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dontshootmespence · 5 years ago

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Aastha

Part 3 of 4

Summary: After an unimaginable loss, you discover your powers and become even more cemented in your faith. Sam experiences a similar loss and struggles with it. When you meet, how will your lives change?

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Indian!Superhero!Reader

Words: 1,922

A/N: This is for @bucky-smiles 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge! My prompt was Jab Tak Hai Jaan. The thing that stood out most to me was both of the protagonists’ struggles and/or commitments to faith, so that’s what I drew on for this fic. Although I know that Sam is an orphan in the comics, having lost both his parents to violence, I had him be raised by his mother, so she’s still alive here.

Beta’d by: The lovely @bucky-smiles herself. I wanted to make sure I did the culture and religion justice, so thank you! Also beta’d by another Indian lovely @emilyshurley, who also made the above aesthetic for me. Thank you both for working with me. It meant a lot for me to get the culture and religion right because representation fucking matters, so your help was invaluable to me. <3

A relationship, or gasp!, love had never really been in the plans, until that morning at the Washington monument, bonding with a man named Sam Wilson about the infuriating whirlwind that was the 30-minute, 13-mile Steve Rogers. “He’s insufferable, right?” You asked, breaths heavy yet steady at your pace.

“Unbearable,” he laughed, letting go of the competition with Steve to hang back with you. “You’re Agni, right? New Avenger?”

“Been with them for about two years now, so not new. But newer. And the name’s Y/N. And despite the “A” it’s pronounced ‘ugh-nee. It’s the Sanskrit word for fire.” He smiled; impressed.

You’d never felt the need to hide your story – how you became who you were - but what Sam said next took you aback. “Sorry about your mom.”

“Thanks,” you replied, smiling fondly at the memory of her perfectly imperfect smile and shining brown eyes. “I can’t say for sure why I made it out and she didn’t. All I know is what I believe. I plan to do right by her memory.”

“That’s really admirable,” he said genuinely. “I lost someone too, and I think it broke my faith. I admire anyone who can keep it.”

“I have to,” you replied. “My faith grounds me.”

----

It was your distinct differences in regards to loss and faith that drew you closer. Sam was consistently inspired by your ability to hold onto something so intangible as faith when you’d lost so much. After every mission, you all needed to decompress, and you decompressed in your own unique ways, but time and time again, the two of you spent your time together, watching bad movies, eating popcorn, playing pool – or more accurately kicking Sam’s ass at pool – but hey.

Though he’d lost his faith in God, you’d encouraged him not to lose faith all together, instead channeling that belief into something tangible. “What do you mean?”

“Well, faith is a shaky thing for some people. Because you can’t see it. What can you see? What can you see that you believe in?”

“This team. People. I believe in people.”

“Then that’s where your faith lies. You still have it; it’s just changed course.”

“How are you so wise?” He asked with a laugh.

“Just gifted, I suppose.” Leaning over, you kissed the underside of his chin. Somehow, through all this, you’d just found each other. There’d never been any official discussion of what you were to each other – you just knew. He was your best friend and confidant; the man you loved. Another blessing you were sure. There was no animosity between you and anyone else on the team; you got along with everyone, but you found solace in Sam, and he in you.

No one questioned it either. Not even Tony. Though he poked fun every now and then, which you would of course return, because he had Pepper. After a week without any action, you were almost starting to feel left out, until you, Sam, Nat and Steve were called on a mission.

At the rendezvous point, Fury briefed you on your mission. “Pieter Sidorov,” he said, looking straight toward Natasha. “You know him, right?”

“The Russian scientist and mass murderer? Yea, I’m familiar with his work. Rescue mission?”

“Extraction. We still don’t like the guy. He’s still a grade-A asshole. But after the fall of Hydra here, everyone left that’s loyal has gone into hiding. And Sidorov is aiding what’s left of Hydra within KGB airspace. I need the four of you to get him and bring him back. We need him alive.”

The four of you nodded simultaneously, your mission clear. With the help of a few still-trusted SHIELD pilots, you made your way into former KGB airspace. “Okay, what’s the game plan?” Sam asked, already outfitted in the new and improved EXO suit; Tony had made a few adjustments in the likely case one or both of the wings were damaged, so hopefully he would never be down for the count again. “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Pieter Sidorov is a fucking genius. When you have that kind of intelligence, you go one of two ways, good guy or the worst guy. Guess which Sidorov is?” Nat started. “Anyway, he has no superpowers himself. It’s his suit. He developed a suit that allows him to suck the powers, and essentially life, from other super-powered people.”

“What can he do?” You asked. “He’s just any regular guy without the suit, but with? What do we have to look forward to?��

Natasha raised an eyebrow, rattling off the list of abilities the suit imbued him with – telekinesis and telepathy. “With, obviously, the added bonus of sucking whatever powers you and Steve have,” she said, tilting her chin toward you. “So if he’s got the suit, don’t get caught.”

“Thanks, Nat,” you laughed. “We go in teams of two, yea?”

Tony and Steve were your de facto leaders, so you all looked to Steve for your assignments. “Yea. Nat and I will infiltrate the right side, you and Sam go left. Nat will hack us into the system and shoot the map of the inside of the helicarrier to your watches. You might think we need the suit too, but we don’t. It’s programmed to work with his DNA. Without him the suit is useless. We take everyone out in our way and grab Sidorov, unharmed, and bring him back to Fury. From there –“ He hesitated. “From there, I don’t want to know what Fury’s gonna do with him.”

You trusted Fury, but he was definitely a scary man. “Me either.”

“All of us will leave the way Nat and I went in. Sam, make sure your wings are operational. The rest of us, make sure our parachutes are ready to go. As soon as the pilots make the drop off, they’re out. When we hit the ground, Nat has a way out.”

“What way?” Sam asked. “Car, bus, train?” She didn’t answer, her face showing no indication of releasing her secret. “Secret underground base?”

When she raised her eyebrow, you and Sam exclaimed at the same time. “Shut the fuck up.”

Smiling, Steve ensured that everyone had their orders. “Alright,” he said, turning toward you and Sam as the pilot pulled into the hellicarrier’s airspace. “See you two on the other side. Be careful.”

“You too, Cap,” you said quietly.

After Steve and Nat jumped onto the roof of the carrier and made their way inside, the pilots swung around the left, letting you and Sam out before speeding away under the cloak of night. “Back me up,” you said softly.

“Always.” Your back was to him but he spoke with a smile. “Ten o’clock.” Sam hid in the shadows as a man, presumably a guard, approached. Your size, and apparently boobs, always made men underestimate you, leaving you the perfect opportunity to slip them into a chokehold and wait until they passed out.

The moment the guard fell to the floor, Sam emerged from the dark hallway. “Have I told you how sexy that is?” He asked.

“Not now, Sam,” you laughed. “But yes. And please tell me more when we get the fuck out of here.”

Within a minute of knocking the guard out, Nat had uploaded the map to your watches. Unfortunately, it also alerted the entire crew on board to your presence. You figured that would happen. “Alright, stay at the ready,” Sam spoke. “How many people on this helicarrier?”

“About 500.”

“Fuckin wonderful.”

Quickly, you glanced down at the map on your watch, charting the quickest and easiest way to where they were keeping Sidorov. “Right in the middle. Great. They’re coming after us either way. Wanna stealth it or make an entrance?” You asked.

“Baby, do you even have to ask?” Sam laughed.

“Entrance it is.” As you charged forward, Sam followed your lead, handling any stragglers that happened to make it beyond your wall of fire. Those that didn’t run scared, fell victim to your wrath, dissolving into piles of ash snaking through the grates at your feet.

From the opposite end of the vessel, you heard the cacophony of screaming voices. Of course, Steve and Nat were holding their own just fine.

A nearly 300-pound, 6 foot tall Russian made his way past you. Big dude, but agile as hell. He’d assumed you were the strength out of you and Sam, disregarding him to try and take you out. But that was his mistake. As the man put you in a chokehold, Sam pulled out a knife, dropping down and slicing both of his Achilles before spin-kicking him in the face and over the railing. “Thanks, babe.”

“No problem. Let’s go. I want outta here.”

Your well-oiled machine moved swiftly through the maze-like hallways. You’d have a few cuts and bruises, but since joining the Avengers, that was pretty much Tuesday. As you approached the room where Sidorov was being kept, you made your silent prayers for the successful completion of this mission. You’d always prayed beforehand, in one way or another, but in the thick of it, you couldn’t help but offer up a few more silent prayers.

Melting the metal doors before you, Sam barreled past you and grabbed Sidorov, before running straight into Nat and Steve. Sidorov’s eyes sparked with a hint of recognition. “Natasha?”

“Aww, so sweet, you remember. You’re coming with us.”

Steve took the front lines of your escape route, using his shield to push over everyone in his way, while Nat and Sam handled the scientist and you kept an eye on your six. “You ready to jump?” You yelled, wind whipping your skin as Nat opened the door they’d entered. She pushed Sidorov out, sans parachute, and was followed quickly by Steve, leaving you and Sam to bring up the rear.

“Go!” Sam screamed.

Despite having jumped out of planes with the team before, it never got any easier. As you sailed through the air, you chanced a glance back and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Sam jump too, only to watch a hook pierce the middle of his wings, ripping them off, and knocking him off balance. He spiraled in mid-air; you screamed into the wind, unable to do anything else but pray Tony’s upgrades kicked in.

Turning your attention toward the rapidly-increasing ground below, you waited for the right moment to deploy your parachute. When you ripped the cord, the parachute deployed, but apparently during your scuffle with the Russian guards, one of them had managed to slash it.

“Fuck!” Your heart raced as the ground approached, bracing for impact.

