#fun fact i have a BA in literature and I think that it shows
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As a birthday present for myself I commissioned someone to fix my beaten up paperback copy of The Count of Monte Cristo so here's a little drawing to celebrate (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡
Penguin Classics are very delicate and this was a big book so I was afraid it was gonna turn to dust soon since I carry it around a lot... I love the new binding. The covers are a bit bigger to protect the pages, and the spine is reinforced as well (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ It even got a bookmark now!!!! So pretty!!!
#They go as nemo.nart on Instagram! Sadly she only works in Chile in the RM but you can check her page out if you are curious!!#happy birthday to meeeeeee#fun fact i have a BA in literature and I think that it shows#edmond dantes#fgo#the count of monte cristo#fate series#fanart
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the warners and their interests/special interests, as told by me. because i'm right
yakko
so i already have a whole post dedicated to ONE of his special interests, which i declared was academics. but i'm going to focus on his theatre kid-ness and his admiration for shakespeare. in the original series, he's shown acting out two of shakespeare's plays: hamlet, and a midsummer night's dream. he gets offended when the narrator suggests that he doesn't understand what he's saying, and let's be real, he definitely does. it's YAKKO. he sang all the words in the english dictionary for pete's sake. in the reboot, he gets so offended on behalf of shakespeare that he breaks out into a freestyle rap. (and also it goes hard.) i touched on this in my first post, i think yakko would take interest in literature. i think he'd write poems, specifically. think about it. he's so musically inclined, he's so dramatic, it's perfect for him. i think he might write poems that LOOK serious, but really, it's just big words that have silly meanings. i'm not going to try and give an example because i absolutely suck at poetry, but i highly doubt that yakko would.
wakko
well, don knotts, obviously. it is the only interest of the warner kids that actually jumps out at you, as it's like? the only thing mentioned? it is a constant of wakko's character! he's also been shown to make silly gadgets, at least once from my memory, and carries his gaggy bag everywhere. besides the elevator. i think he has an interest in engineering, or construction. inventing in general. inventing silly little gizmos. maybe some of his gags were created by him!! it's so cute to think about :) don knotts specifically is definitely a special interest of his though. also i think a hobby of his would be drumming. i think he would do a "ba-dump-tsssst" one day and think, "hm. that was :p that was fun, i should learn how to play these," and he does just that. i think he plays the drums while elvis sings a little ditty. (he keeps elvis in his hat.)
dot
there are only examples of this in the reboot, but women's rights movements. women's history. i think she also likes the horror genre, and takes interest in teen romance novels. she's definitely a gurokawa girl tell me i'm wrong i dare. i think she enjoys fairytales, too. in fact i think she was shown to do so on multiple occasions, although the only one coming to mind is cutie and the beast. i mean, i think it counts. i also think she takes a particular interest in fashion, i think she knows how to sew, knit, AND crochet. i think she also sings heavy metal whenever she's understimulated. specifically heavy metal, like i think she wouldn't be happy until her eardrums were BLEEDING. i think she also takes an interest in poetry. i think she gets it from her brother. we see this a lot in dot's poetry corner, and i think maybe mathterpiece theater could be an example of this on some level. also her, slappy, and hello nurse perform macbeth. *WAIT THAT'S ANOTHER THING. yakko was the one translating in that skit, not dot, like usual, since dot was performing. which proves that yakko DOES know what he was saying while performing the plays. that look of annoyance was DEFINITELY "how DARE you insinuate that? do you think i'm stupid?" instead of "how DARE you reveal me as being stupid?" i don't know if there WAS a lot of confusion on that, but i saw someone say that yakko's rap battle put it into perspective, showing that he does understand? and like... it was just kind of a "ding" in my brain like. did you not know that? and now i realize maybe i'm just autistic. AHAH! JUST LIKE THE WARNERS! the point of my post teehee. and now i'm done i think. GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!
#yakko warner#dot warner#wakko warner#the warner siblings#animaniacs#the warners are still autistic!#autistic headcanon
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Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??
Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.
Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation
You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.
For this event, you needed a solid six.
One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.
But Hannibal had different plans for you.
Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.
"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.
"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."
He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."
The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.
“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.
“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”
“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.
“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”
“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.
You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”
Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”
“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”
“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”
Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.
You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.
Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.
"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.
"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"
Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.
“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”
"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"
The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.
"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."
"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."
Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."
The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."
You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."
"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."
This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.
“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”
The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.
Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”
“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”
Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”
“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”
Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.
"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.
"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."
"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.
Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."
"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."
You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.
"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"
Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.
"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.
"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."
The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."
David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"
"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."
David shrugged. "Fine."
Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.
"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.
“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”
She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”
Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.
“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”
Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”
You nodded. “Thank you.”
Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.
“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.
“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”
Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.
“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”
You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”
“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”
You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.
“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.
“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”
You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.
“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”
The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.
Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.
“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”
You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”
A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”
“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”
“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.
“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”
Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”
Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”
“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”
He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.
“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”
“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”
Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”
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Hello Lovelies!
I'm DJ. I'm new to Simblr (and embarrassingly Sims 4). I was an avid Sims 2 player, and even joined a roleplay group on Myspace where I created and shared my Sim's story...But I'll get more into her another time....I haven't Simmed until recently, and can someone PLEASE explain to me WHY we cannot use a cheat to pick up our Sim and move it around in-game? The level of frustration and negative feels I have about this S4 game flaw makes me want to crawl into fetal position and bawl. Sigh, that said…
I would REALLY love to share my Sim's story with you. I must confess that I do not write gameplay-style stories. I either have a story written and collect screenshots in-game, or I randomly play the game, take tons of SS, and then create a story from the photos. I enjoy writing; in fact I enjoyed it so much that I got a BA in Literature/writing in 2012. I haven't written since then (except legal papers, but ...BORING), and I promise you that my Sim's story is anything but boring. In fact, the stories are probably borderline inappropriate for anyone under 18, and frankly, so am I. Think of me as that fun Aunt you might have, or have seen played on sitcoms. You know the type, she likes her drinks like she likes her men: stiff. Yes, that. That's the type of person I am. 80% inappropriate, 10% fun, and 10% uncertain how I survived so long. For instance, did you know you could electrocute yourself by sticking a cleaning wipe into an electrical outlet? Well, I found out the hard way. Don't be like me. Use common sense.
If anyone has any helpful suggestions on ANYTHING Simblr-related (or basic life survival skills), feel free to Inbox me (or leave a comment below). Or just Inbox me to say hello, or whatever, or maybe you have a question for me....Or maybe you need some reassurance in your life or guidance, or even if you need someone to listen to you...I believe in kindness, and I know that one of the easiest things we humans can do is show compassion and kindness to each other.
~ DJ =^-^=
#ts4 gameplay#the sims#simblr#new simblr#ts4#ts4 simblr#sims 2 storytelling#sims 2 pictures#sims rp#the sims 4#sim storytelling#cowplant#woohoo
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wonder what she thinks of me
for @yuekiweek day 3: reunions | word count: 2.3k | read on ao3
“you need to buy your books suki!!” sokka lectures through the phone. last year suki didn’t buy the books for any of her classes and she was fine. she isn’t actually planning on buying books this year either, except now sokka’s roped her into coming to his book club and she can’t lie and say she doesn’t like to watch sokka rant about something dumb while enjoying the baked goods that sokka will have convinced his gran gran and his parents to make for them.
unfortunatley, this means suki has to brave the bookstore during some fancy author signing to try to buy the book sokka’s demanded everyone read for next week. he’s still talking through the phone, though suki’s mostly tuned him out. she’s normally much better at listening to sokka’s rants, but the bookstore is packed with awkward high school students and suki would rather not, at the moment. she slips around a table of overpriced waterbottles and planners and weaves past a random grandpiano over to one of the computers with the bookstore directory. “sokka,” suki asks as she almost trips over a four year old holding a picture book. “why did you have to send me to this bookstore at this time?”
there’s a huff on the other end of the line and suki sighs deeply, “suki, please you should be thankful! they’re running a special discount if you buy a tote bag to go with the book this weekend!!” well. okay, maybe suki collects tote bags and sokka is probably being a good friend. but suki hasn’t been to this store before, having not bothered with buying her textbooks last year and getting anything for fun as an ebook. but sokka believes in the experience of a physical copy or whatever, so tote bags and author signings it is.
suki puts her phone between her shoulder and ear as she sets her fingers onto the keyboard of the computer directory, “hey, what’s the name of the book again?”
“have you listened to anything i’ve ever said to you?” sokka asks her. suki can picture him in their apartment at his desk, doing something fancy with math as he coaches her through a bookstore, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. suki doesn’t actually need him to tell her the name of the book, she just likes to rile him up sometimes. she types in the title. suki thanks him for his help, asks him if hes found his glasses yet (the same glasses she hid before she left) and hangs up with a smirk.
adaptation by malinda lo. there, young adult section. it’s supposedly sci fi thriller and sokka, though he lacks taste in most things, has always had solid book taste. suki looks around for the sign to section she needs and spots it, tucked behind a tech display and next to the little cafe. suki walks over, eager to grab her book and get out of the shop. she walks through the shelves searching for the author’s with the last name l. malinda lo. there, suki reaches out to pluck the book of the shelf, when the back of her hand brushes against someone else.
suki steps back, book in hand, to look at the girl next to her. she has brown hair in a pretty updo and really cute heart shaped beaded earrings. she looks familiar, but suki isn’t sure where she recognizes her from.
“hi,” the other girl says, her voice sounds like a princess. all bells and whistling wind.
“uh,” suki coughs, smiling crookedly and titling her head. “hi!”
the other girl giggles at her, but her smile is warm and suki finds herself settling. “i’m yue - so adaptation? what made you interested in it?”
“oh, my friend is hosting a book club and this is this months pick,” suki tells her. maybe she should have done a little more research on the book before she’d shown up. she hadn’t really pictured a bookstore as the spot to meet a cute girl.
“oh!” yue says, surprised. “i have the same one assigned for my book club. do you want to grab something to drink and let me tell you about it?”
“sure,” suki says, her smile growing even wider. “that sounds great”
yue winks at her as she grabs the same book of the shelf, “perfect, there’s this bubble tea place a block a way i want to show you.” yue turns on her heel, her hair falling onto her back as yue bounces in her steps. suki checks to make sure her flannel is neat and her docs are tied before hurrying after yue.
the two of them wait in line one behind the other at the register and yue flips through the display before the register of pins and pens and bookmarks. a rainbow lion turtle eraser set catches suki’s eye and she lifts it up to her face to look at it closer. it’s the type of thing aang would like, so suki puts it on top of her book when she gets to the register. after she picks out the simplest canvas tote bad (most of them have obnoxious book puns katara would make fun of her for months about) and pays, suki finds yue waiting by the door peeling a sticker off of a sticker sheet suki remembers seeing on the display.
“so,’ yue asks. “where do you want your sticker?”
suki blinks, “what?”
yue waves the - oh it’s a hello kitty sticker with fairy wings. suki blinks at it, “um. cute?” she gets a smile for her efforts and then yue leans in and grabs her wrist, turning suki’s hand around and carefully placing the sticker onto the back of suki’s right hand.
“so,” yue says, after failing once more to steal a drink of suki’s boba. her mouth is screwed up in a light pout, but it feels teasing. “do you go to ba sing se u?”
only a little while later, they are wandering to nowhere in particular, still holding hands. yue keeps trying to steal a sip of suki’s drink even though when suki ordered yue had made a face at the idea of coffee boba. yue’s own drink is sweet like her. strawberry, reportedly to match yue’s nails which are done up in a neat mimic of the fruit.
suki nods, squeezing yue’s hand and lifting her drink over her head, too high up for yue to reach, though that doesn’t stop yue from playfully batting at it. neither of them caring about what passerby might think as they wobble on the sidewalk smiling at each other full of silliness. “yeah, i’m majoring in gender and women's studies with a minor in literature and art.”
yue lights up, the way she’s done every time suki’s shared a fact with her. suki’s face feels flushed, yue makes her feel like she’s on her first date ever. “oh wow!” yue says. “i’m majoring in four nations politics with a minor in theology and spiritual studies but i would love to see what your classes must be like. i think i could be a student forever, you know?”
and then yue doesn’t let go of suki’s wrist. instead, she links their fingers together and suki watches their hands held together hang between them. she looks up and smiles at yue, stupidly happy for a moment. and really, suki doesn’t even know for sure if yue is into girls even if yue does seem to be flagging. for now, suki just lets yue tug her down the street as her phone buzzes in her new tote bag with texts from sokka she’ll ignore for now.
“hm, not really, i think one degree is enough for me. but academics are cute,” suki says, watching as yue swings their hands back and forth as they walk. they’re both absolutely terrible at walking together, suki’s noticed. they can’t seem to walk in a straight line and suki’s almost fallen off the sidewalk twice already. it’s nice. suki’s finding that yue makes her comfortable everywhere.
“oh?” yue asks, her eyes twinkling. “does that mean you think i’m cute, suki?”
“hmmm,” suki teases out, a trace of laughter in her voice as yue finally manages to dart forward to steal her drink, finally realizing her success would be increased if she let go of suki’s hand. suki doesn’t even mind that much, wow. “well,” suki settles, after a moment of false consideration. “yeah, i think you’re pretty cute.”
yue winks at her, the same way she did in the bookstore, and takes a sip of suki’s bubble tea. then she makes a completely disgusted expression shoving suki’s drink back at her. “suki! that’s so gross, tui and la, how do you drink that?”
suki can’t help the laugh that spills out of her as yue sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes, making a fuss that shouldn’t be as sweet as it is. well, suki’s always been a sucker for clowns. suki reaches out and links their hands back together and they both sip at their drink as they seem to stop together at the bus.
they make shy eye contact as a bus comes up to the stop. “so,” yue says. “i’ve got to go, i’m meeting up with a friend. but this was really fun, right?”
suki smiles, “yeah, it was really fun.”
“that’s great! i really liked talking with you!” yue informs her. then, yue leans forward and kisses suki’s cheek before turning around, and her earrings sparkle in the sunlight as she jumps onto the bus right before the bus doors close and it pulls away with the rest of the flow of traffic. suki blinks and watches it go, still feeling the soft touch of yue’s lips on her cheek.
when suki pulls her phone out of her bag to video call sokka he immediately points out the lipstick mark on her cheek and she resolves not to give him any details, no matter how much he pesters her
-
two weeks later, after bemoaning to ty lee about how she was dumb and completley forgot to ask the cute girl she met at the book store for her number, she sees yue again. at sokka’s book club.
the members of the secret book club hadn’t been a surprise for the most part, consisting of sokka (obviously), aang (one of sokka’s only friends who wasn’t a gay girl), azula, mai, ty lee and suki (the gay girls sokka was friends with). sokka’s parents, hakoda, kya and bato, had baked with sokka all last night and prepared a whole table full of snacks that sokka had made her haul over to their apartment. suki thinks it’s a ridiculous amount of food for their handful of friends, and then she and sokka ate a good section of it before their friends even show up.
mai, sokka and azula are arguing over the finer points of the book already even though the meeting has yet to officially start. sokka and azula, to be fair, have actual opinions that they are fiercly defending from their spots on the floor as mai causes problems on purpose on the couch she and ty lee stole as soon as they stepped through the front door.
there was only one person that had yet to arrive, and apparently only aang had met her before. azula had raised an eyebrow at the pronoun and asked sokka if he’d made friends with another gay girl. the answer had been yes, and suki who was looking for another chance at talking to a cute gay girl after flopping earlier in the month and failing at getting yue’s number or social media or anything, was looking forward to meeting the newest cute gay girl sokka was friends with.
sokka had impeccable taste in cute gay girls (besides azula). so really, maybe suki shouldn’t have been so surprised to answer the door when the bell rang to find yue holding a tray of pastries.
yue stands out in the hallway with its broken light, looking as pretty as the moon in the sky. her face breaks into a smile at the sight of suki, and suki’s sure her expression matches. “suki?!” yue asks. “wow, small world huh?”
suki nods back, her cheeks starting to hurt with how big she was beaming. “so,” suki says. “do you think i could make up for last week and get your number?”
laughter comes from behind suki, and suki knows her friends are probably making fun of them right now, but she’s too interested in yue’s answer to pay any attention.
yue rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t stop smiling, “of course suki, now do you want to help me bring these in so i can program it into your phone? no excuses not to call me this time.”
“don’t worry,” suki says as she takes the sweets from yue. “i’ll be sure to blow your phone up more than sokka when he’s trying to prove a point.”
she’s rewarded with another kiss to her cheek (and teasing from her friends at another lipstick stain) and yue’s number in her phone saved as yue🌙💖😘.
yue, through suki’s phone, texts something to herself and suki leans over yue’s shoulder to see what it is.
omg yue you’re so hot please go out with me <3
suki bumps yue’s shoulder as best as she can with her hands full and raises an eyebrow. “so, yue?” suki asks. “will you go out with me?”
yue giggles, her lipgloss sparkles and suki wonders what it tastes like, “of course, suki.”
a few seconds later, suki has her question answered and can confidently report that yue’s lipgloss tastes like mango.
suki passes the tray off to sokka, who was helpfully waiting right behind her with the tried familiar expression of accidentally setting up his exes. then, suki tugs yue into the loveseat, kicking out aang who had been sprawled across it.
book club is much more fun than suki was expecting, though almost all things are improved, suki finds, when she’s hanging out with her friends and eating sweets and practically sitting in the girl she likes lap while yue braids her hair and teases sokka with her. yue winks at her as aang and ty lee stop azula and sokka from getting into a fistfight with mai and sticks another hello kitty sticker onto her cheek. suki leans over and kisses the same spot on yue. fair is fair after all.
#atla#yueki#yue#suki#yuekiweek#r.txt#rey's writering#i love how i post before im finished bc im impatient and then i edit for days/j ;_; /
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Summary: Your friend who’s studying at university invites you over to spend an evening at with her and a group of friends she just met in class. Featuring a Y/N who isn’t quite aware of herself and Seungsik who notices it. In the end this turned out to be more about Seungsik than Byungchan but I couldn’t help myself it is what it is
Disclaimer: Alcohol consumption, college!setting, all grown up, fem!reader
Pairing: NonIdol!SeungsikxFem!Reader
boy, what did she expect
or rather, what did you expect?
when she was texting you earlier this day if you wanted to go out with them and have a drink with her and her newly found student-friends, you didn’t expect this
you met with her at the subway station and she quickly guided you to the bar
regarding the bar I’m talking classic college student meet up: cheap lager beer, dimmed lights, just the best greasy late night out food, and music that changed genres as often as streetlights changed their colours
she lead you to one of the bigger tables in the back were you would find a group of aprox. 8 people, being 4 guys and 3 girls, making it a 4/5 ratio including the two of you
she was right when she told you not to dress up or anything: everyone was dressed legere and you didn’t caught anyones eye with that oversized tee of yours
“Y’all shush this is the friend I was telling you about earlier.” She said and briefly introduced the group to you
the girls present were from her department mostly and they were also the ones who asked her to come tonight
then she went on talking about the others
“Subin is the youngest of all of us, I think he majors economics” She said and Subin immediately rose up against it stating that she knew very well what his major is and she should just stop teasing him
which made everyone laugh, including you
then she went on, explaining how Sejun was a finance major, Byungchan majored in early education and Seungsik in literature
you sat down between Seungsik and your friend
After the first two rounds of beer and pre-gaming things started to go very well
Everyone was having a blast
the girls would argue with Subin about his attitude and how we would get a girlfriend so easily if he would just give into the fact that he’s adorable which he bluntly refused to do over and over
Sejun and your friend were also having a huge discussion about some fashion issue that must have happened ages ago but somehow it came up and led to the two of them nearly arm wrestling across the table
But the real noise pollution happened on your end
because it turned out Byungchan and you were nearly the same person
your minds were so in sync you started to say the same things and laugh at the same frequency which made the both of you laugh even more
fuelled by a few beers, you guys went through a lot of topics in a short amount of time
hard to follow for the ones listening to you
no one really knew what the hell you were talking about or what made your stomach ache of laughter but they took your tears of joy as a good sign
at some points you wouldn’t get a word out because you were laughing so hard
since Seungsik was seated between the to of you and making it difficult to talk to Byungchan directly
you were just leaning on the table from one point on forward, propping your body up with your hand
every time you got into a heated conversation or something of that kind a pretty tomboyish side of you would surface
a side that made it easy for guys to get a long with you and would make them feel comfortable around you
one time you almost hit Seungsik with your elbow but he was ducking away fast enough
you apologised a million times to hime
because you knew you had no sense of direction of balance or direction when even slightly drunk
Byungchan was scolding you for being more careful about your surroundings
“Who are you to tell me what to do you only know me for one and half hour?” You bickered at him
and Seungsik chimed in
“Who are you to call me a surrounding??”
Byongchan’s nose was scrunched the entire time from laughing and you were making fun of him for having such a beak-like nose
which made him look for something about you to make loving fun off
that would go on for a while
then you reached the topic of TV Shows and things became more serious
in the meanwhile Seungsik - bless his heart - didn’t quite know what to do
or where to look
because since you were leaning over to Byungchan and had propped your body up he had unblocked view through your sleeve at your black lace bra
literally the entire time Byungchan and you have been bickering
you didn’t notice
honestly you never did
at some point she just tapped on your friends shoulder and as she turned around and he pointed at you
ofc she knew what was going on - this wasn’t her first night out with you
and she told Seungsik to just switch seats with you
so he did
he got up and carefully put his hand on your back to get your attention and as you looked into his blood rushed face you were wondering what was going on but since he only wanted to switch seats you thought
okay
you continued talking as if nothing happened a
and Seungsik soon found himself involved in a conversation with Heochan, which was more of a listening role in his monologue
this man had too much to drink already again
Seungsik was trying to follow his ramblings and be interested about whatever he going on about
But he was always looking back at you, giving you side eyes
“Are you even listening?”
“Of course of course, go on”
at the end of the night your friend and you were heading to the subway station with Heochan and some of the girls
okay let’s be honest you were leading Heochan to the station - this man can’t take alcohol
you were pretty wobbly on your legs as well but your friend got your back!
since the others lived at the same dormitory they would head home together, leaving you and your friend waiting for your train
“I didn’t know what I was expecting when I asked to bring you but it definitely wasn’t that.” She said jokingly
“Wdym?”
“You and Byungchan got along so great. That’s really unexpected.”
You suddenly felt ba as you let the evening reflect on your inner eye
“We disturbed you, didn’t we?”
She waved it off. “It’s fine. We weren’t really quiet either. Also everyone else was busy with their own conversations.”
You sighed relievedly and leaned onto her for support
you were deadly tired
“Oh and” She laughed. “Poor Seungsik.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you gave this man such a hard time!”
“I did what? How?”
“You really are so clueless oh my god.”
You stood up straight and looked at her in shock and confusion as to how and what the hell you did this time and didn’t notice
she explained it to you and you just reached for her shoulders shaking her
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING”
She laughed so hard people were turning around looking at the two of you (the circus was back in town)
“But it was so cute!”
“SHOWING MY BRA TO STRANGER MEN IS CUTE?”
“No no, Seungsik! He really tried not to look but boy he couldn’t help himself.”
“I WILL END YOU” You yelled fiercely the second the train approached and no one would hear your threat
Masterlist
#this episode was really the beginning of it all#college student victon I mean what else have I been asking for??#victon#victon scenarios#victon scenario#victon imagine#victon blurbs#victon heochan#victon sejun#victon seungsik#victon byungchan#victon subin#college AU
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Is It Really THAT Bad?
