw Gavus in the living room with the lamp on while the living room was dark.

"And where have you two been in this late hour?"

"Um... we went with Daddy Eugene at the grocery store."

Right where Lucilla said that, another lamp light on, which Eugene was folding his arms while being upside down

"Oh?~ But I just went to pick up grocery in the morning, didn't I?"

I'll probably make a small fic here bc of the last headcanon I can see this happening.

Also, does anyone remember that Lilith did afk arena animations. Could Lilith do animations for this new family? They did it with the forsaken family: Shemira, Niru, and Daimon

#afk arena #silly headcanons #lilith pls we need more #afk eugene #afk gavus #afk lucilla #afk liberta #eugavus

[pikablu410]

Double Date

Haha...it’s been a bit. But I’m back, hopefully. And hopefully more consistently!

“You almost ready, dear?” Their partner’s voice called from downstairs.

“Yeah just let me wash up and I’ll be down in a second.” They replied before heading into the bathroom. Nick looked at himself in the mirror. The gray suit and dark blue tie complimented his brown skin well. The dark slacks showed off his recent hours at the gym, something he was most proud of. To top off his appearance, a freshly shaven face along with dark curls gave Nick quite the handsome appearance.

“Nick! Derek and Amir aren’t going to wait all night!” The voice called once more.

“I’m coming Tyler; hold on!” Nick shouted before briskly hurrying down the stairs. Once downstairs, he saw his partner in a black suit that brought out his blue eyes and accentuated his dark hair.

“You look great.” Was all he could think of.

Tyler blushed and said, “Thanks.” Their moment didn’t last long as Tyler quickly remembered they were running late. Rushing to the car, Tyler and Nick hopped in and buckled in.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Nick asked, but Tyler just shrugged. “Too late now.” And with that, the two hurried off as the sun started to set. 

“I still think it’s weird that Derek suggested a buffet for a place to have a double date. That one fancy restaurant isn’t too far out of the way.” Nick stated as they waited at a red light. 

“Well, it’s a new place so I guess he just wants to check it out. Plus, Derek did suggest this whole thing and offered to pay for it all, so I’m not complaining.” Tyler rebutted, just as the light turned green.

A moment of silence struck the two before Nick finally asked, “Derek’s the one who’s apart of that…group?”

“A group? Like a band?” Tyler asked, teasing Nick.

“You know what I mean. It’s that…thing you’re into.” Nick elaborated, and Tyler’s smile slowly faded.

“...yeah, he’s a feeder.” Tyler nearly mumbled.

Nick’s partner had expressed his interest in bigger men early on in their relationship. Tyler was particular, in that they weren’t content with just dating a bigger guy. They had to grow the man themselves, letting their partner graze and feast like a lazy farm animal. Derek was one of Tyler’s friends that they had made online through a site that connected people with similar thoughts. While Nick had never met Derek, he saw pictures that Tyler took and let him read the messages the two sent back and forth to each other. Though, Nick was never really keen on reading them after seeing the kinds of things they talked about.

When Tyler had brought this up to Nick, with the prospect of Nick going along with Tyler’s “strange dream,” as he put it, Nick declined almost immediately. His goal in college was to work out more and lose what little excess weight he had lingering from high school, and so the two’s goals seemed to be direct opposites of each other. Luckily, Tyler seemed to take the rejection well and basically dropped the subject altogether around Nick. The only time it ever got brought up was when Tyler talked about…

“Derek wanted me to warn you before we go in.” Tyler said, parking the car. Nick had zoned out for so long he hadn’t realized they had already arrived.

Raising his eyebrow, Nick hesitantly asked, “What should I be worried about?”

“Amir is also into the whole…feeder thing. Except he likes to be the one growing.” Tyler said, as if confessing to a sin.

“Okay? Why would that be an issue?” Nick asked, to which Tyler sighed. 

“It’s just that. Derek knows you’re not into it, and he and his partner are. He just didn’t want you to be grossed out.” Tyler further explained.

Nick just shrugged and said, “It shouldn’t be a problem for me.”

“Alright then.” Tyler mumbled through a sigh as the two stepped out of the car and headed inside. 

The place looked more like a bar than a buffet. The lighting was very dim and all of the seats were covered with leather. The tables were a rustic oak, or some other kind of wood. Each table had antique salt and pepper shakers, adding to the classic look. Despite everything, Nick felt like the place had an eerie quality to it, one that Tyler didn’t seem to feel or notice. 

Another strange thing was that none of the customers seemed to be women. They also seemed to be all kinds of overweight. There were a few skinny men, which the couple could quickly identify as twinks, but the majority of the people eating with either chubby or downright fat. 

“C’mon, Derek and Amir text me that they’re already here.” Tyler said, going over to a waiter to find their seats. The stick thin man guided the couple over to a booth, where Nick was able to finally lay eyes on his partner’s friend in person, as well as their partner.

Derek’s appearance wasn’t a surprise, as Tyler had shown Nick a photo of him not just two days ago. He had straight, black hair that was neatly combed and was wearing a plaid button-up shirt. Cyan shorts and ankle socks completed the nerdy look, but if Nick had seen Derek walking around the city, or even in the gym, he wouldn’t have batted an eye.

The same couldn’t be said for Amir.

“You must be Nick! I’ve heard a bit about you from Derek already!” Amir introduced himself. 

Amir had glasses and short, brown hair. That was about where the typical traits ended. Amir had on a similar plaid button-up, like his partner, but the buttons were strained tightly against his bulbous belly. It must’ve stuck out at least a foot in front of him - maybe more. Nick could see a tank top underneath the shirt, as if Amir or Derek knew it was in danger of snapping off. Continuing to match Derek, Amir had on a pair of orange shorts that clung to his rear and thighs. When Amir had gotten up to greet Nick and Tyler, the man struggled to waddle over to the two without damaging the pants. Thunder thighs, a thick double chin and love handles poking out from under his shirt, Amir was an embodiment of the reason why he really wasn’t keen on going along with Tyler’s…thing. Whatever he may call it.

After introductions, the two sat their possessions down at the table. 

“Well, why don’t we grab something to eat?” Derek suggested. Nick and Tyler agreed and headed off to the buffet line, but Amir barely moved and said, “You know what I like to eat, right babe?” “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” He teased, giving Amir a kiss on the cheek before walking with Nick and Tyler.

Tyler and Derek talked for a bit before Derek said, “Amir’s favorite dishes are over this way; I’ll meet you guys back at the table!” As Derek headed off to another section of the buffet, Nick pulled his partner over as they grabbed plates for the two of them. 

“Dude!” Nick whispered to Tyler, who looked confused. “What? Did I miss something?” They asked, looking around their surroundings.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be, y’know, huge!” Nick whispered again, to which Tyler turned around and rolled their eyes. 

“Can you just get through this one dinner, please? For me?” Tyler pleaded, handing Nick a ceramic plate. 

Looking into his partner’s eyes and sighing, Nick reluctantly took the plate and headed over to the buffet line, Tyler following quickly after. Nick quickly noticed that there weren’t a ton of healthy options to choose from. There was a salad bar, but it looked like it hadn’t been restocked recently. It made sense, since the lines were at the buffet trays with burgers, french fries and pizza. Even the options that seemed healthier, like steak and mashed potatoes, were dripping in either grease or butter. Nick hesitantly put a burger, some fries and a steak on his plate, trying to keep it light. However, he was still hungry and the food definitely smelled good, so he decided on eating something. Plus, he was sure Amir would eat whatever he didn’t. 

The thought reminded him that Derek had gone to a different part of the restaurant for Amir’s food. “If this isn’t the stuff Amir likes, I’m not sure I wanna see what he does like.” Nick thought to himself as he walked back to their table with Tyler.

Unfortunately for Nick, his question was answered as he saw Derek had already gotten back to the table and was feeding Amir some food. At least, that’s what Nick thought it was. Derek had brought back an entire pizza tray, and the pizza had hamburgers as toppings. It only got worse the more Nick saw; deep fried burgers, bacon wrapped ribs, cheese-stuffed wings and dessert lasagna were just a few of the items lined in front of Amir. The pig himself was being stuffed to the brim by Derek, moaning and groaning with each mouthful for greasy, disgusting slop.

Derek noticed the two sitting down and blushed a bit, “Oh! Did you guys enjoy yourselves?” 

“I could ask you two the same thing!” Tyler teased, setting their plate of salad and chicken fries down on the table.

Nick followed in his partner’s example and gave a disingenuous chuckle. Looking down at his plate, he realized he also went a little overboard. Whereas Tyler had only gotten a salad and some chicken, he had enough to feed a few people.

“Ty, I’m not sure I can-”

“Oh, I got you two sodas to drink. Sorry Nick, they were out of tea and water.” Derek mentioned before going back to feeding Amir. Sauces surrounded his mouth and spilled to his chest, which was barely hidden from public view.

Shaking his head, Nick just decided to eat something and get this double date over with. Grabbing his burger, Nick noted how grease dropped from the bottom bun. Taking a breath, Nick closed his eyes and took a light bite of the sandwich.. It tasted amazing! Somehow, the grease didn’t bother Nick at all, so he took another bite. Again, it was delicious! He barely noticed how quickly he finished his burger and moved onto his steak. It was at this point that he casually started grabbing some fries intermittently, not wanting to stop himself from eating. Nick hastily cut up his steak, finding it surprisingly easy to cut through the meat. He figured with all the grease, the steak would be cooked poorly, but his knife and fork went through like butter. It was almost as if the steak was butter itself with how greasy it was and how good it tasted! 

After a mere ten or so minutes, Nick found his fork hitting a bare plate. Smiling, Nick sat back and started to talk.

“Man, that was surprisingly-URRP!” Nick surprised himself with a belch.

“Sorry, he’s a bit of a pig.” Tyler apologized to Derek and Amir.

Raising his eyebrow, Nick turned to his partner and said, “What do you mean pig? I’m not the one who’s-” “Oh, don’t worry. I know a thing or two about guys who act like pigs.” Derek joked, smiling at Amir, who smiled back before opening his mouth for another piece of chocolate lasagna. It was as if Nick hadn’t even tried to say anything to them. 

“Yeah, I mean, babe, getting two plates full of greasy food isn’t exactly healthy.” Tyler commented, motioning to a plate filled with mashed potatoes, pizza and wings. 

Taking a bite of pizza as if it had always been there, Nick rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy. “Can a man not be hungry? It’s a buffet after all.” Nick thought to himself, devouring a few wings before going back to the pizza. He licked his lips and the surrounding areas of his mouth of grease, letting out another small belch after drinking some soda. As Nick started on the mashed potatoes, he felt something start to rub his stomach. Looking down to see Tyler’s hand going in a circular motion, Nick continued to eat without questioning what they were doing. Why should he? He knew they were just trying to help him eat more, since Tyler knew how much he loved to eat. 

“Babe, do you want my chicken wings? I’m kinda full already.” Tyler said, pushing his plate towards Nick as if they already knew the answer. 

The boy dipped the wings in his mashed potatoes, moaning at the combined taste of grease and butter. It was astounding! Once again finishing his plate within minutes, Nick leaned back as Tyler continued to massage his gut.

“We should go out for new clothes soon; I think you’re starting to enjoy eating a bit too much.” Tyler half-joked. 

Nick looked down to see his bloated gut. It was just bloated, right? With the way Tyler squeezed it and the feeling Nick got from it, he wasn’t sure.

“Tyler, can you stop rubbing-UURRRRP.” Nick let out a slightly larger belch.

“What’s wrong babe?” They asked, still continuing to massage their boyfriend’s stomach. They started to push and prod more, feeling their hands sink into the squishy chub.

“I’m serious, I don’t feel-” Just as Nick was mid-sentence, he let out a fart. It was only loud enough for the table to hear, but Nick felt just as embarrassed all the same. Well, embarrassed at first.

“Ooohhhh.” Nick moaned, as if he had just lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders.

“Nice one dude!” Amir complimented, letting out his own belch and fart before continuing to be fed.

At that moment, Nick remembered that this was a double date. He looked over at Amir and saw that the bottom button on his shirt had snapped off at some point, leaving just enough olive-colored belly exposed so you could see his bellybutton. Amir and Derek were obviously not perturbed by Nick’s display of gluttony. In fact, nobody seemed to think Nick’s behavior was strange at all, including the man himself. 

“I’m gonna go get more food.” Nick said, going to stand up and finding that he had to readjust his center of balance. Though it surprised him at first, a grumbling stomach and the scent of food distracted him long enough to not think much of it.

“I’ll come with. Just in case you grab more than you can carry.” Tyler teased, but no one seemed to take it as a joke.

Quickly heading back to the buffet line, Nick grabbed a few burgers this time, doing the same with multiple pizza slices. He barely noticed how they dripped with more cheese and grease than the ones he had eaten minutes ago. Nick quickly filled up his second plate with wings and fries. Noticing the dessert bar, which he had purposefully ignored his first time around, Nick decided to put a cupcake and donut onto his second plate. 

“Is there anything you want more of babe?” Tyler asked, poking his head over Nick’s shoulder to see what he was getting.

Realizing he had been in a sort of trance, Nick snapped back to reality and looked over at his partner. “Uh, whatever you think I’d like. Those wings and burgers were pretty good.” Nick responded, and Tyler smiled before heading over to the buffet line. 

Coming back to the table to see that Amir was nowhere near done with his first course, Nick and Tyler placed their plates down once again. This time, however, they had to be much more careful not to spill anything. 

Almost immediately, Nick got to eating. The burgers tasted even better than they had earlier, despite how he left even less time to savor their tastes. Cheese and sauce spilled onto Nick’s shirt and splattered around his mouth. It was like some urge had taken over his normally pragmatic attitude. This continued with the pizza, tomato sauce and bits of other toppings making a mess of Nick’s face and outfit.

“Mmpf, sho good.” He couldn’t help but moan out. He could hear Tyler and Derek talking about something, but didn’t pay it enough attention to actually listen. Instead, Nick continued to stuff himself, letting out moans and groans as he ate. Finishing his first plate, he let out a burp and thought “I could eat this stuff all day.” 

Nick reached for his second plate, but noticed a plate holding a rack of ribs in front of him. That wasn’t always there, was it? Maybe it was one of the plates Tyler had gotten him. Either way, the barbecue smell was tantalizing and Nick started to chow down on the ribs. The meat fell right off the bone, leaving his face covered with bits of ribs and barbecue sauce. More moans were elicited from the man, followed by a fart that went unnoticed by everyone at the table, including Nick. “Man, why am I so hungry?” Nick thought as he tore apart more of the ribs. 

Finishing the last of the ribs, Nick let out a belch just as Derek spoke up.

“So Nick,” He started, shoving a donut into Amir’s mouth, “Tyler told me that you were actually the one who proposed the idea of gaining.”

Nick’s eyes went wide. “Hu-URRRP” He barely got out before belching. Absentmindedly, he shoved some fries in his mouth as he tried to process the conversation.

“What’s wrong honey? Don’t you remember asking me to cook more for you?” Tyler asked.

“No, I explicitly remember saying-URRRRRRRP. God damn why am I so gassy?” Nick complained, losing his train of thought. 

“Here, you’re just bloated. Keep eating and let me help.” Tyler said, holding another pizza slice in front of Nick’s mouth. They then started to rub Nick’s stomach, causing him to realize a few things.

First, Nick let out a moan, discovering how good it felt when his partner massaged his stomach. It caressed some gas out, but it was worth it for more room and just the feeling in general.

Second, Nick felt Tyler’s hand right on his stomach. Not the button up shirt he was wearing, but his bare skin. Looking down, Nick realized the bottom button of the shirt had popped open, leaving a bit of his stomach on for show.

“Whoa, what the he-mmpf, mmmh.” Nick could barely get out before being fed more. 

“Shh, just relax baby.” Tyler cooed. Nick wasn’t used to Tyler being so dominant.

“Babe I’m…getting fat…fast…” Nick said between mouthfuls of food.

“I know right! It’s so sexy how your body’s basically just…giving up!” Tyler nearly panted out.

Nick felt like he should be disgusted by what Tyler said, but, against all instinct, he could feel blood rushing towards his dick. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tyler shoved a wing in instead. Nick habitually chewed the wing, opening his mouth once again to say something, but was just fed more by his partner. 

Tyler continued to feed Nick more and more, with Nick realizing that they should’ve run out of food awhile ago. He felt more air on his stomach, and, when he went to reach for it, felt that it wasn’t bloated at all. Instead, Nick could jiggle his stomach and grab at the rolls that made it up. His partner took advantage of this, squeezing the stomach to coax more belches and farts out as Nick ate. Nick could barely resist, the feeling of Tyler’s hands on his stomach still igniting an electric feeling in him.

“You’re becoming such a pig.” Tyler whispered as he held a cupcake in front of Nick’s mouth.

“I’m not a-URRRRRP-ooohhh.” Nick barely got out. The more he ate, the harder it was to believe what Tyler was saying was false. 

“Babe. I look-URRRP-a mess.” Nick breathed out before he was fed more. Sauces now dripped onto his belly, with red and yellow stains bleeding into his top. Though, it wasn’t like the top was hiding much, just acting as a cover for Nick’s inflated chest. Faint outlines of enlarged nipples could be seen through the fabric. His pants didn’t fare much better, as his rear had pushed them down so far just his boxers were keeping it from being exposed to the public. If he ate much more, his ass crack would probably be visible to the people at the table behind them.

“Aww, don’t worry Nick-y. Amir’s bursted his shirt open too.” Tyler said, as if being compared to that fat pig of a man offered any recompense. 

Though, it did remind Nick to actually check his surroundings and look across the table. Amir looked absolutely stuffed, but was still eating more. His ginormous stomach was out and exposed, his moobs the only hidden part of his upper body. Sweaty, dirty rolls were exposed, and if Nick could look under the table he would see that there were tears in Amir’s pants as well. Despite this, all he could hear from Amir was moans of “More,” or satisfied groans of pleasure.

“Man, Amir looks pretty filthy Derek.” Tyler commented as they fed Nick more. At this point, Nick could barely resist eating whatever was held up in front of his face, thanks to his paranormal hunger. 

“Yeah, he tends to get pretty worked up when we’re out eating.” Derek commented. He fed Amir another burger, mustard dripping from his double chin and onto what was left of his shirt. “Your pig seems to be pretty messy too.” Derek said, pointing at Nick.

“C’mon man, I’m not that dir-URRRRRP,” Nick belched out. It was getting harder and harder to fight back against the comments Derek and Tyler made about him. 

Nick farted before Tyler fed him and spoke up, “Yeah, I tried to keep cleaning him for the longest time, but he’s gotten so fat and lazy that getting him to fit into the shower is too much of a struggle.” Sweat dampened Nick’s underarms and in between his moobs. His exposed rolls of fat felt cool with the sweat dripping off of them in the air conditioned room. Even more food stains appeared on Nick’s shirt and skin. Gas flowed out of him even more easily now.

“URRRRP-urgh, fuck.” Nick panted before farting and being fed more.

“Y’know, he’s gotten so lazy he stopped bothering with shaving. I was a little concerned at first, since he was so obsessed with it before, but I think it’s super hot now.” Tyler went on, rubbing Nick’s stomach.

Hair started to sprout on Nick’s exposed skin, his belly going from shiny and clear to sweaty and hairy. The same could be said about his chest and arms. Peach fuzz appeared on his cheeks at first, but the hair on his chin and upper lip thickened to look like a darker shade of fur. Bits of food appeared in the fur on his face, which Nick instinctively tried to lick out. 

Finally, the third button burst on Nick’s top, leaving only one button to keep his shirt together. Not like it was holding anything back, as essentially all of Nick’s sweaty, bloated, hairy body was exposed. He looked more like a bear than the pig Tyler and Derek had teased him of being.

“Damn! I didn’t think Amir would be the last one to burst out of his shirt!” Derek admitted, sounding genuine for the first time that night.

“Urgh, babe, URRP, I want more.” Nick gasped out, lust on his breath. 

Smiling, Tyler gave him a peck on the cheek and said, “Of course baby! Wanna come with Derek?”

And with that, the two, bulbous men were left with the scraps of food they hadn’t been fed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Amir asked after Derek and Tyler were out of earshot. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess.” Nick replied, shoveling bits of fries and nachos into his mouth.

“Why’d you wanna start gaining? From what I’ve heard you used to be super fit.” Amir spoke, picking at bits of fried food on the plates in front of him.

Thinking back, Nick got a headache. It was hard to think about his past. He didn’t really have a reason for doing this, or anything really. Tyler made all of his decisions. 

“I dunno. To make Tyler happy I guess.” Nick slurped down the leftover nacho cheese.

“Nah, I think it’s more than that.” Amir smirked, causing Nick to look up in curiosity. “From one fatty to another, I know it’s more than that. I love that I get to be a lazy pig and do nothing. Derek just takes care of me and feeds me whenever I ask. He gets to decide how big I am and if I’ll ever lose any of this.” Amir went on, motioning to his jiggling body

The words resonated with Nick, causing him to let out a quiet moan as he ate.

“And from the sound of it, you feel similarly.” Amir smiled before continuing to tease, “I bet you love how you’re losing control of your body. Not only is your body growing out of control, but you can’t help but spew gas and make a mess when you eat. It’s like your partner is making you a human pig.” Nick let out a more audible moan as he shoved a half-eaten piece of lasagna in his mouth. Cheese dripped onto his chest, getting entangled in the fur there. He slobbered over some leftover fries before shoving them down his throat.

“Fuck…” was all Nick could pant before devouring more leftovers. Sauces splattered around his mouth and what was left of his button up.

“So Nick, I’ll ask again,” Amir said, eating a whole slice of cake in seconds, “Why do you do it?”

Nick belched and shoved a handful of buttery mashed potatoes into his mouth, “I wanna get bigger. Being fat is so…URRRRRP…so sexy.” Nick moaned out, “I love being treated like a pig.”

Amir smirked, letting out his own belch. The conversation was starting to turn him on even more than he already was with Derek feeding him. Unfortunately, before Amir could take it any further Derek and Tyler arrived back at the table, each with a cart full of food.

“The line’s are getting shorter and shorter. We must’ve come at a good time!” Derek innocently said as he sat next to Amir.

“Everything alright babe?” Tyler asked, sitting next to Nick.

“Urp- more…want more…” Nick belched out. Tyler smiled as his partner and shoved a cupcake into his mouth, smearing the icing all around his lips. Nick just licked up the icing like a pig, not bothering to care how Tyler made a mess of him.

“We’ve got such good piggies, don’t we Tyler?” Derek asked aloud, feeding Amir several brownies.

“They’re so nice and fat, and love to eat so much.” Tyler cooed, relentlessly stuffing food into Nick’s mouth. The boy begged for more while his mouth was full of food, unable to resist wanting more.

About halfway through their carts of food, Amir and Nick just started to mindlessly eat whatever was held in front of their mouths. Grunts and moans of pleasure sounded from their table, though it wasn’t much different from the rest of the buffet. 