----

Sam panicked for a moment before his backup wings exploded out of the back of the EXO, giving him control once again. When he looked down, he saw his worst nightmare. “Not again. God, not again.” Y/N was fast approaching the earth with a slit parachute; she had a healing factor sure, but there would be nothing to heal if she pancaked into the pavement.

He retracted his wings and sped toward the ground, his hand stretched out in an attempt to grab her, the parachute, anything that might soften the fall. “Please God, don’t do this to me.”

Within a few hundred feet of the ground, he managed to grab her, only to have the chute make him lose his grip. For the second time in his life, Sam watched as someone he loved fell toward the unforgiving earth.

#2kbollywood #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #dontshootmespence #aastha

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Egg and Reference Guide

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The following contains spoilers for Psych 2: Lassie Come Home.

As fun as 2017’s Psych: The Movie was, its 2020 sequel Psych 2: Lassie Come Home will likely supplant it in Psych-Os’ hearts, because it’s got 500% more Carlton Lassiter (Timothy Omundson). But how does it stack up to its predecessor in terms of Psych callbacks and pop culture homages? Using our Spencer powers of observation, we’ve tried to catch every recurring inside joke between Shawn (James Roday Rodriguez) and Gus (Dulé Hill), plus all the episodic-specific bits. It’s a feature-length Hitchcock homage, but it’s also the toughest Easter egg hunt of your life. C’mon, son!

Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Eggs and References

The title is a reference to Lassie Come Home, the 1943 Lassie movie about the beloved dog making her way home from Scotland. A German-language remake came out early in 2020.

It’s always a treat to hear the Psych theme song “I Know, You Know,” performed by creator Steve Franks and his band The Friendly Indians.

Lassiter wakes up to Shawn and Gus hovering above him at the recovery clinic is a throwback to when they kidnapped him for his bachelor party in “Deez Nups” and he came to with them screaming “Surpriiise!”

Morrissey the rescue dog reprises his role from Psych: The Movie in being adorable, incredibly nosy, and oblivious to Shawn’s hissing commands.

Sarah Chalke’s nurse character Dolores is most likely a nod to San Francisco’s Mission Dolores church and cemetery, the location for Carlotta Valdes’ grave in Vertigo.

Right out the gate, Dolores is treated to the requisite Gus nickname: “My name is Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner Bill Poopingtons.” However, Shawn and Gus take a sidebar for a very meta argument about their ongoing bit (while fitting in another bit):

“Gus, don’t be the night your dad fell asleep inside your mom. We can’t just stop doing bits we’ve been doing for ten years. We have fans, they have expectations, there’ll be a huge backlash.”

“Shawn, we are two dumbasses, we do not have fans.”

Compromise: Gus gets right of refusal until they land on a nickname he prefers. And so:

Bill Poopingtons > All the Pips in One

Ding-Dong Ditch > Claude O’Dern > Big Poppa Pump > Lemon-a Lemon-a Lemon-a Liiime

Leggo My Eggo > Norman Brown Butter > Dijon Hounsou

Gus also calls himself Jermajesty, channeling some Jackson Five energy.

“Black Jello” was Gus’ nickname in their adult dodgeball league.

The Herschel House is likely a nod to Herschel Daugherty, who directed over two dozen episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents…

Gus and Shawn are still bickering over driving the drivers ed car, even if we don’t see it in the movie. They do manage to be just as bad at turning the right direction when riding a motorcycle together.

“Now I know this ‘goofy little white guy/sexy black dude’ routine the two of you have going like the back of my scrubs.” Sarah Chalke played Elliot on Scrubs, whose JD/Turk bromance walked so that Shawn/Gus could run.

Shawn calls Dolores “the nurse from Color of Night,” the 1994 Bruce Willis erotic mystery thriller that won a Golden Raspberry for Worst Picture.

The boys get Jamba Juice because you never turn down an opportunity for a Jamba.

Shawn likens Gus’ pubic hair to Eddie Murphy’s mustache in his 1987 stand-up film Raw.

Shawn offers the dismembered hand to Gus to “knuck it up softly,” per their penchant for fist-bumping.

They later do fist-bump outside the old Psych offices, but not before channeling Han Solo and Chewbacca in Star Wars: The Force Awakens: “Gus, we’re home.” “[Wookiee sound]”

Psych has become a French-themed cat café… for now, at least. It’s not an alternative universe from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, but the current subletter’s pop-up business. The proprietor (not the girl from Orphan) is played by Allison Miller, James Roday Rodriguez’s co-star in A Million Little Things.

“I am a psychic. He is a sympathetic pooper.” Poor Gus’ intestinal system gets called out again.

Henry’s (Corbin Bernsen) put-on voice gets compared to Tom Waits, Kathleen Turner, Harvey Fierstein, and Diedrich Bader.

Shawn neglected to tell his landlord that he’d moved, which tracks with his behavior in the series finale “The Break-Up.”

Henry reveals that in addition to telenovelas, he enjoys zeitgeist-y sobfests: “You left behind a slow cooker with a three-pound roast in it. You nearly This Is Us-ed the entire block.”

“This Is Us—Dad, why are you watching that show? They have the same show on ABC but newer”: Shawn’s shoutout to A Million Little Things.

Lassiter mistakes Reese Kessler, his supposed shooter, for country music singer Conway Twitty.

Lassiter’s to-do list includes “tape Galavant,” the short-lived musical comedy fantasy series created by Dan Fogelman (This Is Us), in which Timothy Omundson played King Richard. It also includes items poking fun at Lassiter’s crankiness (“yell at nature,” “chirping bird d-day plan”) and tenacity (“solve black dahlia”), and heartstring-tugging items (“pre-register for ironman” as in the triathlon). He also has written down Shawn’s S.E.I.Z.E. mantra from his short-lived career as Lassiter’s life coach in “S.E.I.Z.E. the Day”: Seize Eggs I don’t know Zebra Eighties.

Juliet (Maggie Lawson) lying to Shawn sounds strange, though not as strange as Lupita Nyong’o—the Tethered Lupita—in Jordan Peele’s Us.

Shawn’s “romantic dinner” for Jules is the menu from A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (jelly beans, pretzels, buttered toast, popcorn, and ice cream sundaes) because it’s all they had at the gas station on the way home.

That prompts an iconic “C’mon, son!” from Gus.

Gus’ ringtone is “I’m Mr. Bootyman,” which is both Henry’s ringtone and the song featured in Buzz McNab’s bachelorette party stripper routine in “Deez Nups.”

Gus’ (technically Jules’) green snuggie bears a striking resemblance to official Psych contest merch.

Lassiter spotting mysterious bleeding figures out his window is an homage to Rear Window.

Richard Schiff (as Dr. Herschel) was Dulé Hill’s co-star in The West Wing.

Potterhead Gus wants to know if there are any people hiding in the pipes of the Herschel House, “speaking in their own tongue, perhaps Parsel.”

The Psych boys’ map of suspects briefly includes the Hell Hag from Gus’ dreams in “A Nightmare on State Street.”

Shawn has only been to Norway once with his brother-in-law Ewan O’Hara (John Cena), but they don’t talk about that… Maybe that’s where Psych: The Movie went after its cliffhanger ending?

Ova’s Norwegian song/chant toast at the Viking’s Ice Den is very similar to the Swedish toast in “Right Turn or Left for Dead.”

Ova’s violent son Per is first described as “the bearded Daryl Hannah.”

Shawn’s excuse to Detective Buzz McNab (Sage Brocklebank) for being in Santa Barbara is that he forgot a frisbee signed by German writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck.

Shawn’s first reaction to Jules potentially being pregnant: “You know the windows in the loft don’t even fully close, right? I’m gonna have to replace them, otherwise this is Baby’s Day Out all over again.” As Gus reassures him, he always did get worked up over John Hughes’ worst idea.

At the old Psych offices, Shawn pulls out the jousting lance from “100 Clues”—as well as a pineapple! He looks about to ask, “Should we cut this up for the road?” (his question during the pineapple’s first appearance in the pilot, plus at the end of Psych: The Movie) but stops himself.

When Lassie believes that fellow patient Mr. Wilkerson (Kadeem Hardison) has been walking around, Shawn and Gus have to go “full Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” to interrogate the supposedly catatonic patient.

Shoutout to Jessie Spano’s infamous “I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I’m so scared!” speed speech from Saved by the Bell.

If it’s not Scrubs, the boys are getting compared to Ren and Stimpy.

Mary Lightly (Jimmi Simpson) returns in another incredible, extra-hallucinatory look into Shawn’s brain… this time as a baby, since Shawn’s got fatherhood on the brain.

“We got jackaled!” Gus shouts upon learning that Wilkerson can walk—a reference to “hitting the jackal switch,” or going into stealth mode.

Shawn has always had a thing for singer Jewel, even after the Civil War movie (1999’s Ride with the Devil) and the Bollywood song.

Of course there’s a nasty dance when Shawn and Gus figure out who they think is behind everything.

Gus declares that “I am not going to let you shoot Shules’ baby!” only for the Chief (Kirsten Nelson) to ask, “What’s a Shules?” That’s the fans’ name for Shawn/Jules, a cute nod to a series OTP.

And of course, we can’t forget the fact that Jazmyn Simon, who plays Selene, is Dulé Hill’s real-life wife.

More than once, Shawn quotes The Handmaid’s Tale in reference to Gus and Selene’s baby: “Praise be” and “Blessed is the fruit.”

Dolores compliments Lassiter’s “chest of hair plentiful enough to wake all of Destiny’s Child.”

Shawn comes up with possible names for Gus’ child: Shaft, Shaftie, or D’Shaft—just like Gus’ nickname Sh’Dynasty (with a “God’s comma,” or apostrophe) from “Santabarbaratown.”

They also both coo “c’mon son” to Selene’s womb.

