#yes it's soundproofed but the door is locked and his receptionist is nowhere to be found

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello love! May i ask for a spicy one but this time Gil teases Thena and gets it back at her. 🩷

Thena glares at Gil as he picks up the phone.

"What?" he growls into it. "Right...yes."

Thena goes so far as to cross her arms at him, raising her brows. Is this really the time?

He chuckles, resuming what he was doing while still on the call. "No, I can talk."

Thena slaps her hand over her mouth as he resumes thrusting, literally completely inside of her as he takes the business call. This is revenge for earlier that morning.

"Right," he grunts, only sounding slightly out of breath as he continues to move his hips against hers, their skin slapping together as he fucks her on top of his desk. He looks down at her, "I'm not available right this second."

Thena glares at him more, but then he hits that sweet spot and she has to close her eyes because fuck! She tries to sit up and support herself with her elbows but that takes too much energy.

Gil moves his hands and pounds into her even harder, "hang on."

She puts both hands over her mouth as she lets out a loud mix of both a moan and a curse. Fuck this man. He moves with that same intensity until he knows damn well that she's getting close to coming. Then, in a flash, he's out of her.

"What was that?" he asks into the phone, completely absurdly with his suit jacket still on and his cock out and rock hard. "Yes, I see."

Thena slams her fists on his desk at the absence of him. She will get him for this. She sits up again, panting for breath and flushed scarlet rouge. "Get back here."

This man - this complete bastard - holds up a finger to shush her with a wink and the cockiest smirk she has ever seen. He is having far too much fun with this.

"Uh-huh, yes," he continues on in his conversation as he comes closer again. "Right."

Thena moans loudly as he kisses her, hoping that it will urge him to put the fucking phone down and resume fucking his impatient partner.

But Gil holds the phone away from them, dampening the sound of her pleasure for those who aren't privy. When he pulls away from her he brings the phone back, "walk me through that part again?"

Thena bares her teeth at him, ready to take matters into her own hands and tell whomever is on the other end of that call that they are keeping her from a very important orgasm.

Gil half turns away, only for his fingers to immediately resume what work he had been doing before. "Right."

Thena moans again, leaning back on his desk with her breasts settling in her new position. This is the kind of thing she used to dream about. Back when she hadn't been working for him for long, and then she would avoid him so her boss wouldn't somehow find out she was having positively filthy sex dreams about him.

"I think that's reasonable," he continues to speak so normally as he hooks his fingers inside of her, stroking that spot with ease. "It's a perfectly acceptable proposal."

"Fuck," she whimpers as, once again, he drags her all the way to the edge before stopping. She could scream, "Gil!"

"Sweetheart," he puts the phone to his shoulder and croons at her, "not much longer--promise."

Fuck this man.

Thena bites her lip. She's so close. She's been close since the moment he called her into his office and proceeded to kiss her until she couldn't think. When he first bent her over his desk and then helped her lie back on it, tits out, skirt hauled up to her waist.

"Hm," Gil pulls his hand back and licks his fingers one by one, "hmmmm."

Thena tries to kick at him, but he catches her ankle and hooks it into the crook of his elbow. He's enjoying the view; she flushes scarlet.

"Let me see," he chuckles into the phone again before turning to face her. He braces himself on the table again. "I'll get back to you."

Thena lets out a shriek as he drops the phone receiver down the same moment he pushes into her again. "Fuck!"

"When did you become so impatient, Naekkeo?"

"Fuck you," she snarls, and sounds just like him when she does. But she's so wound up, and she wants to come so bad. "You owe me."

"On the contrary, Yeobo," he pulls her hips so he can angle himself better. "This is payback for this morning. Now, we're even."

Oh, they would not be even for a long time for this.

"Fuck, Gil, please," she whimpers, positively feverish with need for him. She reaches for his hand, and not only does he hold it, he also uses it for leverage to fuck her even harder. "I wanna come!"

He all but roars as he pounds into her, their hips meeting in a hard and messy conjoining of bodies writhing together. "Fuck!"

Thena comes first, finally free after a very drawn out lead up to her crescendo. Warmth engulfs her completely and she finally lets go of everything that had been coiling within her. She flops back down to the leather deskmat beneath her, hair everywhere, completely exposed. She feels amazing.

