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@terribleoldwhitemen / terribleoldwhitemen.tumblr.com

she | here since 2012 | ao3: MasterofAllImagination
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kigiom

Morse wondered if Thursday would cross the line. If he would push him up against the door and kiss him, right there, in his suburban neighbourhood family house. Right there, in front of the memories of his wife and children, growing up, growing older, with a packet of sandwiches made by his wife in his pocket. Morse dearly hoped Thursday wouldn’t. He desperately hoped he would.

“Thank you,” he managed. “If Mrs. Thursday can spare you?”

Thursday’s eyes flickered, and he shifted back. Morse could still smell his aftershave. It was the same brand he’d been using for years. “I’m sure she will.”

*

Post season 6, Morse and Thursday resume an affair.

--

Dedicated to @terribleoldwhitemen ❤️

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vicivefallen

All that Childermass knew made him smile; and some of what he knew made him laugh out loud; and none of what he knew wrung from him so much as ha’pennyworth of pity.  So when Childermass told his master, “Go to London. Go now,” Mr Norrell believed him. 

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Benjamin Sullivan, the honorable and somewhat mysterious court magician was married last Saturday to Lettie Hatter, formerly of Market Chipping. The other court magician was also there, presumably as a guest of the matron of honor, Sophie Pendragon nee Hatter, the bride's sister. They seemed wrapped up in some sort of disagreement for most of the ceremony though.

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