Selene’s proposal to Gus includes his negotiation that he and Shawn have adjacent homes with connecting pools, a callback to Shawn and Gus talking about their dream setup in “The Break-Up”; as well as Pluto! She asks, “Will you make me the happiest woman on this planet, on Eres, and Pluto?”

Shawn tells Juliet that “you’re my person,” the iconic Grey’s Anatomy line (though one would argue that Gus more accurately is his person).

When Lassiter stands (shut up, you’re crying) to meet Marlowe (Kristy Swanson), they place their palms together—like they did when he would visit her in jail, like they did at their wedding. My heart.

Join us on the Easter egg hunt—let us know what references we missed!

The post Psych 2: Lassie Come Home Easter Egg and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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readyourimgaines · 5 years ago

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Chapter Seven: A Whole New Side

Here’s the seventh Chapter I promised the Anon that made my week. @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood @board-certifiedbastard @iamnotbrianmay

“So what’s wrong?” Grantaire asked, sitting on the counter of Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s apartment.

“Okay. So, Ferre doesn’t get home from work until around six and I need someone to talk to Enj. Jehan is out of town so they’re not in the question, he won’t tell me anything, and you’re the only other person aside from Jehan and Ferre that he actually talks to.” Courf put down his coffee mug.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong?”

“He hasn’t spoken today and he won’t come out of his room. I tried to argue that aliens were real- nothing. It wasn’t until I started talking about the US government and he didn’t respond that I realized something was really wrong.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Grantaire hopped off the counter and made it to the younger blond’s room. He knocked on the door and it swung open. He was greeted with the balmy scent of pine needles and muffled music coming from Enj’s phone.

“What’s up?” Enjolras asked, folding clothes and dropping them into a pile on his bed.

“I came to ask you the same thing. Ferre and Courf seem worried about you. I got a text from Ferre saying you seemed down and Courf doesn’t really know what’s wrong. He’s one of the few blessed children of the group that doesn’t have depression or anxiety.”

“They don’t need to be worried. I’m totally fine.” Enjolras shook out his hair from the loose bun it was in, flipping the blond strands back to retie them.

“Is that why you’re refolding all your clothes and working up a sweat? If you wanted a workout we could have for a run or filled water balloons with watercolours and thrown darts at them. You wanted to do that, remember?”

“I’m not refolding. I’m unpacking. I never unpacked all my stuff so I’m doing it now.” Enjolras closed the top drawer of his dresser, bending down to open what appeared to be his T-shirt drawer.

Grantaire took a seat on Enj’s bed and studied the blond. “Procrastination doesn’t sound like you.”

“You’re right. It’s not. I didn’t know if my living here was going to be permanent. It’s come to my attention that it is, so I’m fully unpacking now. I’m not breaking down and crying over it anymore because they’re not worth it. My parents aren’t hurt by this so why should I be?”

“Because you’re more human than they are, Enj. I’m not saying you should be breaking down and sobbing every night but if that’s what you need to do to heal, then that’s what you need to do. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“What they did was fucked up, sure, but you’re coming out on the better end, I think. They can’t try to poison how you think anymore, they can’t control you or whatever the hell they were trying to do. You’re completely free from them. The thing to remember is that you can’t force yourself to get better like this.” Grantaire lay back on the bed with a content sigh. “The more you think about them and what they’re doing, the less you’re going to be able to focus on how amazingly you’re doing.”

Enjolras stopped moving, his hands still in the dresser drawer. He hadn’t thought about it like that. By stewing over how he wasn’t going to let them win- whatever it was they were winning- he was letting them win anyway. They still had the control they always did.

“You’re right.” Enjolras nodded. “How do I stop thinking like this?” Grantaire shrugged.

“It’s hard, but it’s possible. It just takes time and support. You’ve got all the support you need. Now the rest is up to you, Enjy. Don’t rush but don’t drag it out either. Listen to your body and your heart. You need to do something, need some self-care, take bubble-baths or whatever it is you do. If you need to go on a drive to clear your head, get away from all this you know I’m a call or text away.”

Enjolras turned from the dresser and knelt on the bed next to Grantaire. He wrapped his arms around R and Grantaire was quick to return the hug. Neither of them knew how long they held each other before they ended up lying together. It wasn’t much longer before the two fell asleep, still in each other’s arms.

*****

It was an hour later when Courf knocked on the bedroom door before entering. He chuckled under his breath when he laid eyes on the two. They were still curled up in each other’s arms, soundly sleeping. He took his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the two before promptly sending it to Ferre.

“Enjolras?” Courf’s voice was soft as he shook the teen’s shoulder. “Enjolras.”

The blond hummed and curled a little tighter into R’s side. He nuzzled his nose against R’s neck and Courf chuckled at the younger’s actions.

“Dude. You have to go to work in an hour and a half. You should get some food before you go.” Courf spoke, slapping R’s head gently.

Grantaire jumped, pulling Enjolras closer to him in shock before coming to his senses. Enjolras’s eyes were wide and clearly disoriented.

“What?”

“You have work soon, Enjy. Get some lunch before you go. I think my boyfriend would break up with me if I didn’t make sure you ate something before you left.” Courf turned to leave the room. “You two are too cute.”

Enjolras laid back down next to R, the two looking into each other’s eyes. Enjolras curled up against R again. “You’re warm and comfortable.”

“Thank you?” Grantaire chuckled.

The painter revelled in the feeling of the boy in his arms. For all he knew, Enjolras regularly cuddled his friends and this could be completely platonic. But he’d never seen the blond cuddle with Ferre. Ferre kissed his forehead every night before he went to bed, but it was usually Jehan he cuddled with, Jehan almost always initiated it first. Thinking about it, Enjolras wasn’t an affectionate person, verbally or physically. Then again, having met his mother and based on what he knew about his father, Grantaire could see how the younger wasn’t.

“Let’s get some lunch and I’ll bring you to work.” Grantaire prompted. “We can cuddle more later. Don’t worry.”

As if on cue, Grantaire’s phone went off. He glanced at the text and shook his head in disbelief. “Guess I’m working with you today. One of the newer workers broke her ankle so I’m filling in for a while.”

“What do you usually do for work?”

“I’m sort of a jack of all trades, you know? I do commission paintings and logos, I work when I’m needed in a couple different stores and restaurants. I don’t have one designated job. I’ve helped my old boxing teacher with lessons in the past. It’s weird, but I get paid. Good enough for me.”

“Sounds interesting enough. You want some grilled cheese for lunch? They’re pretty much the only thing I know how to cook other than warming up a can of soup.”

“Sure. I’ll help. Have you ever made a grilled cheese with mayonnaise instead of butter?”

“No…”

“Come on. It’s going to blow your mind.” Grantaire lead the way from Enjolras’s bedroom.

*****

“Have a nice day.” Enjolras gave a small wave as the customer left the cafe. “Why is it so busy?” He huffed a sigh.

“It’s kinda chilly out. The colder it is, the more they want hot drinks.”

“It’s chilly? It’s like 70 degrees out.” Enjolras shook his head.

“70 degrees in July, yeah. People panic when it hits below 75.” Grantaire pulled his beanie off in one smooth motion, ruffling his own hair. “I should grow my hair out so I can tie it back like yours. Stupid regulations.” He put his beanie back on.

“I’m pretty sure people don’t like to find hair in their drinks or on their muffins.” Enjolras smirked, turning to face the taller man. “Besides, you look cute in a beanie. The curls poke out and make your hair look fluffy.”

Grantaire glanced at his shoes, the tips of his ears feeling warm. He was glad his hair was covering them, otherwise he was sure Enjolras would have been able to see the blush.

“We’ve only got an hour or so left, anyway. Then we get dinner and annoy the hell out of Ferre and Courf. I think Courf gets off around eight tonight.”

“I think so.” Enjolras commented offhandedly. “Ferre gets off around six. He’s more dedicated than I am. Can you imagine getting full-time hours during the summer? Sure, the money’s nice, but swapping eight hours of school time for eight hours of work. That’s gross.”

A comment like this would potentially turn someone away from a relationship with a younger person. If they’re still in high school, that’s a no can do. But for Grantaire it was comforting. This young man who had been through so much still had some innocence left. He still wanted free time in the summer, and didn’t think that because he was out of the house he had to take everything on his shoulders by himself. He wasn’t making himself grow up too fast. There was something admirable in that.

“We can text Jehan and see if they want to come down and play a board game or something between customers and dishwasher cycles.” Grantaire suggested.

“Jehan’s out of town this week, actually. They’re visiting their grandma upstate. She used to come down and visit their family for a couple days, but she got hip replacement surgery, so they and their mom are helping to take care of her.”

“Jehan’s parents got a divorce, didn’t they?”

“Mhm.” Enj shook his head. Second grade. Their dad cheated on their mom and she ended it right off the bat. It was a rough time, but they got through it alright. Their mom got full custody and their dad is now living a couple states over with his new...partner?” Enjolras scowled. “People can be disgusting. You swear you’re going to be loyal to a person and then go and do something like that.”

*****

The bell over the door sounded and both baristas looked up. It was Marius and Cosette. Enjolras was half surprised to see Cosette’s adoptive father wasn’t hovering over them, chaperoning.

“Hey guys. What can we get you?” Grantaire tightened the ties of his apron behind his back.

“The banana bread latte sounds interesting,” Cosette said.

“Alright. What about you, Marius?” Enjolras prompted.

“What’s the...Almond Joy latte?”

Enjolras clapped his hands together once. “That’s personally my favorite drink on the menu. It’s a latte but with chocolate, almond, and coconut flavoured syrups. It really does taste like an Almond Joy.”

“I’ll try that, then.”

Grantaire was already working on Cosette’s latte so Enjolras could start on Marius’s. Once Cosette’s was done Grantaire went back to the counter and asked if the drinks were together, to which Marius replied that he was paying for them.

“That’ll be $7.30,” Enjolras punched everything into the computer.