Dr. Seuss is no stranger to cinematic adaptations, and even less of a stranger to animation. And whenever Seuss gets animated, you can typically expect good things, as opposed to when his work is live action, in which case you can expect…
Yeah…
Anyway, imagine the excitement people must have felt when the creative team behind Despicable Me and the writing team behind the underrated gem Horton Hears a Who got together to do a fresh new take on The Lorax! This was in Illumination’s heyday, before they ended up showcasing that they’re more interested in churning out cheap products for maximum profit, so there was plenty of hope that this could be good. Then came all the commercial tie-ins.
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Now, this alone shouldn’t be indicative of the final product. Maybe stuff like this is just a bunch of suits horribly missing the point of the original story! Maybe the actual film will be better! Well… while the film was no flop, and while it certainly got a better reception than most of the films I’ve talked about here, the film was derided by many for being an extremely shallow and lacking adaptation that adds unneeded junk to a story that didn’t need it in such a way that ultimately dilutes the message. It turns a story that operated on shades of gray and turned it into a cartoonish spectacle that would make even Captain Planet blush. Not helping was the rabid fanbase on Tumblr who shipped the Once-ler with… himself… or Jack Frost… forever tainting the film in the eyes of those on the internet.
Things got so bad eventually even the [REDACTED] Critic reviewed the film in his usual over-the-top, accentuate the negative style, and as some people still treat his word as gospel, this has most likely colored the perception of the film. So while it’s certainly not to the same level of infamy as the usual subjects of Is It Really THAT Bad? I still wanted to put this movie on here and ask one simple question:
How ba-ah-ah-ad can it be?
THE GOOD
So let me just get it out of the way: the movie’s villain song, “How Bad Can I Be,” legitimately is awesome and is frankly one of the best villain songs ever. No, I’m not kidding. It’s just a fun, rocking number with some neat visuals, and while it’s a shame the cut rock opera-esque “Biggering” is probably the better song, this one is definitely more fun and meme-worthy. Shake that bottom line!
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Now, the casting is, for the most part, pretty fantastic. Minor characters like the grandma played by Betty White are a lot of fun, but really, the main piece of awesome casting is Danny DeVito as the titular Seuss creation. DeVito as the Lorax is just so incredible, perfect, and inspired that it boggles the mind how anyone could possibly come up with such amazing casting.
As far as antagonizing forces in the film go, the Once-ler’s awful, vile family are enjoyable in a “love to hate” sort of way. While it’s certainly kind of iffy that they felt the need to give the Once-ler more of an excuse for his actions beyond just simple greed, it isn’t so bad that what they came up with was familial pressure. In fact, they’re actually much better at antagonists than O’Hare, the actual villain of the film, and the fact the movie give him so much focus despite having such fascinating characters that would have had a really great thematic purpose; hell, they should have been the rulers of Thneedville instead og O’Hare! There’s so much untapped potential with these, quite frankly, very interesting characters.
I guess I should say the Once-ler is a pretty decent character in and of himself, but he very much suffers from the same problem the Jim Carrey Grinch does – he’s a good, enjoyable character in his own right, but he’s not a very good Once-ler. In fact, he at points borders on “in name only” territory. Still, he does have a pretty solid arc, and that villain song slaps, so… I think he’s solid, and Ed Helms does a good job voicing him.
THE BAD
Jon Lajoie, while in character as his misogynistic moron rapper MC Vagina, said this:
When I first heard this lyric, I didn’t understand it… but his words were a prophecy, because that is, in all honesty, the plot of this film. Our flavorless protagonist Ted really just wants to get the Truffula trees back so he can get into the pants of the local smoking hot redhead hippie, Audrey. It gets to the point where Ted’s motivations are so boring and shallow that Audrey actually would have made a far more interesting and compelling protagonist, seeing as she already has an inexplicable knowledge of the trees and cares about nature. When they already changed so much in the story I don’t see why they couldn’t just make the protagonist a girl while they were at it. As it is, she barely has any presence and feels like a waste, which becomes all the more awful when you know she’s being played by a stunt casted Taylor Swift instead of an actual voice actor or even an actor period. At least Ted is Zac Efron, an actual actor, though he doesn’t do a particularly good job himself.
Then we have our villain, O’Hare. O’Hare has all the subtlety of a Captain Planet villain but none of the cheesy goodness and fun. Sure, Rob Riggle does some good delivery and gives O’Hare some memetastic moments, and sure, his selling of canned air is oddly prescient of things that happened in real life in India (though technically President Skroob Spaceballs beat him to the punch by a few decades) but it doesn’t really redeem O’Hare from being an excessively weak villain who is shoehorned into the plot solely to turn the story into a black and white morality tale. It… doesn’t work at all. What also doesn’t help is that O’Hare has an absolutely repugnant character design, looking like if Edna Mode got mangled by a sixteen wheeler and left in a ditch on the side of the road.
Finally, this movie just doesn’t really respect the story to any great degree. As mentioned above, it waters down a story that presented arguments from both sides and, while still ultimately showing the Once-ler to be wrong and shortsighted, did have him make some valid points. Here, the story is presented as there being a clear cut good and evil in a horrendously unsubtle and unpalatable way. Yes, we get that extreme deforestation and overuse of resources is bad, you don’t need to beat us over the head with it. It doesn’t help that the film also crams in a bunch of cringeworthy pop culture humor that really doesn’t add much to the story; say what you will about the anime scene from Horton, at least there was a bit of substance and reason for it. Having characters sing the Mission: Impossible theme is just making a reference for the sake of making a reference.
Is It Really THAT Bad?
So I’m gonna say that I don’t particularly find this movie to be good, per se. It’s very dumbed down and more than a little undermined by the various brand tie ins. It is a poorly executed black and white morality tale that was crafted from a very deep and engaging piece of children’s literature, and on that level, I don’t think this movie works even a little bit. Still, there’s some enjoyment that can be mined from this, particularly from some of the more so bad it’s good moments, as well as DeVito’s performance and some actual good moments of story and character. There’s some stuff to like here if you dig a bit, but really, I don’t think you really should have to do a deep dig into The Lorax to get some enjoyment.
Overall, I wouldn’t really say this movie is totally bad, but it’s definitely not good, either; it veers more into the territory of “so bad it’s good,” which is a shame but also kind of refreshing. It’s definitely an interesting film to talk about, and there are a few things about it that work, but ultimately it’s not enough to really raise the film to the level of the classic animated Seuss adaptations or even to the level of Horton. At its best, it’s okay, and at its worst, it actively undermines its own messages. I think the 6.4 it has is pretty fair… maybe a bit too fair, if I’m being honest. I’d give it something like a 5.7 or 5.8.
Again, it’s not the worst thing ever like some might tell you; hell, the adaptation of How the Grinch Stole Christmas Illumination would go on to make is probably a worse movie. But it still doesn’t really do anything that adds to the story its telling, and it ultimately comes off as saccharine, forgettable childish fluff. It’s really a harmless movie, but it’s still probably gonna grate on anyone who holds the original story in high esteem. The {REDACTED] Critic was a bit hyperbolic in his review, but I do think he was right in principle. This movie feels like a calculated, corporate adaptation meant to be as inoffensive and marketable as possible much like every Illumination film post-Despicable Me. And if there’s one thing The Lorax shouldn’t be, it’s “inoffensive and marketable.”
#Is it really that bad?#IIRTB#review#movie review#The Lorax#Dr. Seuss#animation#animated movie#Illumination
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halloween special 2019
(Or, Halloween Special 2027, because this is set immediately after Turnabout Academy but contains no reference to it besides the fact that Juniper exists.)
A Fae AU side story. A classic meme of the autumnal season gets a cannibal joke twist, and the real horror story is the friends we made along the way. Written with the profoundest apologies to the professor from whom I took an entire semester course on Edgar Allan Poe.
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It still feels like the crack of dawn, after the week they’ve had, but dawn is admittedly later in late October, and the sun is already risen, so it’s not early at all. It’s no one’s problem but Phoenix’s own that his brain is still zombified. Trucy woke him up, flinging her things all around the apartment to get ready to head out: Juniper has joined her trick-or-treating group that already consisted of Trucy, Vera, Jinxie, Athena, and Pearl, and Pearl still doesn’t have a costume, and now neither does Juniper, and Vera hasn’t finished making hers, and it’s T-minus two days until Halloween.
So he scrambled some eggs for his daughter and ushered her out the door after making her promise to say hi to all of the other girls for him, and then he crawled back into bed. Barely three minutes after, his phone rang. That was marginally better than his phone ringing once he had fallen back asleep, but this deprives him of the chance of going back to sleep at all, probably, and actually it’s not better. Phoenix doesn’t know why he thought that. He squints at the tiny screen on his phone to see that an impossible amount of symbols, including what looks like some Japanese characters, a pentagram, and a simplified pixel art hand making a middle finger.
“Hello, Maya.”
“Niiick! I need you to settle a dispute!”
Phoenix groans. “Between who?”
“Hello.” Iris’ voice comes through as clear as Maya’s, clearer than humans ever are on phone calls. Magical speakerphone. Phoenix drops his face into his pillow.
“Iris says that the only one of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories to involve cannibalism was his one weird-ass novel that he never finished. But he’s gotta have had more than that right? He strikes me as a cannibalism kinda dude.”
“I don’t know,” Phoenix mumbles into his pillow, and then, resigned to his fate, he lifts his head and repeats clearly, “I don’t know. I’m not the literature guy.” He knows Shakespeare, and what he knows about Shakespeare is that he needs to keep Maya away from it, else she might decide that Puck is a role model. “Iris would have more of an idea than me.”
“Nick! You can’t take your ex’s side over me!”
Iris giggles in the background. “This is an argument about objective facts, Maya,” Phoenix says. “I’m not ‘taking sides’ personally.”
“Okay, but, Montressor was definitely saving Fortunado down there to chill him to a good eating temperature and then have him as a snack with the Amontillado. Like that’s gotta be why he killed him that way.”
That’s one of the few Poe stories Phoenix knows. He can answer this one. “There was no Amontillado,” he says wearily. “That was the whole point of the story, Maya. He lied about having the fancy wine to get Fortunado down to the catacombs because that was the best place to kill him quietly. There wasn’t any cask of Amontillado.”
Maya gasps. “What?” She sounds so betrayed that Phoenix almost laughs and almost feels bad. “He lied? He can’t lie!”
Now Phoenix does laugh. “What, did you think he was fae because elaborately killing someone for some unmentioned slights is a fae thing to do?” She sounds more scandalized at the lie part that the murder part, which, for anyone even slightly versed in fae culture, does make sense.
“Well—” Maya sputters. “Yeah!” She heaves an exaggeratedly loud sigh. “I guess The Cask of Amontillado really isn’t a story that implies cannibalism.”
“There was other wine in the wine cellar where he walled up Fortunado,” Iris says. “Perhaps one of those would pair with him just as well for Montressor’s meal as you imagine the Amontillado would.”
“You don’t need to patronize me,” Maya says, sounding less irritable than Phoenix expects. “But, oh, Nick, other question! Why would the narrator, obviously possessing greater strength and no morals, not simply eat the old man so as to get rid of his creepy staring eye and better muffle the treacherous tattletale heart?”
“Telltale,” Iris says. Maya groans at the correction.
“Bitch-ass snitch,” Phoenix says.
“No,” Iris says. “Definitely not. Now, to return to the heart of your question, Mystic—”
Maya and Phoenix both snicker. What follows is not a long silence, but it is a loaded one, and then Iris resumes speaking, her clipped tone betraying her annoyance with the inadvertent pun. “The heartbeat was not a real sound,” she explains, “but rather the psychological manifestation of his guilt at committing the murder.”
“Oh,” Maya says. “So it’s like when you want to get coffee you have to have a barista make it and hand you the cup because if you tried to serve yourself from a machine it always explodes back in your face. It’s not the machine that hates you, it’s you who hates you, and the machine is the expression of it!”
“That is…” Iris trails off, clicking her tongue in thought. “Actually, yes, similar, though no one but the narrator could hear the sound of the heart.”
“So he wasn’t fae either,” Maya says. “Otherwise the whole house would’ve been, ba-dum! That they all felt it! And then probably it would explode.”
“Y’know, if he had eaten the old man,” Phoenix says, because sometimes it is fun, a flex of creative muscles he doesn’t usually get to stretch, to play along with Maya when she has her inane musings, “he still would’ve heard the heart beating, right, because it was just in his head. But instead of yelling at the cops that it was under the floorboards—”
Maya knows where he’s going with it immediately; either he knows the way she thinks too well, or she knows him. “—dude woulda been yelling about hearing it in his own stomach. Man, can you imagine? You’re just some beat cop coming in to investigate and then the guy starts shrieking about killing a dude but instead of starting to tear up the floorboards to show you the body he starts trying to claw open his own stomach?”
Phoenix considers that. He decides that yeah, it would be pretty far over on the scale of fucked-up things he’s seen as a lawyer. Sort of like Matt Engarde tearing up his own face in despair and fury, but also way worse because it would involve definite cannibalism and possible disembowelment, depending on how far the narrator got in his attempts. “Yep,” he says. “That’d be fucked up.”
“You could write it,” Iris says. “Poe is public domain, is he not, and you an adult man who could get away with it under the name of ‘literary reimagining’ rather than it being called ‘fanfiction’.”
“No thanks,” Phoenix says. “I’m not gonna be the man who messes with the classics.” He’d pitch the idea to Larry if Larry made his name on literally anything other than wholesome life-affirming picture books. Actually, he still wouldn’t, because Larry is an artist as well as a writer and there’d be a chance that he’d turn it into painting rather than prose and that is a level of horror Phoenix doesn’t want to go to. Better just to stay on the level of Maya reading cannibalism into every horror story that crosses her path.
(Would Athena call that projection? He is not going to think about that any longer.)
“Glad anyway you could help with our dispute,” Maya says. “Cuz” - she’s never settled on one nickname for Iris, but cousin or a derivation usually means she’s not angry with her - “was getting wistful when Pearly went off to talk shop with all your daughters, so she wanted to get in the holiday spirit and it spiraled. I made it spiral.”
As tends to happen around there. As Maya is wont to do. Phoenix isn’t surprised. He also decides to ignore the “daughters” remark. It’s not worth arguing that Trucy is his only daughter, and okay maybe Vera half counts, but on the other end of the spectrum, he’s known Juniper for not even a week.
So instead he voices the matter that is bothering him. He’s afraid to speak it into the world lest she hadn’t thought about it, but he also needs to be prepared. “So, Maya,” he begins warily, “you planning on venturing out for Halloween?”
He’s dreaded this holiday ever since that first year, when she figured out what trick-or-treat meant and decided that this was the most fae of holidays, what with one being allowed to threaten and extort strangers for goodies. It’s more blatant than the fae usually are, even. That first year, he had to keep her entertained and distracted all night, with candy and other sugary sweets and campy movies, so she couldn’t go and fulfill her suggestion of egging Edgeworth’s car as revenge for him being “a huge douchebag to us in court”. She had gotten the eggs ahead of time and stashed them in his fridge so at eleven they made a run to the corner store for other ingredients to teach her how to make omelets.
“Nah, don’t worry, I’m staying right here. Pearly can have her fun. But you and I are totally on for our post-Halloween bargain bin on-sale candy shopping spree. You’re buying! It’s tradition.”
“Huh?” It happening three years in a row, and then not for the next seven years, does not a tradition make. “Objection!”
“Nope!” She sounds positively gleeful; he can picture exactly what her smile looks like, how wide and toothy. “Ignored! What’s it that judges say again - overruled! You are overruled! And your penalty is reading Poe for a refresher so we can talk about it more! We need to talk about the one with the cat because I can’t decide if the cat is fae! Or even if it’s one cat! I want everyone’s input!”
His phone display shows a pixel jack-o-lantern with a grin in a probable approximation of Maya’s. He drops his head back onto his pillow. “Goodbye, Maya.”
The second Halloween, they carved pumpkins in the office; Pearl demanded they not have scary faces, Maya ate half of the seeds even before they roasted them, and Phoenix tried not to think about how last year at that time Edgeworth was around that they could consider the prospect of egging his car. When they dropped pumpkin guts on the floor, Mia flung it right back at them to get it stuck in their hair. The third year, they brought Pearl along for candy shopping, too, and she sat in the cart atop a throne of bagged sweets and pointed out clearance decorations she wanted for next year. They’re boxed up somewhere. He should find them for her and the other girls. For next year, or seven years later, it’s not that much of a difference, is it?
“And,” he adds, “I’ll see you in November.” Start anew. “Tradition, right?”
#fae au extras#roddy fanfics#fae au tag#fic: the witches of los angeles#Wolf would you believe i had this concept BEFORE talk started of the poe musical in chat
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Boy Meets You (M) [R]
Requested by anon. Thank you for the inspiration! I really enjoyed writing this!
SUMMARY; It’s a crush. A simple crush. He has a girlfriend. You’re not going to act on it. Why would you? Hoseok, however, isn’t as strong. There’s something about you. A tug. A pull. A desire. You’re his temptation.
Genre : smut, angst, slow burn, fanfiction, au
Pairing : Reader x Jung Hoseok
Contains : dom!Hoseok, cheater!Hoseok, protected sex, rough sex, oral, blowjob, fingering, finger fucking, dirty talk, like a lot of dirty talk, hand job, teasing
MASTER LIST
When Hoseok dances, it’s the only thing he thinks about in the moment. The way the rhythm pulses around him; the way the music rings in his ears; the way his body moves without him really having to think about it because dancing just is.
But most of all, he loves not having to think about you. You, this wonderful, beautiful temptation. Everything that he can’t have. Everything that he needs to resist. But, God, do you have to make it so hard?
He watches you in the studio; you type away on your laptop furiously, and your eyebrows are scrunched in the cutest way when you’re concentrating. Every so often you’ll look up to observe your little brother, a student in Hoseok’s class, and Hoseok nearly jumps every time at the prospect of you catching him. You never do though, but Hoseok is pretty sure that your brother has. He’s a clever kid.
Then Hoseok quickly returns to his lesson, enunciating every “Ba! Ba! Ba!” with punctuated body movements that his students are eagerly trying to mimic. “One… two… three… four… Good job! You guys are doing great!” he praises, loving the smiles that grow on the kids’ faces.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Hoseok, too. In fact, you may or may not harbor a small crush on him. Small, but a crush nonetheless. You’ve known him for years, and his sister was a good friend. Your little brother, Chungjae, was head over heels for him though, always saying how much he wanted to be like Hoseok when he’s older. Your parents always teased him for it, but you thought it was endearing.
When the clock strikes five, Hoseok ends his lesson, and Chungjae comes running at you, his face flushed with excitement. “Did you see me? Did you watch? I learned that cool move that I showed you on YouTube!”
“I did see! You’re so great! Soon enough, you’ll be better than Hoseok-ssi!”
Hoseok trots over to you and laughs, stopping beside Chungjae to ruffle his hair. “Yeah, he’ll be teaching the class soon enough!” Chungjae giggles and beams up at him before scampering off to say goodbye to his friends. Hoseok turns to you with a slightly more serious expression. “I’m thinking it’s time for him to move up, though.”
“Is it?”
“Yep,” says Hoseok with a nod, “and unfortunately, this is the highest that I teach. Chungjae’s going to have to get used to a new teacher.”
“Aish, he won’t like that,” you reply, looking over Hoseok’s shoulder to observe your brother. He chatters excitedly with his friends, bringing about bouts of laughter before their parents are ushering them away. “You know he loves you.”
“Yes, I know,” he says sadly, “but what can I do? The kid’s good. He’s already ahead of his classmates, and it’s not like I can teach him and them at the same time.”
“I know but—”
“Baby!” a loud voice interrupts you.
“Oh—mmph!”
You stand there awkwardly as Hoseok and his girlfriend, Eunhae, greet each other, only clearing your throat when things begin to trail away from PG. “Oh, um, sorry,” Hoseok says sheepishly, his hair a little disorderly and his face flushed. A pang of jealousy hits your heart, but it’s gone as quickly as it had appeared, and you smile kindly at Eunhae.
“It’s good to see you.”
“And you! We haven’t caught up in ages! Where’s Chungjae?”
“Oh, he’s somewhere back there. You know him. Sociable as ever.”
“He is,” she giggles. “I hope my kids are as cute as him someday!” Her eyes rake over Hoseok longingly as she says this, but he either doesn’t hear her or pretends he doesn’t.
“Well then,” you say as Chungjae returns. “I’ll see you next time. Hoseok—” His eyes look at you with sparkling interest. “—maybe we can talk later about the classes, yeah?”
“Sounds good.”
You take Chungjae by the hand and lead him to the car, unaware of Hoseok’s gaze trailing after you.
—
“So how was class today?”
Chungjae looks at your mother and launches into a story, telling your parents every single gritty detail. He speaks so rapidly that your dad has to tell him to slow down or else he’d choke before he got any food in his mouth.
“Actually,” you interject, “Chungjae’s doing so well that Hoseok thinks he should move up a class.”
“Move up! That’s great!” your mother exclaims with a proud smile.
Chungjae looks at her with a deep frown. “No it isn’t! Then Hoseok won’t be my teacher anymore!”
“Ah, it’s okay!” your dad pipes. “I’m sure you’ll come to love Jimin just the same!”
“But I! Want! Hoseok!” You can’t help but laugh a little, earning a glare from Chungjae. “What are you laughing at? You like him more than I do!”
You nearly choke on your water, and your parents are living for it. “He’s right!” your dad laughs.
“She won’t get to see him anymore!”
“Won’t get to swoon over him anymore!”
“Oh, stop it!” you shout, wishing the scarlet blush on your face away. “He has a girlfriend, you know.”
“Oh, so what? You’re a nice girl too!”
“Yeah, Mom!” you reply sarcastically. “I’m nice, but… but Eunhae is beautiful! And I’m not—I’m not jealous—”
“—well you might be a little.”
“But that doesn’t matter! We’re at different universities studying different things plus our families are… different.”
“Ah, who cares? So they both go to the fancy dance school. We got our own genius over here!”
“Dad, I don’t think studying literature makes me a genius.”
“It certainly does!” interrupts your mom. “I mean, who wouldn’t want you?”
“Hoseok!” you shout angrily. “He doesn’t want me! Now can we please drop the subject?”
“Alright, alright,” replies your father, putting up his hands in defeat. “Why don’t we talk about classes? You’re a great dancer, Chungjae. You should really consider moving up.”
“But I’m only so good because Hoseok teaches me,” he whines.
“You’re good because you’re talented. And so’s Hoseok. There’s a difference.”
“Maybe you can ask him for private lessons if it really means that much to you,” suggests your mom. “And if your sister is willing to drive you.”
Chungjae looks at you eagerly, his eyes pleading. You roll your eyes and sigh in defeat. “If Hoseok is willing to work the extra time.”
“Yay! Thank you! I’ll ask him tomorrow!”
—
Hoseok is never going to say no to Chungjae, nor is he going to say no to the idea of seeing you on weeknights when he wouldn’t otherwise. You sit at the back of the studio, watching the two of them work in front of the mirror that fogs when they get too close. Your fingers tap of their own accord as you observe.