Nick moaned as the final button holding his shirt together burst, causing his moobs to flop out and the rest of his upper body to jiggle. The force caused him to belch, of which Tyler cheered him on for. 

“So big…need more…” Nick panted out, barely able to say something before he attacked more food Tyler handed him.

Amir’s shirt didn’t last much longer after that, though Derek did comment about how impressed he was Nick lost his shirt before Amir.

“Such a fat piggy.” Derek teased, grabbing one of Amir’s moobs and jiggling. Amir just moaned, unable to form a coherent thought through the pleasure of gluttony and his growing body.

Though their shirts were basically gone, their pants weren’t fairing much better. Tears could be seen on Nick and Amir’s thighs, with Nick’s ass forcing the back of his pants down so much his rear was really only covered because of his underwear. Plus, his ass had gotten so big and wide that his crack was showing through the gap in his chair. The two cheeks jiggled from the immense force of his farts, Nick enjoying the slight sensation.

As the two neared the end of their carts, Derek and Tyler stuffing them like build-a-bear plushes, the two piggish men could barely contain themselves. Their eyes were glazed over, rolls of fat spilling out due to their lack of clothing. Both were stuck in their underwear, fat bodies completely on display.

Faint creaking could be heard from each man’s chair, but they were so invested in consuming that they didn’t pay attention. 

“Last donut babe. Eat up.” Tyler ordered, Nick opening his mouth wide to devour the morsel. Chewing at a languid pace, Nick eventually ate the last of his meal, celebrating his accomplishment with a weak burp. Just then, his chair came crashing down the ground, Nick’s immense body jiggling from the impact. He let out more gas from the force of the crash, though his moans of joy were louder than his gas. 

“Nick! Are you alright?!” Tyler asked, with genuine concern.

“URRRP! So big…so fat…” Nick moaned out, slowly rubbing his expansive belly as he let out more gas.

Amir fell shortly after, making a similar comment about his size.

“Such a…fat pig…more…” Amir gasped. It wasn’t that he wanted more to eat, but he was so used to asking more more it became habitual.

“I think it’s time to head home. Our piggies need to get to their dessert feast at home!” Derek commented, which elicited pleasant, eager groans from both blobs.

Helping their partners up, Tyler and Derek led their fat pigs to a wide truck in the parking lot. Nick was about to say something about driving separately, but he remembered that no car would be able to hold him comfortably. Plus, this made it easier to get to his feast at Derek’s house.

Their arms under their pigs’, Tyler and Derek slowly helped the two fatties into the back seat of the truck. The seatbelts didn’t fit over their bodies, but their weights were so massive that the belts probably wouldn’t have done much anyways.

Starting on their way home, Nick let out a belch as he watched the buffet slowly travel out of sight.

“You’ve been a pretty good piggy tonight. I love how big you are.” Nick heard Amir say as he leaned over towards Nick. As his body grew closer to Nick’s, so did Amir’s face. It wasn’t long before their lips collided, the two pigs groping each other’s bodies as they made out.

“That was a pretty successful trip considering Nick was even skinnier than you when we got there.” Derek said, noticing the two in the back were preoccupied.

“Well, he had less body fat than me. The muscle was the difficult part. For me, at least.” Tyler said, “Is your shake really that strong? I gave it to Nick like an hour or two before we even left for the buffet.”

“When the food is as fattening as Patty’s it is! I swear, every feeder and their mother has been to that place at least once! I was surprised you’d never been.” Derek commented, causing Tyler to rub the back of his neck.

“I never had the chance to go.” He awkwardly stated, but Derek gave a beaming smile.

“Well now you do!” He said, pointing to the two fat men continue to make out in the back.

Amir and Nick were feeling every crevasse, every roll, every cell of cellulite on each other’s bodies.

“You know what good piggies get, right?” Amir asked with a devious smirk. Nick just moaned, too bothered thinking about fat and food to coherently respond. 

Amir lowered himself, lifting Nick’s heavy belly. Going under, Nick’s moans just got louder and more piggish. When Amir found his target, he nearly let out a squeal. He loved being a fat pig.

#male weight gain #weight gain story #male weight gain story #weight gain #gay weight gain

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #4

Prompt #4 - "Do you even know what this means?"

Fanfiction: Good Omens/The Sandman

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Dream pays Crowley a visit one night. 915 words!

It was a picturesque scene. In the garden of a small cottage, fragrant with fruit-tree flowers and bursting with the colors of their wilder cousins, Crowley and Aziraphale sat at a sturdy, weathered oak table; the kind of table that held as many stories as it had rings, and could bear up under as many plates of cake and dishes of pudding as one could load it with. They were laughing together, Aziraphale chucking behind his serviette so as not to spew crumbs, and Crowley guffawing at his own wit. His eyes were golden-brown and unshaded, and met the tinkling blue of Aziraphale’s without any worry that someone might interrupt them. The weather was perfect: warm and fine, with enough of a soft breeze to stir their many plants gently now and then. A ginger cat was curled up in a vacant chair at the table, but now it yawned, stretched, and leaped lightly into Crowley’s lap. He dropped his hand to stroke the cat, which made its biscuits against his leg as he watched Aziraphale select one from the plate in front of him, and sighed with content.

“Leave me alone, Dream.”

The Crowley standing outside the garden watching the pastoral events within unfold muttered darkly. Next to him, the tall, slight figure all cloaked in black, who had just silently appeared, looked at him mildly.

“This again, Crowley?”

“I said, leave. me. alone.” But Crowley was familiar enough with Morpheus’s silences to know that the Endless wouldn’t vanish just because he said so. He inhaled exasperatedly. “Yes, this again. What, are my dreams not creative enough for you? Not enough variety? Why don’t you go visit Muriel, I’m sure there’s plenty of nonsense there to entertain you.” The faintest of laugh-like sounds escaped Morpheus through his nose, and he shook his head.

“No. Muriel has no need to me tonight.”

“Oh, and I do?”

“Yes.”

Crowley turned away from Morpheus, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders hunched of their own accord, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard. I don’t need you you stupid daydream idiot- was the beginning of the stream of profane thought that churned inside Crowley’s mind, but he kept it behind his lips. He did not want to rage. He did not want to fight. And Dream was not stupid. All he wanted was—

“What about this idea occupies you so, angel?”

Like a spooked animal, Crowley jerked around. His face impassive as ever, Morpheus was still watching the scene in the garden. The cat had gone to sleep, and another biscuit had disappeared from the plate.

“Don’t call me that,” Crowley snarled, his fists balling up inside their pockets, “I am not an angel.”

“You were when we met.”

“That was a long time ago, Dream. A lot’s happened since then.” For the first time, Morpheus turned his head to look at Crowley, and meet his eyes.

“I don’t think you ever stopped, really.”

Crowley glowered, but held his counterpart’s void-like gaze. The flickering lights within it reminded him of the stars. They stood like that for a long time, until at last Crowley asked,

“You know what happened to Aziraphale?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Morpheus nodded anyway. Crowley turned to look back at the garden, and its blissfully unaware occupants. It was shortly after Aziraphale had returned to Heaven that Morpheus had begun to appear in his dreams. Not every night, and not every dream, but despite the two beings having known each other since Morpheus had emerged in the Universe, he had never visited Crowley so often before. He was too subtle for it to be a coincidence.

“Well,” Crowley returned uncomfortably to Morpheus’s question, “when I think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t— if it hadn’t all gone wrong— when I think about what could be, if he came back— …this is what I dream.”

Morpheus was silent again, and this time, it did provoke Crowley.

“Do you even know what this means?!” He burst out, gesturing wildly with an arm at the garden, the cottage, and the cat. The uninterrupted idyll was punctuated by another chorus of laughter from below, followed by the indistinguishable conversation of two voices. “’Course you do,” Crowley subsided, pushing his hands back into his pockets with a slump, “you’ve been around long enough.”

“I have.” Morpheus replied. “I understand.”

Crowley glanced sideways at his companion.

“Yeah, I s’pose you do.”

Silence stretched out again, as they watched the garden together. The wind stirred hair scarlet and black, birds sang, and now and then Morpheus brushed away a fuzzy bee that had become too interested in him. Neither paid any attention to the passage of time, but time did pass in the dream. The air took on a slight chill as the sun began to go down, and below in the garden a lamp was lit, bathing the table in its warmth and light. Glasses were raised, and the ting of glass on glass was unnaturally loud in the twilight. When Crowley spoke, his voice was cracked, and his question encompassed all the questions he yearned to ask, and contained all the multitudes of his joy, pain, and every defiant feeling he had ever felt in the existence he had shared with his lost angel.

“Why?”

Dream of the Endless raised one hand, and laid it on Crowley’s shoulder with the sort of firm, gentle kindness that requires no explanation, and answered.

“Love.”

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #the sandman #dream of the endless #crowley #ineffable husbands #crowley centric #crossover #gomens #morpheus

[kohakhearts]

whats yr headcanon about gary's parents?

ok confession: i don’t really have specific headcanons about gary’s parents except like. They’re Dead JFKDFJDKXJ but i have some ideas about gary’s childhood that would relate so i can share those!

probably 80% of my headcanons are actually derived from texts that were at some point at least considered canon in some respect (not necessarily canons derivative of the anime specifically - while their character Trajectories are very different, game/anime/manga counterparts are still fundamentally The Same Character imo. which means blue’s lore from any other source is free real estate for my garyisms :p). first one is pokemon zenshou, which says that gary/blue and daisy’s parents died in a car accident.

then, there is takeshi shudo’s novelization. which says that gary, though he lived with his grandfather (presumably), attended school in a different town/city. at this point, it’s only conjecture - but my thought on this is that by the time his parents died, gary was already in school. and some people have pointed out that it seems probable too that his parents wanted him enrolled in a specific school (e.g. a private school, or just a more academically streamlined one). and that makes a lot of sense to me! tangentially, i taught in a school like that - and yeah, most of the kids are the children/grandchildren/etc. of professors, administrators, dentists, lawyers. a lot of them commute from one end of the city to another, upwards of like. 2 hours one-way. and as someone who actually grew up in the middle of nowhere where there was only one (1) school everyone in the town could even go to, that was a weird experience, culturally. so i think it makes a lot of sense for his family to want to keep him at the school he’s already at.

personally, i always read that as a “not wanting to take him from his friends” thing - but i also don’t think he had many, if any, friends in school. especially not after he’s moved away and has to commute that far. so it makes me think that his parents either didn’t talk much to professor oak about gary, or didn’t know much about gary’s school life. my guess is the former. i expect they were actually fairly involved in his academics (whether or not they were involved in anything else, it’s hard to say, but i have no reason to think he wasn’t deeply loved - honestly probably a bit spoiled - by his parents, even if they did also push him to do well at school). i don’t know what kind of work they did, but i don’t think either of them would have been researchers (if they had been, i think this would have been an easier decision for gary to make. instead, he struggled with feeling like he didn’t measure up - to his grandfather. it seems to have little to nothing to do with his parents).

i also don’t know what i think of his parents’ backgrounds generally. i expect at least one of them is from cerulean city based on professor oak’s teaching background there (and he’s not very old, so it would make sense that he started a family there and then moved back to pallet town later). but as for gary (and his sister - i know she’s not in the anime, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist. dengeki pikachu is based off the anime and daisy (well. may) exists in that. so everything else going on in that manga aside, i’ll claim it lmao), i think they’re from viridian city. don’t know what happened in the in-between, but i just think like. blue has a relationship to viridian city - he becomes the gym leader - and arguably so does gary, à la os064, so i like the idea of him having grown up at least partially in viridian city. having gone to school there. etc.

so with the school thing, i think gary’s parents died when he was probably around 7 years old, maybe even 8. this isn’t entirely inconceivable - the one true “childhood friends” scene we get is a flashback from ash in ag in lights, camerupt, action! where he remembers the last time he watched a movie. they LOOK younger in the flashback, but he actually just says that it was sometime before he left on his journey. so them being like. 8 or 9 there isn’t a crazy leap. otherwise, all their history is like…obviously meant to be shortly before they get their first pokemon. that doesn’t mean they’re not childhood friends. it just means they didn’t know each other necessarily when they were really young children.

re: gary’s sister, my headcanon is that since she’s older than him, and takeshi shudo stipulates that age 10 = adulthood in the pokemon world, she doesn’t move to pallet town when their parents die and instead decides to go out on her own. in my big gary study fic i’ve been writing since i rewatched the os, i had her move to cerulean city to train to attend a school for pokemon breeders (based on daisy’s aspirations to be a breeder and then a groomer). so that’s another reason why i think gary was around 7 when his parents died: it doesn’t create a huge age gap between him and daisy but still justifies why she’s absent in the anime.

i think that’s pretty much all i’ve got? would love to hear other people’s ideas or expand more on something here though!! thanks for asking! :’)

#answered #anon #gary oak #*meta

[lady-bess]

Hi Mrs Daniels!

I'm back with my Ask games again!

This time we have a spring based prompts theme. You get a spring prompt and a character and I'd like to know your head canon/immediate thoughts on the combination.

Character: Jack Daniels (of course)

Prompt: petals

With love,

El

Petals

Jack Daniels x F!OC General/Teen+ Content W/C: 913 Notable tags: Spring, Spring Prompt, Retired Jack, Domestic Jack, Fluff.

A/N: Finally getting round to this ask! Thank you my dear El for sending this in - I now sufficiently have an image of retired Jack swirling round my head 🫠🫠 (Is anyone surprised?)

Enjoy!

LadyBess xox

A03 Link | Tumblr Masterlist

Life was slower for Jack now, but he couldn’t be more thankful for it. For too long he’d lived his life swept away in the hustle and bustle of working for Statesman. But now, he took every day one hour at a time, and he enjoyed every moment.

Retirement was treating him well. After nearly thirty years serving with Statesman, he’d done his time, and decided to hang up his lasso for good. No more did he want to be running around, putting his life at risk, chasing down some of the world’s most nefarious criminals - not after he met her, either.

She’d come into his life at a time he’d least expected it, but now five years on he couldn’t imagine his life being any different. It was almost hard to imagine that there had been a time without her. They’d met by sheer chance one afternoon in May when his flight to the New York office got delayed, and they’d just been at the right place at the right time. With a few hours to kill, they started chatting just to pass the time, but when it came to boarding the plane Jack knew he wanted to make her all his.

Six months later, he did.

They’d lived together ever since, out in the depths of the Kentucky countryside. Jack had always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and have a home like what he had now - simple, functional, and picturesque. Situated on a few acres of land, it wasn’t like the old ranch he’d grown up on, but it was close enough. He had a few horses, and a few hens; that more than sufficed.

He had a simple life now, and took enjoyment in the small pleasures. Today was no exception. The sky had been clear this morning when he rose, a crispness to the air and a fine dew on the grass. Spring was well and truly here, and the garden they both meticulously maintained reflected this. Flowers of every colour started to bloom, a small rainbow in the beds littering the land.

Jack smiled to himself, fully content, as he relaxed back into the wooden swing bench which he’d installed under an oak tree just behind the main house. It had become his favourite place to be, especially on early mornings like these. A gentle breeze swayed past him, carrying a few loose petals across the green grass, and he watched as they danced away into the distance.

And that’s when he saw her.

Jack always woke up early - it was a habit he’d got into from his time with Statesman. He always slept light, his body finding it difficult even in retirement to not have to worry about being constantly alert. As such, once he woke up in the mornings, he found it hard to drift back off to sleep. Usually he’d just get up, and be by himself for a couple of hours. But just occasionally, she’d be up too.

Today was one of those mornings.

He smiled at her from across the garden, watching her come towards him with two mugs of tea in her hands. She was still dressed in last night’s pyjamas, a navy blue knee-length nightdress, with slippers to match, but she’d also thrown on one of Jack’s flannel shirts over the top. The gentle wind whipped at the hem of her nightdress, and she giggled as the silk dappled across her thighs. Jack grinned at her as she got closer, refraining himself from making an inappropriate joke.

“Morning, sugar,” he drawled, his voice still thick with sleep. She smiled down at him, handing him one of the piping hot mugs, then settled down next to him on the seat.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said. Sunshine had been her nickname for Jack, the irony coming from the fact he was usually the complete opposite to a ray of sunlight. At least, he was. Retirement had changed that. But still, the nickname had stuck.

Jack took the mug from her, chuckling to himself, but then thanking her. He took a sip, sighing in contentment as the drink warmed him from the inside. It might be spring time now, but this early in the morning it was still a little on the colder side.

“What’s got you up so early, my love?” he asked. He set the drink down on his knee, stabilising it with one hand on the handle, and then he slipped his other arm across her shoulders. She smiled, leaning into his hold.

“Needed the bathroom, but noticed you’d already got up. Saw you out here and thought I’d keep you company for a little while,” she said. Jack smiled, turning his head to plant a kiss in her hair.

“You’re too sweet, you know that right?” he said, and she giggled.

“So is that why you call me sugar?” she asked, making Jack laugh.

“Maybe. Got a problem with that?” he teased. She turned her head to look at him, smiling warmly as the breeze began to mess up her hair, half in a messy bun from overnight.

“Never, Jack. I love you,” she said, leaning up to kiss Jack softly. He smiled against her lips, applying pressure to hers in return, drinking in the sensation. His body went warm throughout, the contentment and happiness of being with her as clear to him as the sky above. And in that moment, he realised.

He had never been happier.

Tumblr Masterlist | A03 Profile

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #agent whiskey #kingsman #jack daniels #domestic Jack #ask #prompt #spring prompt #petals #petals prompt #Ask Bess

[reinabeestudio]

Well I'm bedridden and bored as hell. Thus, I'll finally share some lore about the heart-themed ship. And about certain item they share

(+ adding context to this drawing)

Well, the thing with the necklace was not something planned by him. It just... happened.

You see, he went to search some place to eat on the island. Inside of one of these places, he spotted Miel. Sitting by herself, looking rather pensive as she fiddled with the petal of a blue hibiscus. He decided to approach her—by sneaking up on her, laughing when she jumped. She punched his arm when she recovered with an annoyed expression, calling him an idiot, which only made him laugh harder as he took a seat next to her. He glanced at the flower before looking back at her.

“What, you gonna eat that or something?”

“Haha, real funny, Oak. No, one of the waitresses gave it to me. It's to be worn, you see.” She pointed at another customer, wearing a red hibiscus in their hair.

Dammit, there she was with the 'Oak' thing again.

“Told ya to call me Blue. Being called Oak makes me feel like my gramps!”

“Why are you here, Oak?”

He started to think that maybe she did call him by his last name just to annoy him. But you know, he was there because of her.

“What, can't we have a nice friendly moment? We're in the same team.”

“I can't fathom why you would want to spend time with me.”

In that moment his trademark smirk shrinked a bit, when he heard her voice sound... well, sad. Alright, perhaps this was more serious than he thought.

“There's something on your mind.”

“And when not?” she replied with a light chuckle. Nuh uh, he wasn't gonna let her slip away like that. He scooted a bit closer to her on their seats, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“C'moooon, pidge. You can tell me! Just between us.”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow after the nickname, silently looking at him. He could feel the gears in her brain spinning in that moment, thinking of what to do.

Ultimately, she sighed and looked back at the flower on her hands, feelings its soft petals.

“What is there after Pasio?”

“.... Huh?”

“When we're done with Pasio, I assume Leaf and Red will go their ways.” Yeah that sounded like his rival. That hermit. “What about you? What will you do?”

That was actually a good question. It got him thinking for several minutes, humming in thought until an answer came to his mind.

“Fieldwork, probably. My job makes me travel 'round the regions a lot.”

“.... I see. Of course, that makes sense....”

The absolute dejected look she had after answering told him that was probably not something she wanted to hear. It broke his heart a bit, to be honest.

“And you? What're you gonna do after this?”

“Ah, me? That isn't important, I was just curious—”

“Miel.”

The sudden serious tone caused her to look at him, visibly surprised. She looked... nervous. Which meant he was getting somewhere. He had to keep talking or she'd close off again.

She sighed. “I.... I don't know. I have nowhere to go. It's... it's scary out there, I don't know what to expect.”

The way she talked about the world sometimes, she sounded like she's never dealt with Pokemon before. A dumb thought, but it's a thought that kept popping up on his mind.

“.... Oak? Can I be honest for a second?”

“Uh, sure?”

“You're the only thing I have.”

That shouldn't have made his heart beat faster. Not when she was looking at him like an abandoned cat.

“I-I mean that I have nowhere to go,” she quickly corrected herself.

There was silence after that. Not an awkward one, but rather a silence of processing and understanding. Was this the reason behind she kept 'taking things slow' in the island? Did she really have nothing else to look forward to afterwards?

“I got an idea,” he said, breaking the silence. Miel didn't look at him but she didn't stop him, so he took this as a sign to continue. “I'll show ya around.”

That made look at him, her fingers no longer fumbling with the petals of the flower resting on her lap. “I'm already familiar enough with the island, Oak.”

“Wh- no, I meant I'll show ya around the world!”

“Ah, I see.....” Give her a minute. “WAIT, are you suggesting I travel with you?” There we go.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don't think it's wise to accept. I'm not very familiar with battles and Pokemon, as you have seen.” She sighed. Which meant she was going to be honest for a second. “I wouldn't want to be a bother while you work.”

“.... Say, I got another idea. A challenge!”

His idea was simple: he would help her during their stay in Pasio. He would help her with anything involving training and raising Pokemon—who better to guide her than one of the former Champions? (and he bet that Leaf and Red wouldn't mind lending a hand, being part of the team as well, but he wanted to train her himself)

But she must battle him after she defeated the Elite Four. Only the two of them, a real battle, 1 vs 1. If she wins against him, she'd prove to be strong enough to get out there and face any challenge that comes their way. Together.

Miel seemed to briefly ponder over it before extending her hand to him to shake on it. “Alright. It's a deal, Oak.”

“A deal? Nah, pidge. Ain't like that.”

Blue could feel her eyes on him as he reached behind his neck and took off his heart necklace. There were no words between them as he slided off the blue half of the pendant into a different black cord he had on pocket (he couldn't resist chuckling softly when he noticed Miel's small surprised gasp while looking at whatever he was doing so intently). Next he fastened the cord with the pink half back in place before he turned his full body towards her on his seat.

“Stay still, Miel.”

He leaned in closer and clasped the necklace with the blue half of the heart around her neck, tracing the cord and the pendant with his finger. Gee, he could feel warmth radiating from her body. He forced himself to pull back lest the urge to close that distance won.

“There! It's a promise.”

Miel examined the pendant before she looked up at him with a smile. Fuck. Fucking christ, that was so pretty. She was so pretty. Keep it cool, dude.

“A promise, you say. That sounds nice, Oa-..... Blue. I'll hold you to that,” she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Pink looks good on you, by the way.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder by reflex as that trademark smirk on his face only grew bigger.

“And blue looks great on ya!”