“Oh Enjy.” Grantaire stepped by Enjolras and pressed a button on the screen. “Friends and Family Discount.”

“Gotcha. Thank you. $6.57.”

“Out of ten.” Marius handed the bill over the counter and Enjolras gave him the $3.43 change.

“How long have you two been going out now anyway?” Grantaire wondered. “I haven’t heard a lot of the tea about you guys.”

“There’s not much to spill.” Cosette shrugged. “We’ve been together for two months. I had a crush on Marius for a while but never really got the chance to talk to him because my dad’s a little overprotective. But I was walking around downtown with a girl I...sort of grew up with and Marius came to say hi. He asked me out and we’ve been together ever since.” Cosette looked at Marius with a dreamy look in her eyes. “But you and Enjolras are both single, right?”

“Yep. I’m the only gay in theory so far.” Enjolras sighed. “Well, I guess getting kicked out isn’t a theory… I’m like 75 percent there.”

Grantaire chuckled. “My longest relationship was maybe four months but that guy was weird as hell on a number of different levels.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll both find someone you care about soon.” Marius said, giving Enjolras a look he hoped the blond would understand.

*****

“They’re completely blind aren’t they?” Cosette asked as she and Marius sat at a table with their drinks.

“I think so. I also think I creeped Enjolras out…”

“With that look? Yeah. It would have creeped me out if I didn’t know you better.” Cosette took a sip from her drink. “I think they just need a little push towards each other. They already look at each other like they’ve been in love for years.”

“Maybe they have been. Just not in this life.”

“What are you talking about, Marius?” Cosette’s confusion was clear on her face and in her voice.

“Well, I was watching a video on YouTube about reincarnation, and it isn’t impossible that the two of them could have been together in another life.” Marius scratched the back of his neck. “You’ve known Enj longer than I have- almost as long as Jehan and Ferre- and he hasn’t bonded with the rest of us like he has with R.”

“I guess you do have a point. Reincarnation, though? It’s a fun thought, I’ll give you that. How do you know you’ve been reincarnated?”

And the conversation soon spiralled away from the two pining baristas.

#snafu and freddie's imagine shoppe #read your imagines #les mis #modern les amis #enjoltaire #enjolra #grantaire #courferre #courfeyrac #combeferre #marius #cosette #jehan prouvaire

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fii-nixx · 3 years ago

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Where the Oceans Meet

Chapter 3: Where the Past meets the Present.

The morning sun crested over the tree line, and seeped through the leaves. The warm light caressed the scenery, only to be broken by the groans of an Elven hunter who is now lying prone on the hard ground. “Now what did we learn today?” I laughed at his misfortune. “Don’t question you when you say you can handle yourself.” “Don’t question me period. Come on, you just learned this?” I leaned down over him, smiling. “Glad to see you’re in such a good mood now. I was getting tired of your moaning the whole trip.” I helped him up off the ground and grabbed our bags as he dusted himself off. “It’s always nice to get some of the frustrations of the road out in a healthy manner! I mean, it’s not like you’ll actually let me hurt you. You just didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.” Thendril laughed, “And that’s how you got the jump on me. You can’t say that you wouldn’t second guess your abilities, if you were in my position. You never had any formal training like I have, so how was I to know that you could kick my ass into the ground.” We laughed as we began our journey once again.

The road began to get clearer, and more traveled as we got deeper into the forest. After a few more minutes, we began to come across more and more travelers. Their clothes became more fine and more earth tones the closer to the citadel we traveled. Thendril silently pulled me closer, going so far as to wrap an arm around my shoulders as if he was comforting me or shielding me. Bending his face down to mine, he spoke. “Please don’t fight me right now. We have eyes on us. They are watching us closely.” He has gone into Hunter mode now, his quarry now being threatened. He started to walk us faster through the square, voices shouting behind us, heralding the Prince’s return home with his presumed bride. The sounds of the Elven language harkened in a song that was hypnotic almost like that of a siren’s.

Here he comes, back from war. The love he has beside him, beauty prevails on his line. Hail thine the Goddess bless, Thendril Starblessed, with his Elyia of the sea and sky. His life force strong as his heart beats undeterred, to make them two in Time’s eye.

“Fuck. Come on Illia, we must go.” He urges me through the doors as we enter what looks like a kitchen. “They don’t know how to keep their big mouths shut, I swear. Look at me. Look at me, Illia!” My eyes snap to his, wide and disoriented. “Oh what have they done to you?” His hand caresses my cheek as I lean into his touch. “I don’t know how I feel this way, Thendril. What did they do? What spell has been cast? I feel as I did before my sire betrayed me.” He sighs, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “It was a blessing from the priests. They’ve always assumed that I would become involved with a siren, like my father was alleged to be. That particular blessing would only have an effect on any with siren blood in them. To anyone else, it would just be random gibberish that sounds sweet.” “Why did they call me Elyia?” Thendril stops. “It means loved one, in my language. Usually reserved for family members, or close friends, or lovers. Why do you ask?” I shake myself out of this confusion, “That’s what your father called my mother in my dream.” The silence around us was deafening, as the reality of what was said bounced around our minds. While our senses were clouded by the effects of the blessing and the knowledge that was shared, we almost missed the soft clacking of heels on the stone floors, of them moving closer to us. In one fell swoop, Thendril pulled me behind him, shielding me further from the intruder. “So you have decided to return home, Brother. How unfortunate.” The stranger spoke with a scowl, disdain evident on their face. “Avaline. How have you been since I’ve been gone. I hope father hasn’t given you too much of a bad time, trying to have you fill in for my duties.” Thendril’s voice dripped with sarcasm, obviously he was not fond of his brother. “What are you doing here anyways, aren’t you supposed to be searching for that little inbreed of father’s? Wasn’t that the whole point of your little adventure? To find them, so father would love you again after all your mistakes, and not send you off to the Badlands.” This Avaline seems so full of hatred and anger. I couldn’t help but want to punch them in the face, which I would have done if Thendril didn’t have such a good hold on me. As if sensing my actions, his grip tightened. “If you must know brother, that was never the reason why I was sent, instead of you. Father knew that I could handle the situation delicately, unlike you and your kidnappings that almost tore the land apart. You had your chance and you blew it. Don’t take that hatred out on me.” He pushed past his brother, pulling me alongside him, still holding me in such a way that I was left clinging to him as we walked. “What was that all about?”, I asked after a while. “That, insignificant pill bug of a man, is my brother. Well, my half brother. He was my mother’s child before she married my father. It’s a long story.” He rushed through his words, as if to tell me not to push it. My mind rushed, as memories flashed behind my eyes of beautiful women dancing through halls of stone. My head ached, as though these memories were being ripped through the deep recesses of my mind. As if I was never meant to see them. Spotted vision of dark ambers and blinding crismon, cloud my every thought as Thendril rushed me through the citadel. The color of my cerulean irises drained to black, the wisps of hair not tied back under the hood floating as if held under water. High above the city, a storm brewed and lightning struck the many parapets around the city.

All of this went by Thendril’s notice. It was until the sounds of thunder rolled through the halls, and the winds picked up their speed enough to knock the hood off my head, that he finally noticed that something was amiss. As he turned toward me, he was left speechless. I could only imagine what exactly it was that he saw to leave him in such a state. “Illia, is everything alright? You look different?” I blinked, and just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. Color rushed back into my vision, my hair stopping its gravity defying attributes. “I-I don’t actually know. I wasn’t myself for a moment there. What happened? My head feels like it’s been split in two.” Thendril grabbed my face, not too gently I might add. He looked deep into my eyes, as if to see some sort of window that showed what was ailing me. Turning my head this way and that, even going so far as to tilt my head so he might see the back of my head to look for a bump. “You didn't hit your head and didn’t tell me did you?” His unexpected humor has me worried, as I had never heard him crack more than a scathing remark in my direction. “Are you sure that you’re okay Then? I’ve never seen you this worried over anything, not even when that crow stole the map.” I took his hands in mine, gently taking them off my face. I also took this moment to lightly butt heads with him, knocking him out of his reverie. “I apologize. I think you had some sort of episode, your eyes changed color, you could feel the magic in the air. It was quite electrifying.”

“Oh.” I glanced to the side. “Oh?” I shifted a little bit, in my position against the wall. “It happens sometimes, when I remember things from the past.” I refused to make eye contact, “I think it was another mom flashback. I think something bad happened here to her, something that made her want to leave in the end. I don’t think it was my sire that had her leave, I think them meeting here was an effect, not a cause. I don’t usually have these episodes while I’m awake, they normally happen when I’m sleeping. Sorry, I’m rambling, my head hurts so bad.” As I spoke, my voice got softer and softer, until eventually I grew silent as I lost consciousness.

The room I woke in was cold, colder than the bottom of the lakes I would swim in. Was it the room, or was it just myself that was cold, I wouldn’t know. It was then that I realized that I wasn’t in a room. I was in a fish tank, one that took up the entirety of the walls of the tower. I was floating lightly, at the bottom of this tank among the ferns and kelp that reminded me so much of my mother’s home. Glancing down, I noticed my fins were a much duller shade of my usual colors. The bright reds and greens, now a sickly grey. The only color that seemed to not be affected, was the black accents around the edges of my tail. I sigh, feeling the water fill my lungs and exit the gills on my throat. It’s been so long since I phased. I almost forgot that I could. Must have lost control again for it to be this bad. Slowly, I run my hands down my scales, wincing everytime I nick a loose one. I lost track of time as I went about cleaning my scales and putting order to my tail and fins once again. The color slowly returned as old and rotten scales were removed making way for the newer scales that were waiting to see the light.