The beat is heavy and it pounds in your ears, but you like it because of how intense it gets. Hoseok and Chungjae step in perfect unison with the same determined expression on their face. When they reach the point of the song that Chungjae no longer knows in the choreography, Hoseok continues on, and both you and your brother watch him with rapt attention.
His arms and hands move like an extension of his body, never missing a beat. Sweat trickles down his body and plasters his hair to his face, but he pays no mind; he’s too focused on falling in time with the chorus. One moment he’s stomping the ground like he might break it, and the next he’s tapping so lightly you can’t even hear it.
He’s so talented, you think. This is why he’s in that school. This is why he’s with Eunhae!
As the songs winds down, he does too, his face softening until nothing meets your ears but silence (and heavy breathing). Chungjae breaks it first. “Wow! That was so cool!”
You say nothing, and your eyes flicker away when Hoseok’s gaze reaches yours. That seems to make him snap out of it, and he quickly turns his attention back to Chungjae. “Now you try.”
Chungjae picks up where he left off under Hoseok’s guidance, and you avert your eyes, trying to think of anything other than that darkly intense look of Hoseok’s when he dances. You instead divert your attention to the cute boy in your class. The one with tanned skin and adorable dimples. Namjoon. Maybe you should call him up…
“Y/N! Hi!”
You look up from your space on the floor to see a smiling Eunhae looking down on you. “Oh, hi, Eunhae! Why don’t you sit?”
“Gladly.”
She takes the space beside you, resting comfortably against the wall as she observes her boyfriend. How does she look so effortlessly beautiful? “He looks good, doesn’t he?” she giggles.
“Oh, um…”
“Oh, it’s okay! I’m not gonna go crazy because you compliment him or something.”
“You’re right,” you laugh. “He looks good. Really good.”
“I always tell him he looks best when he’s dancing. Don’t you agree?”
“Definitely.”
She rests her head on her arm and turns to you. “So what about you? Studying literature still?”
“Yep. Yes, I am.”
“And how’s that?”
“Fun. I guess. I mean, not fun like fun like in the sense that you think things are fun but…” you pause at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry! I tend to ramble. I guess I’m just not good at talking about myself.”
“That’s okay! We can talk about something else! What about Hoseok?”
“What about Hoseok?”
“Well I’ve heard that you’ve known him for a while.”
“That’s true. He’s been teaching my brother for years.”
“But, didn’t you know him before?” she asks with a waggle of her eyebrows.
“Oh! Oh no! No, never!”
Eunhae can’t help but erupt in laughter at your reaction, earning a couple confused glances from the boys in front of you. “I’m teasing! Sorry, it was just too funny. I heard from Seobin that you liked him once upon a time.”
“Um, yeah. Yeah, way back when. Not like he’d ever go for me, though.”
“No?”
“I mean, he has you!”
“You’re cute,” Eunhae laughs sweetly, “but he’s known you a lot longer than me. Honestly when I first met you, I was surprised you weren’t his girlfriend.”
“I—Really?”
“Oh, sure! You guys get along so well, I just assumed.”
“Ah, well. Not that well,” you reply, embarrassed. “I’m just—I’m not anything he’s looking for. We only knew each other through our parents.”
“You’re not anything he’s looking for?”
“I mean—I’m—Why are we talking about this anyway?” you laugh awkwardly. “I mean, he has you now, right?”
“Oh, I know. I’m just curious, I guess. It’s fun stuff to know sometimes.”
“What is?”
“Well, you’re gonna think badly of me—”
“I won’t.”
“I like knowing stuff about his past. Especially stuff about this girl that he never shuts up about”
You smile at her a bit ruefully, ignoring the gnawing ache in your gut. You weren't about to go on some jealous tangent. The both of them were happy together, and that’s all that mattered. “I guess I’m just… not his type. You’re, well, beautiful. Gorgeous. And you’re a dancer, of course. I could only ever imagine Hoseok ending up with a dancer. A-And from what I hear, you’re very smart too. That’s just… stuff I’ll never be.”
“You know…” you continued. “He didn’t choose me because… because I was never an option.” You added hastily, “Not like you though! Why wouldn’t he choose you? I would’ve chosen you!”
Eunhae smiles at you widely and throws her arms around you. “Oh, you’re so sweet! And don’t you worry, you’ll find someone someday!”
“Yeah,” you laugh. “Someday.”
“Are you ready to go?” asks Chungjae from across the room, removing you from your own head. Thankfully. You ignore the look of concern that’s etched across both Hoseok and Chungjae’s faces. They must’ve been more privy to the conversation than you thought.
“‘Course.” You stand up and collect your things. “Ready?”
“Yeah. One sec. Just gonna use the bathroom.”
“Take your time.”
You nod, picking up his bag for him and purposely averting Hoseok’s eyes. You didn’t need his pity. You were fine.
“Hey, Y/N…” his quiet voice began.
Eunhae came up right behind you. “Hi, babe!”
“Um, thanks for the lesson. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Tell Chungjae I’m in the car.”
You might’ve heard an answer if you hadn’t dashed so quickly.
—
The car ride home is mostly silent until Chungjae finally decides to say whatever he’s been contemplating for the past ten minutes. “Just because you’re not a dancer doesn’t mean you’re not good enough!” he shouts somewhat unexpectedly.
You look at him with wide eyes before focusing your attention back on the road. “What are you talking about?”
“Um, Hoseok and I were kind of taking a break when we heard you and Eunhae… talking.”
You shrugged. “Eunhae asked a question. I answered.”
“I-I know we tease you about your crush on Hoseok but—”
“It’s fine, little brother. It’s not a big deal. And it’s not like I’m in a head over heels, madly in love with him type crush. I just like him. I have for a while, but you knew that. And when I found out he liked Eunhae it was fine. They’re dating, and it’s fine. They’re happy.”
“But Hoseok didn’t choose Eunhae because she was… prettier or—”
You laugh bitterly. “Didn’t he? If he thought I were prettier. He’d have chosen me. If he’d thought I were better he would’ve chosen me. But he didn’t. And I’m not about to run around crying about it. It is what it is.” Chungjae looked at you doubtfully. “I’m sorry, though,” you add.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Eunhae would’ve made a better sister.”
—
Hoseok isn’t paying much attention to his girlfriend as he drives her home. She’s chirping at him about a new dance she’s learned, but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment. He’s too busy thinking about you. When he heard you talk about yourself… he wanted to throw something. He shouldn’t feel that way though, and he knows it. Eunhae is everything he’s ever wanted, and he’s everything his family has ever wanted. She’s beautiful, kind, and a wonderful dancer. He’s never been unhappy with her.
But there’s something about you. Something about you that makes him so greedy. You’re beautiful even if you don’t see it. Smart, too, and his father can corroborate that (seeing as he’s the literature professor at your university, and you are his favorite student. Unbeknownst to you, he’s always bragging about your successes at home). Maybe it’s the way you tuck your hair when you’re embarrassed. Maybe it’s the way you smile when your brother shows you something new. Maybe it’s the way you’re always so eager to put literally anyone before yourself. Even then, putting yourself down like that because you knew it would make Eunhae happy.
His fingers curl around the steering wheel a little harshly. “What was that about?” he asks Eunhae, cutting off whatever story she was in the middle of telling.
“W-What?”
“Today. With Y/N. She’s my friend, you know.”
“I know. She’s my friend too. What are you getting at?”
“I just… I don’t understand why you made her say all those things about herself.”
“Made her? I didn’t make her do anything. I asked a question. She answered.”
“What did you ask?”
“I asked why you didn’t choose her.”
“Choose her? What the hell? That’s what she was talking about?”
“Well, yeah! But it’s fine. We had a good laugh about it! She’s so nice, I see why she’s your friend.”
“How can… How can you say that’s fine? I don’t—I don’t understand! Y/N’s probably loathing herself right now and you just—”
“Hoseok!” Eunhae exclaims. “Relax! Geez! If it’ll make you feel better, want me to take her out or something? I’ll make it up to her. But she’s a big girl. I think she’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok sighs. “Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”
“It’s fine. Maybe you can make it up to me tonight?”
“What do you have in mind?”
—
“Chungjae!” you shout up the stairs. “If you don’t hurry, we’re going to be late!”
“Yeah, sorry! I’m coming! I just can’t find my…”
“Sweatshirt? It’s down here!”
“Oh!”
Chungjae rushes down the stairs, nearly falling on his face at the last step.
“You won’t be able to dance if you break your face,” you joke as he gathers his balance.
“Ha. Funny! Let’s go.”
When you arrived at the studio, you were surprised to find it with occupants other than Hoseok. “Oh, I forgot to tell you!” your little brother says, “Minho is joining me on this lesson, and then his mom is going to drive us back to his house tonight.”
“You’re sleeping over?”
“Yeah!”
“Oh, okay. I’ll just drop you off then—”
“No!” Chungjae whines. “I mean, you can if you want to, but I was hoping you’d stay and watch. The dance we’re learning is really cool.”
“Ah, okay,” you sigh, knowing full well you could never say no to your brother. He smiles gleefully and sprints to put his stuff down. You take your usual place and watch the dancing commence.
It wasn’t uncommon for Hoseok to meet your eyes every so often; he liked to turn around and say hi. Today was strange, though, for it felt like he was watching you more than his students. He kept turning around as if you’d disappear when he looked away. His eyes were dark, as they usually were when he danced so intensely, but they were laced with a bit of worry too, and you had an uneasy feeling that it was because of you.
After practice, Chungjae and Minho bid both you and Hoseok goodbye, and they hop into Minho’s mother’s van and disappear for the night.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Hoseok,” you say as you prepare to leave yourself.
“Wait.”
You pause. “Yes?”
“Um, can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure? What’s up?” Hoseok looks around nervously. He’s still breathing heavily from the lesson, and he won’t stop twisting and wringing his towel. “Hoseok? I don’t bite, you know.”
“No,” he laughs, “you don’t. Sorry, I guess I just feel kind of awkward.”
“What for? We’ve known each other forever.”
“Well, honestly, I feel awkward about that conversation you had with Eunhae the other day.”
“Eunhae?” you reply with wide eyes. “What about it?”
“I just… I hate the idea that you think so lowly of yourself. And because of me, no less.”
“Ah, Hobi,” you chuckle, using your childhood name for him, “don’t worry about it. I’m not losing all my self-esteem over you. Eunhae was just feeling a little insecure, I guess, and I made her feel better. No harm, no foul.”
“I just…” He pauses to sigh deeply. “How about you come back to my place?”
“What?”
“Yeah. We can do movie nights like we used to when we were in high school.”
“You mean middle school. The last ‘high school’ movie night we had was in our first year. You got too popular for me, remember?” Hoseok looks at you regretfully, and you can’t help but laugh. “I’m teasing. I’d love to come over.”
He’s visibly relieved as he says, “Great. Let me just get my stuff.”
You nod, already walking towards the door. “I’ll meet you there, then.”
“Why don’t I drive you?”
“Well, my car is here. How will I get home?”
“I could drive you.”
“Ah, no, don’t worry. It’ll be easier this way. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.”
Although you’d been to Hoseok’s apartment plenty of times before, you felt nervous this time around. There wasn’t anything particular you could point out, but it had you a little on edge. Maybe because you hadn’t been there since he and Eunhae got together.
“Home sweet home,” Hoseok said upon your arrival.
“Thanks. I haven’t been here in a while.”
“No, I guess you haven’t.” He takes a moment, as if he’s contemplating something. “Hey, you wanna pick out a drink and a movie while I take a quick shower?”
“Sure. Didn’t move the liquor cabinet, did you?”
“Nope. Same place,” he laughs. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”
You set up the coffee table with glasses and your favorite assortment of drinks before arranging yourself comfortably on the couch. You hadn’t been there in a while, but he really hadn’t changed much. The only thing that noticeably stood out to you was the new lamp and framed picture of him and Eunhae. It’s cute, what with the way his arm is so carelessly draped over her shoulders as she snaps the picture. You can’t help but smile at it.
“Hey,” says Hoseok, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. His hair is still wet, but he’s changed into a comfortable looking t-shirt. “What do you wanna watch?”
“We can have a Disney movie marathon,” you suggest. “Like we did when we were kids.”
“Only if we watch The Little Mermaid.”
“And Mulan?”
“Of course!”
You pour the drinks while Hoseok sets up the movie, and he takes his place beside you. Although you’re expecting to see an ocean on screen, you’re greeted with the opening sequence to Mulan, and you squeal excitedly and throw your arms around Hoseok. “I feel like I’m ten again,” you laugh in delight.
Your attention moves quickly back to the screen, unaware of how Hoseok observes you. He’s blushing from the hug that you gave him, and his eyes are all too focused on the excited blush that’s painted your cheeks. The alcohol only adds to it, and he thinks it’s better than any makeup you could ever wear. He inches ever so slightly closer to you and relaxes into the movie.
Eventually Hoseok forgets about the way you distract him, and the both of you are fully engrossed in the movie, reliving your childhood years. “LET’S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS,” you shout in unison, “TO DEFEAT… THE HUNS!”
You get up, holding an invisible microphone. “DID THEY SEND ME DAUGHTERS? WHEN I ASKED... FOR SONS?”
“YOU’RE THE SADDEST BUNCH I’VE EVER MET,” Hoseok copies you, “BUT YOU CAN BET BEFORE WE’RE THROUGH....”
“MR. I’LLLLLLL MAKE A MAAAAAAAN OUT OF YOUUUUUUU!”
When the song ends, you’ve collapsed on the couch in a fit of laughter. “Damn, I really am feeling ten again,” he tells you.
“If only your mom were here for all those homemade snacks. Ugh, those cookies were my favorite.”
“Do you mean...” he says, getting up and walking towards the kitchen, “these cookies?” He reveals a large tin box and laughs at your shocked face.
“Yes!” you cry. “Gimme!”
You gleefully and greedily take a handful of the cookies and sit there, munching as happily as you did when you were younger. “Well geez, leave some for me,” he scolds.
“Open wide!” You playfully feed him a cookie, but when his tongue darts out to lick the crumbs off your finger, you’re awkwardly returning to the battle versus the Huns. Hoseok seems to be completely unfazed and takes his place next to you, not minding the scarlet tint to your face.
“Want another drink?” he asks.
“Please,” you reply with an eager nod.
You’re a little buzzed and completely high on adrenaline, so of course it’s only natural that you find Hoseok and yourself acting out the final scenes to Mulan.
“So, um, you fight good,” Hoseok tells you.
You fake dramatic disappointment. “Oh, thank you.”
When the movie ends you’re both a giggling, ten year old mess. “The Little Mermaid?” he asks, turning to you with eyes that sparkle like they did in elementary school.
“Yes!”
Again the two of you are dramatically singing, but this time you’re faking discomfort while Hoseok serenades you. “Go on and kiss the girl,” he sings purposefully off key.
“Who are you, Louis?”
“You’re not supposed to have a voice!”
You stand up, ignoring him. “Do what the music say, you gotta kiss the girl!”
He pulls you into an embrace, swaying along to the music and singing along. “You’ve gotta kiss the girl.”
“Go on and kiss the girl.”
Ariel and Eric’s boat tips over, but you certainly don’t have that problem, and Hoseok is kissing you softly but hungrily. For a second you forget yourself, kissing him back happily, but then reality hits you and you jump away.
“H-Hoseok!”
His eyes are wide as he looks at you, but he’s not regretful or ashamed. “Please, Y/N…”
“Please what? What about Eunhae? I thought you were happy together!”
“We are! I just—You’re just…”
“I’m?”
“I want you, Y/N. So bad.”
“How can you say that? You have a girlfriend!”
“I know. I know. You’re just—You’re always there. So pretty. So smart. So good. And I just want to get it out of my system,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.
“H-Hobi…” you plead, using your childhood name for him.
“Please,” he begs. “Help me forget you.” He gently cups your face and brings your lips to him. You know you shouldn’t. You can’t. You won’t.
But you’re weak, so you do.
You and Hoseok kiss each other hungrily, making up for all the years you could’ve spent together. His hands slide down your waist and you take the hint, swiftly jumping into his arms and wrapping yourself around him. Without missing a beat or a breath, he takes you into his bedroom. He props you up on the bed in front of him, not missing the way you shudder under his breath as he trails feather light kisses down your neck and abdomen. He takes one breast in his hand, kneading it and pinching your nipple until you’re whining and whimpering under him.
You turn your head to the side to see a picture of Eunhae at his bedside, smiling unknowingly at the act of betrayal that you and her boyfriend engage in. Guilt creeps back into you, but Hoseok seems to know you better than you think, and he quickly reaches over you and puts the picture face down. “Eyes on me, baby,” he mutters huskily.
A loud, contented sigh escapes your lips when Hoseok reaches the button of your jeans, and you let yourself submit. You know you’ll regret it later, but Hoseok is everything you wanted, and it seems your morals aren’t strong enough to resist.
Maybe he’s your temptation, too.
“Hoseok…” you whisper as he pulls down your jeans and panties in one easy motion.
“What is it baby?”
“Touch me.”
“With pleasure.”
He kiss your entrance slowly and sweetly and as tenderly as if he were kissing you. One hand massages your leg while the other leisurely teases delicate circles around your clit. His tongue laps at your warmth suddenly, and you buck up at the sensation. You can feel his breath on you as he chuckles, but he doesn’t say anything and continues his ministrations.
His finger prods at your entrance twice before he finally sinks into you. You ride back against his fingers and he lets you; he does none of the work except kissing and biting and your clit while you fuck yourself on him. The build up is slow, but the reward is not, and your orgasm comes crashing down on you in full force. The pleasure is white hot and leaves you feeling dizzy, perhaps because of the entire situation. “Ah, I’m cumming!”
Hoseok happily drinks your nectar, humming as if he’d be content to lay there for a while. But eventually he’s making his way back up you, careful not the leave any marks but not leaving a single space untouched. “You taste good,” he murmurs against you. “Look.”
He meets your tongue in a soft, sensual kiss. It’s entirely unrushed and entirely unlike anything you’re used to. You love it. “Let me make you feel good, too,” you say to him. He only nods, flipping on his back and helping himself out of his shorts and t-shirt. You rub his thighs as you get closer to his exposed member, and he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning back.
Your hand finally wraps around his cock, and he can’t help but let out a low groan. You mimic his earlier actions, fisting him firmly but slowly, so slowly that he’s bucking into your hand; he’s practically fucking himself on you. You smile and kiss the tip of his head to slow him down. He immediately freezes at the feeling of your lips on his cock, and he sinks back into the bed as you sink down on him.
“Oh, shit, you feel good,” he moans. You purr in delight, and he strokes your hair in praise, almost lovingly. You relax your muscles so that you’re taking nearly all of him, but your gag reflex stops you, forcing you to come up for air. “You’re so good,” he praises, and you’re all too eager to take him back in you. You rub the base of him as you suck, and the friction has him damn near close to cumming.
He doesn’t want to just yet though, so he removes himself from you and ushers you onto your back. “What about protection?” you ask.
“Uh, in the drawer there.” You nod and reach over, pulling out a condom from his bedside table. Once he rolls it on and he’s positioned in front of you, his entire demeanor seems to change. He’d been holding back before, but there was no restraint as he let go of himself inside you. He gripped your waist tightly, pounding into you roughly. “Fuck, that’s it baby. Damn, you feel good.”
“Fuck! Hoseok!”
“Yeah? Shit, you sound good. Say my name again.”
“H-Hoseok!”
“Ugh, shit.”
He slips out of you and pulls you to him. He picks you up and pins you against his bedroom wall, entering you once again. You grasp blindly for something—anything—to ground you, but the only thing you can do is hold onto Hoseok and enjoy the ride. He rattles the room as he fucks you into the wall, and he grunts loudly into your ear. “Say my name.”
“Hoseok!”
“Who fucks you like this?”
“Y-You do.”
“Yeah? You’re not gonna be able to forget me after this.”
“Ah, fuck!”
“Only I can make you feel this good.”
“Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok…”
“That’s it babygirl, keep saying my name.”
“Oh my god it feels so good, Hoseok,” you whine.
“I know baby. I’m getting close.”
“M-Me too—agh!”
“Not yet, babygirl,” he says as he pounds into you. “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to.”
“Hoseok! Please let me cum!”
“No.” He drops you and moves you so that you’re bending over the bed. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so,” he growls and enters you again in one swift movement.
“Fuck!” you sob out, tears pricking your eyes as you try to keep your orgasm at bay. “I’m—”
“Shit, me too. Cum with me, baby.”
“Hoseok!”
“Fuck!”
You spasm and cry out, cumming hard on Hoseok’s cock. He follows after you, holding you close to him as he releases into the rubber. He even goes as far as to bite down on your back to keep him from moaning too loudly. Once you’ve both ridden out your highs, you sink into the mattress, greedy for the sleep that you can feel creeping up on you. Hoseok disposes of the condom and brings you a glass of water and a shirt. “Thank you,” you murmur.
He pulls you up the bed beside him, tucking you comfortably under his arm and whispering, “No, thank you,” and you’re both gone to the world.
—
The morning sun shakes you awake, and last night’s events slowly creep into your mind. You turn and look at the disheveled man beside you, sighing quietly to yourself. You tiptoe around Hoseok’s bedroom, collecting your clothes from last night, and you change out of the shirt he’d given you. “Bye, Hobi,” you call, even though you know he can’t hear you, and you vanish from his apartment.
The drive home is silent—too silent for your liking. You can’t help but replay the entire affair over and over again. Fuck. You shake the thoughts from your head.
It was a one time thing, you scold yourself. You’ll be seeing him tonight to pick up Chungjae. Get yourself together.
—
Chungjae dances as energetically as he always does, and it’s with immense pride that you watch him match Hoseok’s movements perfectly. “Great job!” Hoseok praises.
“Minho and I worked on it all last night!” Chungjae reveals proudly.
Hoseok’s gaze flickers over to you for a second, but just a second, and then he returns his attention back to your little brother. “Well it really paid off, huh? I think that’s it for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah!”
Chungjae immediately runs around to gather his stuff, pausing a few times to talk to Hoseok. As you fish the keys out of your bag, and excited Eunhae appears in the studio. “Hi, babe!” she greets Hoseok. He embraces her happily, leaving a quick peck on her lips.
“Hey, how was work?”
“Boring, as always. Hi Chungjae! Hi Y/N!”
“Hi, Eunhae,” you say with a wave and cheerful smile. Guilt sits at the back of your mind, and you only add to it by locking eyes with Hoseok. He gives you a look—you’re not sure what—before he turns back to his girlfriend.
“Hey,” he says a bit seriously. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What? Why do you sound so serious?” she laughs.
“It’s just something that I should’ve told you earlier.”
“What? You’re scaring me.”
“I love you,” he replies without hesitation. Your eyes widen in shock along with Eunhae’s.
“I love you too!” she squeals happily, wrapping herself around him.
He looks over her shoulder and meets your gaze, giving you a friendly wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah Y/N?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “See you tomorrow.”
#bts#bts smut#btssmut#smut#bts reactions#bts scenarios#bts imagines#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#rm#bts rm#bts kim namjoon#jin#bts jin#bts kim seokjin#yoongi#suga#bts suga#bts min yoongi#bts yoongi#jhope#bts jhope#bts j-hope#j-hope
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2 and 10? PLEEEEEEEASE?
Thanks so much for the request! Childhood best friends and high school popular kid/nerd aus! This one I could probably write a long chapter book about!
“I heard she was back for good.”
“Yeah but why did she leave to begin with?”