Fuck--this man.

Gil comes barely seconds after, hunching over her and his hips giving a last few jerks as he lets his own ecstasy overtake him. He leans over her until he's close enough to kiss her, both of them kissing and gasping for air on different rhythms.

Thena moans as he slips out of her. His office is going to be a mess (and reek of sex for hours). She finally pries her eyes open just to stare at his ceiling. "Fuck."

"Yeah," he agrees, laughing faintly.

She huffs, slapping his shoulder. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"Gil!"

"Sorry baby," he chuckles, kissing her temple and then down her cheek and neck. "Couldn't resist--and hey, now you know what you put me through this morning."

Thena grumbles as he pulls her up (knowing her core doesn't have the strength in it for her to do it herself at the moment). She nuzzles into his shoulder, "I think you did far worse."

"I think we're even," he refutes, letting her lean on him as he first pulls her bra back on for her, then buttons up her cardigan again.

She grumbles, "I'm sweaty."

He fluffs her hair out for her and kisses her other cheek, "you're glowing and beautiful and perfect."

Fuck, this man; Thena rolls her eyes, pushing at his chest to try and sit up straight on her own. She wobbles a bit, but she does it. "The work day is not exactly over."

"Yeah, but at least I don't have any more meetings," he grins as he fixes his own appearance as well. "Or conference calls."

Thena pouts at him as she straightens herself out a little more, including getting her stockings hooked to her garter belt again. "I should hope not."

Gil helps her off his desk, her knees wobbling faintly as her heels hit the floor. He holds her gently, letting her stand up out of his grasp when she's ready. "Hey."

Thena smiles into his soft and sweet kiss, much more her househusband than her boss. She pats his chest, "you're not out of trouble yet."

"Save it for home, vixen," he both teases and agrees, pulling the hand up from his chest and to his lips. "And ask cleaning to do an extra thorough detailing in here tonight?"

She doesn't look forward to that. It's ridiculous, but she feels like cleaning has some way of knowing what they've been up to in here.

"And Thena?"

"Hm?" she looks over her shoulder a step and a half away from where they were just fucking like animals. She's combing her fingers through her hair and he's collecting his stray papers.

Gil crosses the distance to kiss her again with his sweet, househusband smile, "I love you."

She gives him another little kiss--a truly domestic exchange of affection after a very wild 'meeting' in the middle of the day. "I love you, too."

[devil-dxrling]

Boredom and Money, No.3

Pairing: Dio x Reader

Warnings: Smut, roughness, blood play, riding crop.

Words: 1693

Summary: Dio shows the reader the greatest high.

That night opened up a new part of my conscience, suddenly, I wanted more. Yes, it was rather easy to stay up to date with all of my work and manage my busy life, but every now and then I would just zone out. My thoughts constantly ran to that ‘Dio’ guy that Diego had talked about. I checked up on the website to see his schedule and, believe it or not, actually called them to book an appointment with him. First time I had ever called to book something, it was a new experience and I was really shy on the phone, I literally had to lock my door and make sure that I had decent soundproofing. Luckily we had a recording studio with soundproofing since one of my friends, Marianne, was a rising artist. When it was time to actually head out, I wore the most basic black skirt, black shirt combo with a pair of black trainers. Obviously, I had my purse with me and I tied my hair up in a ponytail. Not bothering to wear a bra, my breasts bounced as I ran down the stairs - I should’ve taken the elevator. Taking a small boat, I got to the brothel in about 20 minutes. When I walked in, I had 10 minutes before my appointment, so I sat down on one of the couches, and rested on the armrest, scrolling pointlessly through my phone. When the clock struck 7 pm, there were 7 chimes, and just as the last chime ended, I saw Dio strut in and talk to the receptionist. They both spared me a glance before she nodded and Dio walked up to me, offering his hand. Taking it, he led me to the bar and we sat down to talk. We agreed on an arrangement and then sat down to have a couple of drinks. We talked for an hour or so about the most random things, like our birthdays, and favourite food, and the more drunk me got, the more brave we became. We even went as far as to talk about our sexual preferences. He seemed awfully sober compared to me, but I knew he wasn’t FULLY sober. The way his eyes accidentally narrowed down in the most perfect way made my mouth water and the way he smirked and played with my emotions and words made me feel a special type of way. He was completely different for Diego and yet, he played a similar teasing game. He could come off as extremely cocky and self-centred, but that just added to his larger-than-life character. At one point I said the one thing that would change the course of the whole night.

