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The grass caught him soft and held him fond as he cursed, laughed in answer, and pushed back to his feet.
wow oh wow is that pretty
Edwin muttered something into his cup of tea, but his free hand turned over when Robin’s own slid against it, and he laced their fingers together.
Edwin had never been comfortable with casual touch when Jack knew him. He gave off a miasma that discouraged it—and when intimate touch was involved, he submitted to it with an intensity that set Jack’s teeth on edge.
The Blyth siblings had the stubbornness of two people who had each adopted a stray cat with a terrible personality and were determined to have them cohabit.
oh my god that’s hilarious
the other with the comfortably besotted gaze that said Edwin could be speaking Chinese, or Old French, or the forgotten language of the fae, and Robin would be just as happy to bask in the simple sound of his beloved’s voice.
Alanzo Rossi,
this bitch is ITALIAN?
Where does the food come from? Why, it just appears, of course. Like all food. What a silly question.
All of which was more or less true, even if Alan was the least qualified man in London to pass judgement on feminine beauty.
Tallish, slimmish, looked like he had possibly made the acquaintance of a single sunbeam back before the turn of the century.
ok a) i love alan alan is awesome b) what a DELIGHTFUL description
“We’re not magic,” said Alan. “We’re Catholic.”
YEAHHHHH
He wanted to put his hand at Ross’s jaw and force up his chin, wanted to dig his fingers in and cause a bruise, and be damned to the fact that they were in public.
get in horny jail babe
Alan Ross was a sharp, careful Londoner with an employable accent, who just happened to turn a nice burnished colour in the sun. Alanzo Rossi now existed only under this roof, with these people. So yes: Alanzo Rossi slipped into Italian when he could, if only to savour the feel of it in his mouth.
“Don’t read it.” “Fuck off,” said the illiterate Berto amiably.
this made me laugh omg
Besides, they were the two invert cousins in the Catholic horde of their family, and that gave them a bond.
Alan would manage. Tom and Emily and baby Lizzie would never know what it was to live without the safety of a roof and four walls. Never. If Alan had to drag his principles through the mud, if he had to go begging for help from people he resented—well, you begged, if you had no other choice. Everyone knew that.
Alan wasn’t interested in being used as a filthy rag to add grime to someone else’s soul. And he preferred the illusion of degradation the other way around.
Jack could only imagine how uncomfortable it would be, living in Spinet House while a magical knife-hunt was conducted by two men whom Jack had fucked.
HAHAHA
Fielding Robin’s protective glares around Edwin was quite bad enough.
beloveds
Never beautiful, but always vibrant, as if born with an invisible guidelight burning inside.
Jack’s heart, like an unoiled piece of clockwork, gave a grudging tick of love for his astoundingly pragmatic mother.
He felt at home among couples like this, who had nothing quiet or sedate about the way they loved.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever described Robin as subtle before,” Courcey said. “He’ll enjoy the novelty.”
Edwin, clearly one of nature’s explainers, did so.
god the way alan describes people, specially edwin, is SO funny
(His narrow face pulled into an expression that conveyed his dislike of not knowing.)
“Edwin here hates anything that doesn’t make logical sense.” “I own a magical house, Violet,” snapped Edwin. “I know their magic works by different rules. Sometimes no rules at all. By emotions.” “Emotions! The enemy,” stage-whispered Violet.
big essek vibes
Edwin Courcey would probably emerge from an exploding building with the desire to see if he could make it happen again.
“That explains why the warding’s so powerful,” Edwin said, even though no it fucking didn’t.
HAHAHAHA
She lit up at the first taste of lemon cake in much the same way that Edwin had when Sir Robert entered the room.
Jack had never in his life felt the slightest urge to fuck Robin Blyth, but it was enough to make him briefly wonder if he was missing out on something. Edwin did not return Manning’s greeting. His eyes narrowed.
This was the most amusing thing to happen in weeks: a jealous Edwin Courcey trying to wield secondhand academic cattiness against someone who’d fucked his partner.
he is LITERALLY essek wow
It was a terribly brave act and Jack was almost certain it was going to make things worse.
“Dismissed,” said Walter shortly. He stalked very close to their desk on his way out of the room, probably to intimidate Edwin further, and Jack had a fleeting wish that it’d been a bad leg day.
something about jack wanting to protect edwin dhfkdjsk
There was a terribly naked fear in the way he looked at Edwin now. Edwin flinched.
Most charity works were dedicated to improving the lot of the truly poor. Starving orphans, struggling widows on the street. Jack hadn’t considered that there might be a need to improve conditions for the average banker’s clerk.
If the world were different, I wouldn’t have had to, but it’s the way it is, and so I’ve been scared my whole life and angry for even longer. It’s exhausting. You have no bloody idea how exhausting it is.
Edwin was like this about some of his invented spells. The artist both wanting and not wanting to be perceived.
I’d come to no harm at all, risk nothing, if I were to go in search of rough-handed soldiers and cruel dukes and tell them that what I really fancied was being tied up and fucked and pretending that I didn’t want it.”
.. oh
Ross said, “Ask me if I’ve been paid for it.” “Ask? I only have to look at you. Men would bankrupt themselves.”
omg
Ross barked a laugh. “In reality, I think if you forced me to my knees and fed me your prick, I’d come untouched before you had a chance to find out how deeply I can take it.”
WOW OK
“All right then. If I tell his lordship to stop, he can ignore me as he pleases. If I tell Jack to stop—he’d better pay attention, or he’ll end up with a knee in his knackers.”
At Mass, the sound of the chant was like standing knee-high in black water, shivering with delight at being overwhelmed by something larger. A power that was strong enough to hold you up when you were too tired to do it yourself, or hold you down when you were too restless to sleep.
Magic wasn’t religion, but it was a world of power,
“Edwin has a charm which can search the record for Lady Enid’s full name,” said Robin. “Possibly,” said Edwin. “I’m still working on it.” Robin’s face was as good as a shout of adoring support from the sidelines during a rugby match. Edwin gave a tiny eye roll in return, but also stood straighter.
Edwin was not kind, and neither was he weak, despite his appearance. Edwin would pin Jack down like a butterfly to a collector’s board and do whatever it took, if it meant finding the answers he needed.
It had taught him a useful lesson about needing anyone or anything too badly.
But Alan Ross’s opinions were deeply considered and strongly held, grown like hardy weeds in the difficult soil of his upbringing. If he judged Jack wanting, then Jack would deserve it.
The sound of many people typing was a comfort to Alan, no matter how frenzied the orchestra grew as deadline approached. He’d grown up in a loud family and a series of dismally thin-walled rooms.
“Nonsense. I have full confidence in your ability to swallow stiff things,”
Some people fucked to feel more present in the world; Alan, when he let himself fuck, did it to be less present for a while. To allow his grim grip on the world to loosen.
dreamy web of painful pleasure—