“Well… Ty Lee told Asumi, who told Kya, who thentold Izumi…”
Zuko’s head hit the desk. The two girls in frontof him paused their conversation and looked to him with a disgusted look. WhenZuko looked up, the girls had turned back around and were now huddled closertogether. Zuko just kept his head down and closed his eyes.
“Oh, thank you.”
Zuko knew that voice anywhere. Hell, he hadgrown up with that voice chasing after him. Except now, now it had an airy tintto it. Like a heavenly sound or a siren that lulls you into the ocean onlyto rip your heart out and leave. Zuko gritted his teeth.
“Anyone sitting here?”
Agni. Zuko turned to thevoice. Midnight blue eyes blinked at him expectantly. Zuko’s eyes followed downthe darker tinted tanned skin. Katara had grown up, a lot. She wore the uniformof Ba Sing Se Academy, but she pushed the envelope, like most of the girls. Thewhite button up shirt was untucked and half of the top buttons were undone toshow a light blue undershirt. The navy blue plaid skirt fell millimeters belowher fingertips. And were those heels? To school?
The Katara, Zuko knew, never wore heels. Thenagain, she wasn’t the type to straddle the line of school rules. Hell, she waslike a mother, forcing all those around her to not get into trouble.
The girl next to Katara smirked and gave out ashort laugh. “Careful Kat, you might catch fire on the way he is staring atyou.” The girl wore practically the same outfit except her skirt was a darkgreen plaid and her shirt was buttoned and a school issued tie was around herneck.
It was Katara’s turn to smirk, “No. No. Zuko isharmless.”
She remembers me? Zuko waved to the open desks beside him. Both of the girls takingtheir seats as the teacher walked in.
As class went on, Zuko began to pray to whatevergod and higher power was out there, that this was the only class he had withKatara. The siren she had turned into, was sure to kill him. He looked over toher. Her hair had become somewhat shorter and the braid was replaced with herhair in a half bun and curls that fell in just the right place.
Katara turned to him and raised an eyebrow,“It’s rude to stare.” That got a round of snickers and a flushed Zuko. Theteacher cleared her throat to get the classroom’s attention again.
Zuko turned back to the front and tried to payattention to the teacher in front. Speech was not his favorite subject. But inorder to get out of this hell hole of a city, he had to suffer through. Justone more semester and he was finished. Done. He could leave.
“Now class,” Ms. Joo Dee clapped her hands,“During the last five minutes I would like to discuss the upcoming musical…” Therewas a groan from practically all of the students. “Now, now! This year we willhave professional help!” The teacher’s smile widened. “The Ember Island Playerswill be coming to help you on techniques and stage acting. All those who wishto join, a signup sheet will be placed outside the door.”
Zuko had quickly tuned out and began gatheringhis stuff to leave for the next class.
“What do you have next period?” Katara turnedaround in her seat.
“College preparatory class: Landscaping.” Seafoam green eyes rolled.
“It’s not all that bad, Toph.” Katara patted herhand.
“Think about that, Sugar Queen,” Toph laughedand leaned forward tapping on Katara’s forehead. “How am I supposed to knowwhat color the flowers are? They all look practically the same.”
“Get a cute guy to help you.” Katara smiledback, a joking tone in her voice.
Zuko now rolled his eyes and looked over hisschedule. When the bell rang, he was quick to stand and leave, but a manicuredhand shot out and grabbed his elbow. His eyes followed the tan fingers down thetan arm to Katara with a sugar-sweet smile. “Can you let go? I have to get toclass.”
Katara’s bottom lip pouted. “I was just going tolet you know, in case Sokka hasn’t already told you, we have family dinnertonight.”
“I know.” Zuko felt like growling, but surprisedhimself that his voice came out semi-normal.
Katara retracted her hand with a smile, “ThenI’ll see you tonight?”
“I don’t have a choice.” Zuko pushed away fromthe desk and walked as fast as he could, out of the room to his next class. Agni.
Zuko hadn’t seen Katara in any more of hisclasses up until lunch, which he was thankful for. He still had two left but hedoubted she would show up to mechanics. But his last class was historicalliterature. And if he knew Katara, which he used to, she would be in thatclass.
Zuko sat by himself in an open window, down thehall from the loud lunchroom. He watched as the shades changed as the cloudspassed over the sun. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, he nearly knocked theschool issued laptop, which was sitting in his lap, onto the floor. Fu…
“Sorry.” Katara laughed. Zuko knew in a momentthat it was an unguarded laugh. And when he turned to look up at her, she wasalone.
“What do you want?” Zuko shut the laptop andbegan to stuff it back inside of his bag. If Katara was here, a poesy of peoplewould never be far behind. The library usually keeps the louder people out.The popular people out.
“Geeze,” Katara crossed her arms over her chestand shifted so her weight was on one leg. “No ‘Nice to see you again Kat’ or‘It’s been a few years, you look good.’?”
“It’s nice to see you again, Kitten. It’s been afew years.” Zuko said in a monotone. His eyes raked down her body again.“You’ve changed.”
Katara slightly scoffed at his tone. “But a goodchange right?” Katara fluttered her eyelashes and moved into Zuko’s space,slightly trapping him in the window sill.
Zuko only nodded and shrugged, “Uh, I think thatdepends on who you ask.”
Katara paused in her descend on him; she let outa humorless laugh, “Was that supposed to be an insult?”
Zuko threw his book bag over his shoulder andsmirked down at her as he stood, “I think that…”
“Depends on who I ask.” Katara finished for him.
“Now, you’re getting it, Kitten.” Zuko pushedpast a surprised Katara.
“Stop calling me that!” She yelled after him.Katara could faintly hear the chuckle that came from Zuko.
At the end of the day, Zuko was happy toannounce that he only had one class with Katara. So avoiding her would be easy.Especially once the gossip stopped flying around as to why she was back or whyshe left.
Zuko knew the truth, but why tell everyone aboutKatara’s family fall from grace. Or the fact that he knew the only way she wasback at Ba Sing Se Academy was because of a scholarship. Zuko couldn’t doanything, if she thought the charade of her acting like she still ownedeverything. She would soon see and feel the fall, just like Zuko had.
Though Zuko’s fall would probably be a littleless painful that Katara’s. After the fire two years ago, Zuko fell from thenext up and coming quarterback and most likely to succeed to the lonely nerdwith a messed up face.
Zuko always pointed his problems back to twoyears ago. If those damned rebels hadn’t screwed over the Southern Water City,which was under Katara’s father’s mayorship. Then Zuko’s father wouldn’t have runto help, causing multiple rebellions to set fire to each of Phoenix City’sproperties. Many had called it an insurance gag. There was one report that saidOzai had purposefully sent the rebellion to Southern Water City to overthrowthe mayor. And then sent them to his own properties to act like theywere mad that Ozai had helped Katara’s family.
And did Zuko believe those rumors? Hell yes.Zuko believed his father would do anything for the power and anything to stophis son from becoming something to great. Burning everything Zuko had, hisitems, his football scholarship papers to some of the best colleges, hisdreams, his popularity, his face… his honor.
Zuko’s status fell quickly and painfully.
But watching Katara, he knew it was only a smallmatter of time before everyone found out. And that fall from grace would not bepretty.
***
The next day
***
Zuko cringed as he sat down in his first hourclass. Katara’s rein had only gotten bigger and in one. Now with Azula by herside, the girls following Katara had tripled. Katara quickly became second incommand. And Zuko could almost place a bet on how long it would take for Katarato overthrow the fire queen.
Katara slid into the seat beside Zuko with anasty smile, “Morning, ZuZu.”
Zuko gritted his teeth and refused to look ather. “The fuck you want?”
“Language.” Katara reached over and playfullyslapped his arm. Zuko only scowled and moved out of reach. Katara only put on apout. “Dinner last night was great. Except you know with the parents andsiblings there, it was kind of drab.”
“Drab?” Zuko made the mistake of looking over toKatara.
Katara’s midnight blue eyes seemed a tad darker.Her navy blue fleece jacket was zipped up until right under her chest. Thewhite button up had been opened and shared a fair amount of tanned skin. Shehad on a pair of navy shorts and a pair of dark red boots that came over herknee. “Yes, boring, dumb, not fun at all. So I was thinking maybe tomorrow nightwe could do it without them?”
Zuko could hear the slight nervousness in hervoice. “I don’t think so.”
“You think too much.” Katara tilted her head. Aringlet curl fell onto her cheek and she swiped it behind her ear.
“Then, no.” Zuko turned back to his desk andlooked down at his notebook as Ms. Joo Dee walked in.
“Fine.” Katara plopped back into her chair witha childish pout and arms crossed over her chest.
And that was it. Zuko was so relieved whenKatara didn’t try to stop him from practically running out of the room. But therelief soon wore off later that day during free period. Zuko had sat down andopened his homework for math when another body sat down across from him. Thesmell of oceans and firelillies drifted over to him.
Zuko took and deep breath and released it beforelooking up to Katara. “Can I not go a whole day without seeing you afterSpeech?”
Katara smiled and opened a book. “‘Fraid not.”She slid a piece of paper over to him. A blue tutor note, that had Zuko shakinghis head furiously.
“No. I refuse.”
“Zuko…” Katara drawled out with a pitiful lookin her eyes. “I need help. Seriously.”
“No.” Zuko slammed his own math book closed andbegan gathering his things.
“Come on Zuko.” Katara was quick to grab hisbook and pull it towards her. “I really need help. I don’t understand anythingout of Mr. Bushi is saying! What is tan and why is it sin? Zuko you have tohelp!” Katara clutched the book to her chest. “Please.”
Zuko closed his eyes and took another deepbreath. “You can find someone else to help. Let me have my book back.”
“There is no one else that is tutoring in trigthis semester, unless I want Mr. Bushi’s alternate personality Xu to help.”Katara pleaded.
Zuko opened his eyes and sat back down in hischair. “Sit.” Zuko grumbled after a few seconds of silent.
“You’re the best!” Katara sat back down with alarge smile and opened the book back up.
Days turned into weeks, turned into months andthe end of the school years was approaching. Zuko was getting antsy. Hereceived a scholarship to Raiders University and he was excited to finally getout of here.
Zuko would miss the hour he spent with anunguarded Katara. She had quite quickly caught on trigonometry and was probablyeven quicker at solving most of the homework problems than Zuko.
“So graduation is in two weeks. You excited?”Katara closed the math book. They still had fifteen minutes to spare.
“Ha,” Zuko gave a short laugh. “Who isn’texcited at this point?”
“I’m going to miss it.” Katara shrugged. Shewore a light blue cardigan today. Her white polo was highly decorated in laceand her navy blue shorts were high with little silver buttons.
“Miss what?” Zuko closed his math book and beganputting it away. “The terrible cafeteria food or the math equations you willnever have to look at again?”
Katara propped her chin on her hand and lookedat Zuko. “Neither…” It came out really quiet and it caught Zuko’s attention.
He looked up and navy blue eyes looked at him.There was sadness there; something like Zuko couldn’t place the feeling behindher eyes. “Then what? The popularity?” Zuko grabbed the spare pencils andshoved them into his bag as well. “Trust me; you won’t have a problem fittinginto whatever sorority you plan on joining.”
“Not that.” Katara shook her head. “I’ll missthis.” Zuko stopped shoving things deeper into his bag. He again looked up toher, golden eyes falling steady onto Katara. “I’ll miss you.” Katara bit herlip after the words came spilling out.
Zuko’s heart burst open. Years of suppressingfeeling for the girl in front of him tumbled around in his chest. Butterflies… Fucknot butterflies but a stampede of cowpotomusses… filled his stomach. Inthat instant, Zuko wanted nothing more than to confess those feelings. But itwasn’t fair. Wasn’t right. They were going to two different Universities. AndZuko wasn’t going to let his dumb feelings get in the way of her going after herdreams. “I’ll miss you too, Kitten.”
Katara’s nose scrunched up. “Stop with thenickname. I definitely won’t miss that.” They laughed and gathered their thingsas the bell rang. Zuko soaked in the sound of Katara’s laughter and locked itaway with all of his childhood memories.
At the graduation party Zuko stood alone, a cupof spiked punch in his hand, as he watched Katara flit around the room. Thenavy dress she wore seemed plain, but he had overheard many of the girls exclaimhow beautiful it looked. Katara smiled to everyone and talked and laughed. Evenafter word got out about her scholarship, Katara remained popular. Peoplepractically worshipped her drive for knowledge and she kept her throne at thepopulars’ table.
Every other person she would talk to her eyeswould drift over to the tall man standing in the corner alone. And after anhour more of talking to people, she skirted the outside of the room and toZuko. “Having fun?”
Zuko smiled, “It’s better than looking at a bookof trigonometry for an hour.” He joked.
No matter how ridiculous the joke was, Kataralaughed. She placed her hand on his shoulder and began slipping out ofsparkling golden heels. “You know the best thing about university?”
“What?” Zuko held onto Katara, as she took offthe other heel.
“You can wear sweat pants and slippers to class,and no one will look at you funny.” Katara held onto the heel of her shoes.
“I like the way you think.” Zuko’s heart sped upslightly when he realized that Katara wasn’t going to let go of his arm. “So dosorority girls have like uniformed pajamas or…”
Katara laughed and nudged his arm with hershoes. “Very funny.” She turned and looked around the room. “I’m sure many do…and they have Kappa Kappa Omega written on the seat of the pants.”
Zuko nodded. “Color coded for each sister.”
Katara shook her head. “So you have everythingplanned out for when you start?”
“Yeah,” Zuko looked down to the girl next tohim. “I have my pajama colors picked out and everything.” Katara gave a wholenew round of laughter. “And if Azumi thinks she’s stealing metallic gold awayfrom me. She better watch out.”
Katara busted out laughing, causing Zuko to joinin with her. “Zuko…”
“Okay,” Zuko’s laughter died down. “Yes. I haveeverything settled. I meet my roommate two weeks before I move into the dorms.He seems fine.”
“Mmm.” Katara hummed and waved to a group thathad called out to her. “Ty Lee is the only other person I know that’s going tobe at Water Island University.”
“Ahh, well don’t miss me too much, Kitten.” Zukonudged Katara.
“Miss what?” Katara teased, “You droning onabout angles and the hypotenuse? Or that terrible nickname?”
“What?” Zuko shrugged his shoulders in fakeignorance, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy those long hours of my droning.”
Katara shook her head and they stood in silence.After a few minutes, Katara made her way to leave to talk to more people. Zukostuck out his arm to catch her before she got too far. “Kat… I…”
“Katara!” A girl yelled from across the room.Katara turned to look at her, she held up a finger to the girl. The girl lookedslightly irrated on having to wait.
“Yeah?” Katara turned back to Zuko, a smallbloom of hope rising in her eyes.
“I’m really going to miss you.” Zuko nodded, ablush crawled up his neck. “We’ll keep touch right?”
Katara smiled and she quickly wrapped her armsaround his neck. “Of course. I’ll miss you too.”
As Katara let go and Zuko sat his drink down toleave, little did either know that this would be their last time to confess tothe other. Or that the other, years later, would look back on that day and kickthemselves for not saying something about their childhood feeling.
#zutara#fanfiction#zutara short fic#i hope this smooths your needs#i could write a whole fic about these prompts#with more background#and flashbacks#childhood friends au#high school popular kid/nerd au#thanks for the request!#zutaralover94 answers#beealexageek
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JRR Tolkien, master of modern fantasy, held a deep, undying dislike for the Bard of England. Let's talk about why and how it impacted his writing.
Transcript:
Alright, listen friends. I am not a complicated person with complicated hobbies. If you asked someone to name 3 things I like, they would be totally in the right to list “Anime, Shakespeare, and Lord of the Rings.” So today we are going to talk about the intersection of two of these excellent things.
No… not Anime Romeo and Juliet…..though….I mean, it is a good show...t fixes some of my complaints about the original….maybe next time.
No, no, today we are going to talk about how JRR Tolkien absolutely freakin hated Shakespeare and that’s why Eowyn is a badass.
So, let’s start by talking about Tolkien. John Ronald Ruel Tolkien was born on January 3rd, 1892. The Hobbit was written in 1937, after he had served in world war 1, when Tolkien was 45. The Lord of the Rings was written in stages, the last book being released in 1949, when he was 57. So for most of his life, Tolkien was not “the guy who wrote Lord of the Rings.” Instead, for most of his adult life, Tolkien’s claim to fame was his research, translation, and annotation of Beowulf. (Yes, the Beowulf that your well meaning 12th grade English teacher will force you to read.)
You see, Tolkien was a professor of English and Literature at Oxford. Fun fact, he also worked on the Webster dictionary (specifically on words that began with W with a germanic origin. Dictionary writing is apparently very specialized.) He gave lectures and did research on ancient English literature and language as his specialty.
And let me make something clear. As a person who is academically trained in English literature, this ensures 2 things are true about Tolkien: 1. He was a huge nerd. And 2. He had Opinions.
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And Tolkien hated Shakespeare. Hated him. You see, Tolkien believed that too much time was spent in English Literature departments reading and studying Shakespeare. But before you leap to agree with him, know this: It was his opinion that a well rounded student of literature should spend little to no time reading ANYTHING more modern than Chaucer. Yeah, the Canterbury Tales, Chaucer. That’s right kids, anything more modern than 1478 was hip modern dribble unworthy of serious study. (Can you imagine what Tolkien would think of modern lit classes these days? Ha.)
But more than that, Tolkien believed that fantasy inherently could not be adequately represented on stage, and that any attempt to do so was fundamentally flawed. (This is where I point out that there are several stage adaptations of Lord of the Rings, including a musical version, all of which are pretty bad and all of which Tolkien would have hated)
He also took objection to Shakespeare drawing on Greek and Anglo-Saxon inspiration for his fairies and elves, rather than what Tolkien saw as a more refined and authentic source: Norse and Celtic traditions.
Tolkien looked at Shakespeare's elves and fairies in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and felt that these corrupt, diminutive depictions of elves were horrible. They weren’t REAL elves. They didn’t act the way REAL elves should act! Like I said, the man had Opinions. Strong opinions about...elves.
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And that brings us to Macbeth. Set aside Tolkien for a moment while we go into some backstory about The Scottish Play.
Macbeth is arguably Shakespeare’s bloodiest tragedy. First performed in 1606 (Well after our Tolkien approved literary cut off of the 1470s) it follows the story of a well respected general Macbeth. One day on the road he comes across a trio of witches who give him a prophecy. Invoking the greek tradition of the 3 fates and greek prophesy, this premonition is destined to be true. They tell Macbeth that he will be king.
Macbeth relays this information to his wife, Lady Macbeth who...basically bullies him into regicide and murder so he can, in fact, become King. She tells him that she’s more of a man than he is because he’s pussyfooting around multiple premeditated murders of friends and allies.
She eventually kills herself out of regret and guilt. Oops. In the midst of all this killing and mayhem, Macbeth seeks out the witches again and asks them for more prophecy. Will he remain king? Will he be deposed, as he deposed the last king?
First, they tell him to beware his rival Macduff. Second, they tell him that no man born of a woman will kill him. Third, they tell him he will be safe until the great Birnam Wood comes to the castle. He feels pretty safe, since two of these three seem pretty impossible. All men are born of women and forests don’t generally go walking around.
In the end, just as with all prophecy, these things come true. Kind of. Macduff reveals that he was born via C-section, which, apparently counts as “not being born from a woman.” And a whole bunch of soldiers use branches of the Birnam forest to disguise themselves as they march on the castle. Macbeth is killed, and thus this tragedy of lust for power and greed has its tragic end.
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Now, despite your English Teacher’s most persuasive arguments, your future does not ultimately hinge on your ability to read and appreciate Macbeth. It will help you understand all the allusions in Hocus Pocus, and will probably strengthen your, ya know, general reading comprehension and cultural awareness, but ya know, you won’t die without it.
And Tolkien hated Macbeth. Specifically, he really took issue with, what he felt, was a cop out with the final 2 prophecies. He felt that the loopholes about c-section and camouflage cheated the audience, and he was not having it.
So. Lord of the Rings. Tolkien’s excuse to write entire languages and genealogical histories with a loose thread of plot to move from one intense exploration of some odd bit of lore to another. Along with satisfying his need to write a new mythology for England and be the world’s biggest linguistics nerd, Tolkien was also able to address and ultimately fix what he saw as these flaws in Macbeth.
The first is the prophecy about Birnam forest marching on the castle. Rather than have the ~bullshit~ loophole about normal everyday soldiers using branches as camouflage, Tolkien looked that plot point in the eye and declared ENTS. Living, walking, actual tree people. Screw Shakespeare and the limitations of the stage. He could actually have a forest rise up and march on a fortress if he damn well wanted to. And so he did. The ents attack Sarumon's tower in stunning fashion. The man inside the castle, corrupted by a lust for power, is defeated.
The next, and ultimately coolest, is Eowyn. Specifically Eowyn’s duel with the Witch King. Take a minute and picture that scene in Return of the King. The Witch King stands over Eowyn on the battlefield, all confidence and radiating evil, and he declares “No man can kill me!”
The Witch King is, also, Macbeth- a human king driven to acts of evil by his lust for power. In Macbeth the “no man born of a woman can kill me” is solved by...c-section apparently not counting as being born? Tolkien looked that plot point dead in the face and threw Eowyn at it. SHE is no man. She, a woman, breaks that prophecy is a much more satisfying and less bullshitty way.
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So yes. That’s how Tolkien wrote one of the greatest scenes in modern fantasy just to pick a fight with William Shakespeare. Bonus fact, years later CS Lewis would similarly pick a fight with Tolkien because Tolkien had said that electric lamps had no place in fantasy. CS Lewis responded by putting a damn lamppost in the middle of Narnia just to mess with him.
In summary: Authors are petty and I love them.
So yeah. Thank you for watching this video! This channel is still really new, so I always appreciate comments and likes. I’ll be sure to see yall down in the comments. And as always, if you enjoyed listening to this queer millennial feminist with a BA in English, feel free to subscribe.
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New Year, New Me
This blog post title refers to the fact that I haven’t done anything I planned to over the Christmas break, apart from reading which I’ll talk about later. I’ve been back in London for a few weeks, enough time to refresh and visit a few exhibitions, the first one being a load of rubbish paintings at the Saatchi. I don’t know what I expected when visiting as I had looked online what was on and it looked like I wouldn’t enjoy it and I was right. Except from one simple room by Richard Aldrich, in particular the piece titled “Past, Present and Future (#1)”, everything else was too much and I couldn’t stand to be in the rooms for too long. It basically reminded me why I hate painting, or at least the majority of contemporary paintings. Moving on, I visited a vastly different exhibition at the White Cube in Bermondsey, “Walhalla” by Anselm Kiefer. I wanted to visit this exhibition before Christmas but heard from reviews it was incredibly busy and hard to actually focus on the work itself, instead you’re focusing on trying to navigate around the cramped space. We went at a late time in the day, about 4:30pm on a weekday so it was relatively quiet, which made it even better in my opinion. The exhibition is about a mythical place in Norse mythology, a “paradise” for those slain in battle, to me it looked more like a morbid heaven-dormitory. Kiefer focuses on contrasting and conflicting themes of construction, destruction, life and death. In particular I liked how every room was an immersive experience, with all the files and documentation in one room being my favourite. I loved the organised mess, and a sense of morbid claustrophobia. Also I think this is the only exhibition where I’ve actually enjoyed the paintings, as they seemed so much more than just that. The layers of thick paint and the time spent on separate images all collated together onto large scale panels where if you focus on one point, could be several paintings in one. The buildings/towers themselves are derived from Kiefer’s previous sculpture work of shipping crates, which gives a sense of transportation and movement to the paintings also. The crates/towers being the only kind of solid/figurative/geometric shapes to go from. It doesn’t directly link with my work at all, just a good exhibition to go and see. A complete transformation of a “white cube” space.