‘You know, I bet I could dominate you if I really wanted to.’

That set off something inside the teasing, cocky, funny Dio I had known. His gaze shifted. Now, his eyes narrowed in malice, and he was fully sober. Just as I put down my drink, he grabbed my by the arm and dragged me out of the bar. Once we were out of the bar, he pushed me against the nearest wall, knelt down, grabbed me by the back of my knees, and threw me over his shoulders. We had already established safe words, and he knew the boundaries I gave him, but this felt weird. I lightly punched his back before giving up and falling limp. I raised my head up to see Diego, he looked at Dio, looked at me, then gave me a shit-eating grin. It boiled my blood as I shouted, ‘Diego, when I’m gone here, I’m coming for your head!’

‘Keep ‘er busy Dio, give me some time to escape ‘eh?’

That bastard with his remarks and comebacks, he was an absolute asshole! Once we got to the room, Dio pulled the handle, kicked open the door, closed it, and locked it.

He threw me onto the bed and said: ‘Undress.’ With that, he walked into what I could only guess was a walk-in closet of some sorts, maybe it connected to the bathroom. He came out shirtless, with a pair of black sweatpants on, holding something is his hands. I was almost done undressing, I just had my panties left, he was really quick after all. The more I looked at it, I realised that he was holding a riding crop.

‘I told you to undress. Why don’t you ever listen?’ He walked up to me and hit my ass with the riding crop before ripping the underwear off. I lightly screamed before I was shoved backwards, my knees hitting the bed as I fell, the soft mattress softening my fall. I went to crawl backwards before he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back towards him.

‘You are not even worthy enough for this cock. You won’t even be able to make me cum with your small, feeble body. I could crush you like a little insect. I’ll slit your neck open and watch you slowly bleed out, squirming, accepting your painful death before you black out. Would you want me to do that?’

‘N… No Dio, please don’t.’

‘Maybe try listening to me for a change!’ The riding crop came down onto my now-pink ass cheek, it stung and brought pleasure at the same time.

‘I won’t hold my breath, kid.’ With that, he lowered his sweatpants and shoved his erect dick into my pussy, giving not a second to adjust to his thicc cock. That riding crop slapped my skin more than I cared to remember. At one point during the night, he threw the crop away and pulled me up onto his lap, glaring into my eyes with that rough anger and passion. He roughly smashed his lips onto mine but wasted no time moving on to my neck where he left his mark. Then, a pan of serious pain struck through me like a wasp’s sting. A scream erupted from the room and pierced the environment, making a glass cup near us shatter. He had just bitten down onto my neck. He lifted his head away from my bleeding neck as a drop of blood ever-so-slowly cascaded down his perfectly carved chin. I don’t know why that turned me on as much as it did, and looking back at it now, it was super silly. Leaning down, I stuck my tongue out and licked the blood off of his smooth chin. It tasted metallic and disgusting but I could feel his dick start twitching under me. I leaned in to kiss him, both our lips bitterly tangy from my blood. It was not a pleasant taste, but it got him much further.

‘You wanna ride me, little girl?’ I gasped as he let those words slip past his lips and nodded. ‘Not like that, now, I want to hear you.’

‘Yes Dio, let me ride you.’ He lifted me up like I was a feather as he laid down and grabbed my ass cheeks. Guess it was my move. Unconfidently, I started to bounce on his cock, until I got the hang of it and started to go faster. It felt like bliss to ride him. We kept going for about 15 minutes and I was about to cum before I was thrown off of him and onto the bed.

‘Sorry, kid, didn’t have a condom on, don’t want to get in trouble with my bosses.’ My mouth gaped open as I looked at him with the most pissed off stare I’ve ever given someone. ‘You fucking jerk! You could’ve put one on before!’

‘Sorry, guess I forgot, you aren’t mad at me, are you?’ He slipped the condom wrapping in between his teeth and ripped it open, slipping the thing material onto his still hard dick. He stood up, discarding his sweatpants, literally walked AROUND the bed to get to me, and sat down in between my open legs as he moved his dick through my folds, giving me that mouth-watering smirk that he gave me at the bar an hour or so back.