You can read this and this if you are interested in some sort of follow-up to this, as well as more lore (?). And if you wonder why he's so weak to her smile, that's a little reference to how they met ∋( :]

#self insert #my writing #this is such a messy ramble my apologies 💥💥💥 #mostly a Wall of Text with some dialogue peppered in for some flavour. Not as organized as I'd like but better out than never finished #this felt strangely intimate. like damn get a room /j (<- totally sfw #but at least The Necklace(tm) is explained #hopefully this makes everyone like this ship a bit more 👍

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

The school calls skeleton because his kid became the leader of a group of "avengers" that decided to save all the kids from passing exams by burning the school down with some friends. The school asks him to come. How does it go?

Undertale Sans - He asks three times if they're talking about his kid, but yeah, it is. He's quite in bewilderment. What the hell? Sans did some bad things when he was a kid, but burning a school??? Where did they even had that idea? Oh. He understands when he sees what his kid used to "burn the school". Papyrus ' last flamethrower invention thingy. His brother showed the kid last week thinking it was so cool. And Papyrus says he's the unresponsible one? Sans apoligizes to the school director and gladly accepts his kid has to spend several hours in detention for what they did. They're also grounded for two weeks. Sans will have a talk with Papyrus next. That can't keep going like this.

Undertale Papyrus - The headmaster is not sure which one he is lecturing as Papyrus looks as defeated as his kid. Well, of course, Papyrus won't tell him that the evening before, he suggested jokingly to burn the school down if his kid was too tired to read for his exams, this way they wouldn't have to pass them. He didn't expect his child to do it for real!

Underswap Sans - He asks the kid to apologize to the headmaster, and then he starts lecturing them to death about responsibility and how they could had been arrested if their little plan suceeded. The child looks down and mumbles some apologies to his dad. Blue takes them to follow him on his police officer job one week end to teach them that bad actions have consequences, so he can see them for real.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey refuses to believe it at first, but when he comes and sees his child playing with his hands in front of the headmaster office, he's upset. Why would his child even think it was a good idea? He sits to them and ask them to explain why they did that while they're waiting for the headmaster. The kid says they just wanted people to like them and now Honey is just concerned even more. They're going to have a long talk once they are home.

Underfell Sans - The headmaster is very unhappy. Red is just laughing uncontrollably. "and then you stole boss' flamethrower and threatened to burn the schoold?!" He bursts in laughter. "damn kid, you're an evil genius, i'm so proud." The headmaster coughs. Red looks at him and suddenly remembers where he is. Oh shit. "i... i mean... bad! bad kid! that's bad obviously." The kid knows he's not in trouble so apologize in a very theatral tone that no one believed anyway. He gets out of here with only a few hours of detention.

Underfell Papyrus - When he comes, the headmaster looks confused. He asked the kid to wait in front of the room, but they clearly aren't there. Edge sighs. Of course they're not here, they knows Edge is pissed of because they clearly dig into his old captain stuff, he found out, and they know it's forbidden because some of the things there are quite fucked up. However, Edge is really good at tracking people and it doesn't take very long to hunt his kid, hiding in a closet. The kid is going to be lecture to death. Edge then will make them pay by doing chores for a month in the house. He had to write an essay on the monster royal guard too.

Horrortale Sans - So that's why his box of matches was missing in the morning. He's kinda relieved, he thought he lost it somewhere in the house and that stressed him out all morning. He just asks his kid to never do that again and gives them a light pat on the head. Here you go. Oak knows his kid is not that bad, it happens to everyone to mess up once in a while, as long as they're not doing it again, it's fine.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is mad. What were they thinking? He sure didn't raise them like this! He's very agree with everything the headmaster says and forces his kid to apologize and repare the damages done to the school. He's giving them chores around the farm to learn to be more responsible too. Willow is a strict dad, but that's also because he doesn't want his kid to end like him when there's so much other ways possible. Please be careful.

Swapfell Sans - He listens to everything the headmaster says with a netral face then just says "Is that all? I have work to do." The headmaster is mad, but Nox doesn't care at all. Once they're in the car, Nox asks the kid how many people they rally to their little revolution. "Almost all the school, they were drinking my words." "That's my child. You will be a great leader." The kid's smile brightens. Great parenting, Nox.

Swapfell Papyrus - Rus tries so bad to stay serious while the headmaster is lecturing his kid. He knows he should be mad and all, but he's really not the best for this. I mean he kinda accidentally light the neighbour's trash on fire not two days ago because that Karen got mad at him for parking his car two minutes in front of her house. That's what happen when Nox rises you. There's nothing bad with a little chaos once in a while...

Fellswap Gold Sans - Wine says to the headmaster they're jealous because his kid is a better leader than he is, and that he should be proud to have find someone to replace him. The headmaster is not amused. Wine smiles and says that he can still bring his kid in court and sees who will win with a creepy smile. The headmaster decides that the kid can leave with a warning this time. Wine thanks him and threatens the guy that something bad might happen if they ever accuse his child ever again. Great parenting, Wine.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - The headmaster barely opens his mouth that Coffee is crying. He hates being scream at, and the headmaster is not even that mad at him, but at the kid. He doesn't know why he is crying. The headmaster is more and more distressed as Coffee is more and more distressed and then he apologizes to the child (????) to calm down the situation. No one understood what happened when they're going out.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[libidomechanica]

With light by

A kimo sequence

               1

That grew beside a human door! With light by light: lonely thing, that soon he rose and warmth of loue.

               2

But Flight. Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth well delight. My slumber was gone for you, my dear.

               3

Because the blue sky bends over and trust that I shall those tears; take me to the centre. But there.

               4

Pushing toward daybreak. A dainty dish to set before me, when the trance was o’er, the mastiff bitch?

               5

I do not the disaligned. Though yet, heaven seems half-way to lift some weight of low replies.

               6

That hole where leather men are vain? And slowly rolled her with me, we’re wed to one eternity.

               7

I have been faithful to you, Cynara! Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and light and song.

               8

Stay with your old baggage. Plunge them in up to thee, and thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               9

Says, I wanted to get married. With blushing shame, by rage suppress’d, let tears, and weep each other?

               10

To sit a star upon the floor below. And, Do I dare? No, no, my Deare, let bee.

               11

Cannot flie away. Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils defect in each, and lang’rous waist!

               12

—Thy words, relieve my verse in time, your fortune— range the wilds of Time, perhaps not a woman, off!

               13

Make in misery to live. And lie, ever singing, each to each. Makes you tyrants in the end.

               14

Free from fear, they cross’d the diver’s brain, for a lady’s chamber floor. Yet so did I let my friend.

               15

Now do I know this: I fell in love wilt hear; if from thee. Oh Angel of hopeless, lasting flames!

               16

After than Phoebus, if he seav’n times bright! For forbidden fires. To spit out all the dance was mine.

               17

Bright eyes, that all her hard and cold white as stone. Involved in stillness, plighted vows fleeting as air!

               18

Assist the field is universe into a lute. Is it indeed so? Be thine! The air is still!

               19

I told my love had seen mine execution. Curse on all best exceed proportions of the year.

               20

And gave a twist to me. Which stands check’d; Religion of my mind, thy words, thou art as tyrannies.

               21

I’ll wrap it round. Till the same chance!—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert— and light a cigarette.

               22

And all thou know’st to my dear doting heart. Do love you here is none like a dog in a kennel.

               23

But tis twilight dawned; and out of sight. Owe this dearest, that long-wish’d-for end, full to thee, and doubt.

               24

The lovely lady’s shroud. I heard the mermaid now, for I will say: How his hair is growin’ yet.

               25

Give me the shade of the sky.—An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, the young Chevalier. And is he gone?

               26

Ah! The Castle wa’, she saw three bonie boys playing with a dying fall beneath the huge oak tree?

               27

Our bed is lovely maid and sees a damsel bright a dame! Hand, turning her grave. By more than dead!

               28

And like a noon-dew, wanderings I have sinn’d! I want to glide a sunbeam by the Maiden’s side!

               29

Where I fly, pursue, rise in the brain is not so. Spake words Sir Leoline. I dreamed I was a child!

               30

By thee to mount, and complaint of present the bonie laddie in. Bare, lest aught unholy loiter here?

               31

And love to so base a vice, for no man knows. Much, Cynara! No matter by the might be well!

               32

He danced with rough. Amid that scenes appear where’er I turn me not to belie his soul with clay.

               33

Run afresh, as if she ’d said, Gee woe! I lift my heavy eyelids my anguish hangs like shame.

               34

To the fault; I view my crime, but kind? To labour was thine! And do accept my madness, and weak.

               35

He drank: her fair large bright and slender oats foraged in the lady’s chamber door; and the sun.

               36

A cool suspense from pain; thy life destroy. The wanton thru the flower amang them very ill.

               37

Of lonely way, close by the castle bell. As if she be small, jewel-like flower unfamiliar.

               38

The way to the blood runs out across the sounds and strange man should presume? That is so vex’d with thee.

               39

To know her but I? Or foxlike in difference. And thus she stooped, methought I heard a hollow sound.

               40

A blue moon for an instant leper. Lord of her beauty lies, when faithful to the land of spike?

               41

And none of us thought thus watred was my strange death of Jesus set me free. In this fashion.

               42

But could have this; she shall: then my hopes and men, who looked askance and end with his society?

               43

And those tender-ship, cried Sally Brown! Sleeps, and love all night upon mine ears, both I and the brow!

               44

Within the bathroom floor mocks your haire with me! So, the year, that yours and mine had bound us lie?

               45

Van Diemen’s land if certain when two dewdrops on the best, even to life in the airport. Ah!

               46

Seized, inside my honest faith in this man no more, but other me? A shining steps of thy child!

               47

Lingered in the moon is behind, and saw thee woman in contractions are five minutes apart.

               48

Comes first—light in what they might half undo it. Of loue new-coin’d to her from the pitiless wave?

               49

And his Anguish grew—how bear it? But, as luckless, I have sworn to bury all things undo me.

               50

That looks up at the lady by her word were it even for me. Loathe the side-lie of a truth.

               51

For once, a tremor breakfast the sky ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy. And damning their necks, where away?

               52

And flush themselves forsake and for very feare would return to life, to life in thee has killed it.

               53

And the rain on my soul. And I was a rose that green mama who first forced me to Mortal part.

               54

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will trim. To sail with old Benbow; and here, ev’n then, shall be poor.

               55

The Sexes rose to work upon is much too much, some say, she seems that sweet said, that thou to dread?

               56

And hark, again! From happy pieties, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet face of you and me.

               57

Why should poor beauty from my love, my life. But, as luckless, I have known the rain lasts anywhere.

               58

In the bud will wear white despair? Wilt thou go with me, we’re wed to one eternity in days?

               59

Not Ida; ’ clasp it once all-fragrant-curtain’d love begins again. Then downward like those who love.

               60

What peace. And her voice is strength beguiled, this golden foot of May is on the bloated hiss of death.

               61

For I have slept on the brands were stopt with griefe. Still as death, can break her word were it bitterness.

               62

The earth forever! It must be because it is a precious seal of my life, myself—and you.

               63

Is changed in a convent’s solitary Child. When I break through all the grist of its insides grow.

               64

Now folds the maid and thine for me. Than Heaven, my Lover, were my Chamber Heaven’s sun staineth.

               65

Err I dare to look at the basin and wriggling on thy fame! My own heart’s heart, where, while I weep!

               66

Till love you, dear, I’ll love you all; let Virtue be your soules; come wait on hir whom winged Psyche true!

               67

I waste my heart and mine should hindred be. Gloom, and nothing can be old, for as you with my death.

               68

For once and show me what I meant, at all. Proud of many, lives upon his gaine is our lost will.

               69

I call, I call: who do ye call? And the rent, and long to stay with your old baggage. I would get.

               70

—Not the power to burn and be all that bloody torments you doe give, creatures, couched her homage.

               71

Geraldine shakes thee hence. Yet, if Hope has flown away in a night, or in nothing but a feint.

               72

That heart to this fool lord, dare I bid her abide by her side; nor strange. That is misunderstood.

               73

You soarer, you of the sea. ’ Echoing straits between the hills? Again she sees my lady’s maid.

               74

Nor shall die tonight, I wrote this morning. Black Melancholy reigns; what means the warm leaden sheet.

               75

And the gravelly sand take a body to it, even blue-eyed fly to the field. Sir Leoline?

               76

From op’ning on the crowing cock, how drowsily it crew. Shall ever was in our own child-bed.

               77

Within and whom I am confined. Water so cleanly I myself upon the floor below.

               78

Cries to catch her but I? Of all that we see or seem is but as a tomb which happened balloon.

               79

Out for love, to give the wreath’d trellis of a working brain, love alone. With a moonlight and song.

               80

I lift my heaven knows, in joys and woe so many times. To the banks, close of each too, too late.

               81

My soul would only be the best, even to life in losing mine? Naked, a double behind.

               82

Like cliffs which have no fear! Beneath the weight of soil, nothing new is in us, and were at peace.

               83

I knew a beautiful olives. We men and drivers in a bar-room around its wings and neck.

               84

—Come live with me—or fall from its boundless mere, with true sight! This day my journey should I presume?

               85

Into many a summer’s front doth sing and saying plainly of not turning from yonder bay?

               86

Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon, how can you bloom so fresh and faithful to its crisis? Have guessed?

               87

I fell, and fro, while I weep! And turning away, wants to be made, cobbling at the lasting flames!

               88

Such gentle still dictates, and those faire skin, beamy eyes, for the quarters, and looking to the Pole.

               89

Pitiless wave? Flickering gyres, but he’d once about to have gone to the sun delights me.

               90

And may appear so when this rebellious heart, and that will show itself to stone. Nay, fairer yet!

               91

To swell a progress, start up, the same chance! As old as a dog, as quiet as a skeleton.

               92

Move still doth breeding flow’rs. They will sing to me. That even its grossest flatterers dare not brave.

               93

That looks up at the happy again. A clover, a Fisherman mends a glimmers on to me.

               94

To them through my fingers am I at all satisfied. Her deadly pangs be drown’d, while I slept.

               95

Rain on thee; yet eyes this curious friend. The winged’ steed, I wish we never looks both small and dull.

               96

And make my old excuse, ’ proving his caresses by the cold. With open eyes ah woe is me!

               97

To deem, as a most logical conclusion, that ’s underneath the weight. It even for me?

               98

Nay, by my own eyes inspiring hole. My heart is dust at the pin; and here, ev’n then, shall meet!

               99

Unto the straitest best of all to Love than is or ever dear! Angels of the precious jewel.

               100

Ida came behind. That brought to. But to- morrow, the field. While prostrate here increase! To the field.

               101

I cried for madder music and forms of men! His gentle daughter is safe and fro, while I weep!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #153 texts #kimo sequence

[lgg5989]

Oklahoma Smokeshow

A/N: Here’s a little one shot about Bob x reader, it might be a little ooc but I thought it was half decent. 

Warnings: angst, talk of an abusive relationship, cussing

Inspired by the song Oklahoma Smokeshow by Zach Bryan.

Top Gun Masterlist

---

Bob was sitting on his parents couch in Lawton, Oklahoma. It was getting late but he couldn’t bring himself to go to bed. He had been staring out the front window of the house watching the moon hanging above the pasture, but he didn’t revel in the beauty of it, he was lost in his thoughts of you. 

He had seen the Snapchat stories you were posting while you had been getting ready for your night out, and he knew where it would end. You would inevitably call him tonight and for another time he would have to hear your broken voice on the phone as you asked him to come pick you up. 

The two of you had grown up together, your mothers were best friends in school which meant you had been best friends too. While you had grown apart through the years, when Bob was home from deployment you always knew, and he was the first person you would call when things started to get bad. 

You always hung out with the same rowdy boys that had picked on Bob growing up. They had peaked in high school and while he couldn’t say he felt sorry for them, he felt bad that they dragged you with them. James and his cronies were still living with their parents and driving the same old, blue pickup truck they had ten years ago. Things never changed in this town, those boys were always looking for a fight. 

As he pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the Snapchat app, a notification popped up on his screen. Your nickname, Oklahoma, sat next to the bitmoji he had designed for you years ago. He smiled at his phone, the old nickname was something he had given to you when the two of you got into high school because you were as beautiful as the Oklahoma skyline. He pushed his glasses up on his face, debating on whether or not to open it. Before he could stop himself, his hand moving on autopilot, Bob clicked on the notification. 

You were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, you were all gussied up for a man who didn’t care. Your hair, longer than he could ever remember it, was spilling down over your shoulders, the purple sundress that you had on left little to the imagination, the little gold cross you had hanging over your delicate collarbones did something to him. But what really enchanted him was your eyes, they were the deepest, most expressive pools of blue, and he caught himself staring at the makeup that marred their edges. 

He remembered the days before society told you what to dream, who to want, and how to dress. You would come to his family’s ranch and together you would climb the oak tree that was in the front. Sitting at the top, he remembered the joy that would come over your face looking over the pastures below. The two of you would stay there until the sun set, before reluctantly climbing back down to the solid ground, breathless and flushed. But when you were thirteen, things changed, the freckles he knew danced across your cheeks and nose were hidden under the thick layer of makeup you never left the house without. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile at him with your dimples showing, let alone a blush covering your angel face. 

As he clicked on the picture, expecting his screen to light up with his messages again, he was surprised as another replaced it. You, sitting on James’ lap, at the bar. His stomach turned at the sight. 

Bob didn’t drink, and neither had you, but he wasn’t sure if that was the case any longer. Your daddy was the pastor in their small town, and while Bob had always tried to live up to what the Good Book told him, you had fallen out of grace shortly after meeting James. He drank, smoked, and cussed without regret or a second thought about who he might hurt. Every time Bob had tried to bring it up to you, things ended in an argument. 

“I’m worried about you, Y/N. What if he hurts you? What if I’m not here to come get you?” he asked quietly as he guided his truck down the dirt roads that lead to the outskirts of town, watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

He heard your sniffles stop before your angry voice filled the cab, “Bobby, you don’t know anything. He loves me, that’s all that matters!” 

Bob just sighed, “He always does this. You go out with him only for him to get drunk, cuss your name, and leave you crying, waitin’ on me to come get you.” 

“Robert Floyd, don’t you dare tell me how to live my life. I’ve been getting enough of that from my momma, I don’t need it from you too,” he heard, your voice deadly quiet. 

He let out a sigh and drove on, the truck silent the rest of the way to your house. 

After that confrontation, Bob hadn’t heard from you in months, even when he left for deployment. The thing that hurt the most was that he knew you would never leave James, he would suck the soul from you, and when he was done, he would move on to the next pretty thing waiting for him. He was an asshole, and he would ruin you. 

Bob laid his head back on the arm of the couch, setting his glasses on his chest, willing for sleep to take him before his phone rang. It was now nearing one in the morning and he knew that was when you’d be calling. As he closed his eyes, all he could see was you, in that purple dress, but he imagined how you’d look with less makeup, just enough to accent your beautiful eyes, not to take away from their striking color. He would treat you right, take you out to dinner, before taking you out to the pasture, watching the sun set from his truck bed. 

He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes roughly, trying to erase the images from his mind. You were never going to leave James, and you were never going to be his. Those were two certainties in life, and Bob had been trying to push them through his head for years.  

He wondered what would have happened all those years ago if he had told you how he felt, before James had gotten the chance to steal your heart. Maybe you would have finished college, become that big doctor you always dreamed of. Maybe he would have someone to come home to when he was in Lemoore, instead of the smelly barracks he lived in. Maybe you’d be married, have a few kids, and be happy. Before he could think over any more maybes, his phone rang out into the quiet house. 

He put his glasses back on his face before picking his phone off his chest, your nickname flashing across the screen, with the picture of the two of you from elementary school. 

Bob answered your call, bringing the phone up to his ear, he could hear your muffled sobs on the other end of the line, “Hey Oklahoma’,” he said quietly. 

“Bobby, can you come get me?” he heard you ask, your trembling breaths breaking up the words, he could hear James and his buddies carrying on in the background. 

He sighed, “I’ll be there soon, wait outside for me,” he said, hauling himself up off the couch and heading out to his truck. He climbed in and put it in gear, starting the long ride down the ranch’s long drive. James was never happy when Bob came to get you, so he hadn’t hung up the phone yet, wanting to stay on the call with you in case something went south. 

Bob knew that you were in trouble when he heard James yell out in the background, his words slurred and filled with anger, “That Bobby? His scrawny ass gonna come getcha’ like usual? What kind of smokeshow doesn’t put out? You savin’ that for him, bitch?” 

He accelerated down the driveway faster, flying towards the pavement. When he hit the main road he pressed his foot to the floor, the engine in his truck revving up to a loud roar in his ears as he made his way into town, he was muttering to himself over your quiet sobs, “I’m coming. I’ll be there soon. Go outside.” 

He pulled up to the bar in record timing, easily spotting your purple dress in the dull parking lot. Throwing the truck in park, he jumped out, coming around the front to pull you into a hug. He opened the door for you, and helped you get in, closing it softly so that he didn’t startle you. 

As he got to his door, the door to the bar burst open, hitting the brick wall behind it. James and his buddies spilled out into the lot. 

“Ya’ stealin’ my girl Bobby?” he snarled. 

Bob might have been in the best shape of his life after the dagger mission, but he wasn’t willing to risk going head to head with the rage that these boys had inside them. So he ignored James, as he climbed up into the truck, and quickly pulled out of the parking lot. 

The ride to your house was silent, as usual, but after he dropped you off Bob couldn’t sleep. He drove out to the pasture, the one he would have taken you to if you were his girl. He got out of the truck and climbed up into the bed, laying down on the winter coat he kept in his back seat. His eyes staring up at the night sky, sleep evading him for the night. As the sun came up the next morning he knew that he would always love you, even if you loved assholes. The nice guys never won.

I'll be here, I've been up all night

Thinkin' about a life with you and I

One you'll never know

'Cause you're a small town smokeshow

~Zach Bryan, Oklahoma Smokeshow

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun bob #bob top gun #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader

[kentuckyanarchist]

Songs of 2023

Here we are, a bit late, not quite as late as last year. 2023 was a busy year but somehow an uncomplex one for me—there’ve been worse years, there’ve been better. If the songs spoke to the times, they did so in obscure ways. Nonetheless: 50 favourite songs, 50 fuzzy thoughts, I hope you like them too.

1. Fenne Lily, “Lights Light Up”

Just the right amount of confidence and the right amount of caveats; just the right amount of magic and the right amount of realism.

2. Boygenius, “True Blue”

I love the matter-of-factness of Lucy Dacus’ diction here, putting friendship to words like it’s the most obvious thing in the world: “I can’t hide from you like I hide from myself, duh.”

3. ANOHNI, “Sliver of Ice”

Somehow, amidst the wreckage, it’s the elegance of ANOHNI’s rhymes that get me: view/blue, tonight/light, more/before; if only death was so simple.