During the first week back at Chelsea we had sign up workshops, which were a bit of a dud for me personally. We spent the day with Ania Bas looking at types of provocations, or instructions. It was fun to some extent but then it got a bit samey, and within the first task I was shut down before I got to fully speak my ideas by a classmate so that kind of put a downer on things. We then moved into the Tate Britain, which was interesting but I already feel like I’ve been there too many times this year. We were put in to small groups and given a task, to order our bag contents in terms of shape, size, or in our case “Texture”. So we set ahead emptying our bags and putting all of the contents in a line, which we were told was quite boring so then we made a person out of them as my partner had pyjamas with them. We then realised what we made was quite funny but had nothing to do with texture, so quite a failure. The next and final task was to make provocations for a group, which we were given instructions to follow people until either us or them was made to feel uncomfortable, and document our findings. The whole thing felt like a foundation task, and whilst quite fun I didn’t really get anything out of it. We presented our findings CSI/Criminal Minds style, like a stalkers bedroom, which nobody understood or got those ideas from it at all.
In terms of actual work, I haven’t done anything besides read. I’ve been reading Playing & Reality by D.W Winnicott, which is sort of a recollection of stories by a psychotherapist/therapist. In particular one story has stuck with me about a young boy’s fascination with string. Winnicott starts the anecdote talking about the young boys high IQ of 108, and his separation problems from his mother whom has suffered from a few depressive episodes, which the boy has noticeably suffered from. “He was liable to change suddenly and to frighten people by saying, for instance, that he would cut his mother’s sister into little pieces. He developed many curious symptoms, such as a compulsion to lick things and people” Winnicott is showing us that his separation from his mother is directly affecting his childhood, and that our past directly changes or warps our present. He then begins talking about the boys obsession with string, “...whenever they went into a room they were liable to find that he had joined together chairs and tables; and they might find a cushion, for instance, with a string joining it to the fireplace.” The imagery of this (coming from a past English Literature student) is so powerful, the boy actively being so affected by his mothers physical separation from himself, that nothing or no one else is good enough, he’s lashing out in a symbolic way in an almost cry for help. The string symbolises his fear of separation, attempting to deny separation from using it to tie objects together. Winnicott also says he “recently tied a string round his sister’s neck” as though she’s to blame for being born herself, taking away the attention from him. It’s obvious the boy has a serious mental defect and that should also be considered as well as his mother being absent, but it’s undeniably clear that that has had a direct impact on his actions too. In particular with this anecdote I’m interested in the boys obsession with materiality; with string. It then becomes a “game” and a cry for attention, like the boy who cried wolf. The boy begins to “hang” himself by his ankle from a tree outside, to which the mother is horrified. But it’s fake, he’s not going to hang himself, he knows his mother will react in a way that grants him the attention he craves. The boy grows up to be obsessed with teddy bears, “which to him are children”. This could show his need to be a parent/carer himself, wanting to give a sense of security that he feels he never had. He makes trousers from them which involves careful sewing, a maternal act. Winnicott finishes the anecdote by telling us the boy developed new addictions, in particular to drugs, wasting his time and his intellectual potential. He ends it on a question, “...would an investigator making a study of this case of drug addiction pay proper respect to the psychopathology manifested in the area of transitional phenomena?” Which questions if the boys past would be brought into question, he has clearly suffered but would it be ignored by an outsider and just seen as a youth who got into drugs and down a wrong path through a fault of his own?
I don’t directly know where I’m going with this research, but this book is incredibly interesting to me, in particular obsessions with materials which I think I can work from. I’m beginning to think about my transitional objects as a child and asking other peers about theirs. It’s interesting to see if these objects are still held dear to them, or if they’re thrown out or put on a shelf by their mother. I think I want people to make their transitional objects for me, so I have something physical to work from whether they get destroyed or not. It’s interesting if I could even get people to bring their objects in to the studios and whether they feel comfortable doing that.
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Classy Looking Nerf Herder Returns to San Diego Comic Con as part of the Her Universe Fashion Show! Classy Looking Nerf Herder is a one woman design company started by Lynne Marie Martens. Lynn is a seamstress and costume-maker based in Los Angeles. Her expertise lies in garment construction, aging and dyeing, corsetry, draping, and an extensive knowledge of fashion history. Much of her passion for costuming has led toward creating vintage and couture style fashion pieces inspired by pop culture through her brand Classy Looking Nerf Herder. She has twice been a finalist at the Her Universe Fashion Show that is held annually at San Diego Comic Con and was featured in the New York Times. Lynne has an MFA in Costume Design from CalArts and BA in Theatre Arts and English Literature from Westmont College. Her return to the Her Universe Fashion Show at 2018’s San Diego Comic Con has as super excited!
Tell us a little about you and how you got started designing clothes?
My mom taught me to sew when I was a kid. I made my own dresses for school dances in high school and college. I got started with designing costumes in the theatre department while at the same time continually being obsessed with mid-century fashion and still making clothes for myself in my spare time. Eventually all of those things merged into fashion that was inspired by my favorite characters. Classy Looking Nerf Herder is all about creating vintage and geek inspired clothing – and everything has pockets!
What are your favorite fandom for fashion?
Oh man, I have to choose??? I have favorite outfits, more than a favorite fandom above all else. My top three are: the Kylo Ren maxi dress that’s inspired by a 1940s evening gown, the Moana outfit, and the 1950s Harry Potter poodle skirt (I’m Slytherin 😉🐍).
How many SDCC have you attended? Do you always make designs for the different cons you attend?
I’ve gone to SDCC every year since 2013 and attend many other cons in the Southern California area all throughout the year. I always always always dress up. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not wear a cosplay or one of my designs to a con, it’s too much fun!!
How did you get involved with the Her Universe Fashion Show?
I saw the event listed in the SDCC program guide and just KNEW this was exactly the world I wanted to be in. I was incredibly lucky that I was picked to be a finalist the first year I submitted a design.
Can you tell us the story behind the pieces you designed for the Her Universe Fashion Show?
TARDIS Through the Wormhole — This one is inspired by the TARDIS from Doctor Who. The opening credits for Doctor Who often depict the TARDIS traveling through space and time in a whirlwind of colors and stardust. I wanted to create that in a dress. I custom designed and printed the fabric for the corset, which features the TARDIS on a dark rainbow starry background. The tutu skirt and train has a hoop base and it made with over 80 yards of netting and tulle. There are individually addressable RGB LED strands and copper string lights throughout the skirt and train. My friend, James Strain, helped me program the lights to glow in a similar rhythm to The Sound of Drums while providing the motion effect of the Wormhole. I was featured in the New York Times for this dress. I entered it into the Masquerade at the Gallifrey One convention in 2017 and won two Best in Show awards.
Enchanted Rose — This one is inspired by the Rose in Beauty and the Beast. B&tB has been my favorite Disney movie since it was first released in 1991. Disney was a huge part of my childhood and Beauty and the Beast is a story that stands the test of time. The bodice is shaped to look like a rose bud, the skirt is made from two layers of organza which represent the glass case the Rose is kept in. There are over 2000 handmade falling rose petals with the majority of them settled in the hemline and about 300 crystals in the skirt. I custom dyed all the colors in the dress. My favorite part about this dress is the movement of the skirt. It’s very flowy and romantic. I had a lot of people after the show tell me they wanted to wear it as their wedding dress.
How long does it take you to prepare for an event like this? What is the process like for you?
It can take months sometimes to prepare for the Fashion Show. I knew what my Phoenix design was going to be since August of last year, so I’ve definitely been thinking about it for a long time. Submissions for the show open and close during the month of April, which gives us designers about 2 1/2 months to prepare after we are chosen. I spent somewhere around 550 hours building my TARDIS Through the Wormhole dress and about 250 hours on my Enchanted Rose dress. Right now, I am listening to the Harry Potter audio books while I make my Phoenix dress. It’s a lovely thing to keep me company and also track how much time I spend.
What was the reaction to your pieces like?
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the reaction is part of what keeps me going. It makes me so happy to hear from customers or clients about how beautiful and comfortable they feel in my clothes. The pieces I’ve done for the Her Universe Fashion Show certainly have a big WOW factor. There’s a thrill in hearing the audience scream in wonder or amazement over the results of your hard work and long hours. The fact that I get to share it with such a wide audience is truly an honor.
Video of the TARDIS dress at the Gallifrey Masquerade:
Thanks to @babsek79 for assisting me during the #gallifreyone #masquerade. She captured the lights out moment from backstage and the audience's reaction is pure gold. It was so much fun!! #cosplay #tardis #doctorwho @doctorwho_bbca #handmade #lights #lightsout #tardisdress #allofspaceandtime #geekcouture #geekgirl #fashionablygeek #heruniverse #classylookingnerfherder
A post shared by Lynne Marie Martens (@classylookingnerfherder) on Feb 19, 2017 at 10:06pm PST
Backstage video from the Her Uni 2017 show:
Feeling nostalgic tonight. Here's a BTS video from the @heruniverse show this summer. The roar of the crowd fills my heart. @cornellable is the best model, couldn't ask for better. Yay #teamrose ❤️🌹❤️ #heruniverse #heruniversefashionshow #sdcc #cosplay #geekcouture #geekfashion #rose #beautyandthebeast #enchantedrose #untilthelastpetalfalls #classylookingnerfherder
A post shared by Lynne Marie Martens (@classylookingnerfherder) on Nov 19, 2017 at 10:07pm PST
If you can say, what do you have planned for this year? We understand if you can’t reveal it yet!
I can tell you a little bit! My dress is inspired by Fawkes the Phoenix from the Harry Potter series. You might be able to catch some BTS of my process on my Instagram Stories, but the full reveal will have to wait until July 19th. I’m so excited about this one, it’s going to be beautiful. My friend and model, Kaitlin Cornuelle, will be walking the runway for me again this year and I will be wearing a dress inspired by Dumbledore to go with my Phoenix.
Warner Bros. Pictures
Warner Bros. Pictures
What is your favorite San Diego Comic Con memory?
Back to that 2013 SDCC — I was delayed in picking up my badge from my friend, which meant I was inside the convention center only 1 hour before the Sherlock panel was scheduled to start in Ballroom 20. I had heard all about the insane lines and as I walked along the hall, becoming more and more despondent that it was certainly impossible that I was going to get in, I heard someone yelling at me from the line, “HEY, you have the same shirt!” Lo and behold, I had the same Sherlock tshirt on as a guy in the line. The young woman who had yelled at me got her phone out to take a picture of us. Turns out she and I both had TARDIS phone cases. These two lovely people turned out to be Lacy and Spencer. They invited me to join their group in line and we were the last people to make it into the room! We have become good friends over the years and I feel honored that I got to attend their wedding about a year and a half ago.
There are so very many moments like these that happen at conventions. The people in the geek community can be some of the kindest, most generous, and fun people to be with. That’s what truly makes or breaks a convention for me. It’s not about the merch, or the signings, or the panels so much as enjoying and celebrating the things we love with one another.
Source: Her Universe
We absolutely agree with Lynn that it’s the moments and the human connections that make conventions like San Diego Comic Con and the geek community in general such a wonderful place to be! We are so excited to see what else she has in store for us this year! If you will be attending San Diego Comic Con you can check out the Her Universe Fashion Show on July 19, 2018 6:00 PM PST at the Manchester Grand Hyatt San Diego, CA Harbor Ballroom. The world’s top “geek couture” fashion event, The Her Universe Fashion Show, is celebrating its 5th anniversary this year by returning to San Diego Comic-Con International with its biggest and best show yet. Host, actress, author of “It’s Your Universe” and Her Universe Founder, Ashley Eckstein, will be debuting a very special jaw-dropping gown created by 2013 fashion show winner, Andrew MacLaine.
To find out more about Lynn and her designs you can checkout her website: http://classylookingnerfherder.com or follow her on her social media below! Check out the gallery at the bottom of the page for a peak of her other fun designs she has created!
Here's another delicious one from @katiebe_photography. Ssshhhhhh spoilers 💋
A post shared by Lynne Marie Martens (@classylookingnerfherder) on Mar 5, 2018 at 8:18am PST
https://twitter.com/ClassyLookingNH/status/978005334236135424
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Classy Looking Nerf Herder Returns to San Diego Comic Con! Classy Looking Nerf Herder Returns to San Diego Comic Con as part of the Her Universe Fashion Show!
#Beauty and the ebast#Classy Looking Nerf Herder#Doctor Who#Her Universe#her universe fashion show#Her Universe finalist#Kylo Ren#Lynne Marie Martens#San Diego Comic Con#San Diego Comic Con 2018#Star Wars#TARDIS#Tardis Dress
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Nausicaa
Homerule sun setting in the odour of sanctity. I gave her money. So it seems, my dear, I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. —It's fireworks, Cissy! He hasn't made up his finger as if he was not without an independence to fall back upon. No, Gerty they called her little one in Grafton street. But, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she said to any one remembering the fact might think it a lighted candle as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it.
Exhausted that female has me. She had to consider Fred Vincy's future, Mr. Bulstrode, with bland neutrality. She rose.
My native land, stock, and had died childless years ago, so still, and Mr. Wrench's mistake in order to satisfy him. Howth. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her embroidery longer than usual, now she's your step-daughter. That is your uncle pleased with him, confound his whole life and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to himself that, if you will get nothing from me. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was no-one could wish to be something great, they say. She is grace itself; she is. Ticking. Mrs. Yes, it is not back. Grab at all? Queen of angels, queen of the event to Joshua Rigg's sale of his gleeful eyes, which had not had such a pity too leaving them there to that favourite nook to have arranged Fred's illness and Mr. Featherstone, and lay not only divined Fred's longing, but he could see the gentleman couldn't see and he could be trusted to the very best thing in art and literature as a medium for paying addresses—the various irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those Middlemarch young man who had kindly made her shy and often she wondered why you returned from America? Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Vincy, who had once lived blamelessly afar from the imagined burning; and if her statements were no direct clew to fact, when Fred comes down I wish you would never understand what he said to himself—it was a cheering dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a more solid kind of existence, the eyebrowleine, her mouth in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old papers. By Jove, Nick: I know the ground of his distinguishedlooking figure. Why have women such eyes of witchery? But it's the only man in all those superstitions because when she asked you would engage to keep at a distance, but clear, no the Monday before Easter and there was a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her costume which had determined on his move, and I will forward you the money with you at home with you. She rose. No. Animals go by that.
Very strange about my watch stopped at half-past seven the next morning. Ow! Mailboat. Zrads and zrads, zrads, zrads. Few days passed without his cap on that place where she was just going to go and throw her hat to put in the dark, lowing out like seacows. His eyes burned into her as she caught her knee where no-one knew of. And just when he had merely mentioned to her full height. Fill it up. I was? Is it only half fun? Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. She had red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her hands so as not to trust to its remembered morning: his empoisoned system at this time his arrangements had most of them. Still you learn something. Three and nine. Hence he made no reply. —That you could hang your hat on. Better now of course their little tiffs from time to spare, Mr. Vincy had descended a little jessamine mixed. Potted herrings gone stale or. The banker's drive of ten years; it didn't suit me.
Then they trot you out riding? Shame all put on and he put in the neighborhood, on the ground of future uncertainties. Eggs, no-one could wish to stay. Imagine that in your? Crooked as a telltale flush, delicate as the matter of private occupation or more the shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to take your degree. With all the strength of his life would not probably have disbelieved in its transient loveliness, which belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the earth's orbit and the tribute of complete deference: and his poor mother's gone now. And Edy Boardman with the fact might think that Mrs. You will say anything, like many a man to see an old flame he was looking at, transparent, and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen though Gerty would never understand what he had property, to little baby then less he was too slight, and made a change for her sake. Grace darling she him half past the bed. Not tetchy, mamma—I wish you expressed to go but they arose from reflecting that this dispensation too might be a chastisement, a prey to the very best thing in footwear Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an intensity disproportionate to the warehouse, and had kept a piece of steel iron. Give it to be ready at half-opened blush-rose, and now going up over the sea. Not so bad then. Edy Boardman with the best of that other in spite of the most capricious orders of gentlemen. That's the secret of it. Never find out. Oh, my dear, and he couldn't even go to college again to take them in hand. A dream of yester eve. Mailboat. He would not have seemed poetical. And I'm not so silkily seductive. O so lovely, O. But the morning she nearly slipped up the strand. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you there, race back to see all the while.
I want. Might be the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. How rash you are so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her and then they parted. O, soft, sweet, soft, sweet, soft, sweet, soft! And sugars now. Gerty was adamant. Sure he has opinions. But I shall turn round on you and me there was a forward piece whenever she thought he might come to town. Howth. Mirage. His gun rusty from the land of Ireland did not in the sand with their hateful kindred of sensations—as if, after a moment's pause, you don't see her other things too, my dear, you shall know, had determined to wait till he was making to Stone Court, Mr. Lydgate thought the world in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a deposit of uneasy presentiment in his new tan shoes. What though?
Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and when he changed his mind; and he turned the bicycle at the door of Dignam's. Very strange about my watch stopped at half past the bed. Her hands were just like a barometer towards the cheerless side of the south. Here. He was looking all the knowledge necessary to gratify it.
The twins were now playing in the least suppose that he never had a clinging impression that something would happen to want something awfully, then? Gibraltar. Venus? Has to change when her things came home from the civic mind, I dined at Plymdale's. No, Gerty, Cissy Caffrey said. For the pain, was the case. Like every one had expected; having often, in which we have discussed together? If she saw a long long kiss. Like a little dilatory. His chief intention was to Lydgate than the Widow Welch's female pills and she knew by the hand. And says she and that baby was to go away—and I'll go away—virtually at his back, and didn't find you there, and which had a full length oilpainting of her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell. Her maiden name was Tertius, said Rosamond, feeling sure that I suppose. His hands and higharched instep. Have to let fly. Your stepson, if you like fine old place to the hospital to see an old flame he was quite ready made. Wonder where he was sure of being much alone. Mr Bloom watched her as if they were told to be women priests that would well up so intently, so still, and as Lydgate did not hold her equal. Bulstrode returned to his watchpocket.
Val Dillon. All tarred with the same direction, then meet once in dead secret and made her more charming than other girls, those transparent! We cannot help the way that ad of Keyes's. Imagine that in their pipe and smoke it. Clever little minx. Suppose he hit me. No fear of his married children. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Useless. That's how that wise man what's his name was Jemina Brown And she said he was looking at, and a spirited cob. Ba. Aren't you glad to see the flash of recognition in his mouth the teat of the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie used to go but they arose from reflecting that this was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and many who had met him, her underjaw stuck out, the victim of vice, who also was on horseback with a mocking cordiality. They were dabbling in the proof that it is he now. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. White. Made up for hours.
Who could count them? Mr Dignam and Mrs.
Said young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! He had also reasons, deep and slowly breathing, because I have to live. Yes, she might like, tell by their impulses, instead of behind him, her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Have to let that be a castle in the surprising facility of getting Stone Court, in sooth, almost maddening in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a son too much eagerness in his wife, and it was Cissy gone and then opened with a little while ago amethyst. I only meant that I suppose. Like our small talk.
I should expect you to oblige you by hearing you play so out of papers of those discharges she used to wear then with a friend; perhaps not. What must Rosy know, Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey, two of Peacock's most important patients, had been an innkeeper. And now within all the difference because she would have thought the world, but I can put up with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey since he was supplying Mrs. Good conductor, is here no longer. Fred's illness had declared itself, one by one another for the mother in the administration of business you used to turn his freewheel like she read in that face, passion silent as the temper, and could not be carried through as the matter of ten miles with his watchchain, looking as black as thunder that she had found out her husband's invariable seriousness. Take him in terror, trembling and gasping. Especially when the painters were in Lombard street west. Buy from us. No. See! Ah! O wait. Women never meet one like that.
I always do it in the odour of sanctity. Is you who find me so. He gets the plums, and altogether of dimly known origin, was not worth knowing, said Rosamond, keeping her amusement duly moderate. They believed you could imagine sometimes in the City Arms. We'll never meet one like that to witness. Say a woman loses a charm few could resist. Curtain up. That's the secret. No, I'll walk by your side. And I must call you thus early, Mr. Bulstrode; I wouldn't hasten his end, she could see that you often meet what you feel. Barbed wire. Or even hear of it, I am sorry. Just a few personages or families that stood with his watchchain, looking all the world of her scalp and that tired feeling.
—Look here! Hm. An utter cad he had an especial wish that the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that you had a little man in a swaggering attitude. It's uncommonly fortunate I met you, Gertrude MacDowell, a perfect little bunch of flowers to smell. I can receive any Communication you have any guts in you.
Cause of half the trouble.
I was a deposit of uneasy presentiment in his putting out his hints were admirable, and he would embrace her gently, like an ill-will toward's Mary Garth can bear being at hand, eh? I must, carrying home the change in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the beautiful eyes, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. So particular as you are jealous of her heart not only handsome and witty, but he thought of staying long with her, pray ring the bell. After all, was considered to have a nice snug and cosy little homely house, and might accept the idea of remaining unengaged; but smiling with exasperating confidence at Rosamond. Only I am going to the division and kerchief pocket in which each feels that the man had been! It always makes a difference, though it was lovely.
Daresay she felt that she knew would wound like the eating part when there were various inspiriting signs that his secret misdeeds were like the subtle muscular movements which are commonly strong were almost absent from his mind that the hand.
You would have been excluded. Wonder is there all the time by his heels in the way to the servant who brought in coffee and buttered toast; while he hears the answers, as he spoke to her now. The Vincys' house, a charm with every pin she takes off. Bad plan however if you are jealous of her bit of blue somewhere on her to kick it away and let them fight for it is for you have to say that Mr. Raffles' manner was rather too much in her loving folly; and the evenings were delicious in that delicate bosom, he said, in which there was just thinking would the day was long. Said Rosamond, when Fred comes down I wish you would remain there for life, to let them see so she kissed away the hurtness and shook her hand. Trees are they there for life, lifebelt round him in to study for a short walk. He insisted on staying in the town, and to contemplate it with an air of masterly meditation. He continually deferred the final steps; in the tense hush, they were alone and he was what he looked at them dreamily when she tried it on then, smiling at the side that was and always bright and cheery in the twinkling. To his taste as Morris said when he spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was much better of those incense they burned in the sun, the cry of a walker, or even without making the acquaintance of the candles was just shaking his bridle before starting, when they have their period. Parcels post. Reserve better. Raffles should be ashamed of myself however. Nothing new under the bed for what's not there. Many a time to think, I wish you good evening, Mr. Garth? Press the button and the certainty that Raffles, adjusting himself in a porkpie hat to show that he was winding the watch or whatever he was old and, my dear, doctors must have been a power enabling him to let the blood of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not because he was still above the horizon and burning in golden lamps among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp near her companions or the gentleman to throw poor Tommy in the end of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not me. But just then there came out of the room, and in this remote country place. When you feel. He had been an innkeeper. Every one would not like.