‘Let me push you to your limits. I’ll show you what the greatest high can feel like.’ He slammed his cock down into my pussy. This was almost nothing like Diego. Dio wasn’t a tease, he nailed my g-spot every time as he banged me like I was the common whore! Not him, the person actually working at the brothel. He brought me down to a painful reality -  the reality where I was nowhere near as good as he was - his reality. After 20 minutes of being aggressively slammed into by one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen, we both came and just lay there. He threw the condom in the bin and plopped down onto the bed next to me. Pulling me into a hug, he told me he was free for the rest of the night. We fell asleep, drunk, and slightly high on the ecstasy we had just lived.

In the morning, I woke up with a splitting headache, he followed suit soon after, but he didn’t drink as much as I did. Giving me a few pills, he helped me get up, drink some water, and get dressed to leave. While he escorted me out, I saw Diego walk up to us.

‘Dio, ya look like you need some rest before your next job, want me to take beautiful, over here, down to the main lobby for you?’ Dio gave me one last kiss on the neck, where he had bit me, before nodding his head and letting Diego take me.

‘See beautiful, I told you he would show it wouldn’t be that bad. Why do you never listen. Alright, hope you enjoyed your night, I expect ya back! Cya!’ And with that, I made my way out and was almost launched off of my feet by the wind. I didn’t have any  panties on either, since Dio saw fit to rip those last night. Once I got home, I crawled to my room, showered, changed, and fell into deep sleep. Definitely taking the day off.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Bertrand does his Best

As the Volunteers cheerfully sang, the children sat on the floor of the van, chatting amongst themselves. 

“What does it feel like?” Isadora asked, as she hugged Duncan close to her. 

Duncan bit his lip, feeling a bit smothered. “It started out really hot, and then it felt really cold. And like… I think the most pain was right after the knife came out. Now my shoulder just feels really sore.” 

“Hopefully we can help with that.” Klaus said. “Our plan is to sign you in under a pseudonym, to get you treatment from someone who’s not a thirteen-year-old boy.” 

“But you did a good job.” Duncan said. 

Violet blinked. “Klaus, you’re twelve.” 

“I’ve got, what, three days?” Klaus shrugged. “Then I’m an adult.” 

“No, then you’re a teenager.” Violet sighed. “We were planning such cool shit for your little- what did Father call it? ‘Private family bar mitzvah.’” 

Klaus smiled. “Well, don’t tell me, maybe we’ll have Olaf dead in time for you to pull that off.” 

“Not likely.” Violet said. “There were a lot of balloons.” 

“I don’t know if I like the idea of me getting signed in alone.” Duncan interrupted. “We said we weren’t gonna split up.” 

“We’ll follow you to your room,” Violet said, “When the doctors leave you alone, Isadora will stay with you to make sure nothing happens, and the rest of us will duck down the Library of Records. Just check it out real quick, find out where that Baudelaire File is.” 

“Again, splitting up.” 

“But with the knowledge of where the other’s supposed to be at all times.” Klaus said. “Besides, Olaf is far behind us.” 

The Volunteers got out of the van, cheering and singing, and the kids stayed to the back of the group, glancing at the hospital, only half of which was completed. 

“Well that makes me feel good.” Isadora muttered. 

“I’m sure they’ll finish it someday,” they heard the head of the volunteers say joyfully, “But in the meantime, we can picture the other half, and picturing something makes it so!” 

“Okay,” Klaus whispered, as they all edged toward the hospital doors, “So we’re in, what, a new age cult?” 

“I’m gonna guess antivaxxer.” Violet shrugged. 

The volunteers headed inside and started down a hall, while Violet simply directed them towards a receptionist desk. The woman there glanced up. “Hello?” 

“Hello. Our brother has been stabbed and we’d like to check him in for treatment.” Violet said, making her voice sound lower than usual. “We gave him a bit of medication ourselves but there’s only so much we children can do.” 

The receptionist sighed, and stood up. “We’ve got an open room in the Stab Ward, you’re lucky. Come along, and one of our doctors will be there shortly.” 

Violet nodded, and quickly grabbed Klaus’s hand, as Klaus picked up Sunny. “Alright.” 