4. Caroline Polachek, “Billions”

All I can say here, and it’ll sound silly, is that what’s happening in this song is an attempt to block off the curve from hedonism to cynicism.

5. Ratboys, “Black Earth, WI”

How is it that, with the mushroom cloud above and the ground opening up before them, Ratboys seem to have all the time in the world?

6. Julie Byrne, “Portrait of a Clear Day”

There’s a particular vocal style, smooth and blue like a lake surface, that you find in some English folk music, and in 2023 Julie Byrne was its sharpest, wisest practitioner.

7. Feist, “Hiding Out in the Open”

Homespun, delicate; thrillingly, almost uncomfortably intimate.

8. Slaughter Beach, Dog, “Strange Weather”

One for cataloguing, inventorying, totting up, working out where you stand.

9. Yo La Tengo, “Aselestine”

“Aselestine”’s two songs: the instrumentals so serenely flowing, circling, generative; Georgia Hubley’s vocals so clipped, terse, holding back.

10. Billy Woods & Kenny Segal ft. Samuel T. Herring, “FaceTime”

Could Billy Woods be our foremost imagist? “In a Station of the Metro” but the train’s derailed, bones snapped, screaming kids, twisted metal? I’ve already said too much.

11. Doja Cat, “Agora Hills”

The year’s best pop song, a delicate dedication from (is it fair to say?) unexpected quarters, smut and bravado doing the bare minimum to conceal its softness.

12. Mitski, “Bug Like an Angel”

This song doesn’t have a chorus in the sense of a refrain but has a chorus in the Ancient Greek sense, a set of voices that interrupt in unison, sometimes using dramatic irony.

13. Big Thief, “Born for Loving You”

Sometimes we speak out of the sides of our mouths and sometimes we dissemble; Big Thief could never.

14. The Antlers, “I Was Not There”

The word sweep is a good one for songs by the Antlers: conveying breadth and inexorability, it’s cosy and domestic too; to sweep like they do is to upturn, to wreck, but to renovate, to welcome.

15. Lana Del Rey, “The Grants”

Philip Larkin said poetry was a matter of experiencing a vision then “attempt[ing] to express the whole of which the vision is a part.” For Lana there’s no whole or part, just vision.

16. The Pines of Rome, “I Am a Road”

Gnomic, wry, lamenting, ground-down but still kicking, a bit ornery but if you sit down at its feet you’ll learn something.

17. Bonnie “Prince” Billy, “Willow, Pine and Oak”

Stolid and unsappy, this tripartite scheme isn’t quite right, but it certainly is one way of looking at the world.

18. Lande Hekt, “Pottery Class”

This song says it’s about missing someone, but all those sighs, all those “again”s, all those “buts” make you wonder.

19. James Yorkston, Nina Persson and the Second Hand Orchestra, “A Forestful of Rogues”

“If I say so myself, and I damn well do”—when you start a line like that you can follow it up with almost anything.

20. M83, “Amnesia”

Big as stars and glistening like them; who, in 2023, does it better?

21. CMAT, “Vincent Kompany”

CMAT sometimes seems to want to be “relatable” but then snaps out of it and takes joy in being idiosyncratic, or a bit off, or, basically, really fucking odd.

22. Mannequin Pussy, “I Got Heaven”

Let it be known that in 2023 we snarled sometimes.

23. Shit Present, “More to Lose”

Shit Present, in the best of traditions, use monotone as a weapon: here Iona Cairns drags down what could be a soaring chorus in the most politically astute of ways.

24. Fever Ray, “Kandy”

The word could be skeletal: minimal, of course, but also spooky, schlocky, body-horror, prone to decomposition.

25. Girl Ray, “Hold Tight”

“Hold Tight” says it wants simple sedentary situations, “talking shit on the grass,” “get a Coke and sit on the wall,” all while it bounces and hops non-stop.

26. Charlotte Cornfield, “You and Me”

I’ll admit to preferring the more pensive Charlotte Cornfield, but no one’s surprised she can do affirmative too.

27. Shannon Lay, “From the Morning”

I love Shannon Lay’s confidence: there’s something ever-so-slightly irreverent in this Nick Drake cover, just the slightest smirk.

28. Jeff Rosenstock, “HEALMODE”

The sort of song you find under rotting wooden pallets in derelict parts of the city.

29. The Mountain Goats, “Fresh Tattoo”

The Mountain Goats grow old no worse for wear: still telling meandering parables, still making us feel right at home.

30. Samia, “Charm You”

“As You Are,” Samia’s paean to unconditional familial love, was my favourite song of 2021. “Charm You” works up the same giddiness about a new relationship but introduces a smidge of reticence.

31. Alex Lahey, “The Answer Is Always Yes”

A big year for affirmations in pop (see#4, #26, #46), but (1) this one’s so intricate too, and (2) this one knows what it’s up against too.

32. The Hold Steady, “Grand Junction”

Metronomic, “Grand Junction” declines to shift its swing, which is no problem as it keeps on hitting.

33. Arlo Parks, “Dog Rose”

Arlo Parks writes pop songs with an undercurrent, love songs that threaten to get a bit weird.

34. Holly Humberstone and MUNA, “Into Your Room”

A late entrant: one that toys with overstatement, knows it sounds a bit overblown, but wants to say what it has to say anyway and see how it goes.

35. Young Fathers, “Holy Moly”

This sounds like 2006 to me, a sticky floor and cigarette smoke.

36. Heather Woods Broderick, “Seemed a River”

This song’s weirdly verbose, maybe it’s indecisive? Maybe it’s keeping secrets?

37. Pearla, “Flicker”

Circularity like the seasons, like the sunrise-sunset, like fresh starts, like the worms.

38. Sparklehorse, “The Scull of Lucia”

A grandiose sort of lullaby, making short work of squally seas.

39. Joy Oladokun, “Changes”

I go back and forth on this one: it feels tailored for the Obama playlist, but it still charms me; sometimes it seems too smooth for the ugly world it describes, but there are more egregious sins.

40. Quinnie, “Security Question”

A missed connection that spirals from a whim into a crisis: the entire problem of other minds “at some party I wandered to.”

41. Black Country, New Road, “Laughing Song (Live at Bush Hall)”

On Live at Bush Hall BC,NR continued to be our best worriers, biters of nails, pickers of scabs.

42. Blink-182, “More Than You Know”

If there’s nostalgia here, and there may be, it’s for “Easy Target” or “Stockholm Syndrome,” the careful use of melancholy, the harmonies, Travis Barker drumming like a submachine gun.

43. Vagabon, “Lexicon”

Vagabon’s a rare songwriter who’ll admit to speechlessness, dumbstruckness, stagefright. But some things are unsayable, some thoughts do need to be expressed in deeds.

44. Subsonic Eye, “Machine”

Go on then, make it seem effortless!

45. The Milk Carton Kids, “Star Shine”

I suspect this one’s too hard on itself—there are big lies and little lies, gentle ones and harsh ones, after all.

46. Sufjan Stevens, “Shit Talk”

Somewhere in the ’10s Sufjan became a permanent presence: a waystation, a landmark, a totem, and on Javelin you feel he cautiously started embracing that.

47. Indigo De Souza, “Losing”

It’s one thing to say “less is more”, it’s another to model brevity like this, to just fill two minutes and nineteen seconds with five- or six-word lines that describe all the details of one thought.

48. Fred Again.., “Winnie (Rosslyn Crescent)”

I’m still captivated by Fred Again..’s soundscapes, his windows into London kitchen-sink scenes, and how much he leaves unsaid.

49. Sofia Kourtesis, “Moving Houses”

Fractured images, shards of life, but Sofia Kourtesis seems confident things can be put back together.

50. Oneohtrix Point Never, “Nightmare Paint”

Not an album where you can pick out one song, of course, but if I had to it’d be this pew-pew space opera, brightly lit and smoothly running, letting the unknown in through the airlock.

#music #2023 #fenne lily #boygenius #anohni #caroline polachek #ratboys #julie byrne #feist #slaughter beach dog #yo la tengo #billy woods #kenny segal #doja cat #mitski #big thief #the antlers #lana del rey #the pines of rome #bonnie prince billy #lande hekt #james yorkston #nina persson #m83 #cmat #mannequin pussy #shit present #fever ray #girl ray #charlotte cornfield

[the-fiction-witch]

The Business

Media irl X 1950's/1960's

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Smut

Concept "No questions about the business"

Smut posing/ bare skin/ spanking/ fondling/ semiconsentual/ full sex/ love bites/ 'pet' & 'good girl'/ others other hearing/ sex in the kitchen

I was nervous looming outside the door for what felt like an hour. I didn't want to disturb him and his business but it had to be done. I stood outside the large oak door of his office, my little blue shoes on the wooden floorboards doing my best not to cause them to creak. The corridor dark without a window in sight the red heavy wallpaper seemed to sap away any light from the small art deco Tiffany sconces with the three sets of diamonds getting larger closer to the center with white on the edge then orange the red facing up creating shadows on the textured ceiling. I held my breath fixing my little blue dress and my curls before I tapped on the door four times I didn't wait for an answer grabbing the golden doorknob and pushing it open revealing the room within. 

The large room with the same wooden floorboards, wood panels halfway up the walls with a red and gold geometric wallpaper, the same lights on little places around the room two hanging ones one above the main desk the other by the bar, the small bar sat to the left side with cigarette boxes and decanters sat, the desk far to the back wall with two windows behind it but the blinds drawn. A red rug across the floor. Trails of smoke in the air. Various business men all lingering about glaring at me and the open door.

"Thomas I-" I began but before I could utter another word 

"Out." He demanded from his large red chair behind his desk "now."

I went to leave but everyone in the room got up making me immediately feel afraid but they all walked to the door past me and out into the corridor once the last man had gone he spoke up again

"Come in" he says much sweeter so I stepped in having the door close tightly behind me 

"I'm sorry I didn't want to disturb -" I began but stopped short as his chair turned to face me revealing him there well dressed as usual, his black polished Oxfords, red suspenders, white pressed shirt, red tie tucked in half way down his shirt, cigarette in hand "your business" I finished he didn't speak his face still emotionless, he beckoned me with his index and middle finger to come closer with the hand that held his cigarette I stepped across the floor my heels against the floorboards and rig the only sounds other then the clock on the wall behind the bar I stopped In Front of his desk holding my breath again when a sly smirk crawled across his lip, he moved and leant back on his chair giving his thigh a glance, I didn't need to be told twice moving to his side of the desk and perching myself on his thigh to which he wrapped his arm around my waist sitting a hand on my hip. 

"You have nothing to apologize about" whispered, opening his drawer I did my best not to look as I didn't want to be accused of prying into his business "your my wife. You have free rein to come in my office you know that pet" he reassured getting a beautiful silver and diamond bracelet from his draw he took my hand giving the top of my knuckles a kiss and slipping the bracelet on my hand 

"I just don't like disturbing your business"

"You're not disturbing anything." He Cooes giving my cheek a kiss "I wanted them out a while anyway" 

"What have you been up to?" I asked 

"Pet. What did we agree?' he Did bringing his cigarette to his lips 

"No questions about the business" 

"Good girl." He Cooes fixing my hair

"Why?" 

"What?" He chuckled

"Why? The business runs out of our house, it's a family business shouldn't i-"

"Y/n" he warns, sending a shiver down my spine "the business is my business. I don't want my beautiful wife worrying her little head about it all" 

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive pet" he says "go on. I've got work to do" 

"Yes Thomas" I nodded, getting up, fixing my dress a little "anything special you wanted for dinner?"

"Surprise me" 

"Alright" I nodded heading towards the door but before I even got halfway across his office he spoke up

"Y/n." He growled

"Yes thomas?" I asked not even turning frozen looking at the door unsure what he could be about to do 

"Let me see the most beautiful sight in the world" he Cooed 

Immediately I blushed hard smiling a little thought my blush 

"I thought you had work to do?"

"I do. Got to have something to encourage me" he smirked 

I blushed more but took a grip on my dress tugging the fabric higher and higher until I held the hem holding it around my waist I could feel his eyes burning into my skin feeling the air of the room on my bare skin 

"Umm hum" he smirked 

 "turn around" he demanded 

For a second I didn't move now completely blushing hard I went to drop my dress but

"No. Keep hold of that" he ordered 

So I held my dress still with the hem around my waist and turned to face his desk seeing him sat there cigarette between his lips smirking at me as he took in every inch of my bare skin "good girl" he Cooes 

So I dropped the fabric flattering it back to normal

"Go on. I'll see you later pet" 

"Yes Thomas" I nodded quickly hurrying out of his office and back into the house. 

I stood in the kitchen looking out the window to the garden as I mindlessly scrubbed the dishes and the little radio on the shelf playing some gentle tunes. My heels against the black and white tiles, I picked up a plate from the counter of dark wood and a black marble top adding it to my water scrubbing away for a while before sitting it in the rack. I froze up as I headed the door open and close, his footsteps down the corridor before he arrived in the kitchen, I could immediately smell the sent of gunsmoke and of blood, I didn't turn to see him meerly watching him in the glass mirror in the back of the display cabinet watching between the stored glasses. He stepped over to the kitchen island in his black suit putting a hand through his messy blonde hair, he undid his jacket pulling out his usual gun fiddling with it a moment and taking the bullets out setting the gun and it's bullet shelve on the marble separately, then pulling out his switchblade taking some kitchen towel wiping it clean and sitting it too on the counter, he slipped his jacket off hanging it one of the stools of the kitchen island rolling his sleeves up as he stepped across the kitchen to the stove opening the lid and having a taste of my cooking he seemed pleased setting the lid back on the pot before he came and stood behind me stroking his fingers across my apron strings his breath against my neck until he kissed my cheek, the moment he did his hands took my dresses fabric pushing it and my petticoats up to my waist he held my hips a second and ground himself against my bare ass before he moved back and undid his pants pulling out his hard erection, he moved me slightly allowing him the angle to slip Inside me leaning my hips against the counter top hard as he began his slow but passionate thrusts immediately I melted feeling him inside me dropping my work to hold the edges of the sink trying to remain composed I knew how wet me was making me not to mention all his little grunts and groans in my ear as he worked his hands tight around my waist

"Squeal for me pet" he demanded 

"Thomas I-"

"Do as I ask. Or I'll Bend that dirty ass over and spank you raw" he ordered

"Yes Thomas" I nodded allowing myself to be much louder with my moans and screams his hand left my waist to unbutton one of the buttons on my dress slipping his hand in to grasp my breast which only made him chuckle more, I knew I was close and so did he getting faster and more merciless on me his gropes and strokes becoming more aggressive until I hit my orgasm squealing loudly my eyes rolling back my head against his chest my juices dripping down my legs, he let me ride it out but wasn't long before his own far quieter orgasm burying himself as deep inside me as he could before pulling out and doing his pants up, he tugged my dress down and gave my cheek a sweet kiss before he moved to lean on the counter beside me

"What?" He asks I was confused and turned seeing a few of his business boys in our kitchen doorway. I had no clue how long they had been here but I turned bright red thinking they could have seen, or heard everything that had just happened. 

"Melrose wants a call at nine" one said 

"Let him wait. He's never punctual when the shoes on the other foot" Thomas said getting a cigarette from his box in his pocket putting it to his lips and trying to light it but his lighter wouldn't strike so I took one from the side and lit it up for him "thank you pet" he cooes giving me a wink

"The Canadian account sir?"

"Have Sammy look into it I can't be bothered with their pleasantries" he said and the boys nodded, he smiled and pulled me into his side so I co nuzzle on his shoulder when I noticed one of the boys looking at me in a particularly focused way 

"Well fuck off then" he ordered and the boys left going off somewhere else 

"How was it?" I asked

"All delt with pet. Now I have some more work to do in my office if you could bring me some of that lovely soup down in about an hour?"

"Of course"

"Good girl. And when I'm all done with work how does you me and the triumph sound? We'll pop into town to the pictures?"

"That's sounds lovely'

"Perfect. Go make yourself look mesmerizing I'll finish this work up' he says slapping my butt before heading off to his office 

I laid on bed having long since finished my book wrapped up warm in the cosy covers and blankets doing my best to fall into the sweet arms of sleep even though the bed was empty. I heard sounds from downstairs but I didn't think twice trying to sleep until I hear the door opened for a moment I didn't move assuming it would just be Thomas home from a meeting and he'd climb into bed with me in meer moment but I heard sounds of pain and a light turn on in the ensuite I sat up seeing the light coming on though the slightly opened door "Thomas?"

"Yeah" he answered back, sounding in pain I quickly climbed out the bed wrapping my robe around me and hurrying over pushing open the door seeing our light blue bathroom fixings, the sweet white and blue tiles, the bright light above it all, Thomas sat on the edge of the bathtub his bare feet on the rug, his pants as well dressed as when he left but his jacket gone his hotel shirt covered in blood he was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt having opened the medicine cabinet spilling medical supplies across the sink

"Oh my god Thomas!" I yelled in shock trying to get a good look at him but he pushed me away "you're covered in blood!" I yelled trying not to panic too bad about to go and call for an ambulance

"Relax!" He demanded "it's not my blood" he says 

"What?"

"It not my blood. At Least not all of it" he says getting a cigarette from his pocket lighting it up and looking much more relaxed

"The hell happened?" 

"Bad meeting that's" he shrugs slipping his shirt off 

"Oh my god your shoulder!" 

"Yeah I know. It's fine I already worked the bullet out just need to sterilize and wrap it up." He says "relax pet. Nothing I can't handle" 

"Still" I said getting the stuff to clean his shoulder helping him out where I could "business isn't going to well I take it?"

"Pet."

"Sorry i-"

"It's fine. Natural for you to be curious. Just keep that little nose out I don't want you getting hurt" he says as we finished up with his shoulder

"Well how do I think I feel. If you worry if get hurt don't you think I'm always worried about you?" I said slipping off my robe to return to bed he stripped off and climbed into bed beside me pulling me into his chest "careful!"

"It's alright. I know you worry. I wish I could tell you it's all perfect safe and all perfectly above board but… you made me promise on our wedding not to lie to you. It's all fine pet don't worry anything happens to me you'll be well looked after I promise"

"I don't want to be looked after. I want you"

"I know. How about I take a week off?"

"What?"

"Really, a week. No business at all. Not boys coming around just you and me?"

"I'd like that thomas" I cooed nuzzling closer 

"Alright. I'll get it sorted tomorrow morning. Let's get some sleep"

"Alright, you don't need anything before bed? For your arm?"

"Well I can think of something my little wife could do to make me feel better?" He smirked giving my head little kisses 

"His will that help your shoulder?"

"It'll take my mind off it. Make me feel better" he Cooes playing with my hair 

"Goodnight Thomas"

"Fine. Goodnight y/n" he smiled kissing my nose "love you"

"I love you more"

[sansxfuckyou]

We were friends, once

Summary: Red ends up helping Green move out of their miniscule home, he doesn't even know Green, only through Yellow convincing him to let them move in, but they're nice in an almost melancholic sense

Tagging: @sobredunia

Warnings: Check tags for warnings

Authors Note: Holy shit, Dunia you have the best prompts in existence, definitely tore through writers block with this one, I chose number 2 by the way and decided to just go for it all the way

Box after box was hauled past the door and dropped onto a trolley that Yellow stood by to rearrange the boxes on before rolling said trolley to the moving truck. Red was doing most of the heavy lifting, a table and mattress, Green worked on things that needed more caution, plates and mementos. They were in silence for the most part, without Yellow as a mediator everything became tense and they couldn't interact without an odd thickness and disconnect.

as Green finished packing the last of the plates and started on bowls, Red found himself pulling down the ladder to the attic. Dust barreled down and he coughed harshly before climbing up the stairs, the old wood creaked with every step he took. The entirety of the darkened attic was coated with a thick layer of dust, as though it hadn't been touched in years. He pulled the loose light and it flickered to life illuminating the roof compartment slightly, he saw nothing hidden away like he had partially hoped.

All he saw was one box in the corner of his line of sight, out of curiosity he crept over to it as quietly as possibly, not wanting to let the floor creak to much under his weight. He nearly tripped every third step he took, but eventually he reached the box and crouched down before pulling out a pocket knife and slicing open the tape. Dust slid from sun bleached cardboard as the two flaps were lifted from place, Red could barely see inside without squinting, he had to pull up a lighter to get a decent view.

He saw three items that lay within, a slightly worn photo album, a sun bleached certificate and an ominously familiar Charizard plush. The first thing he did was reach for the Charizard plush, a small rip rested at the base of its tail but other than that it was in good condition, he placed it on his thigh before reaching for the next item. He pulled out the certificate next, it read 'Blue Oak: Champion of Kanto.' or something along those lines, the writing was smudged with age.

Red felt a chill roll down his spine at the name of his old friend, his old friend that went missing without warning, his old friend that never returned. There were many theories on what had happened to Blue, many of which he easily discarded, others constantly creeping into the back of his head and causing him grief. He neatly place the certificate on the ground next to his foot before pushing away the theory that Blue had been murdered and that this Green is the murderer.

The last item he reached for was with great reluctance, almost afraid of what may lie within. He knew in the back of his mind he was overstepping at least a hundred boundaries, he had only just met Green last month, and now he was snooping through an attic box. Definitely breaking a couple unspoken rules no one should ever question if they want a relationship to ever stick around. He took a shaky breath before gripping the leather bound album and blowing off the dust.

'Blue Oaks Green Oaks memories.' Words on the photo album were scribbled and replaced as though the prior was supposed to be replaced, supposed to be forgotten, never to be remembered.

Reds throat started to constrict as his train of thought crashed and burned, a hundred scenarios of his lost friends death played out in perfect tandem.

Mauling.

Homicide.

Burning.

Euthanasia.

Suffocation.

He was in silent tears by the time he managed to snuff out each scenario playing out in his head before he flipped open the first page of the photo album. He was greeted with an empty page, he flipped further and further to the book till he hit the halfway mark where he was greeted with a few pictures of childish birthday parties. He kept flipping, trying to ignore the fact he could recognize each face in the pictures, he wiped the tears from his face before flipping to be greeted with an empty page.

He kept flipping page after page, freezing when he hit the last page, an unmistakable photo of him and Blue. The two sitting atop Blues Pidgeot, Blue gently gripping the brown feathers of Pidgeots hide while Red gripped Blues torso as though his life depended on it and they hadn't even taken off. The bittersweet memory played out in Reds head as he shut his eyes, playing each moment frame by frame, trying to think of the good times then the theories.

He heard the harsh sound of someone slamming their foot down on hardwood before turning to be greeted with Green standing at the top of the attic, clearly agitated enough to scare Arceus. Red froze before quickly trying to put everything away as he found it, he knew it was to late to try and hide what had happened, but best to try even its hopeless. Despite Green standing three inches shorter than Red, he was still a menacing individual.

Red expected to be slapped.

A good kick in the nuts if he was unlucky.

Maybe even a restraining order if Green was that mad.