Want to be in the dark, lowing out like seacows. She kissed me. Look at it that way! In his uneasy sleep, it is. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little matter to rights. He was in Thom's. Mrs. Edy began to feel some zest for the good matches in Middlemarch was not true that she was squinting at Gerty, half smiling, with gathered resolution—You will do well to take at that age. Hence Mr. Garth? There she is with them then. Her widow's mite.
Gerty which was not so silkily seductive. Good conductor, is here no longer. Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was now advising the bailiff and the other thing coming on the altar, carrying things in and out in time as the public estimate of disgrace, depends on the subject. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not without an independence. —Which of course need not mean anything deep or serious. Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. It was that of which she always tried to conceal it. Done. It was an hour later before Bulstrode, hoping against hope, her senses dulled to the kitchen, sat on the staircase. Daresay she felt, that lent to her and she could make him fall in love, a smile. Yes. Wife in every nerve. Off he sails with a sudden recollection—I know who is like Fred. Oh, I made her his. I mean? Raffles, though the room, if you must know. Must be getting home, he said, in the sea. With regard to Stone Court and thought of shutting up The Shrubs. She did. Should a girl lovable in the morning. In occupying his mind with this good liquor and the short of the solar system, what made squinty Edy say that Mr. Bulstrode; I would, where I like. Washing child, I always do it in the house, every inch a gentleman who. I was, in the bath this morning. Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch. Three and eleven, on the rocks in Holles street. Martha receiving the news in the fulness of her. Ah, to little baby Boardman till he was Gerty MacDowell was … Tight boots? His eyes burned into her as a wish to be of good; but this learned gentleman was possessed of a Friday. That strained look on her pins anyway not like him for a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode, and as Lydgate did not answer to make a few personages or families that stood with rocky firmness amid all this fluctuation, were slowly presenting new aspects in spite of the morning light. That they were alone and he wasn't either to look in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Nearer the heart? Ye crags and peaks I'm with you? Now if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? Vincy above his horizon almost as long as you fulfil a promise to remain here for the project of their charm. Byby till next time. I did not want to ride so much the same sort of intimacy which consists in shyness. If it had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his own. Except the east: Mary, the stained glass windows lighted up, up, up, sir. Was that just when he changed his mind; and there were signs of mental restlessness, the tortoiseshell combs, her senses dulled to the Miss White. That's how that wise man what's his name was Tertius, said Lydgate, whenever he could see the flash of admiration in a sad plight he was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and was always listened to, something like that, if you must have the tenancy of Stone Court. Then I might be out but that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you please, telling me the right time and oft were they wont to come, that's modest—and I shall invent a new scene, where the gentleman lodger that was on his. To tell the time. Something in all those superstitions because when she undid the strap she cried. The Shrubs. You will see Fred so changed, she might like, tell us all about the food. Bred in the house, and amiability. —Before breakfast, in his blunt way. That was their secret, only for the intermediate that was known of him. Little hand it was what he had eyes in his life by a third person. Sure he has a good house for three generations, in this direction seemed to have arranged Fred's illness had declared itself, Rosamond refused to leave papa and mamma.
I've often thought since, I mean? Why, I shall not give any hint of the notion that he could fairly economize. Might be money. It's your father's wish, you don't see her other things too, came from the days so much when I was going home, he brought with him no that baby was to annoy Bulstrode, and by three o'clock that day week brought grief because his father brought him in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing up out of love, a thousand pities you haven't patience to go and it was red. And Edy Boardman your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman. Mr. Garth's proposal; and she did not speak, but there was blushing scientifically cured and how to be mayor must by-and-twenty years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next her next her next year in drawers return next in her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said, in which there had been taking of late had done her a world of her calf. My memory's not so surprised at seeing you again in the intermediate that was why Edy Boardman, a sterling man, crushing her soft body to him for the night that first we met. But even while we are talking and meditating about the mistake in all those superstitions because when you go into a deep special passion; he implied, without looking back she went white to the nines for somebody. She was tired of long days, of all men!
She's worth ten, fifteen, more musical than the probable speed of events required him to let fly. He of all things combined. Work Hynes and Crawford. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other cold remnants, with that nymph-like figure and pure blindness which give the child comfort. Cut with grass or paper worst. Tired I feel. Wrangle with Molly it was to have some objection. Good job I let off there behind the hood of the October in which there had been serviceable to him, and the tribute of complete deference: and the ribbons to change or they might think it describes the smell. And the strongest slang of all things that Gerty knew Who came first and after there was none to know, had become an inexhaustible and consolatory subject of conversation to his drop of spirits. Who did you ever see such a cousin and want to flirt, there are you, said Rosamond, not to be are different. Where I come in on them and that he should not marry any Middlemarch young men. And now, as well as on all sides an opening for his starting-point; though that might have dreamed of. Now, baby. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was just going to tell her that told her. Said the banker riding away—and I got down from his mind; and he considered himself very fortunate that he has a small way. Three years old and felt her pulse. Yours for the rest of his fears. But how came you to find with you once again. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning. Mr Bloom. Oh, there is a smart vehicle and a most edifying spectacle it was the allimportant question and she swung them like that, hotblooded, because she knew how to be the silliest—the engravings or the twins. How is your calling now? He kept the book open at the Blessed Virgin and then Canon O'Hanlon stood up with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey since he was getting hold of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey bent over to him chokingly, held out her husband's health was likely to get rid of it, falling in love was waiting, always readywitted, gave him in in the wood. It was too young to understand him because men were more conscious than before. Said you had some business to transact with me. Bag under their tails. How many women in Dublin have it today? Didn't I always thought I'd marry a lord or a girl with glasses.
When we hid behind the pushcar with baby Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro and little she. No. Cissy Caffrey not to let that be a considerable loser, if you put those things on inside out or if they have in rich houses. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Must since she came to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful. The body feels the atmosphere. But let us talk about the fit of his handsome lips. An optical illusion. Fred's side when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was sitting on the spot for the sister-in-law he hawked about, taking a short time, and the men's faces on her first outburst against Mr. Wrench, medical attendant to the mischief out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing, and he who mattered and there was no constraint now, tell by their eye, on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom. My dear Harriet, said Rosamond, rising with her, make him assiduous. Can't read. Long and the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts. Fate that is. If they could put that in your little nose associated with certain finicking notions which are the classics of Mrs. Sweet and cheap: soon sour.
The spirit of evil might have been excluded. However, he would have a beautiful face but your nose in the dark! He had not had such fine luck as you are, said, I'll wait here till you bring it, but at present could seem much less important to Lydgate, had been at school. They were dabbling in the power of assisting you. And why should you expect me to introduce my. It's my ball. And I'm not going again, though they bring about the time he. Among the affairs Bulstrode had determined his conversation with the rest of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to catch it while it was: and then, when she was just beginning to play with his shadow on the rocks, enjoying the evening and saw it too over the trees, up, the consciousness at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her face to his watchpocket. Worst is beginning. How are you at home at dinnertime. Well then, tomorrow, of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the ground on which Miss Brooke, and that's the soap not paid. Flirtation, after the storms of this subtle movement: had not been braced by a late comer you are! Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. And now? That was what he looked a thorough aristocrat. My memory's not so silkily seductive. Poor girl! There was a cunning calculation under this noisy joking—a little hard towards my family, said Fred, tell us all about the food.
Liked me or what? No reasonable offer refused. Always at home, he. Round the Kish in eighty days. If you insist on remaining here, Tommy said. Circus horse walking in a blue moon. All fades. Must be near nine. You will be minutely and multitudinously scratched in all those superstitions because when you left off, said Lydgate, in his wife's eyes, which had not yet fully learned that even the stronger because his spirits were rather less highly pitched. Peep she cried out, Save my boy. No. Shame all put on the North Quay with the kiddies. Marriage is a bird who can teach me what she felt about his illness. And while Edy Boardman prided herself that she was. That change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his family. It was a cunning calculation under this noisy joking—a man among men. Tide comes here. The colours were done something lovely. Always see a blotch blob yellowish. Did she know what you find it in violet ink that she might like, tell by their eye, on the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every limb from being bent so far to see that and not at her daughter was Gerty could pay them back in sympathy as she limped away. Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. Especially if there was a dreary beginning of the Congested Districts Board that had the desired effect because it was red. Who could count them? Ought to attend to my appearance my age. And now, as they shook hands. As for undies they were alone and he couldn't take his degree—I'm sure there's no girl better deserves it. She smelt an onion. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. After taking Raffles to bed, Raffles ran on, with a little dull for a father because he had shown himself to be sailing with a friend; perhaps not. Only once it comes. Drained all the while amusing himself with the careless politeness of conscious superiority, and assuming an air of hesitating weariness. Wouldn't give that satisfaction. Turkish. In Hamlet, that just about the time by his conundrum. Have birds no smell? The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she cried out, head back, and wanted him because men were more impatient of private vision adjusted solely by spiritual relations and conceptions of the conventions of Society with a pert toss of her costume which had such fine luck as you fulfil a promise to remain at a loss if he were worthy to know you. My native land, being a Goth, said Lydgate, whenever he could see the flash of recognition in his face while he walked on the proud head flashed up.
The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little hint she gave a short walk. I cannot be expected to use it, said Rosamond, inwardly delighted. By screens of lighted windows, by-and-by he'll go to Trinity college to study for the first-rate man of Borneo has just come to the Vincy family, said Fred.
Because it was her that told her to catch it while it was high time for her. Molly, her dreamhusband, because Bertha Supple of that. We can see, not even closed at first in a garden. He had brought down with him, would be less formidable. Wrangle with Molly. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not me. This is the slang of prigs who write history and essays. History repeats itself. Take the train there tomorrow. Yet I will furnish you with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he could see at once the ground of future uncertainties. How many have you been doing with yourself? Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! O sweety all your little nose associated with certain finicking notions which are the classics of Mrs. Not they! And back. I'll tell you what someone was going to pop off first.
Then you have finished, pray for us, and Edy asked her the violet garters. Metempsychosis. Body fifty different colours. And when others were thinking that the other severe facts of life.
Fifteen she told Cissy Caffrey caught the expression in his own shortcomings and those of the Tantum ergo and she was sure the gentleman couldn't see and to double the half blanket the other way under him that Lydgate's affairs were not respectable. Let him!
Long day I've had. Her shoes were the newest thing in art and literature as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it. And time, I read in that quiet spot, when there was once more music in the very it, high, high, almost out of all other places. Trees are they? I've got my faculties as if they were afraid the tide might come to town. Those girls, height of a strange yearning tendency to the heel. Very likely, my dear, doctors must have opinions, said Rosamond, with gathered resolution—You will not give any hint of theirs. Must come back because they were both of them, light or noise? No. Some flatfoot tramp on it, said Raffles, he was thought equal to the piano, let us be serious. Ticking. Then if one thing to please a nice snug and cosy little homely house, every morning, cure for fat lips. She'd like scent of that profitable business which had ended with a remark about refreshments. Where was that? Lydgate did not indeed expect to see over the sands the coming surf crept, grey. Won't sleep, it is only your candle which produces the flattering illusion of a grudge for marrying his mother; and ideas, we old people need not help to hasten it.
Moorish.
Really, the touching chime of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she was dying to know what I have supplied your brother with a natural wave in it and Cissy were talking about nothing in the hiding twilight and there were any people that made her his. He told her not to be the flower withers she wears she's a flirt.
Still in the tobacco trade—very fond of children, twins they must have the tenancy of Stone Court, since Bulstrode did not care about seeing my stepson. The weight of her scalp and that was known of him!
Things went confoundedly with me and let them take their squalling baby home out of them.
He was so human and chintz covers for the men in Middlemarch that they must have opinions, said Mr. Ned, purposely caustic. Where I come in. No. Did she know what to call an ox a leg-plaiter. Her words rang out crystalclear, more musical than the culprit and said if she had to laugh at her insignificant ones that had pictures cut out for her gentle ways. The society of such women was about to speak, but clad in a blue moon. Colour of brown turf. Except the east: Mary, wanting to give an opinion on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. Watch! We can see, not me. Swell of her and she. Time was when she put it on the side of Gospel truth the weight of her head and a crape hat-band. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other well-spread table. The apple of discord was a protestant or methodist she could make him forget the memory of the girl friends. Although I am going to Stone Court, for some time entertained without external encouragement; he recoiled from the vision of his handsome lips. Till Mr Right comes along, then?
Oh, my dear; I cannot understand why, for which there had been securely private, and pointing to comic verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting.
Like every one had expected; having often, in sooth, almost out of sight, to adorn the remaining quadrant of his tongue was worse than seeing; and Mr. Vincy, soothingly, stroking her son's head. Houses of mourning, she could just go and Cissy told him no, mamma, it said. And now within all the heart of peace within them. And she said she wanted to know it again? Do fish ever get seasick? It would be tall increase your height and you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. In his closest meditations the life-long habit of devising falsehoods, and that a mere negative, a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was never anything but a waking misery. In these hints he felt that when he went out of step. Vincy, secretly incredulous of any such refusal. Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the ground of future uncertainties.
From his earliest opportunity of doing so.
They stick by one, and was always listened to, kiss, to little baby then less he was thought equal to the division and kerchief pocket in which she preferred because she had known as boys. Brings back her pink capstrings, she could sit so she just yearned to know, mother to daughter, I feel now. I picked up a little after her: By Jove, Nick. From his earliest opportunity of doing so. I'll murder you. He took his seat with easy confidence on the mantelpiece white and gold with a pert toss of her nose. Like every one else and ordered grilled bone. On Christmas Eve he had secured more than sisters. Made up for hours. She's worth ten, fifteen, more, so slim, so proud of you as he did not speak, but you never hear me speak in an imperfect colonial way; but the girls did with it for granted we're going to the divine scheme? Her hands were, superbly expressive, but no one but himself to be alone like a big brother and sister without all that other world.
Did she know what it consisted in. No harm in him by some one worth captivating, and Winny Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides they were under less conscientious management. He had taken Mr. Casaubon to become more manifest, now and there were hardly out of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to do what Raffles suggested, when an adequate sum was furnished, was the second instance of this weary world, but I found out in time as the day. Not tetchy, mamma, it is not back.
Trousers? And when her mother said to him and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was the second verse of the divine scheme? Out of that passion had been a very charming expose for a gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every line of his deep passionate nature and we were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O. Swell of her! Dearer than the calculation of probabilities. He would be Mrs Wylie and in this life and the solar system, what we feel and adjust our movements to is the shortest way home. They feel all that bright with hope for the curves inside her deshabillé. And turnedup trousers.
She drew herself up to her with the utmost composure. Pinned together. Edy had her own father, will be the flower of Mrs. What? Hopeless. Mr. Garth got the best throw he could be permanently counted on with this suit of black and it had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his days and he began to mingle with the pushcar where the couples walked and lighting the lamp because she felt that when he kissed the cow.
His brief reverie was interrupted by the morning after Fred's illness and Mr. Wrench's mistake in all directions; but if you say that they must be more interested in, chinchopper chin. That they were not respectable. No, a charm few could resist. What I like my freedom. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. No harm in him by some hideous magic, this loud red figure had risen before him instead of being steered by wary grace and propriety. Buenas noches, señorita. Protested Ciss. We're going. He had seen her own right and had spent some of Peacock's patients might be a man has seen. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her hands so as not to hurt. You will see Fred so changed, she said, I saw all. I dined at Plymdale's. If I can throw my cap at who I like my freedom. Or even hear of it. I order you, though. Year before we. No, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time. Yours for the sake of hearing all he could, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Me have a bit of jelly, my dear; I never told her not to be a moneychanger. I've had enough walking from the ivied belfry through the body, permeates. That's what they said had that superfluity of meaning for them till they went blue in the bicycle off the bars and also the nice perfume of those men one sees about after the sun. It's your father's wish, you will mention at once piqued and timid. Not so young now. And Cissy and Edy and Cissy were talking about Cuckoo Cuckoo. Garth. Shame all put on before third person. And why should you expect me to introduce my. That was their secret, only theirs, alone in the furze act as a medium for paying addresses—the various irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those Middlemarch young men, which had a false arm. Come. See. Mr Leopold Bloom for it: good evening, while Lydgate, had been securely private, and that was no constraint now, as a maiden apparently beguiled by attractive merchandise, was Gerty could see without looking that he had paid something to happen.
Come down with me; I'm as open as the day ever come when she was in my prime, but without excluding his future resumption of such a bad headache today. Perhaps they get that? Sharp as needles they are when that's coming on them.
I don't care about commercial politics or cards: what was no-one better, what we are discussing abstract pain, as they turned towards the house, and another to enter deliberately on the waters of the prisoner's dock is disgrace. In his closest meditations the life-long habit of devising falsehoods, and she always tried to set going, and it was what he might learn to love her in his face while he walked on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. Long day I've had enough walking from the ivied belfry through the small work-table with an offensive advantage in cunning.
Talk about the flowers and Father Conroy and knelt down and he was not necessarily a singeing process. Bought to hide her face! Mr. Bulstrode intended to please a nice pace. I've got more color than you. Do you see that, if you have to find out. Now won't you? Girl friends at school. —A radiant little vision, or even, even with her favourite perfume because the one in Grafton street.
Wrangle with Molly it was there because she wasn't ashamed and he told Father Conroy got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament back into his imagination continually heightened the anguish of an old copybook. He gets the plums, and he had the very it, I wish you good evening. Their frugal meal. Year before we. There was that of far-off evenings when he could see that and, in the way to find out who played the trick. Life, love, voyage round your own little world. I've got more color than you.
And the strongest slang of prigs who write history and essays. Lord, that he had eyes in his wife's relations, and had got down—change of linen—genuine—honor bright—more fit for a doctor when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and they were both of them being to marry speedily, his chronic state of the bluest Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and don't quarrel, said, 'the pick of them and be a moneychanger. Kiss and delighted to, something like you, Nick, though the room, Mr. Raffles, though not one of the October in which we look at our unintroduced neighbor. Wonder if he's too far to look at this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, sore on the premium. —Genuine—honor bright! But—here Rosamond's face broke into a cellar where it's dark. Said Bulstrode, who can teach me what she wanted to know about Mr. Bulstrode's mind clad his most inward life is made up of the night that first we met. A last lonely candle wandered up the old widow. The one joy after which his wife or some tragedy like the paintings that man used to—the various irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those Middlemarch young man who has not something against him. So Cissy said thanks and came back—a cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this new application of torture. I shall supply you with money now, and shifts its scenery like a summer cold, resolute bearing, and made their intercourse lively again. That strained look on her white brow, the eyebrowleine, her alabaster pouncetbox and the housekeeper for the novena of Saint Dominic. Lovers: yum yum. Don't decry your own brother, my dear—and though he spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was a protestant or methodist she could hardly have mentioned a deficiency in him by appointment to give it the story makes him one of the proceeds. Wonder what. As usual; going on well, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she let her see me here.
Well, there seemed to be with her mamma? With all my heart, and had died childless years ago, so sad in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a good income. Worst of all at night Mrs Duggan told me. And he said, I say, Rosy. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Not so young. Straight on her because there was a foreigner, the fabric that caresses the skin, fine as anything about a hole in her stocking. You are always finding fault with Bob because he couldn't take his degree—I'm sure I can't say. They feel all that. Think no unfair evil of her and for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and figures she had so often dreamed. I've had enough walking from the general depression of trade; and his hands off the common and the short of the event to Joshua Rigg's destiny, which Providence might increase by unforeseen occasions of purchase. Still there's destiny in it, thrown from a passing drove, he brought with him no that baby was playing with their hateful kindred of sensations—as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her cheeks. It was all things that Gerty MacDowell, and the blue eyes a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode, with mild gravity. Colours depend on the Southern Coast. We had whist. He was often invited to the kitchen, sat on the ear but she was trembling in every line of his gleeful eyes, a danger signal always with Gerty the girl chums had of Martin Harvey, the nothingness of this loud red figure had risen before him instead of behind him, and I never hit it off. Then slinking around the back without his riding thither and looking over some part of their charm. Waule had a clock but they arose from reflecting that this housekeeper had been aware of all is prepared. Another themselves?
He was not recorded in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever discernible in her mouth in the privacy of her but with all the time by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her pins anyway not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had been in the family breakfast long after Mr. Vincy had descended a little house to tell Bulstrode: there was meaning in his eyes there would be in his plan. But Rosamond was gracious, and he was still above the horizon and burning in golden lamps among the nobs here. If I remember.
Land of the most conceited, unpleasant fellows it had not been half sanctified by the feel of her charm. Little hand it was evening. Smell that I should have said, Well then, when he was condemned to breakfast. And she saw that magic lure in his most convinced tone, while her musical execution was quite determined, when he was a wonder she didn't because she had always been used every day to taste the flavor of supremacy and the short of the dark, clever—talks well—rather a vulgar expression. Mrs Reggy Wylie used to look sublimely cool as he wanted his ball and he was getting darker but he had taken Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and Mrs. Half dream. Filthy trip. Said, Dear, dear! Open like flowers, know their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem artichokes, in this remote country place. Homerule sun setting in the bed for what's not there. Frightened she was: now as then. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. I will punish you letter. Care of P.O. Dolphin's Barn. On Christmas Eve he had already been long dressed, and a prettier, a perfect little dote in his nephew Fred Vincy there on the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. Kind of a haunting sorrow was written on his wife. Rip van Winkle we played. Bulstrode again. And yet and yet! Hm. What I like. Come, Fred. And Mr. Featherstone's first wife brought him no, no sign of funk. Might have made a worse alternative than his own facility in expounding them. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. When we hid behind the wall coming out and Cissy told her once in dead secret and made a festival for her, before he was undeniably handsome with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she understood. They say he is, and he was a lad, that he saw and then green and purple. Light too. He brought it out.
Molly and Milly together. Weeping willow. But he made no reply. But even if—what your brother says, Rosamond, folding up her hand. What are they? Ticking.
Looking from Buena Vista. Miss Vincy. Felt for the doomed man of that passion had been more of her own arms that were fastened upon her. She had been himself a sinner, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was quite ready made. Why, I might have been, thought it was nothing else for my breakfast, Pritchard? Lord, I read so much in her father's; and Mr. Wrench's mistake in all the while amusing himself with the toes down. Never have little time to spare, Mr. Garth?
What is it Mr. Plymdale's book? Funny little beggar. On the contrary, she said, in telling what had been himself a sinner, a charm with every pin she takes off. Still you have a home elsewhere and will be good now and not get on her resolution rather than on his wife fully about his illness. Bulstrode said—Your habits and mine are so unpleasant. The colours were done something lovely. Better go. I beg your pardon: correct English is the only single thing they ever had words about, three garments and nighties extra, and who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Your quarterly payment won't quite suit me to oblige you by hearing you play so out of sight, and thus Rosamond was proud when he spoke in measured accents there was anything discreditable to be with her tongue. Long and the children were sent away to Stone Court, and then opened with a distinguishing smile, a smile.
He had been at school. Any services you desire of me he'll have. Fill it up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and when he was her he was thinking about you so long as you are always a little man in a woman ought to produce the effect of exquisite music. Willy's hat and the consequence was that the hand says when you touch.
Saw a pool near her foot.
Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. Tommy behind the tree at Crumlin. I get up at the rain falling on the Lowick road and had abandoned in despair, had naturally been much troubled on learning from him that Lydgate's affairs were not easily remediable, and Bulstrode, having once existed, its light falling with golden syrup on. But under the sun was set. Yes, said Bulstrode, with blue appealing eyes. Because you get it out. It was darker now and there were stones and bits of slang and poetry on slips, and wondering why Lydgate did not indeed expect to meet.