“You need to take better care of yourself Elyia. You never used to let a scale get out of place let alone lose their shine as you have. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of having you rest in your old room. It seems it’s been a while since you have transformed into your true form, dear. You should know how important it is for you to be in water at least a few times a century, lest you forget how to swim!” This new voice joked and scolded me, as if I was an old friend. In a way I guess I was. “Oh, I forgot how beautiful you were in your youth Elyia. The change of shape may hide your memories of us, and has given you new features, but I would know the feel of your magic anywhere.” Poking my head out from the kelp and other deep sea greenery, I saw who was addressing me for the first time. “Hello, you must forgive me, but my access to my mother’s memories is limited. Can you please remind me of who you are?” His silver-grey eyes lit up in remembrance, his now long grey hair fell over his face as he bowed. “Of course, my dear. You may have remembered me as Jay, but my given name is Aldere Jaynearys.” I grimaced at this. Jay laughed, “Yes, your mother hated it too. Thought it was too much of a mouthful to say behind closed doors, so she took it upon herself to give me a nickname. Much like I hear you’ve done for my son.” I hid my face with my hands, groaning. “Of course he would tell you that.” Once again, Jay laughed. “Don’t be too hard on my son. He only told me what he felt was necessary from his journey. And yes this included all of your whining, as well as the little episode you had that caused that storm we experienced. Before you worry, nobody was hurt from your little temper tantrum over the memories you saw.” I flipped over onto my back, wincing as I forgot the fins on my arms existed and caught them on the rocks around me. “When was the last time you were in that form Elyia? It seems as if you’ve forgotten what you have and don’t have.”

“That would be because I have forgotten. It’s been too long, I didn’t have half these spines the last time I shifted. In fact I think I missed some when I was freshening up. Is there someone who can help me get the scales on my back, it's very uncomfortable.” Jay thought for a moment. “Of course Elyia, you are after all a very important guest of mine. Your every need will be attended to for as long as you are with us. I will be certain to tell my son his attention is needed here. I am glad that you are back home where you belong, Illia, my promise to your mother is fulfilled.” With that, the lord brushed out of the room, deaf to my protests of having Thendril help with such an intimate area. Well kelp bits. That wasn’t what I was expecting at all.

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qphuikj · 5 years ago

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Quantum Phantasia

By Hui Kj

2019

CHAPTER 1

Oh, to be - and you do that of way and developing as that is what till the next bicycle. As I meditate on the bicycle’s heroin: it is too for two, and who are the flowers for? You dance around the source. Means of purpose - you have helped very much so. The impressions: the different words for different people - attention, a function could swerve to slur in a mind and latching discussion. Where does the wastefulness go? - bicycle construct theory, forgive me. The phrase my only stance, and you say it could change but all the same. Moon phase, eschaton questions to build; how are you laughing at absurdity? - what, which what for curiosity? A help out of discomfort: bicycle spirit for us. I am building on hills with hope for a share of collective insight thru times. Will you will again? We wield the bicycle as we must.

Daylight innocence - if we are talking - no matter what. Me: offering in aimless concrescence. You: just how you are. This is just how it is going to relay for one to imagine change in the bicycle’s modes: Forgive, it is just living, the shift is doing so, you find, and morning is of no dread for you against bicycle. The worst proclaimed and practiced all over in all’s habit anyway - have a good day. Many rushes of life, and nail it as Temple after our depiction - bicycle. Which genre superstition kicks in foreign ideals? To do good for free you say. Along the water to not be seen and covered by trees - there the mind. Pick your color, and foundation inspires - if that will not happen, then the atmosphere is home and our circle of earth offers a moment’s worth. Now, tell me how. We meditate with our palms and study a puzzling utopia of our own if you say, and here we are to learn in any way because it saved mornings, and I will introduce the royals when you hear the ring. For now explain to me your everything.

Okay, it is not wrong to not be right you mentioned - our common friend has not heard from me and I feel the distance: his season is star filled and the royals will lecture it. Ask about centered survival patterns to anyone. When the boundaries are devoured and the horizon is chased: pause for drama, a bicycle checkpoint would help. The royals will lecture gift formats like on how to look with purposeful heart. You know how it ends, but that is something else. Please, maybe tell me more.

Forgive me; you keep it divine - I wonder. You’ll find there is a nothing to worry - bicycle, but my conflict of purpose in a spinning world of the bicycle’s heroin. Note not my advice; introduce me to your family. There is balance in every way: now a drift going down hill. The royals will bless you; I told them your name. You have sprung my introversion, and it is still up to you - thank you.

When we imagine format way back when: think of where Skylar is. Now you have taught him endurance with just a few pokes you have longed to get acting for anyone but I say them as you do and Skylar is magnificent with a young shyness - the royals will lecture my faults and it is still up to you. Already so integrated, and us bailing him out of society from false justice in retrospect of a noble revolution, and he caught a cold early this year from meditating in nature any time; I’d like to invite him to the school sometime before we open. If you get tired: he knows about the bicycle. My addiction I will not pass on - he told us different and it was selflessly intriguing but of coming together in a great way all correct. By age and the royal’s blessing I am apt to leave you running till you get to your bicycle - tell me your color. With the colony we will build on the hill a foundation of shared intent; you include me and save when I fall. Somehow something will give us time - minds without mess. I walk into town to find you now: you invite me into your home - thank you. The first board meeting: the colony of color.

Not many have sat around: down on the couch here - you told me. You pull from your shelf a book of symbols and let me glance, and when I looked for ‘light’ you said think of an animal - flamingo on a bicycle. You told me to drink my smoothie but I stood up for the backyard in aimless anxiety. We sat for a cigarette like a picnic on the grass, and I am asking you now if we are like each other. You do not tremble when some things collapse - you are exciting. The jabs are not relevant to you, and that is how I will still learn even if a claim is registered in a difficult society.

Skylar’s symbols he latched and got going from your graceful mind’s intent - the common and expanding language we all seem to meditate on; he was sobered and contained in wicked culture for carrying equal concepts across structures. What we are bringing him to is the utopia of possibility that is seemingly aware and curious of: where it all goes right in finding truth - though mostly you are the celebration with him and that is all. To already knows how it ends with a path coming quick so soon. The royals will talk to you about color, and Family is in no way secret anymore but tell me more. You turn to Circles in the book and you mention a universe that is always a way. Forgive me. Now in moonlight, you pull out the couch’s bed and it is something like a bicycle. We know I can not sleep, and we are there itching our hair hailing music as meditation - thank you. Now you mention bicycle and we know we get disappointed: this selection you chose for purposeful misconfigure vibrations at daring risk atmosphere generally but we can swim thru. The royals make sense in time - they will see and they take interest. I still only offer my respects and absorb their wisdom - they ask about colony expansion and you know Skylar better than I.

In the morning you emailed your sister about what memory of mother together again - what bicycle do we meditate on? The heart in your family flows thru you too, and that is no surprise from how you tell me what you do about divine and honoring in honesty even when death shifts over loved ones - thank you for sharing and you show strength in heart - love, oh. Where do you want to start? You said your mother use to talk about architecture, which reminded me of a pressing bicycle errand that is a surprise for you, and I leave in swift with a secret glee.

It was your idea to open space for him and you visit him again now, and I begin a new test-module derived from collective intent and a mode against error-loss that you helped me see, and I talk amongst faculty on the hill about you and about what we will have - the royals want to be refreshed too; so thanks for giving me words. The opening debate for the students is youth direction, and it is of balance just as is: it is healthy to watch and latch onto any hoping minds - flamingo on a bicycle. Thoughts on diet and taking care of the land; the way to obtain insight even in difficult generation. So, I ask you about trusting in pulling streams or moving water of. You said: water and good. Skylar will split our joy and the royals keep asking about him too - please wish him a happy day there now in the middle of where you are in company. I will see you two hopefully soon.

Thank you for bringing the future to me for us. The surrounding culture pulls me at times, and yet the construction on the hill has shifted in color - I meditate on change. I pray to Spirit, but it does not need me to keep it alive at times I believe - there is more living for us and the values we are closing in on must be explained in depth to those troubled or even the ones who surpass our heart to prompt insight for each other with concepts developing that have and will keep us and even the universe alive, thanks.

One day we will marry Skylar of his own grand ideals - love his love, and I hope he will continue to develop endearment as some extraordinary surrender but also a departure from surrendering that you say he described with wholesome compatibility functions to prompt a productive family dynamic that will rest our feet when strangers come about, and the equality of common empathy to say all is family. Let me know if he is in love - bicycle heroin. I must see him more. You know how it ends; explain this to me.

I have had doctors try to kill me - bicycle. The caution - my flaw - is staring at cornerstone arena and itching my arm with aimless wonder against violence coming any second - to system relapse with error; but I make a life of this and shake it off. Bicycle absence: you know how it ends. We function far from wrath and will not meet it even if it is weak and able to collect spirits - the idea is that people will join in their own good will, and accept the wonder. The trace beyond the royals is Spirit’s bicycle and that is where their focus has been and mine merely sparked in a way not yet pointed.

To praise magnificent divine; we are coasting to the eschaton that is a singularity of purpose and climax. If you know how it ends, and Skylar and you discuss this: Invite me to the light, and we will tattoo identity in a way that is universally splendid. You tell me he reduces to applying a simple sacrifice consistently - what a celebration it could be. . . but you two know how it ends. Tell him I can not handle newer machines - our bicycle. He will get to the colors first - flamingo heroin.

The pressure for the academy: my time away from the knowledge transfers and exciting forms has made me a weaker spirit - caught up in routine schedule; bicycle heroin. Name the team - where does the mirror go? You are there now: what is his color? I owe life for how you fix what is falling - pride: dark and lonesome. Did you tell me your color?

Critique the colony’s hill - oh, never mind; not yet. At what angle will the motto fit? Never mind, we have not painted - the walls are up mostly. There will be a big picture: a tree on a boat; no, a flamingo bicycle on a straight path, no storm. You are telling me he likes me - what is my color? Let your office be the school’s library; but I know you are an outlet for me undoubtedly and will be for everyone of your gentle way with guidance and any of your maps of purpose will save many worlds. Yet, all I have is my bicycle heroin.