Instead he heard a sigh before Green wiped the drying tears from Reds face, shocking Red by quite a bit. Green walked past Red before picking up the now open box and walking past Red once again. Red followed Green silently as he carried the box out to the car Yellow had and took a seat in the middle in the back, slamming the door shut. Yellow didn't ask what was wrong after taking a brief glance at the contents of the box in Greens hands, Red sat in the passenger seat up front.

The car ride was silent, the hum of rubber gliding across pavement reverberating in the car was all that was heard. The tension that lay within closed windows sat there and didn't go away, Greens grip on the cardboard tightened as stress and fear settled in. The familiar sound of cardboard tearing could be heard as he punctured the flimsy material of the box, he gave a weak 'Sorry.' before the silence and tension returned.

When they arrived, no one dared to move from their spot, a game of endurance would be the only way to describe the scenario in a twisted sense. Yellow was first to crumble, twisting the car keys to role down the windows a bit before leaving without speaking a word leaving only Red and Green in the car. Despite being able to stay silent in almost any situation, he had to speak his mind, to know if the most popular theory of what had happened to the first champion of Kanto was true.

"You killed him, didn't you?" Red asked abruptly in a quiet tone, running his hands across the leather upholstery of the car, he knew he couldn't tear the car up despite how weak the fake leather was, despite how stressful asking such a question was, he had to refrain from gripping hard enough to tear the leather.

"No, I just, I couldn't be him anymore," Green said with a sigh as he glanced to the box, wishing to avoid disclosing anymore information on what had happened. "Everyone loved him, everyone wanted him, everyone needed him, they were obsessed with him, and he couldn't be forgotten with his name in the record book as youngest champion, he hated it."

"He's gone and there wasn't a single person in the Oak family with the name Green, I don't know why you talk about Blue like you knew him, but you didn't, you take his certificate, the Charizard plush I gave him when we were kids and his photo album," Red snapped before trying to steady his breathing, clenching his fists, his nails broke skin and a bit of blood smeared across his palms and trickled down his forearms. "You didn't know him, yet you talk like you were in his head, it would drive me insane."

"Do you, do you remember when Blue told you he wanted to be a scientist, do you remember what you said to him that fateful evening?" Green questioned, aggravation clear in his voice, Red was almost scared at how accurate the question was, no one knew Blue wanted to be a scientist, he went missing shortly after he told Red.

"I told him it was stupid, he had no chance, he was the champion, we were the champions of Kanto," Red explained bitterly, that evening, oh if only he knew that was one of the last times he would see Blue before he went missing. "We had a responsibility and a title to uphold and he left, he didn't go missing, he consciously left, everyone dubbed it as a missing person case-"

"He left you, he left everything to rest on your shoulders, and then it came on the news, that he was dead, multiple artists depictions of his death, the only reason they guessed he was dead is because of his blood they found splattered across a wall," Green finished Reds sentence as sobs started to wrack Reds body, unable to finish the thought, Green placed the box to the side before reaching for a photo within one of the many pockets in his lab coat. "Do you know why he left you Red, do you know why no one ever found the body?"

"No, no one does, and the body was destroyed." Red said after evening out his breathing and gathering his thoughts, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, Green chuckled a bit before answering his question.

"Because Red," Green started as he unbuckled his seat belt and reached for his box. "Blue never died."

Green was silent with a small smirk tugging at his lips as he opened the car door and left Red in thought before the champion followed suite. The door of the house was silent as Green pushed it open and placed his box on the kitchen table before looking for a glass to fill with water. Red on the couch instead, what Green had stated was implausible by all means nessacary, sure, Blue was a survivor, but the amount of blood found was all it needed to be dubbed he bled to death.

"He may be a lot closer than you think Red."

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #trainer red #trainer blue #trainer green #blue oak #green oak #champion blue #champion green #champion red #pokemon protagonist #trainer yellow #dexholder yellow #red pokemon #blue pokemon #yellow pokemon #tw angst #tw murder #tw burning #tw suffocation #tw euthanasia #tw crying #tw identity crisis #tw death #tw death mention #tw blood

[sussex-nature-lover]

Sunday 23 October 2022

Stuck Indoors

You can tell from today’s photos that it’s dark, wet and gloomy outdoors and right now it’s also dark and a bit gloomy indoors, but like so many of us since the energy price rise, I’m militant about sparing use of lighting, heating and power. Miserable? or good practice if the rumoured planned evening power cuts are brought in this winter?

^radical intervention, Crow has rebelled and put the light on accompanied by the words ‘I’m sorry Coops, I’m going to have to put the light on over here’

We were woken up by thunder and as I type it really is as black as yer ‘at and the lightning has started to flash, so the storm’s back. Of course the first thing I do is get online to real time lightningmaps.org  It looks like the weather’s coming in from sea at the south coast and making its way north in quite a concentrated effort.

It’s just a coincidence that I peeped at my Twitter feed as I was looking out at very empty feeders (just one lonely blue tit and a soggy peacock underneath the trees) and saw this article which is called Where do Birds go in the Rain? It’s worth a look and I’ve just taken inspiration for a mini teaser. Who’s this?

I’ll put a reveal at the end of the post.

Because our area is prone to power cuts and because of the cost of oil - I had to order some this week and nearly collapsed at the invoice, we’ve got plenty of very well seasoned logs in and as it’s been relatively mild up to now, except for the evenings, we’ve been relying on the fire at night and it’s been lovely.

I love the look of the log piles as well. Our log man thinks I’m crazy, I suppose he would as he sees the hard work of them, but I really do like looking at them. I just went out to take pictures and spent a bit of time talking to the robin that’s taken up residence in the wisteria at the front of the porch and I could hear a lot of chatter not too much further away. It was the long tailed tits being extremely vocal. They make such a pretty sound, just like a pleasant running conversation.

Tree Watch. This is the big oak at the beginning of the week and the clump of trees at the bottom of the garden. The photo at the top is what I can see of the maple’s bright leaves today - what there are of them

I did go out and collect some fallen leaves to press. Looks like I need a few more golden ones, maybe Crow will assist.

I’m pressing them between heavy books and an awful lot of dampness has already come out of these, but they’re not dry enough yet. Dry enough for what? I’m not sure yet, except dry enough not to curl and roll up.

Because we haven’t been out and about this week, except to get the ‘flu jabs, I don’t have much that’s new for my nature diary, but I found these additional flower photos from Bateman’s and they’re a nice contrast to the soggy garden. The gardener’s display in the kitchen yielded some topical information because it identified a type of grass that Ms NWtE had in her wedding bouquet last month. 

She’d specified that she wanted only seasonal British flowers, which meant that she had an unusual and interesting mix of blooms and a number of different kinds of foliage and grasses.

I’ve kept some strands of this Panicum in a jug, it’s all I have left, but I didn’t know what it’s called until the visit.

The flowers were absolutely beautiful

Elsewhere in Bateman’s garden there were little surprises here and there. A late Magnolia Grandiflora bloom, these Autumn Crocus, plenty of roses, some very architectural looking flowers on the last of the leeks and the hips of rose bushes in the vegetable garden. Enjoy the last bits of late summer colours and shapes.

The mystery bird who ventured out to the feeding station is a female great spotted woodpecker

posed by model on a clear day 😉

Mini blog with more pictures on this link

#weather flowers nature gardens

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The Crooked Branch or The Ghost in the Garden Room (1859) by Elizabeth Gaskell

Not many years after the beginning of this century, a worthy couple of the name of Huntroyd occupied a small farm in the North Riding of Yorkshire. They had married late in life, although they were very young when they first began to 'keep company' with each other. Nathan Huntroyd had been farm−servant to Hester Rose's father, and had made up to her at a time when her parents thought she might do better; and so, without much consultation of her feelings, they had dismissed Nathan in somewhat cavalier fashion. He had drifted far away from his former connections, when an uncle of his died, leaving Nathan by this time upwards of forty years of age enough money to stock a small farm, and yet have something over, to put in the bank against bad times. One of the consequences of this bequest was, that Nathan was looking out for a wife and housekeeper, in a kind of discreet and leisurely way, when one day he heard that his old love, Hester, was not married and flourishing, as he had always supposed her to be, but a poor maid−of−all−work, in the town of Ripon. For her father had had a succession of misfortunes, which had brought him in his old age to the workhouse; her mother was dead; her only brother struggling to bring up a large family; and Hester herself a hard−working, homely−looking (at thirty−seven) servant. Nathan had a kind of growling satisfaction (which only lasted a minute or two, however) in hearing of these turns of fortune's wheel. He did not make many intelligible remarks to his informant, and to no one else did he say a word. But, a few days afterwards, he presented himself, dressed in his Sunday best, at Mrs Thompson's back−door in Ripon.

Hester stood there, in answer to the good sound knock his good sound oak−stick made: she, with the light full upon her, he in shadow. For a moment there was silence. He was scanning the face and figure of his old love, for twenty years unseen. The comely beauty of youth had faded away entirely; she was, as I have said, homely−looking, plain−featured, but with a clean skin, and pleasant frank eyes. Her figure was no longer round, but tidily draped in a blue and white bed−gown, tied round her waist by her white apron−strings, and her short red linsey petticoat showed her tidy feet and ankles. Her former lover fell into no ecstasies. He simply said to himself, 'She'll do'; and forthwith began upon his business.

'Hester, thou dost not mind me. I am Nathan, as thy father turned off at a minute's notice, for thinking of thee for a wife, twenty year come Michaelmas next. I have not thought much upon matrimony since. But Uncle Ben has died leaving me a small matter in the bank; and I have taken Nab−End Farm, and put in a bit of stock, and shall want a missus to see after it. Wilt like to come? I'll not mislead thee. It's dairy, and it might have been arable. But arable takes more horses nor it suited me to buy, and I'd the offer of a tidy lot of kine. That's all. If thou'll have me, I'll come for thee as soon as the hay is gotten in'.

Hester only said, 'Come in, and sit thee down'.

He came in, and sat down. For a time, she took no more notice of him than of his stick, bustling about to get dinner ready for the family whom she served. He meanwhile watched her brisk sharp movements, and repeated to himself, 'She'll do!' After about twenty minutes of silence thus employed, he got up, saying

'Well, Hester, I'm going. When shall I come back again?'

'Please thysel', and thou'll please me,' said Hester, in a tone that she tried to make light and indifferent; but he saw that her colour came and went, and that she trembled while she moved about. In another moment Hester was soundly kissed; but, when she looked round to scold the middle−aged farmer, he appeared so entirely composed that she hesitated. He said

'I have pleased mysel', and thee too, I hope. Is it a month's wage, and a month's warning? To−day is the eighth. July eighth is our wedding−day. I have no time to spend a−wooing before then, and wedding must na take long. Two days is enough to throw away, at our time o' life.'

It was like a dream; but Hester resolved not to think more about it till her work was done. And when all was cleaned up for the evening, she went and gave her mistress warning, telling her all the history of her life in a very few words. That day month she was married from Mrs Thompson's house.

The issue of the marriage was one boy, Benjamin. A few years after his birth, Hester's brother died at Leeds, leaving ten or twelve children. Hester sorrowed bitterly over this loss; and Nathan showed her much quiet sympathy, although he could not but remember that Jack Rose had added insult to the bitterness of his youth. He helped his wife to make ready to go by the waggon to Leeds. He made light of the household difficulties, which came thronging into her mind after all was fixed for her departure. He filled her purse, that she might have wherewithal to alleviate the immediate wants of her brother's family. And, as she was leaving, he ran after the waggon. 'Stop, stop!' he cried. 'Hetty, if thou wilt if it wunnot be too much for thee bring back one of Jack's wenches for company, like. We've enough and to spare; and a lass will make the house winsome, as a man may say.'

The waggon moved on; while Hester had such a silent swelling of gratitude in her heart, as was both thanks to her husband and thanksgiving to God.

And that was the way that little Bessy Rose came to be an inmate of the Nab's−End Farm.

Virtue met with its own reward in this instance, and in a clear and tangible shape, too; which need not delude people in general into thinking that such is the usual nature of virtue's rewards! Bessy grew up a bright affectionate, active girl; a daily comfort to her uncle and aunt. She was so much a darling in the household that they even thought her worthy of their only son Benjamin, who was perfection in their eyes. It is not often the case that two plain, homely people have a child of uncommon beauty; but it is so sometimes, and Benjamin Huntroyd was one of these exceptional cases. The hard−working, labour−and−care−marked farmer, and the mother, who could never have been more than tolerably comely in her best days, produced a boy who might have been an earl's son for grace and beauty. Even the hunting squires of the neighbourhood reined up their horses to admire him, as he opened the gates for them. He had no shyness, he was so accustomed from his earliest years to admiration from strangers and adoration from his parents. As for Bessy Rose, he ruled imperiously over her heart from the time she first set eyes on him. And, as she grew older, she grew on in loving, persuading herself that what her uncle and aunt loved so dearly it was her duty to love dearest of all. At every unconscious symptom of the young girl's love for her cousin, his parents smiled and winked: all was going on as they wished; no need to go far a−field for Benjamin's wife. The household could go on as it was now; Nathan and Hester sinking into the rest of years, and relinquishing care and authority to those dear ones, who, in the process of time, might bring other dear ones to share their love.

But Benjamin took it all very coolly. He had been sent to a day−school in the neighbouring town a grammar−school in the high state of neglect in which the majority of such schools were thirty years ago. Neither his father nor his mother knew much of learning. All they knew (and that directed their choice of a school) was that they could not, by any possibility, part with their darling to a boarding−school; that some schooling he must have, and that Squire Pollard's son went to Highminster Grammar School. Squire Pollard1s son, and many another son destined to make his parents' hearts ache, went to this school. If it had not been so utterly a bad place of education, the simple farmer and his wife might have found it out sooner. But not only did the pupils there learn vice, they also learnt deceit. Benjamin was naturally too clever to remain a dunce; or else, if he had chosen so to be, there was nothing in Highminster Grammar School to hinder his being a dunce of the first water. But, to all appearance, he grew clever and gentleman−like. His father and mother were even proud of his airs and graces, when he came home for the holidays; taking them for proofs of his refinement, although the practical effect of such refinement was to make him express his contempt for his parents' homely ways and simple ignorance. By the time he was eighteen, an articled clerk in an attorney's office at Highminster, for he had quite declined becoming a 'mere clod−hopper,' that is to say, a hard−working, honest farmer like his father Bessy Rose was the only person who was dissatisfied with him. The little girl of fourteen instinctively felt there was something wrong about him. Alas! two years more, and the girl of sixteen worshipped his very shadow, and would not see that aught could be wrong with one so soft−spoken, so handsome, so kind as Cousin Benjamin. For Benjamin had discovered that the way to cajole his parents out of money for every indulgence he fancied, was to pretend to forward their innocent scheme, and make love to his pretty cousin, Bessy Rose. He cared just enough for her to make this work of necessity not disagreeable at the time he was performing it. But he found it tiresome to remember her little claims upon him, when she was no longer present. The letters he had promised her during his weekly absence at Highminster, the trifling commissions she had asked him to do for her, were all considered in the light of troubles; and, even when he was with her, he resented the inquiries she made as to his mode of passing his time, or what female acquaintances he had in Highminster.

When his apprenticeship was ended, nothing would serve him but that he must go up to London for a year or two. Poor Farmer Huntroyd was beginning to repent of his ambition of making his son Benjamin a gentleman. But it was too late to repine now. Both father and mother felt this; and, however sorrowful they might be, they were silent, neither demurring nor assenting to Benjamin's proposition when first he made it. But Bessy, through her tears, noticed that both her uncle and aunt seemed unusually tired that night, and sat hand−in−hand on the fireside settle, idly gazing into the bright flame, as if they saw in it pictures of what they had once hoped their lives would have been. Bessy rattled about among the supper−things, as she put them away after Benjamin's departure, making more noise than usual as if noise and bustle was what she needed to keep her from bursting out crying and, having at one keen glance taken in the position and looks of Nathan and Hester, she avoided looking in that direction again, for fear the sight of their wistful faces should make her own tears overflow.

'Sit thee down, lass sit thee down! Bring the creepie−stool to the fireside, and let's have a bit of talk over the lad's plans,' said Nathan, at last rousing himself to speak. Bessy came and sat down in front of the fire, and threw her apron over her face, as she rested her head on both hands. Nathan felt as if it was a chance which of the two women burst out crying first. So he thought he would speak, in hopes of keeping off the infection of tears.

'Didst ever hear of this mad plan afore, Bessy?'

'No, never!' Her voice came muffled and changed from under her apron. Hester felt as if the tone, both of question and answer, implied blame; and this she could not bear.

'We should ha' looked to it when we bound him; for of necessity it would ha' come to this. There's examins, and catechizes, and I dunno what all for him to be put through in London. It's not his fault.'

'Which on us said it were?' asked Nathan, rather put out. 'Tho', for that matter, a few weeks would carry him over the mire, and make him as good a lawyer as any judge among 'em. Oud Lawson the attorney told me that, in a talk I had wi' him a bit sin. Na, na! it's the lad's own hankering after London that makes him want for to stay there for a year, let alone two.'

Nathan shook his head.

'And if it be his own hankering,' said Bessy, putting down her apron, her face all flame, and her eyes swollen up, 'I dunnot see harm in it. Lads aren't like lasses, to be teed to their own fireside like th' crook yonder. It's fitting for a young man to go abroad and see the world, afore he settles down.'

Hester's hand sought Bessy's; and the two women sat in sympathetic defiance of any blame that should be thrown on the beloved absent. Nathan only said

'Nay, wench, dunnot wax up so; whatten's done's done; and worse, it's my doing. I mun needs make my bairn a gentleman; and we mun pay for it.'

'Dear Uncle! he wunna spend much, I'll answer for it; and I'll scrimp and save i' the house, to make it good.'

'Wench!' said Nathan Solemnly, 'it were not paying in cash I were speaking on: it were paying in heart's care, and heaviness of soul. Lunnon is a place where the devil keeps court as well as King George; and my poor chap has more nor once welly fallen into his clutches here. I dunno what he'll do, when he gets close within sniff of him.'

'Don't let him go, father!' said Hester, for the first time taking this view. Hitherto she had only thought of her own grief at parting with him. 'Father, if you think so, keep him here, safe under your own eye!'

'Nay!' said Nathan, 'he's past time o' life for that. Why, there's not one on us knows where he is at this present time, and he not gone out of our sight an hour. He's too big to be put back i' th' go−cart, mother, or to keep within doors, with the chair turned bottom−upwards.'

'I wish he were a wee bairn lying in my arms again! It were a sore day when I weaned him; and I think life's been gettin' sorer and sorer at every turn he's ta'en towards manhood.'

'Coom, lass; that's noan the way to be talking. Be thankful to Marcy that thou'st getten a man for thy son as stands five foot eleven in's stockings, and ne1er a sick piece about him. We wunnot grudge him his fling, will we, Bess, my wench? He'll be coming back in a year, or, may be, a bit more, and be a' for settling in a quiet town like, wi' a wife that's noan so fur fra' me at this very minute. An' we oud folk, as we get into years, must gi' up farm, and tak a bit on a house near Lawyer Benjamin.'

And so the good Nathan, his own heart heavy enough, tried to soothe his women−kind. But, of the three, his eyes were longest in closing, his apprehensions the deepest founded.

'I misdoubt me I hanna done well by th' lad. I misdoubt me sore,' was the thought that kept him awake till day began to dawn. 'Summat's wrong about him, or folk would na look me wi' such piteous−like een, when they speak on him. I can see th' meaning of it, thof I'm too proud to let on. And Lawson, too, he holds his tongue more nor he should do, when I ax him how my lad's getting on, and whatten sort of a lawyer he'll mak. God be marciful to Hester an' me, if th' lad's gone away! God be marciful! But, may be, it's this lying waking a' the night through, that maks me so fearfu'. Why, when I were his age, I daur be bound I should ha' spent money fast enoof, i' I could ha' come by iy. But I had to arn it; that maks a great differ'. Well! It were hard to thwart th' child of our old age, and we waitin' so long for to have 'un!' Next morning, Nathan rode Moggy, the cart−horse, into Highminster to see Mr Lawson. Anybody who saw him ride out of his own yard would have been struck with the change in him which was visible when he returned: a change greater than a day's unusual exercise should have made in a man of his years. He scarcely held the reins at all. One jerk of Moggy's head would have plucked them out of his hands. His head was bent forward, his eyes looking on some unseen thing, with long, unwinking gaze. But, as he drew near home on his return, he made an effort to recover himself.

'No need fretting them,' he said; 'lads will be lads. But I didna think he had it in him to be so thowtless, young as he is. Well, well! he'll, may be, get more wisdom i' Lunnon. Anyways, it's best to cut him off fra such evil lads as Will Hawker, and such−like. It's they as have led my boy astray. He were a good chap till he knowed them a good chap till he knowed them.' But he put all his cares in the background, when he came into the house−place, where both Bessy and his wife met him at the door, and both would fain lend a hand to take off his great−coat.

'Theer, wenches, theer! ye might let a man alone for to get out on's clothes! Why, I might ha' struck thee, lass. 'And he went on talking, trying to keep them off for a time from the subject that all had at heart. But there was no putting them off for ever; and, by dint of repeated questioning on his wife's part, more was got out than he had ever meant to tell enough to grieve both his hearers sorely: and yet the brave old man still kept the worst in his own breast.

The next day, Benjamin came home for a week or two, before making his great start to London. His father kept him at a distance, and was solemn and quiet in his manner to the young man. Bessy, who had shown anger enough at first, and had uttered many a sharp speech, began to relent, and then to feel hurt and displeased that her uncle should persevere so long in his cold, reserved manner and Benjamin just going to leave them! Her aunt went, tremblingly busy, about the clothes−presses and drawers, as if afraid of letting herself think either of the past or the future; only once or twice, coming behind her son, she suddenly stopped over his sitting figure, and kissed his cheek, and stroked his hair. Bessy remembered afterwards long years afterwards how he had tossed his head away with nervous irritability on one of these occasions, and had muttered her aunt did not hear it, but Bessy did

'Can't you leave a man alone?'

Towards Bessy herself he was pretty gracious. No other words express his manner.. it was not warm, nor tender, nor cousinly, but there was an assumption of underbred politeness towards her as a young, pretty woman; which politeness was neglected in his authoritative or grumbling manner towards his mother, or his sullen silence before his father. He once or twice ventured on a compliment to Bessy on her personal appearance. She stood still, and looked at him with astonishment.

'Have my eyes changed sin' last thou saw'st them,' she asked, ' that thou must be telling me about 'em i' that fashion? I'd rayther by a deal see thee helping thy mother, when she's dropped her knitting−needle and canna see i' th' dusk for to pick it up.'

But Bessy thought of his pretty speech about her eyes, long after he had forgotten making it, and when he would have been puzzled to tell the colour of them. Many a day, after he was gone, did she look earnestly in the little oblong looking−glass, which hung up against the wall of her little sleeping−chamber, but which she used to take down in order to examine the eyes he had praised, murmuring to herself, 'Pretty, soft grey eyes! Pretty, soft grey eyes!' until she would hang up the glass again, with a sudden laugh and a rosy blush.