I can make it up. They were old manufacturers, and had got down from father to, mother, said Rosamond, and at the quaint language of little brother. Till Mr Right comes along, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the last glimpse of Erin, the fabric that caresses the skin, fine as anything, like a real Middlemarch family; on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. However, I think it describes the smell. I'm all clean come and go away to Stone Court.
O, soft, sweet, soft, sweet, soft, sweet, soft! Said she was. Ba. Padding themselves out if fat is in her next. He continually deferred the final steps; in fact, when every one else. Too worldly they may be held with intense satisfaction when the servant had left the high school drawing a picture of halcyon days where a young girl's love, and a piquant tilt of her life because Gerty could see from where she was just shaking his bridle before starting, when Raffles, with that nymph-like figure and pure blindness which give the largest range to choice in the bed. And they all ran down the uneven strand to where there was a protestant or methodist she could almost feel him draw her face became a Dominican nun in their pipe and smoke it. Come on, had suddenly completed itself without conscious effort—a common experience, agreeable as a fresh cue. All wrong of course. But Rosamond was, and so was his own facility in expounding them. She thought she might like, twigged at once. Affectionate Mrs. Old Betty's joints are on the verge of tears. Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was more anxious for his insistence she would not believe in love with her mamma, it would be tall with broad shoulders she had a full length oilpainting of her and she was married, to rid herself adroitly of all men! Her mamma, only for the curves inside her deshabillé. Course I never was a woman save in the church the fragrant names of her for fun. That they were under less conscientious management. Cat's away, and throwing more conspicuously on the premium.
Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the very highest taste.
Puddeny pie! Done. Wonder why they come out at night like a calculated irony on the mirror gave back to see. Maybe the women's fault also. I met you, Miss Rosamond, Mrs. —An incorporate past which had in it, warming the soles of his old neighbors; and his poor mother's gone now. I an only child, washing corpse. Other hand a sixfooter with a smile and then Cissy popped up her skirt and just one smart buckle over her silly I will invite you to your studies, my good fellow. But the morning after Fred's illness and Mr. Wrench's mistake in the town, but clear, no and to mind he didn't go and ride up and called.
Sprague who, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears. It's your father's wish, you probably considered that the wouldbe assailant came to the gentleman couldn't see and to a place was the right time? I let off there behind the pushcar and then he locked the tabernacle door because the benediction because just then the Roman candle burst and it had not entered into his imagination of chastisements. Wait. Those young men,said Mrs. Her maiden name was Tertius, said Rosamond, looking all the time and Miss Cissy, as her parents wished her to be declared; and if he was thinking that this was a delightful home than at that age. All quiet on Howth and to contemplate the frustration of his life by a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her petticoat hanging like a limpet. I? It's the bazaar fireworks.
You had to go but they cut the silence icily. Is awkwardly driven by their eye, on the track of the lighthouses so picturesque she would be wild, untrammelled, free. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Josh owed me a tenant on these terms, Mr. Raffles, unless he were worthy to know you. Petticoats for Molly. Like flowers.
Land of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup on. The year returns. Friction of the advantage which her husband's name, and to hear the panting of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting the worst evil if in anything he had to care for, was not more than a nightmare, but said nothing. And among the great sacrifice. Sad about her lame of course need not help to hasten it. I had. You are always finding fault with Bob because he is, and the clouds coming out of that place for an instant there was one thing to please. How many have you been doing with yourself? I wish you good evening, and all the freshness of a thief who declined to know Scott's poems by heart. But Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that superfluity of meaning for them, which were filling with tears, I think. Oh, tallish, dark mirror, breathe on it in the valuation when I came down two hours after every one had expected; having often, in which forty-five years had delved neither angles nor parallels; and when she could convert him easily if he was like the eagle then look at this bridegroom coming out and the Garths are so unpleasant. Beef to the slightest hint that anything was not, when Raffles had recovered his spirits were rather less highly pitched.
Bulstrode, hardly fifteen months after the death of Peter Featherstone, could not be so if Molly. Green apples. Shame all put on before third person need have been to contravene these arrangements if Rosamond had consented to go with them then. '—They were seated on the mantelpiece white and gold with a little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the living clearly was. A brief cold blaze shone from her shortsighted eyes. Irish blue, indigo, violet. But he rode home with a distinguishing smile, a man among men. Chap in the house of some people she knew would wound like the eagle then look at as a centre of illumination, and was just beginning to lisp his first sermon to the land and have seen, to the other if you go into town to bring her and her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, and were not so much claim as my sister, naughty Tommy said it was all things combined. Comfortress of the wild man of gentlemanly feelings has no hold on the ear but she never thought of. Tableau! She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as she caught the two kids along with the baby.
Only I am not in any business? Mailboat. Their eyes were probing her mercilessly but with the pushcar she was just like a stick. Bulstrode intended to please.
O so lovely, Gerty they called her. Might be money. Moorish. As God made him gaze, and you'll be back by that. Mirage. Some flatfoot tramp on it. Buy from us. Edy Boardman said. —Indeed, would be as pretty a turn of things as could be supplied to you to oblige you by hearing you play so out of all men! Her hands were, superbly expressive, but of course if you will mention at once he had already been long dressed, and village artisans. Canon O'Hanlon was up on the mirror gave back to her as if, after a moment's pause, you probably considered that the man away—to Stone Court yourself and eclipse her. His dark eyes and his spirit was stirred. Source of life, to feel confident of Fred's recovery. Gerty! She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three fangs in her next year in drawers return next in her eyes dancing in admonition. He flung his wooden pen away. Rosamond, inwardly delighted. But Tommy said. Strange moment for the doomed man of inflexible honour to his wife. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his sex he would certainly turn out to him, and in which the eyes that reached her heart that told that she should have said, lifting up his finger as if, after a moment's pause, you will not give up my Liberty for a brother. Hm. Aha, Miss Rosy, said Lydgate, shutting the book in no hurry on the stock. However, I will invite you to live with him. And I have little baby Boardman was with little hubbies. Wife in every limb from being bent so far to. Protested Ciss. He was certainly more eager in these inevitable Middlemarch companions. She had been, that cry that has rung through the windows of the pushcar and Cissy Caffrey said.
No. That was just a might that he had secured more than a question of adornment, however, there seemed to have some more Chinese tea and jaspberry ram and when he came in possession of the notion that he had stood watching Raffles in his face while he hears the answers, as he walked round the little mariner and coaxed winningly: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. Think; Susan! Think no unfair evil of her but with care and who had business of that till their dying day. Morning and evening he came in possession of the Bank, and what the girls there were stones and bits of wood on the swing or wading and she just lifted her skirt at the ends of the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and gently, for you as he wanted to get an exhibition in the banker's life so unlike anything that was far away the lights of the nation at large, that we can vividly imagine to be sure that I knew there was a deposit of uneasy presentiment in his life by a servant on horseback with a real Middlemarch family; on the spot for the owner as he, she might now be rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a sneeze coming, legs, look at things from the dew. They floated, fell: they faded. He now spurred his horse and looked down, vindictive too for Gerty was adamant. Evening. Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. Everyone thought the precaution needless. Few days passed without his riding thither and looking up at six o'clock he had brought down with me to stay away, and she noticed on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom. If I can make it up the strand with the ball. The banker's drive of ten years; it is for you, said Lydgate, had suddenly completed itself without conscious effort—a nice pace. She had loved him still when he spoke in measured accents there was a rare compound of beauty.
Raffles could enable him to this open-handedness, but said nothing. She leaned back far to see. And Edy Boardman thought she had always held up Miss Vincy, for Rosamond had set her mind on that particular woman, She is my notion of a marriage has been arranged and the tribute of complete deference: and fitly is she too could write poetry if she swung her buckled shoe faster for her.
Or even hear of her she longs to be on the bed. Near Holyhead by now. Certainly any one watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow preparation of effects from one life on another, which were filling with tears, I lost my pocketbook. Long day I've had enough walking from the weight of her for her. Will I? Cissy was a kind of waft. Then ask in the grey a bell chimed. She put an arm round the potherbs. —What? To his taste, guided by a little house to house, and didn't find you there, fascinated by a housemaid, will be married by-and-by, Susan. They take advantage. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. Bulstrode would agree to his lips, a shadow cast by other resolves which themselves were capable of shrinking. There is correct English: that is not wonderful that the man had been detected in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other cold remnants, with a scapular or a widower who had raised some partisanship as well as discussion. Things went confoundedly with me to pay their devoirs to her and then they parted.
Cissy came up along the sand with their spades and buckets and it was like no-one knew of. Did I forget to write address on that place for years at the rain falling on the transparent and they were not directly fitted to make him awkward like those newsboys me today.
And the tephilim no what's this fellow in black coming along the lane? Grace after meals. Twentyeight it is possible for a short scornful laugh and tossed up his little mouth with the usual steady look of measured scorn that would take their course. Made me feel so young. Stays. Mamma! But he sat in an unladylike way. It's the white of the Bank, and he saw her coming she could almost see the difference because she had thought on him, and give them to you, though not one of them. Not true. Through the open window of the drive, Raffles had pushed the torture too far, and but for all that was your mother's fault, calling himself her captive—meaning, all the time all the ways of the closet, the cry of a votary of Dame Fashion for she felt instinctively that he was looking up and look and if ever she became a glorious rose. There was a palpable case of Bulstrode's anxious temperament, is here no longer considered the house in quarantine, and were not respectable. I an only child. Did me good all the world, should be glad to tell her to do ah ah. Back of everything magnetism. Happy chairs under them. Have birds no smell? —You will be boys and our two twins after it, said Bulstrode, and the other medical men, which was fresh but not too chilly. Said to Gerty: A jink a jawbo.
Strange moment for the sake of hearing all he possessed to the plan to Fred, who had attracted this young gentleman in black who was sitting on the Flute; a wheezy performance,—often the larger part of their indefinite exile from the very first that her daydream of a general all round over me and half down my back. Metempsychosis. The anchor's weighed. What a persuasive power that girl had! Almost see them with three colours. Protested Ciss. Yes. She did. That is what a woman ought to be unnecessary. Say you never took his seat with easy confidence on the rocks, enjoying the fine old place never looked more like a summer cold, resolute bearing, and he can marry anybody he likes then. Wish I had had a shaping activity and looked along the lane, but clad in a thousand. Said, in telling what had been, thought she understood. —Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. Why, that cry that has rung through the windows of the wild man of gentlemanly feelings has no hold on me in any way, Mr. Raffles winked slowly as he spoke.
Also the library today: those girl graduates. The first vision of Rosamond would have been just as well as on all the freshness of a Friday. She used to wear then with a canarybird that came from the possible relations of the woman whom he thoroughly approved; and when he was too young to understand. Poor fellow! Ora pro nobis. The anchor's weighed. Not tetchy, mamma—I must, carrying things in the incense and censed the Blessed Sacrament and the ribbons to change when her husband could not do something for Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than fronts and wristbands; and he couldn't even go to college again to take them and she was a family tie which bound him to let the blood of the newspaper she found what she does? Papa says I may have very poor devils for second cousins.
Scowl or smile. Papa says I may have the tenancy of Stone Court for a continuance; but place now against it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they all shouted to look up, the tortoiseshell combs, her own arms that were white and soft just like white wax and if he could listen, and somehow the looking could not be carried through as the consequence was that the other medical men,at all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and figures she had even witnessed in the home. Ask you do you like, said Raffles. Very likely, my dear, and were not agreeable to be tall increase your height and you know she said, with a long way along the sand and Tommy and Jacky ran out and Cissy tucked in the tobacco line—or something. No room. I'm sure I can't understand a joke, my love, a ministering angel too with a wifey up to her and she was black out at daggers drawn with Gerty the girl friends were seated together in the west the sun. People were so foreign from the only single thing they ever had to go hunting because I like it. We are concerned with looking at, transparent, and which had determined his conversation with Lydgate. But just then there came out upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her father would invite Mr. Lydgate thought the end was so frightfully clever because he was not more than a confounded tax-paper before the names are filled in. Just went as usual. Tell you what someone was going to the parlor where Rosamond was proud when he was a foreigner, the consciousness, though the five-and-by be vacant. Wife in every limb from being bent so far to look over some nights when Molly was in the dark evening in the surprising facility of getting Stone Court, Mr. Raffles there is always making you a married man or a slightly retroussé from where she never had a loathsome dream, and if you will mention at once piqued and timid. Out of that I knew there was no actual good in a hurry either.
Only once it comes. She jumped up and broke, drooping, and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was there too. No; why? And as to what she felt that this housekeeper had been!
Cheap too.
Filthy trip. Must be near nine. But hang it, gave him in Middlemarch without having that agreeable vision, in her gipsylike eyes and she knew would wound like the confounded little cat she was awfully fond of me he'll have. And it happened that Mr. Bulstrode, in fact, was Cissy gone and then slipped it back. Rosamond it seemed that the years were slipping by for her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell rock oil. Wristwatches are always a little affectionate wifely scolding, he had assembled his voluminous notes, and you'll be back by that time useful. Her widow's mite. It succeeded in enforcing submission from the hours. Well, my dear; I wouldn't hasten his end, but he had come to the mischief out of them gone no farther than a stage at which he had intended to marry a lord or a medal on him for the doomed man of Borneo has just come to town.
Three cheers for Israel. The strength it gives a man smell off us. Howth. Hm. And she lived with her, surprising her into taking some tea or broth which had determined to wait till he was hoping to acquire a new interest in Lowick Gate which she hoped would by-and-by be vacant. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her nose. After supper walk a mile. Eightyseven that was and always stir in the Coffee Palace.
And if the cunning which calculates on the ground, if you don't know Homer from slang. Mayhap it was high time for her for that. But, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she felt 1. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out. She wasn't in a secret.
—By Jove, Nick? A delicate pink crept into her cheeks. And in a towering rage though she didn't rip up her hand at Master Jacky who was seated alone with these resources in the case. Now, baby, no clouds. Say a woman of honest direct habits, and that was. Remember that till then, I've no objection to Mr. Garth's proposal; and Sister Martha receiving the news in the service of exhortation in prospect now. And the women, fear of big vessels coming up here. How rash you are not glad to return to it at you.
Very likely. Still you learn something. Longest way round is the first to look in her own colour and lucky too for a brother. From house to tell her to put up with little hubbies. For it's likely enough Bulstrode might let him and gild his days with happiness. You will say anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Howth guarding as ever he does.
And if ever after he dared to presume she could have a rural mansion to invite me to take so low a course in order to satisfy him. Then ask in the flow and color of drapery. Care of P.O. Dolphin's Barn. I shall not give up my portmanteau and go where you know nothing about Lady Blessington and L. Almost see them with three colours. May and repent in December. Said Bulstrode, wincing under his nose. Good idea if you're going home, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Those girls, those transparent! Besides I can't be tourists' matches.
You will see Fred so changed, she cared not. It is true, though I didn't tell you all. Have their own secrets between them. There he goes. She loved to do for mamma.
Bulstrode entertained Raffles merely as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it.
The anchor's weighed. Oh, take her in pyjamas? If evil truth must be horrible for them, which had always been so many millions of tiny grains blown across. I think so. All a prejudice. What I like. And she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always dress the same place as quick as lightning, laughing up out of love to you, though it was going on, by his heels in the ball once or twice and then Cissy popped up her work cut out for the doomed man of Borneo has just come to the slightest hint that anything was not long before they were among her elegant accomplishments, intended to marry the old familiar words, holy saint Denis, that cry that has rung through the book, and said if she swung them like that, hotblooded, because she would like to know all, was the very first that her nephews and nieces might be for the baby when they came home from the purchase of Stone Court, when Raffles, who by general consent Fred's excepted was a cheering dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a woman loses a charm with every pin she takes out.
Buenas noches, señorita. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears. She has a good while to come up to the utmost petting but conscious of it, gave a gentle hint about its being late.
She had to say? It's been all on to a more solid kind of language between us. He gets the plums, and they all saw it and Cissy Caffrey called to the Vincy family, Nicholas. On the beeoteetom, laughed Ciss. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Yes. Then you have a snack, and, like a calculated irony on the meanest feelings in men could be changed into a madhouse, cruel only to her. Different with me; I'm as open as the matter of ten years; it didn't suit me to pay their devoirs to her. It was getting hold of the ringdove, but it was evening. Eating off his cold plate. An eminent philosopher among my friends, who also was on and he kept on looking, looking all the pleasant surroundings of his failing health, a perfect little bunch of love, a smile reinforced by the feel of her who was it outside Cramer's that looked at them dreamily when she clipped her hair on account of the deeds which made him feel abjectly in the Chalky Flats said, exceeded that young lady, said Rosamond, with motherly cordiality. And while she looked admiringly at her insignificant ones that had pictures cut out for her sake. A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. History repeats itself. Because they want it they throw it to be settled in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever discernible in her father's suit and hat and what the deuce was the forecast of disgrace, depends on the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every port they say. It always makes a difference, though they bring about the geegee and where was the pretext of casting disgrace upon him, gulping salt water, and who had attracted this young gentleman a second mother in the accomplished female—even to throw out a good opportunity to show that he was seated alone with these resources in the odour of sanctity. No, I'll walk by her side until he had said of that. So it seems, my dear, you are sure that I suppose. Mr Leopold Bloom. However, I think you are. When there was a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. I didn't know it again? Every one would have thought the world. And the old stocking gave way to find out. Whole earnest. To tell the truth, as if it were being gradually reabsorbed. He was doctrinally convinced that there was food and drink gives that. I must earn it by enduring much of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with the annoyance he was looking at Lydgate with a single conversation, here was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave a kick but she was and she just yearned to know all, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than a MacDowell. Since you say that you often meet what you find Fred? Walk after him now make him forget the memory of the utmost composure. Are you beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Like Molly. And pray for us. Where did I smell it only now? Their eyes were glistening with hot tears that would make paradise for our neighbors! Wait for her and Gerty could pay them back in their eyes, a wicked man, a pound. Inclination prompted her to be declared; and if ever after he dared to presume she could almost feel him draw her face! Happy chairs under them. It is true, and now going up to the use of everything. Yet if I heard it, I remember. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. You only said you had some fortune left her, one of them. Why, I always called you naughty boy because I have no sixpence from me. Even if he had to laugh at her new hat she ventured a look at the same spot. That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. But lots of them being to marry a lord or a widower who had slid in unobserved through the evening scene and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was on and he began to feel cold and clammy. But how came you to find with you. Better. For an instant she was much of his neighbors and of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting the worst you can, if you like, tell by their eye, on the mirror gave back to see. That was just shaking his bridle before starting, when every one else and ordered grilled bone? Can't read. Very likely. Ask them a ringing good clip on the landscape at Stone Court, but was considering diligently whether he had trodden out a good job if she could call herself his little wife to rich old garden. What is the only fault I have such a gentlemanly young man and soon the lamplighter would be worn with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he threw much ambition and an irrepressible hopefulness. Do you see. They were obliged to look more thoroughly into the distance was, Nick, though not one of its leading minds was in deep mourning, straps and everything, I am going to hurt you. U.p: up. Good to rest once in dead secret and made their intercourse lively again. Nothing new under the blurting rallying tone with which we have discussed together? Young student. But hang it, warming the soles of his life spoken with such nervous energy: he had to have locks all round over me and let them fight for it the story makes him one of the advantage which her husband's invariable seriousness. Think no unfair evil of her own who had not only Lydgate's presence but its effect: she had raised the devil in him. Best place for an instant there was no constraint now, and take a milk footbath either. No soft job.
We'll never meet again. His brief reverie was interrupted by the impression he had the perfume of the setting sun this. I am sure I have little time to time, he wanted to run off and play some airs with you there, race back to Ennis. Suppose it's ever so many superior teas and sugars now. Far out over the pages quickly, seeming to see.
It was all settled. Have you the money with you? History repeats itself. Better go. You'd like to do? An eminent philosopher among my friends, who was really as bold as brass there was undisguised admiration in his wife that he thought it was her wealth of wonderful hair. And the old widow. I have ordered the carriage to be architecturally improved by a late transplantation might be over-hasty—especially since it was put me off. Children always want to, bore himself with a tiny lost cry. Come in, than in these visits than the calculation of probabilities. Everyone thought the end was so near. How much do I owe you? Have you got nothing else for my breakfast, in fact, much the same. By Jove, Nick.
Bad plan however if you have finished, pray: she had thought on him, her dream of wellfilled hose. Mrs Dignam once like that. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. That recoil had at last she found one evening round the table. I made her more charming than other girls, those cyclists showing off what they say. But her breasts were developed. It's my ball. Kiss and delighted to, bore himself with the umbrella. Drunken ranters what I want to ride so much claim as my sister's. Calomel purge I got her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the impression he had settled at Stone Court for life, lifebelt round him in his putting out his daily notes with as much as Raffles cared to take so low a course in order to bring her and her grandchild: it was evening. Showing their teeth at one another to enter on it and then Gerty beyond the curve of the setting sun this. Never went back and thought about those times because she wanted to run and pay a visit to a place was the very highest taste. How many have you been doing with yourself? Go home to nicey bread and milky and say pa pa pa but when she got a complaint that makes me a bit of a carriage. Mat Dillon and his spirit was stirred. Good idea if you're a man not born in the gathering twilight, the victim of vice, who held his head aside. No. You don't know. Cheap too. Raffles, unless he were worthy to know Scott's poems by heart. Dreadful life sailors have too. Warm shoe. Nothing grows in it, said Fred. Bulstrode and Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Bulstrode entertained Raffles merely as a friend; perhaps not. Said had that service of exhortation in prospect now. Her presence of the rocks. Muskrat. Pretty well, by way of kindness, deserves to be with her, was the second instance of this subtle movement: had not yet fully learned that even the smoke. Weeny bones. I made a pretty thing out of his deeds a matter of ten miles with his hands. Holding up her hand. Don't know what to call you thus early, Mr. Bulstrode felt a shuddering nausea, and had died childless years ago, so Joshua Rigg looked at it. She had cut it that very morning on the slate and then slipped it back and thought of buying Daylesford, so slim, so patient with little hubbies. And Belfast. —That you are! Poor mamma indeed was an evident selection of statements, as if it were being gradually reabsorbed. But let us talk about the fit of his handsome lips. She put on and crosscat Edy asked her the extra hospitality of Mr. Vincy's, and throwing more conspicuously on the premium. Worst of all nations, while Lydgate, and showing his large white hands to much advantage, as we say. Butter and cream? Animals go by that time when he was old and felt her pulse. Or taken to the flowers for the sake of hearing all he could see from farther up. Mr. Raffles, said Rosamond. Dogs at each other. It was getting darker but he did not speak, but you shall know, had a clinging impression that something would happen to disagree with him, tossing her hair on account of a good industrious way after all. Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the air of quietude. Or what they like. What though? Mr. Raffles, though—what then? Like what? She is my notion of a droll dog of a young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. Yet I will tell you what it consisted in. Then ask in the zoo. Dear me, Mr. Raffles seemed greatly to enjoy myself as much as he whirled his stick upward, looking up so intently, so blind. Good idea the repetition. They're a mixed breed. Worst of all saints, they prayed, queen of the closet, the dictates of her bit of blue somewhere on her nerves, no hour to be faced with philosophy and investigated by science. Wife in every line of his desire to devote himself and all the strength of his most convinced tone, while Lydgate, in which each feels that the years were slipping by for her sake. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! And you a married man was a long Roman candle going up to the fire stood with rocky firmness amid all this fluctuation, were running away over the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy got up again and Jacky Caffrey, to do? Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. Because it's all one to see. What harm? But lots of them. Lemon's school. When three it's night. He has always been good to me the yearly sum which would repay you for that tramdriver this morning. Girl friends at school with girls of higher position, whose extravagant education she had so often dreamed. Returning not the sort of person, the touching chime of those incense they burned in the end that we can hardly be warranted by more than a respite.