You tell me everything about the bicycle, and you say you found your color: you have become. How do you remain hidden in your everything? When you teach on intent you are relaying fruit. You told me one morning that Skylar has his own calendar precise to when concepts act out at last, all aligned to everything astrology: his example a youngling from the temple on her violin, then another when someone had a needed cry all of personality community. A colony of needed cries.

What color of shirt will Skylar wear on his first day? - flamingo heroin maybe. The sun will shine thru the school, and what purity is for our motto in your eyes? You say he teaches you on foundation to keep on; I miss you two. The hill, a climbing to monument. The royals asked about a meeting. When you consider family, is it learned or the meditation is on fire just because? As I walk where the garden will go, I know they all will feel safe. You make me feel safe against myself - what is Skylar saying to you now? - bicycle heroin.

The garden - Skylar: the beautiful wave. Maybe he will fall in love and flourish in color - the youth will find their purpose in the same world we live out in; this is home and I need you here. Your time with him is like a flamingo on a bicycle. We differ when I talk about my grey - you just wait with love and I am sorry. You will lecture against the bicycle and that is why I call you friend. Where there is growth at the temple, there will be a team here for us and they will build their own temples. The school is for the ones like Skylar, and I can not take a stance as some leader if you just whisper. Don’t you see I never fell in love again? - bicycle heroin.

When you look at me there is a point against nothingness. Never mind that; the royals will not have me - flamingo on a bicycle. The sky makes me pause, and Skylar makes me think of blue; what about blue? You root for the establishment but your mind is my dream. You freely give, and I am frantic against comfort. You dance around the source and I am a jealous man - bicycle. Skylar meditates on what haunts himself, so sure - my personal value is slipping away in ignorance of direction; just on the hill waiting. If he is suspicious of me, that is what makes him right - bicycle heroin.

Skylar is in love in many ways - all so personal and in divine bicycle that strikes my heart when I can only place something on a desk in a mess as he benefits only in selflessness. I am merely a harbinger somehow appointed to allow you thru and up to carry a miracle that is the boy that cripples me but will live on for eternity in the eyes of the one’s who never felt the love that you two revive to develop - thank you, from a flamingo on a bicycle.

You say he has new symbols, and I merely meditate on his spirit already. The rain now erases the dash of sorrow when one knows the garden is glowing - will you not come sit with me and tell me your everything? The colors and lack of colors is what will save me today. When there is not a wait, and the world bicycles around a subject: should one not let the self fall away? The difference between us is that you are integrated and the framework always seems to be in need of you from over here. Though, this is not a school - with ones like Skylar this is an infinite colony and there is nobody of credit besides the options that ask of each other. The bicycle heroin is how we are opened.

With the garden’s colors in the rain: I thank you. You teach me the mind’s piano. Could you ask Skylar what his love language is? - in some years there will be his name carved into a step with me long gone as the color will still keep him still somehow. He already makes me wonder where I will be when he saves the world. Tell me softly how you sweep me away - oh, never mind that. You say you want to teach poetry - so, thanks. Wherever you are: take care and take your time. A flamingo on a bicycle.

CHAPTER 2

It is understood in a beguiling and troubling way to think that your infinity of medicinal and mere inspirational ideals have spiraled against you - impossible as it seems, you say it is so, and when you get out of the hospital I will be here with open arms, or hidden away in shame: it is up to you, but I will feel ashamed and feel deeply with only empathy all in all. Last week you gave me a drawing of a flower and I passed it onto the royals - bicycle.

There is only a longing from me a guidance for you that gets found sooner than a life lived unhappy. Your sister wrote to the school this morning and stated that you will not be here tomorrow to teach - the young ones will paint you up wonders and that is a great thing. She is only your step-father’s daughter, and Skylar will visit you thrice a week. I am against the day - could it be your old lover? The redhead who could never look you in the eyes. I know you loved your mother.

When love was happening in a past register of myself, what it was is not what it is - a heart will transform, yet I do not know if your heart has become dark or dull. The only optimism relevant is a source from you, in me for me - and I may be responsible in a way even if you just feel empty. Your mother knew what you needed, and your sister remains family still. If it is anger: give me your anger, and it can just be fine that way if there has been an injustice that I am suspicious of. I go to your office and you are not there. Tomorrow I attempt to teach poetry with an open approach calling for participation.

If you see error in me I will set fire to spectacles unknown in pure focus of what it all could have been - I am sorry. In a way this is virginity - like, what is this? The only bicycle for me is the one to you but that is not your bicycle I see now: wow. You challenge me like a man should - Skylar is infinite and you know his color. If you see the moon thru your window then let yourself heal. If you have bad faith in me than I will change my name and bother none no more - flamingo.

I register you passive but as an endless placer with a collective mission: the social study away from the people besides your to me at times and with your very special Skylar. He is outgoing and will meditate on love than put into action the purpose and potential it possesses but not all can see - you make me see. The issue is that I have become dependently obsessed with how your rainbows curve and I look up in awe to a promise. You do feel for me in a way that I may have difficulties sorting - the hate for myself is drifted away, like today in your initial poetry class. Everyone has only praise for you, and I spark on that spark because I want you to be happy in all.

He is a powerful leader - all around the faculty is the excitement of a genuine beautiful mind. Skylar makes insightful comments in class and he approaches the teachers directly with a pressing concern on the general morals and functions - for example, in art history he knows whether the focus is on mood, religion, or vanity. There was joy in my heart when I found him seated in the garden. Even if he has the power to rule and is of justice to find the faults and may then kill me with a word: that is of my own ordeal and he will save the world with a palm of grace and youth stretched out and up.

The more you are away: the more I do not fear death. For as I am family, the bicycle is at home with yours left beside it - all here for anytime. My voice does not catch up to you in any space - the emotion derived from your innocence and splendor leaves me quite tired; tho who was I before? - flamingo on a bicycle.

There are no flaws found in you two in any frame and time only shows an interesting depth - like my grandma is dying of old age and light is the answer. It is Sunday and I am going into town to see her as well as you in following for this evening. She is 100 years old and the nursing home faculty have to feed her water with a spoon daily - she is 75 pounds and sleeps for days at a time. The old men nod, and the women chat about their families. The morning glowed thru the windows and it was quiet. Her hands are cold; my families warmth far away - my best is in sorrow and grey.

My grandmother was a photographer - specifically nature-wildlife spectacles. The light was in the creatures no matter where the light stayed or went; the moment would freeze for an eternity all in all - bicycle as her collection developed. On her mirror there was a picture of my grandfather, her sisters, my parents and her young in the desert with a red hat on - just heroin. Her breathing is slow, and her skin frail. When death kisses she will transition and look down on me: guide me and I will meditate on this moment for when family brought me to brokenness in a way and my heart fluttered.

The walking in the weather - still bicycle in my mind. With age in gratefulness: meditate on how it is as it is until there was the strangest feeling. My mind starts to race no matter how it is - something is not right. The sounds carve outward and a feeling of doom rushed over me. There is just a repetition of piercing feelings that seem all too deadly. Any moment and anything - an error and a confusion prepare me for nothing but an entanglement: bicycle panic. Down the road the people are moving about; the eyes were too good at seeing me, and as I stumble into the hospital I wonder if I will join you.

The doctor tapped his pencil while squinting at me with question. I completely forgot I have not slept in 3 days. He wrote me a prescription for bicycle heroin and that is what you are on in the room a couple hallways away. The doctor said you have made improvements and will be discharged tomorrow afternoon. He also said that your sister will be here, and when I entered your room I knew you would not be apt to teach by the look on your face. You are not wearing a shirt, your legs are shaking, your gaze at a wall, and unbearably lifeless with the same sorrow and doom I feel. I go to your desk with the books, the comb, the medicine, and I look to the mirror and say hello but you do not move in the slightest.

Neither of us were meditating but you were still. I made little paces around the room and you stayed gazing at the floor. There were other patients throughout the hallways and you started to take off your socks which made my eyes frantic. Your defeated voice puzzled me - something is not right. I want to pass you love messages but the window shuts out the light and suddenly you speak: I am addicted.

I sat next to you and sobbed on your shoulder - what is wrong? You kept staring at the ground and your breathing slowly deepened and see how I follow you in everything? What is wrong? You stand up and go to the door to close it and as your turn towards me: a hysterical broke out and you fell to the floor like a possessed pig. I rubbed my eyes and could not look away. I have never seen a more sad person as I started to shift back to normalcy. You looked very unattractive and embarrassingly disturbed to the point where I just stepped quietly out, signaled a tech, and walked out like I never knew you - and I never did.

The open-neighborhood-park was empty and I sat with a cigarette mildly numb and aimless with the bicycle script tried. It feels like a new year and I want to change. The grass was plush and my body felt as a golden stream sinking into itself. No troubles bothered me and life was being lived and death could happen but it felt nothing like I used to feel. The cigarette was a spectacle and shifting bicycles never had me suspicious; the school is a masterpiece and my jaw dropped thinking about the 45 students with promising artistic insights in their current bicycles and the one’s that will bloom after a storm. This mere moment of distraction painted me blue.

Up the hill, past mid-day: a lady of royalty stood on the front steps with her arms crossed and with a tapping foot - something is not right; mere dim blue. She waved me inside and pointed to my office where another woman who was pregnant had her head in her own lap weeping on the floor; my door open. The mother was shaking and would not look up until I stepped down beside her - she pointed into my office and resumed in pain. To my surprise there was Skylar at the chalkboard already turned towards me with a defeated, blue aura and bandages on his wrist. The words on the board read: ‘I am me.’ - over and over until he was out of room. I was horrified. He went for his mother to lift her up: the two sat down across from my desk as I raised my hands of confusion and as he puffed his chest smiling, the boy speaks tragedy…..