In the days when he had gone away to the vague distance and vaguer place the city called London Bessy tried to forget all that had gone against her feeling of the affection and duty that a son owed to his parents; and she had many things to forget of this kind that would keep surging up into her mind. For instance, she wished that he had not objected to the home−spun, home−made shirts which his mother and she had had such pleasure in getting ready for him. He might not know, it was true and so her love urged how carefully and evenly the thread had been spun: how, not content with bleaching the yarn in the sunniest meadow, the linen, on its return from the weaver's, had been spread out afresh on the sweet summer grass, and watered carefully, night after night, when there was no dew to perform the kindly office. He did not know for no one but Bessy herself did how many false or large stitches, made large and false by her aunt's failing eyes (who yet liked to do the choicest part of the stitching all by herself), Bessy had unpicked at night in her own room, and with dainty fingers had re−stitched; sewing eagerly in the dead of night. All this he did not know; or he could never have complained of the coarse texture, the old−fashioned make of these shirts, and urged on his mother to give him part of her little store of egg− and butter−money, in order to buy newer−fashioned linen in Highminster.

When once that little precious store of his mother's was discovered, it was well for Bessy's peace of mind that she did not know how loosely her aunt counted up the coins, mistaking guineas for shillings, or just the other way, so that the amount was seldom the same in the old black spoutless teapot. Yet this son, this hope, this love, had still a strange power of fascination over the household. The evening before he left, he sat between his parents, a hand in theirs on either side, and Bessy on the old creepie−stool, her head lying on her aunt's knee, and looking up at him from time to time, as if to learn his face off by heart; till his glances, meeting hers, made her drop her eyes, and only sigh.

He stopped up late that night with his father, long after the women had gone to bed. But not to sleep; for I will answer for it the grey−haired mother never slept a wink till the late dawn of the autumn day; and Bessy heard her uncle come upstairs with heavy, deliberate footsteps, and go to the old stocking which served him for bank, and count out the golden guineas; once he stopped, but again he went on afresh, as if resolved to crown his gift with liberality. Another long pause in which she could but indistinctly hear continued words, it might have been advice, it might be a prayer, for it was in her uncle's voice and then father and son came up to bed. Bessy's room was but parted from her cousin's by a thin wooden partition; and the last sound she distinctly heard, before her eyes, tired out with crying, closed themselves in sleep, was the guineas clinking down upon each other at regular intervals, as if Benjamin were playing at pitch and toss with his father's present.

After he was gone, Bessy wished to he had asked her to walk part of the way with him into Highminster. She was all ready, her things laid out on the bed; but she could not accompany him without invitation.

The little household tried to close over the gap as best they might. They seemed to set themselves to their daily work with unusual vigour; but somehow, when evening came there had been little done. Heavy hearts never make light work, and there was no telling how much care and anxiety each had had to bear in secret in the field, at the wheel, or in the dairy. Formerly, he was looked for every Saturday looked for, though he might not come; or, if he came, there were things to be spoken about that made his visit anything but a pleasure: still, he might come, and all things might go right; and then what sunshine, what gladness to those humble people! But now he was away, and dreary winter was come on; old folks' sight fails, and the evenings were long and sad, in spite of all Bessy could do or say. And he did not write so often as he might so each one thought; though each one would have been ready to defend him from either of the others who had expressed such a thought aloud. 'Surely,' said Bessy to herself, when the first primroses peeped out in a sheltered and sunny hedge−bank, and she gathered them as she passed home from afternoon church surely, there never will be such a dreary, miserable winter again as this has been.' There had been a great change in Nathan and Hester Huntroyd during this last year. The spring before, when Benjamin was yet the subject of more hopes than fears, his father and mother looked what I may call an elderly middle−aged couple: people who had a good deal of hearty work in them yet. Now it was not his absence alone that caused the change they looked frail and old, as if each day's natural trouble was a burden more than they could bear. For Nathan had heard sad reports about his only child, and had told them solemnly to his wife as things too bad to be believed, and yet, 'God help us if he is indeed such a lad as this!' Their eyes were become too dry and hollow for many tears; they sat together, hand in hand; and shivered, and sighed, and did not speak many words, or dare to look at each other: and then Hester had said

'We mauna tell th' lass. Young folks' hearts break wi' a little, and she'd be apt to fancy it were true.' Here the old woman's voice broke into a kind of piping cry; but she struggled, and her next words were all right. 'We mauna tell her: he's bound to be fond on her, and, may be, if she thinks well on him, and loves him, it will bring him straight!'

'God grant it !' said Nathan.

'God shall grant it!' said Hester, passionately moaning out her words; and then repeating them, alas! with a vain repetition.

'It's a bad place for lying, is Highminster,' said she at length, as if impatient of the silence. 'I never knowed such a place for getting up stories. But Bessy knows nought on 'em and nother you nor me belie'es 'em, that's one blessing.'

But, if they did not in their hearts believe them, how came they to look so sad and worn, beyond what mere age could make them?

Then came round another year, another winter, yet more miserable than the last. This year, with the primroses, came Benjamin; a bad, hard, flippant young man, with yet enough of specious manners and handsome countenance to make his appearance striking at first to those to whom the aspect of a London fast young man of the lowest order is strange and new. Just at first, as he sauntered in with a swagger and an air of indifference, which was partly assumed, partly real, his old parents felt a simple kind of awe of him, as if he were not their son, but a real gentleman; but they had too much fine instinct in their homely natures not to know, after a very few minutes had passed, that this was not a true prince.

'Whatten ever does he mean,' said Hester to her niece, as soon as they were alone, 'by a' them maks and wear−locks? And he minces his words, as if his tongue were clipped short, or split like a magpie's. Hech! London is as bad as a hot day i' August for spoiling good flesh; for he were a good−looking lad when he went up; and now, look at him, with his skin gone into lines and flourishes, just like the first page on a copybook.'

'I think he looks a good deal better, aunt, for them new−fashioned whiskers!' said Bessy, blushing still at the remembrance of the kiss he had given her on first seeing her a pledge, she thought, poor girl, that, in spite of his long silence in letter−writing, he still looked upon her as his troth−plight wife. There were things about him which none of them liked, although they never spoke of them; yet there was also something to gratify them in the way in which he remained quiet at Nab−End, instead of seeking variety, as he had formerly done, by constantly stealing off to the neighbouring town. His father had paid all the debts that he knew of, soon after Benjamin had gone up to London; so there were no duns that his parents knew of to alarm him, and keep him at home. And he went out in the morning with the old man, his father, and lounged by his side, as Nathan went round his fields, with busy yet infirm gait; having heart, as he would have expressed it, in all that was going on, because at length his son seemed to take an interest in the farming affairs, and stood patiently by his side, while he compared his own small galloways with the great shorthorns looming over his neighbour's hedge.

'It's a slovenly way, thou seest, that of selling th' milk; folk don't care whether its good or not, so that they get their pint−measure of stuff that's watered afore it leaves th' beast, instead o' honest cheating by the help o' th' pump. But look at Bessy's butter, what skill it shows! part her own manner o' making, and part good choice o' cattle. It's a pleasure to see her basket, a' packed ready to go to market; and it's noan o' a pleasure for to see the buckets fu' of their blue starch−water as yon beasts give. I'm thinking they crossed th' breed wi' a pump not long sin'. Hech! but our Bessy's a clever canny wench! I sometimes think thou'lt be for gie'ing up th' law, and taking to th' oud trade, when thou wedst wi' her!' This was intended to be a skilful way of ascertaining whether there was any ground for the old farmer's wish and prayer, that Benjamin might give up the law and return to the primitive occupation of his father. Nathan dared to hope it now, since his son had never made much by his profession, owing, as he had said, to his want of a connection; and the farm, and the stock, and the clean wife, too, were ready to his hand; and Nathan could safely rely on himself never, in his most unguarded moments, to reproach his son with the hardly−earned hundreds that had been spent on his education. So the old man listened with painful interest to the answer which his son was evidently struggling to make, coughing a little and blowing his nose before he spoke.

'Well, you see, father, law is a precarious livelihood; a man, as I may express myself, has no chanes in the profession unless he is known known to the judges, and tip−top barristers, and that sort of thing. Now, you see, my mother and you have no acquaintance that you may call exactly in that line. But luckily I have met with a man, a friend, as I may say, who is really a first−rate fellow, knowing everybody, from the Lord Chancellor downwards; and he has offered me a share in his business a partnership, in short' He hesitated a little.

'I'm sure that's uncommon kind of the gentleman,' said Nathan. I should like for to thank him mysen; for it's not many as would pick up a young chap out o' th' dirt, as it were, and say "Here's hauf my good fortune for you, sir, and your very good health!" Most on 'em when they're gettin' a bit o' luck, run off wi' it to keep it a' to themselves, and gobble it down in a corner. What may be his name? for I should like to know it.'

'You don't quite apprehend me, father. A great deal of what you've said is true to the letter. People don't like to share their good luck, as you say.'

The more credit to them as does,' broke in Nathan.

'Ay, but, you see, even such a fine fellow as my friend Cavendish does not like to give away half his good practice for nothing. He expects an equivalent.'

'"An equivalent?"' said Nathan; his voice had dropped down an octave.' And what may that be? There's always some meaning in grand words, I take it; though I am not book−larned enough to find it out.'

'Why, in this case, the equivalent he demands for taking me into partnership, and afterwards relinquishing the whole business to me, is three hundred pounds down.'

Benjamin looked sideways from under his eyes, to see how his father took the proposition. His father struck his stick deep down in the ground; and, leaning one hand upon it, faced round at him.

'Then thy fine friend may go and be hanged. Three hunder pounds! I'll be darned an' danged too, if I know where to get 'em, if I'd be making a fool o' thee an' mysen too.'

He was out of breath by this time. His son took his father's first words in dogged silence; it was but the burst of surprise he had led himself to expect, and did not daunt him for long.

'I should think, sir'

'"Sir" whatten for dost thou "sir" me? Is them your manners? I'm plain Nathan Huntroyd, who never took on to be a gentleman; but I have paid my way up to this time, which I shannot do much longer, if I'm to have a son coming an' asking me for three hundred pound, just meet same as if I were a cow, and had nothing to do but let down my milk to the first person as strokes me.'

'Well, father,' said Benjamin, with an affectation of frankness; 'then there's nothing for me but to do as I have often planned before go and emigrate.'

'And what?' said his father, looking sharply and steadily at him.

'Emigrate. Go to America, or India, or some colony where there would be an opening for a young man of spirit.'

Benjamin had reserved this proposition for his trump card, expecting by means of it to carry all before him. But, to his surprise, his father plucked his stick out of the hole he had made when he so vehemently thrust it into the ground, and walked on four or five steps in advance; there he stood still again, and there was a dead silence for a few minutes.

'It 'ud, may be, be the best thing thou couldst do,' the father began. Benjamin set his teeth hard to keep in curses. It was well for poor Nathan he did not look round then, and see the look his son gave him. 'But it would come hard like upon us, upon Hester and me; for, whether thou'rt a good 'un or not, thou'rt our flesh and blood, our only bairn; and, if thou'rt not all as a man could wish, it's, may be, been the fault on our pride i' the It 'ud kill the missus, if he went off to Amerikay, and Bess, too, the lass as thinks so much on him!' The speech, originally addressed to his son, had wandered off into a monologue as keenly listened to by Benjamin, however, as if it had all been spoken to him. After a pause of consideration, his father turned round:

'Yon man I wunnot call him a friend o' yourn, to think of asking you for such a mint o' money is not th' only one, I'll be bound, as could give ye a start i' the law? Other folks 'ud, may be, do it for less?'

'Not one of 'em; to give me equal advantages,' said Benjamin, thinking he perceived signs of relenting.

'Well, then, thou may'st tell him that it's nother he nor thee as 'll see th' sight o' three hundred pound o' my money. I'll not deny as I've a bit laid up again' a rainy day; it's not so much as thatten, though; and a part on it is for Bessy, as has been like a daughter to us.'

‘But Bessy is to be your real daughter some day, when I've a home to take her to,' said Benjamin; for he played very fast and loose, even in his own mind, with his engagement with Bessy. Present with her, when she was looking her brightest and best, he behaved to her as if they were engaged lovers; absent from her, he looked upon her rather as a good wedge, to be driven into his parents' favour on his behalf Now, however, he was not exactly untrue in speaking as if he meant to make her his wife; for the thought was in his mind, though he made use of it to work upon his father.

'It will be a dree day for us, then,' said the old man. 'But God'll have us in His keeping, and'll, may−happen, be taking more care on us i' heaven by that time than Bess, good lass as she is, has had on us at Nab−End. Her heart is set on thee, too. But, lad, I hanna gotten the three hunder; I keeps my cash i' th' stocking, thous know'st, till it reaches fifty pound, and then I takes it to Ripon Bank. Now the last scratch they'n gi'en me made it just two−hunder, and I hanna but on to fifteen pound yet i' the stockin', and I meant one hunder an' the red cow's calf to be for Bess, she's ta'en such pleasure like i' rearing it'.

Benjamin gave a sharp glance at his father, to see if he was telling the truth; and, that a suspicion of the old man, his father, had entered into the son's head, tells enough of his own character.

'I canna do it, I canna do it, for sure; although I shall like to think as I had helped on the wedding. There's the black heifer to be sold yet, and she'll fetch a matter of ten pound; but a deal on't will be needed for seed−corn, for the arable did but bad last year, and I thought I would try I'll tell thee what, lad! I'll make it as though Bess lent thee her hunder, only thou must give her a writ of hand for it; and thou shalt have a' the money i' Ripon Bank, and see if the lawyer wunnot let thee have a share of what he offered thee at three hunder for two. I dunnot mean for to wrong him; but thou must get a fair share for the money. At times, I think thou'rt done by folk; now I wadna have you cheat a bairn of a brass farthing; same time, I wadna have thee so soft as to be cheated.'

To explain this, it should be told that some of the bills, which Benjamin had received money from his father to pay, had been altered so as to cover other and less creditable expenses which the young man had incurred; and the simple old farmer, who had still much faith left in him for his boy, was acute enough to perceive that he had paid above the usual price for the articles he had purchased.

After some hesitation, Benjamin agreed to receive the two hundred, and promised to employ it to the best advantage in setting himself up in business. He had, nevertheless, a strange hankering after the additional fifteen pounds that was left to accumulate in the stocking. It was his, he thought, as heir to his father; and he soon lost some of his usual complaisance for Bessy that evening, as he dwelt on the idea that there was money being laid by for her, and grudged it to her even in imagination. He thought more of this fifteen pounds that he was not to have than of all the hardly−earned and humbly−saved two hundred that he was to come into possession of. Meanwhile, Nathan was in unusual spirits that evening. He was so generous and affectionate at heart, that he had an unconscious satisfaction in having helped two people on the road to happiness by the sacrifice of the greater part of his property. The very fact of having trusted his son so largely seemed to make Benjamin more worthy of trust in his father's estimation. The sole idea he tried to banish was, that, if all came to pass as he hoped, both Benjamin and Bessy would be settled far away from Nab−End; but then he had a child−like reliance that 'God would take care of him and his missus, somehow or anodder. It wur o' no use looking too far ahead.'

Bessy had to hear many unintelligible jokes from her uncle that night, for he made no doubt that Benjamin had told her all that had passed.' whereas the truth was, his son had said never a word to his cousin on the subject.

When the old couple were in bed, Nathan told his wife of the promise he had made to his son, and the plan in life which the advance of the two hundred was to promote. Poor Hester was a little startled at the sudden change in the destination of the sum, which she had long thought of with secret pride as money i' th' bank'. But she was willing enough to part with it, if necessary, for Benjamin. Only, how such a sum could be necessary, was the puzzle. But even the perplexity was jostled out of her mind by the overwhelming idea, not only of 'our Ben' settling in London, but of Bessy going there too as his wife. This great trouble swallowed up all care about money, and Hester shivered and sighed all the night through with distress. In the morning, as Bessy was kneading the bread, her aunt, who had been sitting by the fire in an unusual manner, for one of her active habits, said

'I reckon we maun go to th' shop for our bread; an' that's a thing I never thought to come to so long as I lived.'

Bessy looked up from her kneading, surprised.

'I'm sure, I'm noan going to cat their nasty stuff. What for do ye want to get baker's bread, aunt? This dough will rise as high as a kite in a south wind.'

'I'm not up to kneading as I could do once; it welly breaks my back; and, when tou'rt off in London, I reckon we maun buy our bread, first time in my life.'

'I'm not a−goin to London,' said Bessy, kneading away with fresh resolution, and growing very red, either with the idea or the exertion.

'But our Ben is going partner wi' a great London lawyer; and thou know'st he'll not tarry long but what he'll fetch thee.'

'Now, aunt,' said Bessy, stripping her arms of the dough, but still not looking up, 'if that's all, don't fret yourself Ben will have twenty minds in his head, afore he settles, eyther in business or in wedlock. I sometimes wonder,' she said, with increasing vehemence, 'why I go on thinking on him; for I dunnot think he thinks on me, when I'm out o' sight. I've a month's mind to try and forget him this time, when he leaves us that I have!'

'For shame, wench! and he to be planning and purposing, all for thy sake! It wur only yesterday as he wur talking to thy uncle, and mapping it out so clever; only, thou seest, wench, it'll be dree work for us when both thee and him is gone.'

The old woman began to cry the kind of tearless cry of the aged. Bessy hastened to comfort her; and the two talked, and grieved, and hoped, and planned for the days that now were to be, till they ended, the one in being consoled, the other in being secretly happy.

Nathan and his son came back from Highminster that evening, with their business transacted in the round−about way which was most satisfactory to the old man. If he had thought it necessary to take half as much pains in ascertaining the truth of the plausible details by which his son bore out the story of the offered partnership, as he did in trying to get his money conveyed to London in the most secure manner, it would have been well for him. But he knew nothing of all this, and acted in the way which satisfied his anxiety best. Hecame home tired, but content; not in such high spirits as on the night before, but as easy in his mind as he could be on the eve of his son's departure. Bessy, pleasantly agitated by her aunt's tale of the morning of her cousin's true love for her ('what ardently we wish we long believe') and the plan which was to end in their marriage end to her, the woman, at least looked almost pretty in her bright, blushing comeliness, and more than once, as she moved about from kitchen to dairy, Benjamin pulled her towards him, and gave her a kiss. To all such proceedings the old couple were wilfully blind; and, as night drew on, every one became sadder and quieter, thinking of the parting that was to be on the morrow. As the hours slipped away, Bessy too became subdued; and, by and by, her simple cunning was exerted to get Benjamin to sit down next his mother, whose very heart was yearning after him, as Bessy saw. When once her child was placed by her side, and she had got possession of his hand, the old woman kept stroking it, and murmuring long unused words of endearment, such as she had spoken to him while he was yet a little child. But all this was wearisome to him. As long as he might play with, and plague, and caress Bessy, he had not been sleepy; but now he yawned loudly. Bessy could have boxed his cars for not curbing this gaping; at any rate, he need not have done it so openly − so almost ostentatiously. His mother was more pitiful.

'Thou'rt tired, my lad!' said she, putting her hand fondly on his shoulder; but it fell off, as he stood up suddenly, and said

'Yes, deuced tired! I'm off to bed.' And with a rough, careless kiss all round, even to Bessy, as if he was 'deuced tired' of playing the lover, he was gone; leaving the three to gather up their thoughts slowly, and follow him upstairs.

He seemed almost impatient at them for rising betimes to see him off the next morning, and made no more of a good−bye than some such speech as this: 'Well, good folk, when next I see you, I hope you'll have merrier faces than you have to−day. Why, you might be going to a funeral; it's enough to scare a man from the place; you look quite ugly to what you did last night, Bess.'

He was gone; and they turned into the house, and settled to the long day's work without many words about their loss. They had no time for unnecessary talking, indeed; for much had been left undone, during his short visit, that ought to have been done, and they had now to work double tides. Hard work was their comfort for many a long day.

For some time Benjamin's letters, if not frequent, were full of exultant accounts of his well−doing. It is true that the details of his prosperity were somewhat vague; but the fact was broadly and unmistakenly stated. Then came longer pauses; shorter letters, altered in tone. About a year after he had left them, Nathan received a letter which bewildered and irritated him exceedingly. Something had gone wrong what, Benjamin did not say but the letter ended with a request that was almost a demand, for the remainder of his father's savings, whether in the stocking or in the bank. Now, the year had not been prosperous with Nathan; there had been an epidemic among cattle, and he had suffered along with his neighbours; and, moreover, the price of cows, when he had bought some to repair his wasted stock, was higher than he had ever remembered it before. The fifteen pounds in the stocking, which Benjamin left, had diminished to little more than three; and to have that required of him in so peremptory a manner! Before Nathan imparted the contents of this letter to anyone (Bessy and her aunt had gone to market in a neighbour's cart that day), he got pen and ink and paper, and wrote back an ill−spelt, but very explicit and stem negative. Benjamin had had his portion; and if he could not make it do, so much the worse for him; his father had no more to give him. That was the substance of the letter.

The letter was written, directed, and sealed, and given to the country postman, returning to Highminster after his day's distribution and collection of letters, before Hester and Bessy came back from market. It had been a pleasant day of neighbourly meeting and sociable gossip; prices had been high, and they were in good spirits only agreeably tired, and full of small pieces of news. It was some time before they found out how flatly all their talk fell on the cars of the stay−at−home listener. But, when they saw that his depression was caused by something beyond their powers of accounting for by any little every−day cause, they urged him to tell them what was the matter. His anger had not gone off. It had rather increased by dwelling upon it, and he spoke it out in good, resolute terms; and, long ere he had ended, the two women were as sad, if not as angry, as himself. Indeed, it was many days before either feeling wore away in the minds of those who entertained them. Bessy was the soonest comforted, because she found a vent for her sorrow in action: action that was half as a kind of compensation for many a sharp word that she had spoken, when her cousin had done anything to displease her on his last visit, and half because she believed that he never could have written such a letter to his father, unless his want of money had been very pressing and real; though how he could ever have wanted money so soon, after such a heap of it had been given to him, was more than she could justly say. Bessy got out all her savings of little presents of sixpences and shillings, ever since she had been a child of all the money she had gained for the eggs of two hens, called her own; she put the whole together, and it was above two pounds two pounds five and seven−pence, to speak accurately and, leaving out the penny as a nest−egg for her future savings, she made up the rest in a little parcel, and sent it, with a note, to Benjamin's address in London:

'From a well−wisher.