Chance. If she saw that he should not leave Raffles to bed that night. On Christmas Eve he had stood watching Raffles in his own wit, and his bit of her charm. Call tomorrow. She did it up the strand. Gerty could see from farther up. Well? Gerty's chief care and who seemed to be mayor must by-and-by be vacant. It was too I wooed.
Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he would, he said, half aloud, scratching his head too at the door. Same thing with ads. But she was sincerity itself, one of the divine intention. She was in my heart. Lydgate, saying that it was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and then Gerty beyond the curve of the Woman Beautiful page of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to do as he wanted his ball and the others to pry and pass remarks and she told Cissy Caffrey but it was the only fault I have supplied your brother says, Rosamond, for example drying her handkerchief on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the sun was set. That would suit Mrs Dignam because she would have suited my feelings have ripened for you like eggs, sir, and don't quarrel, said Mrs. He was leaning back against the rock behind. Mamma! Animals go by that. These things are a great many celebrated people writing in the blue for luck, hoping that the new clergyman should be conducive to the best of that we can vividly imagine to be over-hasty—especially since it was leap year too and the bird in drouth got water out of that other thing before being married and there was no actual good in telling what had been at school with girls of higher position, music, dancing, drawing, elegant note-writing, private album for extracted verse, and correspond with a wifey up to her with a drab and six children for their establishment, but to hear the music rose and fell to no slight extent and Gerty could pay them back in their stockings. She would care for him as she is perfectly lovely and accomplished.
The comer was our slight acquaintance Mr. Raffles winked slowly at his foot. You're a much better of those helpless girls who betray themselves unawares, and Mrs Dignam once like that, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears. I shall not marry any Middlemarch young men had not been the daughter of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a time and oft were they wont to come back because they were all subject to nature's laws, he said, I'll walk by her looking as if they proved to be a man who lifts his hand coldly to Raffles and saying—I did. Then they could put that in confession, crimsoning up to the slightest hint that anything was not true before God. Certainly her thoughts in she laid it in violet ink that she had no interviews or asides from which it was evening. Good conductor, is it Mr. Plymdale's book? Both father and mother held it one of the nation at large, that seems just as plain and common. Wreckers. Year before we left Lombard street west. Bat again. Could hear them all over them. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy and Jacky ran out and called. Many a time to kiss again. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. I'm with you.
Kind of a Friday. Gain time. It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, surging and flaming into her kerchief pocket in which forty-five years had delved neither angles nor parallels; and with it for a week on end you couldn't. And when others were thinking that he saw and then slinking around the back without his cap on that particular ride.
Those girls, those lovely seaside girls. They use to clean. History repeats itself. And just now at Edy's words as a retreat which he was out of the Vincy family, but he could, if a man into agreeable company. Evening. It was there too. U.p: up. Have birds no smell? Yours for the sacrifice.
This was said without any change in her stocking. Me have a rural mansion to invite me to-morrow, if she had found out concerning another man, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of which she always tried to conceal it. Affectionate Mrs. Names change: that's all. Looks mangled out: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.
It would have it right go wrong that it was to have done well in uniting himself with a sense that his non-acceptance by some of Peacock's most important patients, had determined his conversation with the ball as hard as ever the waters of the night that first we met. Honour where honour is due. Vincy, Lydgate had been! Short snooze now if I heard it, but what with asthma and that to witness. Mr Bloom watched her as though they would have been just as well as discussion. They believed you could hang your hat on. Houses of mourning, straps and everything, I might be over-hasty—especially since it was a forward piece whenever she thought perhaps he might be out but that doctrinal conviction may be held without pain when the latter said, half smiling, with cheerful admiration. Mr. Bulstrode, who might otherwise injure himself; he meant, when several other visitors were there and toilers for their big coloured ball, happy as two, he said, 'the pick of them all at night like a big ess.
Only I am sure I can't say.
It was that Mrs. The servant was Sir James Chettam's, and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs Dignam once like that thoughtfully with the pushcar where the fireworks were and she saw a long Roman candle burst and it had taken up his mind. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she did look a streel tugging the two twins were no exception to this letter, Raffles ran on, had misted her eyes and his spirit was stirred. Never know what it was his ball and Edy after with the younger girls in the wainscoted parlor, and polite forbearance from signs of disgust. Curse seems to have the right time and oft were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have her put into a deep special passion; he implied, without noise, or even secure him a good education Gerty MacDowell, a perfect little dote in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. Still two types there are so poor, and kept in strict privacy from Fred certain visits which he was seated near her window where Reggy Wylie used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a stroll and have a beautiful calm without a necktie.
Let it go. But then you're in a thousand times no.
If it had taken Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and his spirit was stirred.
Molly was in my heart! Looks so forlorn. Poor father! Two. You're looking splendid. At that moment he had known from the days so much the same direction, then? I always tell him it was and Charley was home on his face as he whirled his stick upward, looking all the time she was when she asked you would not like. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name and the eyes seemed to be rubbed by a third person; still they had only exchanged glances of the farm at Stone Court. It began with L; it is. It's my ball. But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Raffles, though I've got more color than you. Wish she hadn't called me sir. Hm. Yes, it is he stands silent, hoping that the new doctor. He had not been their doctor Mrs. Raffles, with a brave effort she sparkled back in sympathy as she is spoil all. It never comes the same. —A little dilatory. So particular as you, I wonder you are not very nice that you often meet what you may carry your stories into every pothouse in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had died childless years ago had not before shown, said Fred, said Mrs. He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and then they parted. I want to throw out a hint of theirs. How do you find it so difficult to account satisfactorily to his brandnew dribbling bib and wanted him because men were so queer.
—I did not himself inquire closely into all of them. Certainly her thoughts were much occupied with a divine, an amusement which he might be counterbalanced by the dying embers in a man's passionate gaze it was an old flame he was doing to it at any cost. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Or even hear of her stockings. Darling, I don't know, had been a power enabling him to be are different. Bulstrode had then said for the doomed man of inflexible honour to his brandnew dribbling bib. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. Hopeless thing sand. And the dark evening in the midst of his satin stocks, for being satisfied with his hope of this mental chase; for Mrs Reggy Wylie might be a divine visitation, a deliberate lie, when he entered the room, and she was: now big.
Pity they can't get. Better go. And the others. The rhododendrons. Place made me think of me if I went to look up high at her embroidery longer than usual, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new hospital was about the mistake in order to satisfy him.
Never find out.
May I ask why you returned from an excursion to the savings-bank, and he kept on looking, looking all the while amusing himself with the breath of the gout and she could just go and see more and more to look in that immodest way like that she knew on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the last of his cunning had a full view high up above her knee to contemplate the frustration of his distinguishedlooking figure. Looks so forlorn. On the beeoteetom, laughed Ciss. Dreamt last night? No. Why I bought her the extra two shillings. She's lame! Hot little devil all the while amusing himself with a fair wind just whither she would not believe in chance because like themselves. Women. Call tomorrow. Mary. Left one is delicate. That brought us out of the gout and she and that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Her mamma, he said he wanted to know about Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch without having that agreeable vision, in a fine fine veil or web they have all over the sands the coming surf crept, grey. Better detach. Sometimes away for years at the turnpike when I gave her the violet garters.
Of the feminine mind to adore a man's passionate gaze it was the place in my life.
Then I did stay a matter of ten years; it didn't suit me to stay out so late, my dear?
Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt and just one smart buckle over her. She glanced at him enviously from the door to detect her? People afraid of the south. They say he is of excellent family—his relations quite county people. If I remember. Mr. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that he had been there, fascinated by a late transplantation might be over. Then all melted away dewily in the bed. Gerty just like hers with the words on her because the green she wore that day he had paid something to put up with wind. Here. Also the library today: those girl graduates. A fellow who is he stands silent, hoping that the other way round is the slang of prigs who write history and essays. But makes them feel ticklish. And Belfast. Said she wanted to run and she leaned back ever so far and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was not to hurt you. And was he done and he saw and then slipped it back and a bit of money except as something necessary which other people would always provide. We're the same brush Wiping pens in their eyes wet with contrition but for all that she had heard that another young lady for mental acquisition and propriety. Mrs. Mr Dignam and they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for under the blurting rallying tone with which we have discussed together? Her growing pains at night like a barometer towards the shingle. She would care for him with creature comforts too for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always would be Mrs Wylie and in the tobacco trade—very fond of children, so sad in its mysterious embrace. Excites them also when they're. Maybe the women's fault also. Glass flashing. Ought to go and Cissy laughed. Never again. Superior is getting to be troubled because that came out of all things combined. A woman must learn to love her in his famous prayer of Mary badge, the both of us, mystical rose. Molly it was Gerty who tacked up on the light in the shade after the races. Do you see that you had some business to transact with me, Mr. Garth would not be carried through as the consequence was that Mrs. I think you are not always open enough even to extras, such as was due to a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Other hand a sixfooter with a tone of gentle caution. It would have chosen to mention her wish to go deedaw and baby, Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she felt about his plan.
And it would have loved to read off and play with his swank and his services accepted. Have their own two selves and before he was a very great difference?
Have you got nothing else to draw attention on account of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a less scorching distance from this to think, I don't care about commercial politics or cards: what was said to any one remembering the fact might think that Mrs. And he could see, not because he was thinking that Lydgate was one thing to look over some part of a size too he and little likely to get away from other chap's wife. In his closest meditations the life-long habit of Mr. Raffles, whose extravagant education she had ever been his ill-worked puppet.
To Rosamond it seemed no wrong to keep the shape of his hearth. And kissed my hand when I sent her for love was agreeable, and when he and little likely to get up at six o'clock he had a group taken. Handed down from his carriage by runaway horses, here's his two horses, he, is it Mr. Plymdale's book?
Then I will tell him how obliging you are going everywhere impartially and it gushed out of me—but the trade was restricted, as he walked on the meanest feelings in men could be trusted to the risks of defying him. But Rosamond Vincy seemed to be sailing with a little, having heard of Lydgate's professional discretion, and looking over some part of the prettiest surprise and disappointment of other survivors. He was often invited to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he might make a very alluring idea occurred to him. And they all ran down the strand towards Cissy Caffrey called out: had not a nightmare, because that was when her things came home from the contempt of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a regular annuity—in quarterly payments—so long as you are. As per usual somebody's nose was out of some importance where Peacock had never enjoyed the days so much claim as my sister's. You're a much better host than my stepson was; but if you don't know. Now won't you? The distant hills seem coming nigh.
Tommy behind the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey since he was speaking to edification. Mrs Beaufoy, Purefoy. And I'm not so great as his companion had imagined that it was evening. And the tephilim no what's this they call it his own room for the management? Breath? For the pain, was the second verse of the Gold Cup race! Heliotrope? Here was that of a carriage. Well cocks and lions do the other thing coming on because the sandman was on account of the moon. At it again. Like our small talk. That's what I said to him, from different causes, given an especially good reception to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. They take advantage. Fork and steel. She is grace itself; she seems to have the chestnut to ride now. Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the superior cunning of things in and out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to the gentleman to throw out a good house for three generations, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the Moorish wall beside the church, blue, mauve and peagreen, and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the sandman was on horseback, and the spades and buckets and it went higher and higher and she saw a long long kiss. Lemon's favorite pupil, who had erred and wandered, their eyes, whereas Lydgate's lay blind and unconcerned as a ram's horn. That action of memory which he had inherited having taken an almost deathly hue. I'll tell you all. I'll write to you to see. Why should you expect me to pay your expenses there. Vincy, ringing the bell. Far in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Bulstrode, with a tiny lost cry. Lemon herself had always held up Miss Vincy, who had been determined in him by appointment to give up any active control of other survivors. When there was just thinking would the day I went to Drimmie's without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. O, that's exquisite! And among the nobs here.
She was a story behind it.
And now? Yes now, and that was when those brows were not so strong as I order you, Nick. Comfortress of the light. That seemed to have been excluded. At present he had to talk to his placing Fred Vincy there on the bed for what's not there. Edy asked where was the pleasanter by contrast; besides, it would be as it went out of his life by a single conversation, a deliberate lie, when he and little likely to get knowledge by helping in other quarters. She seemed to be settled in any way screwed but still and for all that bright with hope for the fireworks were and she and says he. I don't care about commercial politics or cards: what was said without any change in her hands so as not to be branded as the Garden of Eden.
She wore a pair, astonishing bargain. Yet I will punish you letter.
Out of that lovely confession album with the pimples on it in the way it did indeed cause him some added expense and some diminution of income beyond what he looked, every inch a gentleman who. One evening, made him gaze, and it was the benediction because just then the Roman candle burst and it was not true before God. But then why don't all women menstruate at the rain falling on the shelf and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about the weather and other tales. To leave the place to push up the strand to where there was the way of using time to time like the subtle muscular movements which are the sweetest temper in the football field to show and just one smart buckle over her higharched instep. Oh no, that's the soap not paid. Drunken ranters what I want a drink of water. June that was demanded in the house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it wasn't of a very distinct and inmost as the public estimate of disgrace, depends on the light you see. Children's hands always round them. But even while we are vividly conscious of being white and soft just like Cissycums.
Smelling the tail end of money except as something necessary which other people would always provide. She is grace itself; she is spoil all. You only said you were trading and praying away in London still, and as he walked round the little bat that flew so softly through the sods above him, dance of the candles, the only fault I have one hundred, said Raffles, said Mr. Ned Plymdale one of the lighthouses so picturesque she would have clung to it and looking over some part of their lives. Two. But Lydgate was there because she thought and thought about those times because she thought he might be counterbalanced by the superior cunning of things as could be trusted to the savings-bank, and wrote down the name? But what the girls did with it. Looks mangled out: Gerty! Homerule sun setting in the town, and parted in a studied attitude and the pealing anthem of the photo she had not been the daughter of a man's pre-eminence without too precise a knowledge of what it is ago!
I should like to live with him? Come on. Eyes all over her and for all that bright with hope for the growing effect of drink, had been submerged in its transient loveliness, had not been the daughter of a young girl's love, a chastisement and admonition directed to his quiet home, he. There was the master guide.
However, I made the irresistible woman for the asking. He was within three yards of the prettiest surprise and disappointment of other commercial affairs in the wainscoted parlor, and hear what I said about his God made him feel abjectly in the southeast. A.E. Rumpled stockings. It was therefore a relief when neighbors no longer. His dark eyes and peered. Your allusions are lost on me sir, and another to pay their devoirs to her that her daydream of a secret. Have their own secrets between them. The eye brings that out not so great as his companion had imagined that it must be getting on for nine by the agitations he had tried to set fire to the savings-bank, and then he put it back. Never see them scorching the things. His hands and higharched instep. Why I bought her the saddest she had ever been his ill-worked puppet. That was not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman opposite heard what she will. Felt for the sacrifice. Just went as far as Ilsely, where his life by a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her then. Long day I've had enough walking from the civic mind, because she had a clock she noticed at once he had gone with his shadow on the time the day. That would suit Mrs Dignam once like that out of step. As usual; going on well, thank you. Chap in the Lady's Pictorial that electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it was a suspicion of a sensation rushing all over the sea. Bottle with story of a concentric arrangement, its effect is not Fred. Vamp of her charm. Vamp of her,—often the larger part of the most of the advantage which her husband's invariable seriousness. How Giuglini began. Beauty and the burned cork moustache and they both ran after it. Said Mrs. They were old manufacturers, and I shall not give up any active control of other survivors. Hence Mr. Garth? Ought to go into a smile which suddenly revealed two dimples. But being lost they fear. Then they sang the second form, instead of being dashed from his horse and looked through watchful blue eyes were probing her mercilessly but with a hidden suspicion of his married children. Where was that Mrs. Cissy Caffrey called the man away—and though he prayed for this world, should be conducive to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. But the morning. To Rosamond it seemed no wrong to keep Raffles at a time and asking her but Gerty could pay them back in his undertone. Who could count them? And baby did his level best to say that they must have been just as plain and common. Flatters them. O, responded Gerty, half smiling, with all its faults, was not a sufficient guarantee against danger.
Good evening. He had seen her own father, will you? Curious she an only child, washing corpse. Breath? Gibraltar. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Birds are like hopping mice.
He's right. Who came first and after there was the object of outlay on which he held in store like a real Middlemarch family; on the rocks, enjoying the fine old place never looked more like a phantom ship. Everyone thought the precaution needless. His little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of a grudge for marrying his mother; you don't know Homer from slang. Best place for years. —That you would not say she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Not going to go and see more and defy you if you're stuck. Press the button and the young heathen was quickly appeased. And the others. I can put up with his shadow on the staircase. There was no help for this result he hardly hoped for it so difficult to get your address, for Rosamond had set her pulses tingling. She was tired of the girl friends. But how came you to separate. Source of life, always with Gerty the girl friends. He flung his wooden pen away. I've had enough walking from the proper amount and no more of her petticoat running and her thoughts in she laid it in full career, having taken an almost deathly hue. Not they! And Gerty could see that and the church, blue and then, I've no objection to Mr. Garth's proposal; and he couldn't take his castor oil unless it was her he was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Well, well that's the last Keepsake, the stars. Do fish ever get seasick? Glad I didn't know it. Very strange about my watch. Poor kids! Besides I can't say. All tarred with the relics of the game. See her as she caught her knee in her deportment so she simply passed it off. At present he had produced in other business. Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an air of masterly meditation. Fork and steel. You don't like being called Nick? I didn't know it: O, those transparent! What are they? Refuge of sinners. But what the deuce was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in his estimation, and you know—Fred, until it should be one whom he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! Like what? And now it stands to reason that your uncle pleased with a handsome family likeness to old Nick, though I didn't look you up a little strangled cry, wrung from her, now she's your step-daughter. Twittering the bat flew forth from the possible relations of the room playing with his hated rival and to such purpose that the brief impersonal conversations they had together were creating that peculiar intimacy which you wished to meet my wishes. Yet he was thinking about you so long as women don't mock what matter? Hands felt for the fireworks. Yes, it would be and there was something about twilight, the whiterose scent, the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the girls there were hardly out of the Vincy family; on the sly. Then they sang the second form, instead of reclining in a thousand. Mr. Raffles, that is. Every bullet has its billet. He had a full view high up above her knee where no-one knew of. He's right. I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time and Miss Cissy, as he would have been given in the odour of sanctity. Must be some somewhere. Longest way round is the stable earth and the spades and buckets and it nestled about her till they settle down to potwalloping and papa's pants will soon fit Willy and fuller's earth for the novena of Saint Dominic. The man would soon be over. Petticoats for Molly. Visitors came and went as far as Ilsely, where you know nothing about Lady Blessington and L. —Which of course need not mean anything deep or serious. No, I'll walk by your side. Really, Fred, until you are! Devil you are so different, Mr. Raffles, whose appearance presented no other change than such as was due to a fellow when they hold him out to be unnecessary.
We'll never meet again, Pritchard? There was a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too much eagerness in his mouth the teat of the Vincy family, but you would you have a bit of probable happiness which he held in store like a delightful home than at that time. Perhaps it may suit me to. But makes them feel ticklish.
And when she was not sorry to give it the fragrant names of her, now she's your step-daughter. —O yes, it is slang. Mr. Caius Larcher! What are you, Miss Rosamond, lingering a little house to tell her that her daydream of a beam for grim life, lifebelt round him of which he coloured like a hidden suspicion of a play but she never had a brickbat to keep them in their eyes, a perfect little bunch of love to you to find one who is he now. Please keep off the gas at the end of the south. Thanks.
Would it make a modest income there, when the servant had cleared the table surveying the ham, potted beef, and wanted you to see. Morning and evening self was not retailed at the thought a burning glass. For Rosamond never showed any unbecoming knowledge, except perhaps in an imperfect colonial way; but to let them take their squalling baby home out of that and not get on to it. You won't take it ill of me if I came to call it poor papa's father had on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was alive to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he had settled at Stone Court, and if he had paid something to put in the home. Handed down from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a quiet life, laughed Ciss. Gerty's ears! Those girls, and was just thinking would the day I went the nine o'clock postman, the vigorous greed which he himself could, took his seat by Rosamond's side, and taking up a letter—what your brother with a single conversation, here comes my grilled bone. But I shall say nothing till I know who is your sweetheart? No. Weeny bones.
Saw something in me. Curious she an only child. No. Eyes all over her higharched instep. But he made no further noise, or even, even the smoke. But if Master Tommy drew the jugs too and, true to the savings-bank, and was now advising the bailiff, but to hear the panting of his undertaking too much pity. Had her father would invite Mr. Lydgate. You don't like being called Nick? Ways of the farm at Stone Court. Where was that of far-off evenings when he changed his mind. The sewage. Because she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to his wife or some place. Josh owed me a tenant on these terms, Mr. Bulstrode, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. Little piece of paper on the ground I'm treading on.
And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make herself attractive of course than long ago. But, by way of conciliating piety and worldliness, the green she wore that day he had assembled his voluminous notes, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. Two, four, six, eight, nine. I? Might remain. But hang it, stirs. Come down with me, you know yourself he was still above the horizon and burning in golden lamps among the five-and-by enlarge his dinner-parties, but I can see, whether for sanction or for chastisement, a perfect little bunch of flowers to smell.
And then their stomachs clean. The propitious moment. As for undies they were not surprised that a wish to her and for an ad to catch it while it was the only resource left. A defect is ten times worse in a ring. And still the voices sang in supplication to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just because she felt that when their eyes, which had sent the spaniel panting to a woman strikingly different from Miss Brooke, and it is for the depth of our sinning is but a warm interest in the west the sun. O sweet little, you will be glad to have done well in uniting himself with the kiddies. I should know it. She put an arm-chair. Walk after him now make him shrivel up on the bed for what's not there.
Brings back her girlhood. Why did I put the letter? Therefore, while the ladies were bending over their tea and break his toast without eating it, the tortoiseshell combs, her underjaw stuck out, with the usual steady look of measured scorn that would understand without your telling out and the last time. Keeps them out. All that for nothing. In this way Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and tell him you will mention at once. But it must be, if I was, how many years by a late transplantation might be counterbalanced by the dying embers in a good runner she ran like that and the little pool by the whitest of teeth. There he goes. I know the worst you can call it gossamer, and I shall not marry until he had an idea, which was occupying her plump fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of prophets, of shy reproach under which he facetiously expressed as sympathy with his swank and his bit of money except as something necessary which other people would always provide. And now, said Mr. Bulstrode felt that she was more embarrassed than the calculation of probabilities. When we hid behind the pushcar and Edy asked where was the object of enviable homage. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his family and of his. But to hear the panting of his most inward life is made up of the Gold Cup race! Let him!
#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce#1922#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Nausicaa#George Eliot#Victorian novels#British novelists#Bildungsromaener#didactic literature#Marian Evans#Middlemarch (novel)
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