Beatrice leaned against her husband and tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness. 

She’d woken up just as they were being chained to the wall, but didn’t dare try to fight, knowing they’d just hurt Bertrand, they’d hurt Quigley, they’d torture them anyway. She could hear Olaf’s bragging, but only processed enough to know they were doomed- blah blah soundproof basement, blah blah left the firetruck right where those fucking singers pick up gas blah blah don’t worry about leaving them together, they should know better than to try anything by now. 

They did. 

When Bertrand awoke, Beatrice didn’t say anything, she just leaned up against him, and he put an arm around her. They could actually reach each other here, and Beatrice wondered for a while if that was due to a lack of space, but once she managed to get used to the darkness, she realized that, no, they were in a huge room. There were a few scattered shelves, a few cardboard boxes, and then several poles supporting the ceiling, on two of which the Baudelaires were chained. 

Bertrand muttered some observations every now and again. They were probably in a cellar. He could see bottles in that box, they could be in a hospital. It didn’t matter to Beatrice at the moment. Nothing did, so she just let the numbness surround her, let herself lean on her husband for however little time they’d let her have him. He ran his hands through her hair a bit, detangling and brushing as best he could, and Beatrice played with the edge of his jacket, letting the thick fabric roll between her fingers. 

After what felt like forever, Bertrand squeezed her shoulder, and leaned his head against hers, and then said, “Beatrice, we have to keep going.” 

She shook her head. “There’s no point.” 

“Our kids are still out there, and they need us.” 

“He’ll just catch them and kill them like he caught us again, and he took Quigley away. I don’t even know where he is right now.” 

“Beatrice…” Bertrand shut his eyes. “I miss Lemony, too.” 

She fell silent. 

“But we have to go on.” 

She remained silent. 

“Do you remember, when we were sixteen-” 

“Please don’t.” 

“What?” 

“Please. Don’t.” Beatrice buried her head into her husband’s shoulder, muffling her voice slightly. “Don’t. Don’t make me remember.” 

“Bea.” 

“We don’t have a future, Bertrand, and we’ve lost our past. So now we just wait to die and see him again.” 

“Absolutely not. Bea, absolutely not.” Bertrand pulled away from her, and she flinched, feeling too cold and too lonely until he grabbed her shoulders, trying to get her to look him in the face. “We’re not dying here. We’re not letting him win.” 

“He already has.” 

“Bea, Lemony’s gone,” his voice broke, and he stared at the ground, trying not to cry. “He’s gone but we can keep going. We’ve known he was gone-” 

“It’s different now.” 

“I know it is, Bea. I know we- we know for a fact he’s never coming back to us. But you know what? If we had died, he would’ve pressed on for us. Especially if our kids needed him.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“And we never will. But we know that we still have him.” Bertrand pressed a hand to her cheek. “We still have our kids.” 

Beatrice shut her eyes, and then whispered, “How are we supposed to face them? So much has happened-” 

“We just need to get them safe. That’s all we can do.” 

“Nowhere is safe.” Beatrice’s voice finally betrayed emotion, finally betrayed her distraught trembling, as her words shook and she blinked tears down her cheeks. “The world’s treachery washes up on every shore. We can’t keep them safe, and we can’t even get out of here, so we might as well just accept it.” 

“Bea, please, don’t lose hope.” 

“We don’t have the luxury of hope!” Beatrice shouted, and then she couldn’t stop the tears, and she kept shaking and almost falling over, only held upright by her husband. “We don’t have anything!” 

“Beatrice, hope’s not a luxury, it’s the only thing you can have when everything else is gone.” 

“Don’t!” Beatrice sobbed. “Don’t sound like him!” 

Bertrand hugged her, and she just trembled and felt her cheeks burn as her body wracked with sobs and all she could do was let her husband hold her. He stopped speaking, stopped telling her it would be okay, but he pressed his face against hers and stroked her arms and just let her feel him there. 

It felt like an hour before her tears ran out, and she just rocked back and forth, Bertrand still refusing to let her go. He was probably the only person in her life who hadn’t let her go. She eventually moved her arms up to hug him back, and he finally whispered, “You’ve never given up, Bea. Nothing can break you. Don’t let this.” 

She gripped his jacket, and then whispered, “Violet has his eyes.” 