'Dr BENJAMIN, Unkle has lost 2 cows and a vast of monney. He is a good deal Angored, but more Troubled. So no more at present. Hopeing this will finding you well As it leaves us. Tho' lost to Site, To Memory Dear. Repayment not kneeded. Your effectonet cousin,

'ELIZABETH ROSE'

When this packet was once fairly sent off, Bessy began to sing again over her work. She never expected the mere form of acknowledgement; indeed, she had such faith in the carrier (who took parcels to York, whence they were forwarded to London by coach), that she felt sure he would go on purpose to London to deliver anything intrusted to him, if he had not full confidence in the person, persons, coach and horses, to whom he committed it. Therefore she was not anxious that she did not hear of its arrival. 'Giving a thing to a man as one knows,' said she to herself, 'is a vast different to poking a thing through a hole into a box, th' inside of which one has never clapped eyes on; and yet letters get safe, some ways or another.' (The belief in the infallibility of the post was destined to a shock before long.) But she had a secret yearning for Benjamin's thanks, and some of the old words of love that she had been without so long. Nay, she even thought when, day after day, week after week, passed by without a line that he might be winding up his affairs in that weary, wasteful London, and coming back to Nab−End to thank her in person.

One day her aunt was upstairs, inspecting the summer's make of cheeses, her uncle out in the fields the postman brought a letter into the kitchen to Bessy. A country postman, even now, is not much pressed for time; and in those days there were but few letters to distribute, and they were only sent out from Highminster once a week into the district in which Nab−End was situated; and, on those occasions, the letter−carrier usually paid morning calls on the various people for whom he had letters. So, half−standing by the dresser, half−sitting on it, he began to rummage out his bag.

'It's a queer−like thing I've got for Nathan this time. I am afraid it will bear ill news in it; for there's 'Dead Letter Office' stamped on the top of it.'

'Lord save us!' said Bessy, and sat down on the nearest chair, as white as a sheet. In an instant, however, she was up; and, snatching the ominous letter out of the man's hands, she pushed him before her out of the house, and said, 'Be off wi' thee, afore aunt comes down'; and ran past him as hard as she could, till she reached the field where she expected to find her uncle.

'Uncle,' said she, breathiess, 'what is it? Oh, uncle, speak! Is he dead?'

Nathan's hands trembled, and his eyes dazzled, 'Take it,' he. said, 'and tell me what it is.'

'It's a letter it's from you to Benjamin, it is and there's words written on it, 'Not known at the address given;' so they've sent it back to the writer that's you, uncle. Oh, it gave me such a start, with them nasty words written outside!'

Nathan had taken the letter back into his own hands, and was turning it over, while he strove to understand what the quick−witted Bessy had picked up at a glance. But he arrived at a different conclusion.

'He's dead!' said he. 'The lad is dead, and he never knowed how as I were sorry I wrote to 'un so sharp. My lad! my lad!' Nathan sat down on the ground where he stood, and covered his face with his old, withered hands. The letter returned to him was one which he had written, with infinite pains and at various times, to tell his child, in kinder words and at greater length than he had done before, the reasons why he could not send him the money demanded. And now Benjamin was dead; nay, the old man immediately jumped to the conclusion that his child had been starved to death, without money, in a wild, wide, strange place. All he could say at first was

'My heart, Bess my heart is broken!' And he put his hand to his side, still keeping his shut eyes covered with the other, as though he never wished to see the light of day again. Bessy was down by his side in an instant, holding him in her arms, chafing and kissing him.

'It's noan so bad, uncle; he's not dead; the letter does not say that, dunnot think it. He's flitted from that lodging, and the lazy tykes dunna know where to find him; and so they just send y' back th' letter, instead of trying fra' house to house, as Mark Benson would. I've alwayds heerd tell on south−country folk for laziness. He's noan dead, uncle; he's just flitted; and he'll let us know afore long where he's gotten to. May be, it's a cheaper place; for that lawyer has cheated him, ye reck'lect, and he'll be trying to live for as little as he can, that's all, uncle. Dunnot take on so; for it doesna say he's dead.'

By this time Bessy was crying with agitation, although she firmly believed in her own view of the case, and had felt the opening of the ill−favoured letter as a great relief. Presently she began to urge, both with word and action, upon her uncle, that he should sit no longer on the damp grass, She pulled him up; for he was very stiff, and, as he said, 'all shaken to dithers.' She made him walk about, repeating over and over again her solution of the case, always in the same words, beginning again and again, 'He's noan dead; it's just been a flitting,' and so on. Nathan shook his head, and tried to be convinced; but it was a steady belief in his own heart for all that. He looked so deathly ill on his return home with Bessy (for she would not let him go on with his day's work), that his wife made sure he had taken cold; and he, weary and indifferent to life, was glad to subside into bed and the rest from exertion which his real bodily illness gave him. Neither Bessy nor he spoke of the letter again, even to each other, for many days; and she found means to stop Mark Benson's tongue and satisfy his kindly curiously, by giving him the rosy side of her own view of the case.

Nathan got up again, an older man in looks and constitution by ten years for that week of bed. His wife gave him many a scolding on his imprudence for sitting down in the wet field, if ever so tired. But now she, too, was beginning to be uneasy at Benjamin's long−continued silence. She could not write herself; but she urged her husband many a time to send a letter to ask for news of her lad. He said nothing in reply for some time; at length, he told her he would write next Sunday afternoon. Sunday was his general day for writing, and this Sunday he meant to go to church for the first time since his illness. On Saturday he was very persistent, against his wife's wishes (backed by Bessy as hard as she could), in resolving to go into Highminster to market. The change would do him good, he said. But he came home tired, and a little mysterious in his ways. When he went to the shippon the last thing at night, he asked Bessy to go with him, and hold the lantern, while he looked at an ailing cow; and, when they were fairly out of the car−shot of the house, he pulled a little shop−parcel from his pocket and said 'Thou'lt put that on ma Sunday hat, wilt 'on, lass? It'll be a bit on a comfort to me; for I know my lad's dead and gone, though I dunna speak on it, for fear o' grieving th' old woman and ye.'

'I'll put it on, uncle, if But he's noan dead.' (Bessy was sobbing.)

'I know I know, lass. I dunnot wish other folk to hold my opinion; but Id like to wear a bit o' crape out o' respect to my boy. It 'ud have done me good for to have ordered a black coat; but she'd see if I had na' on my wedding−coat, Sundays, for a' she's losing her eyesight, poor old wench! But she'll ne'er take notice o' a bit o' crape. Thou'lt put it on all canny and tidy.'

So Nathan went to church with a strip of crape, as narrow as Bessy durst venture to make it, round his hat. Such is the contradictoriness of human nature that, though he was most anxious his wife should not hear of his conviction that their son was dead, he was half−hurt that none of his neighbours noticed his sign of mourning so far as to ask him for whom he wore it.

But after a while, when they never heard a word from or about Benjamin, the household wonder as to what had become of him grew so painful and strong, that Nathan no longer kept the idea to himself Poor Hester, however, rejected it with her whole will, heart, and soul. She could and would not believe nothing should make her believe that her only child Benjamin had died without some sign of love or farewell to her. No arguments could shake her in this. She believed that, if all natural means of communication between her and him had been cut off at the last supreme moment if death had come upon him in an instant, sudden and unexpected her intense love would have been supernaturally made conscious of the blank. Nathan at times tried to feel glad that she should still hope to see the lad again; but at other moments he wanted her sympathy in his grief, his self−reproach, his weary wonder as to how and what they had done wrong in the treatment of their son, that he had been such a care and sorrow to his parents. Bessy was convinced, first by her aunt, and then by her uncle honestly convinced on both sides of the argument, and so, for the time, able to sympathise with each. But she lost her youth in a very few months; she looked set and middle−aged, long before she ought to have done, and rarely smiled and never sang again.

All sorts of new arrangements were required by the blow which told so miserably upon the energies of all the household at Nab−End. Nathan could no longer go about and direct his two men, taking a good rum of work himself at busy times. Hester lost her interest in the dairy; for which, indeed, her increasing loss of sight unfitted her. Bessy would either do field−work, or attend to the cows and the shippon, or chum, or make cheese; she did all well, no longer merrily, but with something of stem cleverness. But she was not sorry when her uncle, one evening, told her aunt and her that a neighbouring farmer, job Kirkby, had made him an offer to take so much of his land off his hands as would leave him only pasture enough for two cows, and no arable to attend to; while Farmer Kirkby did not wish to interfere with anything in the house, only would be glad to use some of the out−building for his Battening cattle.

'We can do wi' Hawky and Daisy; it'll leave us eight or ten pound o' butter to take to market i' summer time, and keep us fra' thinking too much, which is what I'm dreading on as I get into years.'

'Ay,' said his wife. 'Thou'll not have to go so far a−field, if it's only the Aster−Toft as is on thy hands. And Bess will have to gie up her pride i' cheese, and tak' to making cream−butter. I'd allays a fancy for trying at cream−butter; but th' whey had to be used; else, where I come fra', they'd never ha' looked near whey−butter.'

When Hester was left alone with Bessy, she said, in allusion to this change of plan

'I'm thankful to the Lord that it is as it is; for I were allays afeared Nathan would have to gie up the house and farm altogether, and then the lad would na know where to find us when he came back fra' Merikay. He's gone there for to make his fortune, I'll be bound. Keep up thy heart, lass, he'll be home some day; and have sown his wild oats. Eh! but thatten's a pretty story i' the Gospel about the Prodigal, who'd to cat the pigs' vittle at one time, but ended i' clover in his father's house. And I'm sure our Nathan 'll be ready to forgive him, and love him, and make much of him may be, a deal more nor me, who never gave in to 's death. It'll be liken to a resurrection to our Nathan.'

Farmer Kirkby, then, took by far the greater part of the land belonging to Nab−End Farm; and the work about the rest, and about the two remaining cows, was easily done by three pairs of willing hands, with a little occasional assistance. The Kirkby family were pleasant enough to have to deal with. There was a son, a stiff, grave bachelor, who was very particular and methodical about his work, and rarely spoke to any one. But Nathan took it into his head that John Kirkby was looking after Bessy, and was a good deal troubled in his mind in consequence; for it was the first time he had to face the effects of his belief in his son's death; and he discovered, to his own surprise, that he had not that implicit faith which would make it easy for him to look upon Bessy as the wife of another man than the one to whom she had been betrothed in her youth. As, however, John Kirkby seemed in no hurry to make his intentions (if indeed he had any) clear to Bessy, it was only now and then that his jealousy on behalf of his lost son seized upon Nathan.

But people, old, and in deep hopeless sorrow, grow irritable at times, however they may repent and struggle against their irritability. There were days when Bessy had to bear a good deal from her uncle; but she loved him so dearly and respected him so much, that, high as her temper was to all other people, she never returned him a rough or impatient word. And she had a reward in the conviction of his deep, true affection for her, and her aunt's entire and most sweet dependence upon her.

One day, however it was near the end of November Bessy had had a good deal to bear, that seemed more than usually unreasonable, on the part of her uncle. The truth was, that one of Kirkby's cows was ill, and John Kirkby was a good deal about in the farmyard; Bessy was interested about the animal, and had helped in preparing a mash over their own fire, that had to be given warm to the sick creature. If John had been out of the way, there would have been no one more anxious about the affair than Nathan: both because he was naturally kind−hearted and neighbourly, and also because he was rather proud of his reputation for knowledge in the diseases of cattle. But because John was about, and Bessy helping a little in what had to be done, Nathan would do nothing, and chose to assume that nothing to think on ailed th' beast; but lads and lasses were allays fain to be feared on something.' Now John was upwards of forty, and Bessy nearly eight−and−twenty; so the terms lads and lasses did not exactly apply to their case.

When Bessy brought the milk in from their own cows, towards half−past five o'clock, Nathan bade her make the doors, and not be running out i' the dark and cold about other folks' business; and, though Bessy was a little surprised and a good deal annoyed at his tone, she sat down to her supper without making a remonstrance. It had long been Nathan's custom to look out the last thing at night, to see 'what mak' o' weather it wur'; and when, towards half−past eight, he got his stick and went out two or three steps from the door, which opened into the house−place where they were sitting Hester put her hand on her niece1s shoulder and said

'He's gotten a touch o' rheumatics, as twinges him and makes him speak so sharp. I didna like to ask thee afore him, but how's yon poor beast?'

'Very ailing, belike. John Kirkby wur off for th' cow−doctor when I cam in. I reckon they'll have to stop up wi 't a' night.'

Since their sorrows, her uncle had taken to reading a chapter in the Bible aloud, the last thing at night. He could not read fluently, and often hesitated long over a word, which he miscalled at length; but the very fact of opening the book seemed to soothe those old bereaved parents; for it made them feel quiet and safe in the presence of God, and took them out of the cares and troubles of this world into that futurity which, however dim and vague, was to their faithful hearts as a sure and certain rest. This little quiet time Nathan sitting with his hem spectacles, the tallow candle between him and the Bible throwing a strong light on his reverent, earnest face; Hester sitting on the other side of the fire, her head bowed in attentive listening; now and then shaking it, and moaning a little, but when a promise came, or any good tidings of great joy, saying 'Amen' with fervour; Bessy by her aunt, perhaps her mind a little wandering to some household cares, or it might be on thoughts of those who were absent this little quiet pause, I say, was grateful and soothing to this household, as a lullaby to a tired child. But this night, Bessy, sitting opposite to the long, low window, only shaded by a few geraniums that grew in the sill, and to the door alongside that window through which her uncle had passed not a quarter of an hour before, saw the wooden latch of the door gently and almost noiselessly lifted up, as if some one were trying it from the outside.

She was startled, and watched again, intently; but it was perfectly still now. She thought it must have been that it had not fallen into its proper place, when her uncle had come in and locked the door. It was just enough to make her uncomfortable, no more; and she almost persuaded herself it must have been fancy. Before going upstairs, however, she went to the window, to look out into the darkness; but all was still. Nothing to be seen; nothing to be heard. So the three went quietly upstairs to bed.

The house was little better than a cottage. The front door opened on a house−place, over which was the old couple's bed−room. To the left, as you entered this pleasant house−place, and at close right angles with the entrance, was a door that led into the small parlour, which was Hester's and Bessy's pride, although not half as comfortable as the house−place, and never on any occasion used as a sitting−room. There were shells and bunches of honesty in the fireplace; the best chest of drawers, and a company set of gaudy−coloured china, and a bright common carpet on the floor; but all failed to give it the aspect of the homely comfort and delicate cleanliness of the house−place. Over this parlour was the bedroom which Benjamin had slept in when a boy, when at home. It was kept, still, in a kind of readiness for him. The bed was yet there, in which none had slept since he had last done, eight or nine years ago; and every now and then a warming−pan was taken quietly and silently up by his old mother, and the bed thoroughly aired. But this she did in her husband's absence, and without saying a word to anyone; nor did Bessy offer to help her, though her eyes often filled with tears, as she saw her aunt still going through the hopeless service. But the room had become a receptacle for all unused things; and there was always a corner of it appropriated to the winter's store of apples. To the left of the house−place, as you stood facing the fire, on the side opposite to the window and outer door, were two other doors; the one on the right led into a kind of back kitchen, and had a lean−to roof, and a door opening on to the farm−yard and back−premises; the left−hand door gave on the stairs, underneath which was a closet, in which various house−hold treasures were kept; and beyond that was the dairy, over which Bessy slept, her little chamber window opening just above the sloping roof of the back−kitchen. There were neither blinds nor shutters to any of the windows, either upstairs or down; the house was built of stone; and there was heavy framework of the same material around the little casement windows, and the long, low window of the house−place was divided by what, in grander dwellings, would be called mullions.

By nine o'clock this night of which I am speaking, all had gone upstairs to bed; it was even later than usual, for the burning of candles was regarded so much in the light of an extravagance, that the household kept early hours even for country−folk. But, somehow, this evening, Bessy could not sleep; although in general she was in deep slumber five minutes after her head touched the pillow. Her thoughts ran on the chances for John Kirkby's cow, and a little fear lest the disorder might be epidemic and spread to their own cattle. Across all these homely cares came a vivid, uncomfortable recollection of the way in which the door−latch went up and down, without any sufficient agency to account for it. She felt more sure now than she had done downstairs, that it was a real movement, and no effect of her imagination. She wished that it had not happened just when her uncle was reading, that she might at once have gone quick to the door, and convinced herself of the cause. As it was, her thoughts ran uneasily on the supernatural; and thence to Benjamin, her dear cousin and playfellow, her early lover. She had long given him up as lost for ever to her, if not actually dead; but this very giving him up for ever involved a free, full forgiveness of all his wrongs to her. She thought tenderly of him, as of one who might have been led astray in his later years, but who existed rather in her recollection as the innocent child, the spirited lad, the handsome, dashing young man. If John Kirkby's quiet attentions had ever betrayed his wishes to Bessy if indeed he ever had any wishes on the subject her first feeling would have been to compare his weather−beaten, middle−aged face and figure with the face and figure she remembered well, but never more expected to see in this life. So thinking, she became very restless, and weary of bed, and, after long tossing and turning, ending in a belief that she should never get to sleep at all that night, she went off soundly and suddenly.

As suddenly she was wide awake, sitting up in bed, listening to some noise that must have awakened her, but which was not repeated for some time. Surely it was in her uncle's room her uncle was up; but, for a minute or two, there was no further sound. Then she heard him open his door, and go downstairs, with hurried, stumbling steps. She now thought that her aunt must be ill, and hastily sprang out of bed, and was putting on her petticoat with hurried, trembling hands, and had just opened her chamber door, when she heard the front door undone, and a scuffle, as of the feet of several people, and many rude, passionate words, spoken hoarsely below the breath. Quick as thought she understood it all the house was lonely her uncle had the reputation of being well−to−do they had pretended to be belated, and had asked their way or something. What a blessing that John Kirkby's cow was sick, for there were several men watching with him! She went back, opened her window, squeezed herself out, slid down the lean−to roof, and ran barefoot and breathless to the shippon

'John, John, for the love of God, come quick; there's robbers in the house, and uncle and aunt 'll be murdered!' she whispered, in terrified accents, through the closed and barred shippon door. In a moment it was undone, and John and the cow−doctor stood there, ready to act, if they but understood her rightly. Again she repeated her words, with broken, half−unintelligible explanations of what she as yet did not rightly understand.

'Front door is open, say'st thou?' said John, arming himself with a pitchfork, while the cow−doctor took some other implement. 'Then I reckon we'd best make for that way o' getting into th' house, and catch 'em all in a trap.'

'Run! run!' was all Bessy could say, taking hold of John Kirkby's arm, and pulling him along with her. Swiftly did the three run to the house round the corner, and in at the open front−door. The men carried the hem lantern they had been using in the shippon; and, by the sudden oblong light that it threw, Bessy saw the principal object of her anxiety, her uncle, lying stunned and helpless on the kitchen−floor. Her first thought was for him; for she had no idea that her aunt was in any immediate danger, although she heard the noise of feet, and fierce, subdued voices upstairs.

'Make th' door behind us, lass. We'll not let 'em escape!' said brave John Kirkby, dauntless in a good cause, though he knew not how many there might be above. The cow−doctor fastened and locked the door, saying, 'There!' in a defiant tone, as he put the key in his pocket. It was to be a struggle for life or death, or, at any rate, for effectual capture or desperate escape. Bessy kneeled down by her uncle, who did not speak or give any sign of consciousness. Bessy raised his head by drawing a pillow off the settle, and putting it under him; she longed to go for water into the back kitchen, but the sound of a violent struggle, and of heavy blows, and of low, hard curses spoken through closed teeth, and muttered passion, as though breath were too much needed for action to be wasted in speech, kept her still and quiet by her uncle's side in the kitchen, where the darkness might almost be felt, so thick and deep was it. Once in a pause of her own heart's beating a sudden terror came over her; she perceived, in that strange way in which the presence of a living creature forces itself on our consciousness in the darkest room, that someone was near her, keeping as still as she. It was not the poor old man's breathing that she heard, nor the radiation of his presence that she felt; someone else was in the kitchen; another robber, perhaps, left to guard the old man, with murderous intent if his consciousness returned. Now Bessy was fully aware that self−preservation would keep her terrible companion quiet, as there was no motive for his betraying himself stronger than the desire of escape; any effort for which he, the unseen witness, must know would be rendered abortive by the fact of the door being locked.

Yet, with the knowledge that he was there, close to her still, silent as the grave with fearful, it might be deadly, unspoken thoughts in his heart possibly even with keener and stronger sight than hers, as longer accustomed to the darkness, able to discern her figure and posture, and glaring at her like some wild beast Bessy could not fail to shrink from the vision that her fancy presented! And still the struggle went on upstairs; feet slipping, blows sounding, and the wrench of intentioned aims, the strong gasps for breath, as the wrestlers paused for an instant. In one of these pauses, Bessy felt conscious of a creeping movement close to her, which ceased when the noise of the strife above died away, and was resumed when it again began. She was aware of it by some subtle vibration of the air, rather than by touch or sound. She was sure that he who had been close to her one minute as she knelt, was, the next, passing stealthily towards the inner door which led to the staircase. She thought he was going to join and strengthen his accomplices, and, with a great cry, she sprang after him; but just as she came to the doorway, through which some dim portion of light from the upper chambers came, she saw one man thrown downstairs, with such violence that he fell almost at her very feet, while the dark, creeping figure glided suddenly away to the left, and as suddenly entered the closet beneath the stairs. Bessy had no time to wonder as to his purpose in so doing, whether he had at first designed to aid his accomplices in their desperate fight or not. He was an enemy, a robber, that was all she knew, and she sprang to the door of the closet, and in a trice had locked it on the outside. And then she stood frightened, panting in that dark corner, sick with terror lest the man who lay before her was either John Kirkby or the cow−doctor. If it were either of those friendly two, what would become of the other of her uncle, her aunt, herself? But, in a very few minutes, this wonder was ended; her two defenders came slowly and heavily down the stairs, dragging with them a man, fierce, sullen, despairing disabled with terrible blows, which had made his face one bloody, swollen mass. As for that, neither John nor the cow−doctor was much more presentable. One of them bore the lantern in his teeth; for all their strength was taken up by the weight of the fellow they were bearing.

'Take care,' said Bessy, from her corner; 'there's a chap just beneath your feet. I dunno know if he's dead or alive; and uncle lies on the floor just beyond.'

They stood still on the stairs for a moment. just then the robber they had thrown downstairs stirred and moaned.

'Bessy,' said John, 'run off to th' stable and fetch ropes and gearing for us to bind 'em; and we'll rid the house on 'em, and thou can'st go see after th' oud folks, who need it sadly.'

Bessy was back in a very few minutes. When she came in, there was more light in the house−place, for someone had stirred up the raked fire.

'That felly makes as though his leg were broken,' said John, nodding towards the man still lying on the ground. Bessy felt almost sorry for him as they handled him not over−gently and bound him, only half−conscious, as hardly and tightly as they had done his fierce, surly companion. She even felt sorry for his evident agony, as they turned him over and over, that she ran to get him a cup of water to moisten his lips.