“Yes.” 

“Klaus has his voice.” 

“Yes.” 

“Sunny has his laugh.” she allowed herself the smallest smile. “How did that even happen?” 

“The magic of bisexuality.” 

“Bertrand.” she stroked his arm, and then pulled away, pressing her forehead against his. “Violet walks like you. She paces and skips the same way. Did you ever notice that?” 

“No.” 

“Klaus squints like you,” Beatrice continued, grabbing his hand, “When he’s angry or focusing or tired. You and him flap your hands from up-and-down instead of side-to-side like Violet.” 

“Is that so?” 

“And Sunny looks just like you. She pretty much just stole your face.” Beatrice let herself laugh a second. 

Bertrand let her laugh, and then he said, “Violet has your determination. Your protectiveness, of everyone you love. And Klaus has your hair and your eyes and your… how do I put this?” 

“Impulsivity?” 

“Sure, yeah. And Sunny… she just has your fire, Bea.” 

Beatrice shut her eyes. “They’re all of us.” 

“All of us. They’re our babies. And we-” 

The door slammed open, and Bertrand shut up as fast as he could. He whipped his head towards the door, squinting in the sudden light, pressing his wife closer to him. But she looked up, looked to the doorway just in time to see Olaf drag the boy in behind them. 

“We’ve finished with the Quagmire boy for now,” he said simply, walking across the room as they saw Quigley stumble behind him, his feet barely keeping any form of balance, “So he’ll be here until it’s time for the big show we have planned.” 

“Quigley?” Beatrice’s eyes widened, and she tried to move forwards, but as Olaf shut a clamp around the boy’s leg, she found that she was, as was normal, just out of reach. “Quigley!” 

“What did you do?” Bertrand said, his voice only just above a gasp. “What did you do to him?” 

“Quigley!” 

“Leave him alone- Olaf-” 

“God, you two never shut up, do you?” Olaf sighed. He locked Quigley’s clamp, and then stood. “We’ll have some fun in a little while, but for now we have to go fetch a surprise for you. Play nice.” 

“What did you do to him?” Bertrand demanded, his eyes following Olaf as the man shrugged and walked out. “What did you- no!” 

“Quigley!” 

Quigley wasn’t responding. Their eyes had to re-adjust to the dark once the door slammed shut, but they could tell he was huddled against the pole he was chained to, and he appeared to be shaking. 

Beatrice, desperate, stretched as far as she could. She ended up practically laying on her stomach, reaching out her arm as far as it would go, desperately trying to grab his hand. 

Then, slowly, Quigley reached out an arm, and they barely managed to touch fingertips. Beatrice could feel him trembling now, and she just said, “Quigley, Quigley we’re so sorry… we’re so sorry, what happened? What did they do to you?” 

Quigley opened his mouth to respond, and all that came out was a cry. 

Beatrice and Bertrand both choked back their own sobs, and Beatrice tried desperately to reach farther, to grab his hand, to tell him everything was going to be okay. To lie to him no matter how recently she herself had fallen into nothingness. 

“Quigley, we’re right here. We won’t let him hurt you again.” Bertrand choked out, also reaching out though he knew he was even farther than Beatrice was. “Quigley?” 

Quigley started crying more loudly, trying and failing to stretch farther, unable to do more than reach and sob. For a while, the Baudelaires were silent, just letting him know they were there, just reaching out to show they were trying, that they would do their best to comfort him. 

“Quigley…” Beatrice finally whispered. “We’re here. We’re sorry.” 

Bertrand shut his eyes a moment, and when he opened them again, he reached again and said, “Is there anything we can do?” 

Quigley cried a little quieter, still stretching to touch Beatrice’s fingertips, and after what had to be minutes, in which he struggled to calm down enough to speak, he finally had one request. 

“C-can you… can you say the- the poem again?” 

His voice was scratchy, broken, and tired, he sounded so tired, but there was a desperation in there. Please, please just say the poem again. 

Beatrice started crying again, distraught at his pleading but trying to smile for his sake as she brushed against his hand. Bertrand also started to cry, but he managed to keep his tears silent, hoping that Quigley wouldn’t notice. 

Slowly, he nodded. 

“It was s-six men of Indoostan To learning much inclined Who… who went to see the elephant…”