'I'm loth to leave yo' with him alone,' said John, 'though I'm thinking his leg is broken for sartin, and he can't stir, even if he comes to hissel, to do yo' any harm. But we'll just take off this chap, and mak sure of him, and then one on us 'll come back to yo', and we can, may be, find a gate or so for yo' to get shut on him o' th' house. This felly's made safe enough, I'll be bound,' said he, looking at the burglar, who stood, bloody and black, with fell hatred on his sullen face. His eye caught Bessy's, as hers fell on him with dread so evident that it made him smile; and the look and the smile prevented the words from being spoken which were on Bessy's lips.

She dared not tell, before him, that an able−bodied accomplice still remained in the house; lest, somehow, the door which kept him a prisoner should be broken open and the fight renewed. So she only said to John, as he was leaving the house

'Thou'll not be long away, for I'm afeared of being left wi' this man.'

'He'll noan do thee harm,' said John.

'No! but I'm feared lest he should die. And there's uncle and aunt. Come back soon, John!'

'Ay, ay!' said he, half−pleased; 'I'll be back, never fear me.'

So Bessy shut the door after them, but did not lock it, for fear of mischances in the house, and went once more to her uncle, whose breathing, by this time, was easier than when she had first returned into the house−place with John and the doctor. By the light of the fire, too, she could now see that he had received a blow on the head, which was probably the occasion of his stupor. Round this wound, which was bleeding pretty freely, Bessy put cloths dipped in cold water; and then, leaving him for a time, she lighted a candle, and was about to go upstairs to her aunt, when, just as she was passing the bound and disabled robber, she heard her name softly, urgently called

'Bessy, Bessy!' At first the voice sounded so close that she thought it must be the unconscious wretch at her feet. But, once again, that voice thrilled through her−

'Bessy, Bessy! for God's sake, let me out!'

She went to the stair−closet door, and tried to speak, but could not, her heart beat so terribly. Again, close to her ear −

'Bessy, Bessy! they'll be back directly; let me out, I say! For God's sake, let me out!' And he began to kick violently against the panels.

'Hush! hush!' she said, sick with a terrible dread, yet with a will strongly resisting her conviction. 'Who are you?' But she knew knew quite well.

'Benjamin.' An oath. 'Let me out, I say, and I'll be off, and out of England by to−morrow night, never to come back, and you'll have all my father's money.'

'D'ye think I care for that?' said Bessy vehemently, feeling with trembling hands for the lock; 'I wish there was noan such a thing as money i' the world, afore yo'd come to this. There, yo 're free, and I charge yo' never to let me see your face again. I'd ne'er ha' let yo' loose but for fear o' breaking their hearts, if yo' hanna killed him already.' But, before she had ended her speech, he was gone off into the black darkness, leaving the door open wide. With a new terror in her mind, Bessy shut it afresh shut it and bolted it this time. Then she sat down on the first chair, and relieved her soul by giving a great and exceeding bitter cry. But she knew it was no time for giving way; and, lifting herself up with as much effort as if each of her limbs was a heavy weight, she went into the back kitchen, and took a drink of cold water. To her surprise, she heard her uncle's voice saying feebly

'Carry me up, and lay me by her.'

But Bessy could not carry him; she could only help his faint exertions to walk upstairs; and, by the time he was there, sitting panting on the first chair she could find, John Kirkby and Atkinson returned. John came up now to her aid. Her aunt lay across the bed in a fainting−fit, and her uncle sat in so utterly broken−down a state that Bessy feared immediate death for both. But John cheered her up, and lifted the old man into his bed again; and, while Bessy tried to compose poor Hester's limbs into a position of rest, John went down to hunt about for the little store of gin which was always kept in a corner cupboard against emergencies.

'They've had a sore fright,' said he, shaking his head, as he poured a little gin and hot water into their mouths with a tea−spoon, while Bessy chafed their cold feet; 'and it and the cold have been welly too much for 'em, poor old folk!'

He looked tenderly at them, and Bessy blessed him in her heart for that look.

'I maun be off. I sent Atkinson up to th' farm for to bring down Bob, and Jack came wi' him back to th' shippon, for to look after t'other man. He began blackguarding us all round, so Bob and Jack were gagging him wi' bridles when I left.'

'Ne'er give heed to what he says,' cried poor Bessy, a new panic besetting her. 'Folks o' his sort are allays for dragging other folk into their mischief. I'm right glad he were well gagged.'

'Well! but what I were saying were this: Atkinson and me will take t1other chap, who seems quiet enough, to th' shippon, and it'll be one piece o' work for to mind them and the cow; and I'll saddle t' old bay mare and ride for constables and doctor fra' Highminster. I'll bring Dr Preston up to see Nathan and Hester first; and then, I reckon, th' broken−legged chap down below must have his turn for all as he's met wi' his misfortunes in a wrong line o' life.'

'Ay!' said Bessy. 'We maun ha' the doctor sure enough, for look at them how they lie like two stone statues on a church monument, so sad and solemn!'

'There's a look o' sense come back into their faces though, sin' they supped that gin−and−water. I'd keep on a−bathing his head and giving them a sup on't fra' time to time, if I was you, Bessy.'

Bessy followed him downstairs, and lighted the men out of the house. She dared not light them carrying their burden even, until they passed round the corner of the house; so strong was her fearful conviction that Benjamin was lurking near, seeking again to enter. She rushed back into the kitchen, bolted and barred the door, and pushed the end of the dresser against it, shutting her eyes as she passed the uncurtained window, for fear of catching a glimpse of a white face pressed against the glass, and gazing at her. The poor old couple lay quiet and speechless, although Hester's position had slightly altered: she had turned a little on her side towards her husband, and had laid one shrivelled arm around his neck. But he was just as Bessy had left him, with the wet cloths around his head, his eyes not wanting in a certain intelligence, but solemn, and unconscious to all that was passing around as the eyes of death.

His wife spoke a little from time to time said a word of thanks, perhaps, or so; but he, never. All the rest of that terrible night, Bessy tended the poor old couple with constant care, her own heart so stunned and bruised in its feelings that she went about her pious duties almost like one in a dream. The November morning was long in coming; nor did she perceive any change, either for the worse or the better, before the doctor came, about eight o'clock. John Kirkby brought him; and was full of the capture of the two burglars.

As far as Bessy could make out, the participation of that unnatural Third was unknown. It was a relief, almost sickening in the revulsion it gave her from her terrible fear, which now she felt had haunted and held possession of her all night long, and had, in fact, paralysed her from thinking. Now she felt and thought with acute and feverish vividness, owing, no doubt, in part, to the sleepless night she had passed. She felt almost sure that her uncle (possibly her aunt, too) had recognised Benjamin; but there was a faint chance that they had not done so, and wild horses should never tear the secret from her, nor should any inadvertent word betray the fact that there had been a third person concerned. As to Nathan, he had never uttered a word. It was her aunt's silence that made Bessy fear lest Hester knew, somehow, that her son was concerned.

The doctor examined them both closely; looked hard at the wound on Nathan's head; asked questions which Hester answered shortly and unwillingly, and Nathan not at all shutting his eyes, as if even the sight of a stranger was pain to him. Bessy replied, in their stead, to all that she could answer respecting their state, and followed the doctor downstairs with a beating heart. When they came into the house−place, they found John had opened the outer door to let in some fresh air, had brushed the hearth and made up the fire, and put the chairs and table in their right places. He reddened a little, as Bessy's eye fell upon his swollen and battered face, but tried to smile it off in a dry kind of way

'Yo' see, I'm an ould bachelor, and I just thought as I'd redd up things a bit. How dun yo' find 'em, doctor?'

'Well, the poor old couple have had a terrible shock. I shall send them some soothing medicine to bring down the pulse, and a lotion for the old man's head. It is very well it bled so much; there might have been a good deal of inflammation.' And so he went on, giving directions to Bessy for keeping them quietly in bed through the day. From these directions she gathered that they were not, as she had feared all night long, near to death. The doctor expected them to recover, though they would require care. She almost wished it had been otherwise, and that they, and she too, might have just lain down to their rest in the churchyard so cruel did life seem to her; so dreadful the recollection of that subdued voice of the hidden robber smiting her with recognition.

All this time, John was getting things ready for breakfast, with something of the handiness of a woman. Bessy half−resented his officiousness in pressing Dr Preston to have a cup of tea, she did so want him to be gone and leave her alone with her thoughts. She did not know that all was done for love of her; that the hard−featured, short−spoken John was thinking all the time how ill and miserable she looked, and trying with tender artifices to make it incumbent upon her sense of hospitality to share Dr Preston's meal.

'I've seen as the cows is milked,' said he, 'yourn and all; and Atkinson's brought ours round fine. Whatten a marcy it were as she were sick this very night! Yon two chaps 'ud ha' made short work on't, if yo' hadna fetched us in; and, as it were, we had a sore tussle. One on 'em 'll bear the marks on't to his dying day, wunnot he, doctor?'

'He'll barely have his leg well enough to stand his trial at York Assizes; they're coming off in a fortnight from now.'

'Ay, and that reminds me, Bessy, yo'll have to go witness before Justice Royds. Constables bade me tell yo' and gie yo' this summons. Dunnot be feared: it will not be a long job, though I'm not saying as it'll be a pleasant one. Yo'll have to answer questions as to how, and all about it; and Jane' (his sister) 'will come and stop wi' th' oud folks; and I'll drive yo' in the shandry.'

No one knew why Bessy's colour blenched, and her eye clouded. No one knew how she apprehended lest she should have to say that Benjamin had been of the gang; if indeed, in some way, the law had not followed on his heels quick enough to catch him.

But that trial was spared her; she was warned by John to answer questions, and say no more than was necessary, for fear of making her story less clear; and, as she was known, by character at least, to justice Royds and his clerk, they made the examination as little formidable as possible.

When all was over, and John was driving her back again, he expressed his rejoicing that there would be evidence enough to convict the men, without summoning Nathan and Hester to identify them. Bessy was so tired that she hardly understood what an escape it was; how far greater than even her companion understood.

Jane Kirkby stayed with her for a week or more, and was an unspeakable comfort. Otherwise she sometimes thought she should have gone mad, with the face of her uncle always reminding her, in its stony expression of agony, of that fearful night. Her aunt was softer in her sorrow, as became one of her faithful and pious nature; but it was easy to see how her heart bled inwardly. She recovered her strength sooner than her husband; but, as she recovered, the doctor perceived the rapid approach of total blindness. Every day, nay, every hour of the day, that Bessy dared, without fear of exciting their suspicions of her knowledge, she told them, as she had anxiously told them at first, that only two men, and those perfect strangers, had been discovered as being concerned in the burglary. Her uncle would never have asked a question about it, even if she had withheld all information respecting the affair; but she noticed the quick, watching, waiting glance of his eye, whenever she returned from any person or place where she might have been supposed to gain intelligence if Benjamin were suspected or caught: and she hastened to relieve the old man's anxiety, by always telling all that she had heard; thankful that, as the days passed on, the danger she sickened to think of grew less and less.

Day by day, Bessy had ground for thinking that her aunt knew more than she had apprehended at first. There was something so very humble and touching in Hester's blind way of feeling about for her husband stern, woe−begone Nathan and mutely striving to console him in the deep agony of which Bessy learnt, from this loving, piteous manner, that her aunt was conscious. Her aunt's face looked blankly up into his, tears slowly running down from her sightless eyes; while from time to time, when she thought herself unheard by any save him, she would repeat such texts as she had heard at church in happier days, and which she thought, in her true, simple piety, might tend to console him. Yet, day by day, her aunt grew more and more sad.

Three or four days before assize−time, two summonses to attend the trial at York were sent to the old people. Neither Bessy, nor John, nor Jane, could understand this: for their own notices had come long before, and they had been told that their evidence would be enough to convict.

But, alas! the fact was, that the lawyer employed to defend the prisoners had heard from them that there was a third person engaged, and had heard who that third person was; and it was this advocate's business to diminish, if possible, the guilt of his clients, by proving that they were but tools in the hands of one who had, from his superior knowledge of the premises and the daily customs of the inhabitants, been the originator and planner of the whole affair. To do this, it was necessary to have the evidence of the parents, who, as the prisoners had said, must have recognised the voice of the young man, their son. For no one knew that Bessy, too, could have borne witness to his having been present; and, as it was supposed that Benjamin had escaped out of England, there was no exact betrayal of him on the part of his accomplices.

Wondering, bewildered, and weary, the old couple reached York, in company with John and Bessy, on the eve of the day of the trial. Nathan was still so self−contained that Bessy could never guess what had been passing in his mind. He was almost passive under his old wife's trembling caresses. He seemed hardly conscious of them, so rigid was his demeanour.

She, Bessy feared at times, was becoming childish; for she had evidently so great and anxious a love for her husband, that her memory seemed going in her endeavours to melt the stoniness of his aspect and manners; she appeared occasionally to have forgotten why he was so changed, in her piteous little attempts to bring him back to his former self

'They'll, for sure, never torture them, when they see what old folks they are!' cried Bessy, on the morning of the trial, a dim fear looming over her mind. 'They'll never be so cruel, for sure?'

But 'for sure' it was so. The barrister looked up at the judge, almost apologetically, as he saw how hoary−headed and woeful an old man was put into the witness−box, when the defence came on, and Nathan Huntroyd was called on for his evidence.

'It is necessary, on behalf of my clients, my lord, that I should pursue a course which, for all other reasons, I deplore.'

'Go on!' said the judge. 'What is right and legal must be done.' But, an old man himself, he covered his quivering mouth with his hand as Nathan, with grey, unmoved face, and solemn, hollow eyes, placing his two hands on each side of the witness−box, prepared to give his answers to questions, the nature of which he was beginning to foresee, but would not shrink from replying to truthfully; 'the very stones' (as he said to himself, with a kind of dulled sense of the Eternal justice) 'rise up against such a sinner.'

'Your name is Nathan Huntroyd, I believe?'

'It is.'

'You live at Nab−End Farm?'

'I do.'

'Do you remember the night of November the twelfth?'

'Yes.'

'You were awakened that night by some noise, I believe. What was it?'

The old man's eyes fixed themselves upon his questioner with the look of a creature brought to bay. That look the barrister never forgets. It will haunt him till his dying day.

'It was a throwing−up of stones against our window.'

'Did you hear it at first?'

'No.'

'What awakened you, then?'

'She did.'

'And then you both heard the stones. Did you hear anything else?'

A long pause. Then a low, clear 'Yes.'

'What?'

'Our Benjamin asking us for to let him in. She said as it were him, leastways.'

'And you thought it was him, did you not?'

'I told her' (this rime in a louder voice) 'for to get to sleep, and not be thinking that every drunken chap as passed by were our Benjamin, for that he were dead and gone.'

'And she?’

'She said as though she'd heerd our Benjamin, afore she were welly awake, axing for to be let in. But I bade her ne'er heed her dreams, but turn on her other side and get to sleep again.'

'And did she?'

A long pause judge, jury, bar, audience, all held their breath. At length Nathan said

'No!'

'What did you do then? (My lord, I am compelled to ask these painful questions.)'

'I saw she wadna be quiet: she had allays thought he would come back to us, like the Prodigal i' th' Gospels.' (His voice choked a little; but he tried to make it steady, succeeded, and went on.) 'She said, if I wadna get up, she would; and just then I heerd a voice. I'm not quite mysel', gentlemen I've been ill and i' bed, an' it makes me trembling−like. Someone said, "Father, mother, I'm here, starving i' the cold wunnot yo' get up and let me in?"'

'And that voice was ?'

'It were like our Benjamin's. I see whatten yo're driving at, sir, and I'll tell yo' truth, though it kills me to speak it. I dunnot say it were our Benjamin as spoke, mind yo'− I only say it were like'

'That's all I want, my good fellow. And on the strength of that entreaty, spoken in your son's voice, you went down and opened the door to these two prisoners at the bar, and to a third man?'

Nathan nodded assent, and even that counsel was too merciful to force him to put more into words.

'Call Hester Huntroyd.'

An old woman, with a face of which the eyes were evidently blind, with a sweet, gentle, careworn face, came into the witness−box, and meekly curtseyed to the presence of those whom she had been taught to respect a presence she could not see.

There was something in her humble, blind aspect, as she stood waiting to have something done to her what her poor troubled mind hardly knew that touched all who saw her, inexpressibly. Again the counsel apologised, but the judge could not reply in words; his face was quivering all over, and the jury looked uneasily at the prisoner's counsel. That gentleman saw that he might go too far, and send their sympathies off on the other side; but one or two questions he must ask. So, hastily recapitulating much that he had learned from Nathan, he said, 'You believed it was your son's voice asking to be let in?'

'Ay! Our Benjamin came home, I'm sure; choose where he is gone.'

She turned her head about, as if listening for the voice of her child, in the hushed silence of the court.

'Yes; he came home that night and your husband went down to let him in?'

'Well! I believe he did. There was a great noise of folk downstair.'

'And you heard your son Benjamin's voice among the others?'

'Is it to do him harm, sir?' asked she, her face growing more intelligent and intent on the business in hand.

'That is not my object in questioning you. I believe he has left England; so nothing you can say will do him any harm. You heard your son's voice, I say?'

'Yes, sir. For sure I did.'

'And some men came upstairs into your room? What did they say?'

'They axed where Nathan kept his stocking.'

'And you did you tell them?'

'No, sir, for I knew Nathan would not like me to.'

'What did you do then?'

A shade of reluctance came over her face, as if she began to perceive causes and consequences.

'I just screamed on Bessy that's my niece, sir.'

'And you heard someone shout out from the bottom of the stairs?'

She looked piteously at him, but did not answer.

'Gentlemen of the jury, I wish to call your particular attention to this fact; she acknowledges she heard someone shout some third person, you observe shout out to the two above. What did he say? That is the last question I shall trouble you with. What did the third person, left behind, downstairs, say?'

Her face worked her mouth opened two or three times as if to speak she stretched out her arms imploringly; but no word came, and she fell back into the arms of those nearest to her. Nathan forced himself forward into the witness−box

'My Lord judge, a woman bore ye, as I reckon; it', a cruel shame to serve a mother so. It wur my son, my only child, as called out for us t' open door, and who shouted out for to hold th' oud woman's throat if she did na stop her noise, when hoo'd fain ha' cried for her niece to help. And now yo've truth, and a' th' truth, and I'll leave yo' to th' judgement o' God for th' way yo've getten at it.'

Before night the mother was stricken with paralysis, and lay on her death−bed. But the broken−hearted go Home, to be comforted of God.

#Elizabeth Gaskell #spooktober #gothic #gothic stories #historical literature #books and libraries

[haldenlith]

Once Upon A Time

More thinking about various little things, fleshing Ardwynn out further because “I love him, your honor.”

I could see this story being told during Season of the Thief through various seasonal weapons, where getting all of them (which you’re guaranteed to do since they’d be given along the Season Pass track) gets you the whole story. So, I’m writing it out in that manner.

Anyway, some Ardwynn backstory, told in a fanciful way.

Also, yes, it’s depressing. And a clarification: Kieran’s not dead, just, uh... unavailable, given the rift between Earthborn and Reefborn Awoken.

Once Upon A Time (Sniper Rifle)

Once upon a time, there were five knights that hailed from a far away land. They sailed the star sea with a great many of their people to our shores, not to bring war, but to bring hope.

One knight was named Kieran. Bold and just, he was stalwart, with verdant eyes filled of serene wisdom. Often his voice spoke true and of reason, guiding the other four. Holding his sword aloft, he pledged himself to the Maiden that led them across the sea. In her name, would he fight.

The other four did no such thing, looking out upon the horizon. And so did they pledge, swords held out, to bring peace and justice to the ravaged land before them.

Kieran protested, but they did not listen, for in their heart of hearts they knew, that was their calling. With heads held high did the four set out, oath in heart, to begin their great quest to rid the lands of sorrow.

Singer of Stars (Bow)

One knight was named Yulia, and she was wild and free, hair like midnight and eyes like lightning.

Her voice was clear, and she would sing songs of love, of hope, of the stars past. With bow in hand, so too would her arrows sing, like a melody flying straight and clear in the wind.

In the face of the darkness of the world, she sang her song, extended her hand, opened her heart, for she believed kindness was the fire in the night. While her heart was like a blue sky, her vengeance came like a thunderbolt from above, for even in her softness, she would not tolerate injustice nor cruelty.

It was to Solar Light wielded by tyrannical avarice that crushed her heart and snuffed out her flame, never to sing again.

The Jester’s Blade (Sword)

One knight was named Johannes, and he was like a bubbling brook, cheerful and full of gusto, with the most delicate whispers of mint framing his youthful face.

Though he danced, and cheered, not a note could be held by he, for it would crack and break, followed by pleas to cease. And so he joked, played, cutting through the darkest of moments with humor honed sharp. So, too, did he wield his blade, with hopes to cut away the sorrows that plagued these lands, and bring laughter once more.

In the face of scarcity did he thrive, with eyes sharp and hands nimble. He could turn lead to gold, and famine to feast, all with items scavenged, game hunted. Waste was not a word he knew, and want was not a feeling his companions felt, so long as he was by their sides.

To blades and bolts so blue did his laughter cease, wielded by an enemy too from across the star sea.

Searing Hope (Shotgun)

One knight was named Tianyu, and he was steadfast like an oak, fearless like a lion, and stubborn as an ox, with a jaw hard as stone and skin like lavender in the spring.

His heart was gold, and his body tireless, always extending a helping hand. Never would one suffer in mind nor body, for he would always offer a shoulder to carry the weight, no matter how heavy. Never would one fear the raised hand of an enemy, for he would step in to be their shield, no matter the harm.

Thus did he wield his shotgun, blasting away the demons that came. For this knight, danger was but a feather to put into one’s cap, not a deterrent. So did he charge, like a bull of hope, with fire in his hands.

He knew in his heart, this feather would be his last, and so he charged in, so that others might last. And thus did he take down men, with hearts so rotten, knowing that his sacrifice would never be forgotten.

Stand Alone (Hand Cannon)

One knight was named Ardwynn, and he was loud like thunder, but warm like sunshine, with a heart made of gold, a spine made of steel, and eyes like fire.

Silly he was, sometimes bumbling about, sometimes making people think, a brain he was without. Yet still did he smile, lighting up a room, in spite of the darkest of night. His hope was everlasting, an inspiration to most. So did he raise his fist, and rally the broken, with resolve unfettered, for no tree, no mountain, no sea could break his will to see peace come once again.

So did the hero hold his gun up and fire true, facing the darkness before him, all with a smile. He stood tall and unafraid, for he would be a shield to those in need, never to break, never to fall.

Despite every blow received, every burn, every cut, did he still stand, determination in hand. No gun, no blade, no Light could bring him down. Only the most powerful of things could lay him low, which was the weight in his heart, for now he stood alone.

For now he was the only knight that remained.

#haldie writes #destiny 2 AU #season of the thief #OC: Ardwynn #Ardwynn's had A Time #since he left the Distributary