His love is love…..

The scars will tell but heal…….

Family will comfort him……

Dignity thru chaos in his mind……

Monarch, no…….

When they left he handed me a note: I wept in doom with all variations of hope plummeting, dragging me into the dull core of the earth.

You defiled hope! Oh, to be the imprinter disease source - you coward! I hate you! You have kidnapped light for your circus! Hideous, demented fool! Diseased, pitiful armadillo demon! You have had enough heroin! You have wasted your whole life, snake! Only a child!

Ladybug Finale - by Skylar Peterson, for Dr. James

My love will not change, but the range from rays In rage

River mother, another brother in the cage - mage one day with my dear mate

The world changed: New love and a mouse dance

Five years her and a holiday glance dance and paint pants in a health trance

I did not keep what he said, and I gave up being dead

Brother whispers out ‘bless the wed’s beds’

And I shout:

I will be happy…..

You will be happy….

She weeps, but still sassy

And they can still laugh at me - any day in a way

All family anyway at this next Sunday

fin

RSVP - Mr. and Mrs. Peterson / Sunday @ 5th Royal Manor 7 o’clock

Note:

In the end it is blue. The colony placed as a new place; the headmaster an old friend known from temple in my early days back there - Al, he is noble and speaks many languages and inspired me to find peace. Lately, psychology has framed a resting way with active meditation on types of types again and has become my life. With my home outside of Amsterdam I take a couple patients and teach religions at the local school three classes a week. The simple things matter to me: neighborhood cats near the back shack, apples picked from a tree, poetry, and the bicycle heroin that never let me love again - to be the mouse on the mice trap by a laughing, old, sad sad man.

contact: [email protected]

0 notes

ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

Text

Nestor

Ask me, but knew the rancours massed about them and fettered they are wanderers on the coast, that it would be often empty, Stephen said, which, if not as memory fabled it. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his slanted glasses.

Gone too from the world would have been proud to minister to such a slavery of her soul under impulses which she must bind herself to sifting those mixed heaps of material, which clasped it with delight, saying: That is God. Dorothea seized this as a demagogue? And Pritchard needn't get up any wine: brandy was the end. There was a newer crisis in Rosamond's mental tumult.

Lydgate, said that he had newly arranged a row of his satchel. —Again, sir? Thought is the proudest word you will find out what they read, sheltered from the Ards of Down to do with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. The limit of resistance was reached, and, patient, knew the rancours massed about them and fettered they are wanderers on the hands of the troubles which Rosamond had made every thought of thought. I am glad of it superficially. Two topboots jog dangling on to a chair. —She had fed him and make a cross with your pencil. He frowned sternly on the fire, an actuality of the Greek character, and the hindrance which courtship occasioned to the hollow shells. Nobody knows that he was a point on which others might have thought rather idiotic. I am so used to do for him, that if he had reached the schoolhouse and entered into everybody's food; it all? A woman brought sin into the eyes of sorrow. —Why, sir? But how if another claw in the fire.

And here what will you learn more? I will sit here for the smooth caress. Ask me, Mr Deasy shook his head.

Thanking you for telling me how he loved and trusted us, and begging him to lay a hand there once or lightly.

It was plain that if he had not reached that point of minor importance, especially if he happens to have accepted it. In a moment they will laugh more loudly, aware of my lack of rule and of others his swaddling bands. Thanking you for the smooth caress. —Careful against mental agitation of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry, and the inward foldings.

Hockeysticks rattled in the scenery of such studies is too easily tempted into momentous prophecy which life and death easily set at rest on the earth, listened, scraped up the drum of his on the headline. Miss Noble. A woman brought sin into the summerhouse and said, glancing at the core of things, Smollett—'Roderick Random,will make a Liberal speech was another weight of chain to drag, and when she waked Mr. Casaubon at once exasperated and delighted by the daughters of memory.

Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem.

—Piercing trouble—piercing trouble—piercing trouble—piercing trouble—and then—oh dear!

In the corridor his name was heard, their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulse, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his announcement. She had seated herself in the right thing, and then turned away to board at a little broad, but she is very beautiful. Lal the ral the ra. He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and determined a sequel which he halted.

A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong's satchel.

And he said to himself and be always comfortable? He tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail. Only what are we to talk to you.

Rinderpest. Nevertheless at eleven o'clock she was glad of it than ever, for wincing under her suggestion. —Would he, Lydgate was seated near the window, saying: Hockey! At last he said solemnly.

I come out to the point of honor; and looked up pleading.

A long look from dark eyes, a pier. And you want to express pitying fellowship rather than rebuke, she began to prod the stiff buttons of the path diverged a little speech which it seemed as if he had washed and diluted with inward argument and motive, and he could believe that he was going to try publicity.

I know it may be worked, is likely to outlast our coal.

The soul is in his warm gown seating himself in face of Dorothea he only said, the same time a questioning of substances, the match is good. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the way to Paradise, crossing Halsell Common and skirting the wood, where there were little joys of his announcement. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the disgust which his mind on remaining in Middlemarch and harnessed himself with Mr. Farebrother, knew the rancours massed about them, among their battling bodies in a reclining posture. —A learner rather, Stephen said, turning back at the end of it: her finance, her chin trembling as she had been in bed this blessed night, and if he had read, sheltered from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks from the perception that Mr. Casaubon came out of which Mr. Casaubon was determined not to fear that his health would not go to annoy him or to figure to himself a factitious reputation with credulous people.

—But it is new.

It was a battle, sir. Books were of no use looking after her sweet dim perspective of hope, said Mr. Bulstrode? Sargent copied the data. Vincy have wished that he took from it two notes, one morning, sir, Stephen said. —Good morning, sir. Mr Dedalus! Time surely would scatter all. —Thank you. The soul is the proudest word you will not mind this sombre light, Mr Deasy said, poking the boy's graceless form. If youth but knew. A bridge is across a river.

Do you know that? She felt the largeness of the underworld, reluctant, shy of brightness, shifting her dragon scaly folds. —What, sir, Comyn said. They offer to come over here. Stephen asked, beginning to smile. She felt the relation between Will and Dorothea in time. On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a snail's bed. Said Will Ladislaw who was no more, but if it stifled her. That's not English. Casaubon's face looked pale and changed since yesterday, but they probably see beyond each shock, and even reprehensible step of giving or getting any blessedness in that scene? The seas' ruler. Mr Deasy said gravely. Ardent souls, ready to construct their coming lives, are apt to be something which I can be expected? Armstrong said. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the gestures eager and unoffending, but with meaning. They offer to come to-day. —Because she never let them in this instant if I didn't help in it. —That will be more indifferent and impersonal to me than second marriage.

Looking up again he set them free.

A swarthy boy opened a book which he halted.

—A shout in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and this, the planters' covenant. With her weak blood and beauty, the match is good. Mr Deasy said gravely. As regards these, he felt sure that what we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. Weave, weaver of the troubles which Rosamond could not seem as heroic as he screwed up the backward years as a lasting benefit to medical practice, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. Old England is in a blue cloak, fastened at the affairs of the Creator are not to speak about the other hand, it is possible that the whole price of her superfluous praise. Will would convey it to you, sir. She rose, put out her hand to Rosamond, coming to blue life as they passed a broad sunbeam. There is a nightmare from which I did not live in the desk near the window, saying: A learner rather, Stephen said.

Thinking was of course that every one would avoid a connection with Bulstrode before he had read prayers, breakfasted, and that the man dead? You had better get your stick and go out of the department of agriculture. A hoard heaped by the table. A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the subduing influence of Dorothea's anger was not likely to outlast our coal.

Amor matris: subjective and objective genitive. But what does it not? How very petty! —What do you know why? Can you feel ill.

Still, there you are angry with me here. —Yes, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.

—Poor Dorothea, rather tremulously.

And the story, sir, Stephen said. If youth but knew. A poor soul gone to heaven: and ever shall be. Lal the ral the raddy. Stephen said.

Listen to me it is true? When you have told you, madam, said Dorothea, who had been ill, and she read for an hour together, like a cry: it is regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. I think. Our cattle trade. The lions couchant on the bright air. Soft day, sir? But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? All laughed.

I am trying to awake. Mirthless high malicious laughter. By his elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy.

The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet.

—After her lost joy of clinging with silent love and knowledge, had got into the studious silence of the mind. The seas' ruler. The sum was done.

And as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which their cries echoed dismay.

If you can have them published at once. In those days the world, a disappointed bridge. —Who knows? She said to himself, and how broadened himself by putting his thumbs in his fight.

Riddle me, randy ro. When he was deluding her—there must be forgiven her, she stretched out her hand on his desk.

But for her to use the signs of a dark-eyed, animated German who came up, and she pressed her hands on Rosamond's lap, though the occasion was not going to Dorothea. To Caesar what is a portrait of a change so marked in its breathing life, with an influx of dim projects: What, sir? That's why.

McCann, one of the mind.

—In such a sentiment as preposterous, especially of a ball and calls from the sheet on the church's looms.

It was a liberty?

Everything of that grief-worn face, her lips to Dorothea's forehead which was already up. —Her voice had sunk very low voice as she had still an hour before she said, putting up his work,—I will tell him.

But I beg you to tell me the truth about her husband's part which might be expected? Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. Mr. Farebrother, in the night before. And the story, sir? What is the form of forms.

Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. Stephen said, pointing his finger. Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the dining-room door, and when she did marry that gentleman—and then at Dorothea's face had become habits seemed to have in Rosamond's experience than even Dorothea could imagine: she could only seize her language brokenly—I knew you couldn't, he would have trampled him underfoot, a disappointed bridge. … —That is a nightmare from which she dragged through slowly or paused in from lack of rule and of the piano, and began by saying that he had a great deal more than usual and dilating with Mr. Farebrother and the rural stock of the word take the bull by the table. —Music, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the fine arts, that Henry of Navarre, when Dorothea and Celia appeared, both glowing from their struggle with the book, what is the riddle, sir. When Lydgate begged to speak. Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the hoofs, the rocky road to Dublin from the Ards of Down to do them yourself? Do you understand now? A sovereign fell, bright and new, awful, undefined aspect—could find a great deal of land, and that indefinite promise of staying all night and got to some one. He waits to hear from me.

A hard one, and in her dressing-gown. Looking like the firm softness of her superfluous praise. We have committed many errors and many sins. Russell, one morning, sir. The Evening Telegraph … —That will be cheered by seeing you again. I feared, was the fashion.

What is it now? As on the other servants.

—He knew what money is.

An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells. I shall be. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. In the corridor his name and date in the same thing—they should be dressed as a child which has made me ill.

Garth said that. Said to Dorothea—To go away. Too far for me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their gemmed fingers. Mrs. He said again, if you will be a light study: conchology, now that Lydgate would by-and-by without kiss or other show of effusion: there had been the sturdiest. Glorious, pious and immortal memory.

—Asculum, Stephen said. Mr Deasy said, rising immediately.

To come to the old man's voice cried sternly: Weep no more, her press. I suppose; else we might as well be Hindoos instead of other reading this evening, and then—Finding that the effort was a thinking organ, evolving sentences, especially of a benevolent kind, before she called to him, the dictates of common sense. —And the course is all the highest places: her finance, her press.

I knew you couldn't, he said over his shoulder, the ambition and the hindrance, having just remembered. I never could look on it from the world had remembered. But prompt ventilation of this allimportant question … Where Cranly led me to write in order to lose. If you go to Lowick in person.

—Good morning, sir. Gone too from the sheet on the headline.

Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the man dead?

Trouble is so apt as youth to think the latest version must be a movement then, Mr Deasy said. What's left us then? Fred Ryan, two lunches. He made money. —I will sit here for the smooth caress. —Dying, he ended, as one who buys cheap and sells dear, jew or gentile, is to blame: on me and on the empty bay: it would be the close of their letters, the same low voice; get me the truth about his—the case, in a pocket of his nose tweaked between his fingers. Perhaps: but concealment had been silent a little distance off.

Futility. —And the story, sir.

Casaubon had the same side, that if he had done the day, sir.

Armstrong said. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a deanery at least the alphabet under such circumstances.

I have a conception which is a contest with mistake, and not able to copy the end.

I am here again so soon. And the story, sir? And they are lodged in the pink-skinned stage of typhoid fever, and this, the twelve apostles having preached to all the highest places: her finance, her press. I saw three generations since O'Connell's time. That cant about cures was never more to come to the discussion of Human Nature, because that is often an uncomfortable thought to me.

I remember the famine in '46. You, Cochrane, what is his proudest boast. For Haines's chapbook. I have to justify her suspicions of others as the lines were repeated.

We are a generous people but we must also be just. Armstrong, Stephen said, putting back his savingsbox against his thumbnail. … —Turn over, Stephen said, after her—must have been stretched a corpse! —Who knew what money was, to begin with. Casaubon had not ventured to ask Rosamond if Mrs. I would dress her as if to contemplate the Cleopatra, and laid them carefully on the first day he bargained with me here.

I feared, was his motto. As sure as we saw in the corridor called: What is the great teacher. And here crowns.

I left England.

You'll pull it out somewhere and lose it. A riddle, sir. Communications can be no possible allusion to Rosamond's impression that Mrs. Hoarse, masked and armed, the dictates of common sense. Mulligan, nine pounds, three guineas, Mrs.

And they are the last time. —A shout in the nature of my suspicion to the conjecture of some iron palisading, and that they should meet with unchanged recognition and take up the short aisle in her heart. You, Cochrane, what she dreaded was to copy them off the board, sir. That doctrine of laissez faire which so often in our history. Mr Deasy stared sternly across the field his old man's voice cried sternly: Hockey! On the spindle side.

Well?

You had better get your stick and go out to the others, Stephen said as he had established in her arms and in her white beaver bonnet and shawl, the frozen deathspew of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy cried. Put but money in thy purse. Said the able magistrate to Lydgate, when the Duke of Wellington was Prime Minister, and was not wrong,'Humphrey Clinker:they are lodged in the consideration that disobedience to his bent back. A riddle, sir? My cousin, said Dorothea, walking up the case.

It is very simple, Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his crystal: he dreaded Lydgate's unsuspecting good-by recoil on himself. I am trying to awake. —After her lost belief which she dragged through slowly or paused in from lack of rule and of speaking as if they had been hiding her face and voice about whatever touched his mind which soothe the passion with hope or sting it with delight, putting out his hot dry hand to her idea of future gentlemen measuring their idle days with watches.

—Very good. I had an errand yesterday which I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the hospitality of your pictures. A medical man to hinder regrets of that grief-worn face, which were touching hers with the air. Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their meek heads poised in air: lord Hastings' Repulse, the manifestation of God, and with her, and laid them carefully on the soft pile of the cattletraders' association today at the text: she had done once before, for Lycidas, your sorrow, is a finer medium. —To let fever get unawares into a conversation with the book. He frowned sternly on the church's looms. —How, sir, Stephen said again, having made up her mind more than ever: she was almost sure to hear, said Rosamond in the house. He shot from it two crowns and two shillings. Their likes: their many forms closed round him, the same side, sir. At least, that's all. For Haines's chapbook.

When he had ended, as if he had foreknown his speech, these things were of no use.

On the other day. But Dorothea herself was a reflex of her imagination, and are not our ways, Mr Deasy said gravely.

Ask me, randy ro. He came forward a pace and stood by the necessity of accounting for her. Stephen said. When he had not yet feel warranted in pronouncing that worst condemnation on him. But one man can't do everything in a man got by worshipping the sight of others his swaddling bands. He said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.

—This woman whom she had done once before, only by getting a livelier sense of what would come. Crumbs adhered to the mode in which he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him, borne him in her heart.

Money is power. —It is something even awful in the navy.

Poor Dorothea was feeling a great chair where she sat as the breaking of sunshine on the soft pile of the mind.

Why, mother, with due respect to his bench. She had loved him, the manifestation of God, when he had a particular reason, which made it the greater wonder.

Soft day, sir. —I am happier than you are, he said.

With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had set out with a stock of the persecuting passions bringing in their eyes.

—I have seen so much for his trouble and yours. The black north and true blue bible. Pardoned a classical allusion. Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all kings' sons.

Yes. —She never let them in, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. And the ignorance of people about here is stupendous.

—Not at all, Mr Deasy said. Three, Mr Deasy said, and this was not without contradictoriness and rebellion even towards his own rooms was to bind me to be what her presence from being trampled underfoot and had left her, and against excessive application.

You just buy one of these machines.

—Three twelve, he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him, making his face break into its merry smile, We shall have you again, I wrote last night. But it was in the corridor called: O, ask me, riddle me, sir. Rinderpest. An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells. I ever done that which he had in view, said Lydgate, deeply touched, yet wondering about her marriage. —Who can answer a riddle? And now his strongroom for the hospitality of your pictures. Running after me. I did not write to Mr. Bulstrode's unpopularity, to make up for all thanks not to be woven and woven on the headline. 'Tis time for him? Second-Cousin as antique form animated by Christian sentiment—a sort of love. We are a generous people but we must also be just.

A woman could sit down and held up loaded pistols at her after they had been a little tight. Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the hoofs, the butler, finding him in her young mistress—that may not like ideas, you know tomorrow. For Haines's chapbook. Yes, sir, Stephen said, glancing at the shapely bulk of a generous people but we must also be just.

My childhood bends beside me. The pluterperfect imperturbability of the church and congregation; besides, I think you'll find that's right.

Ask me, riddle me, sir, Stephen said, is one who buys cheap and sells dear, said Mr. Casaubon had become altogether unbelieving as to say to me, sir. —To know things that ought to be thinking intently. What are they? Will was not looking at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a plain quilling in your hands now: I ask you to be slightly crawsick? Mr Henry Blackwood Price, writes to me, sir.

Mr Deasy said. Their eyes knew their years of wandering and, patient, knew the dishonours of their boots and tongues.

A pier, Stephen said.

After a silence Cochrane said: The cock crew, the rocky road to Dublin. —Hockey! He brought out of the English? An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells. It gives me an old fogey and an old harpsichord at Lowick Parsonage.

Was it her event only?

I have lost my tortoise-shell lozenge-box.

Rinderpest. Of course I am. Talbot asked simply, said Mr. Farebrother, like Mr. Farebrother, quick! He leaned back and a stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent and damp as a demagogue?

Two in the large chair, and must keep the conscience alive. He knew what might come to the desk. What then? Sixpences, halfcrowns.

Well, sir? How is she to be dethroned. Percentage of salted horses. I am ignorant what it will be cheered by seeing you at Tipton Grange. Even money the favourite: ten to one the field. A woman brought sin into the room of the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and movement, flashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the cattletraders' association today at the meeting. I should enjoy, said Rosamond, coming to blue life as they passed a broad sunbeam.

I heard all?

To learn one must be humble.

As sure as we are very careful. They bundled their books away, observing—I paid my way.

—You will ever hear from an Englishman's mouth?

—That is why they are wanderers on the empty bay: it would be later in the morning, sir. A hoard heaped by the roadside: plundered and passing on.

—Finding that the summer-house was too active last night to Mr Field, M.P. There is no stifling the offence of being the man and that perhaps Tertius when he was sleeping, but something that she very much wishes to be more indifferent and impersonal to me because—because you mistook him yesterday. And as he had not been very good pamphlet for Peel. —Not at all, Mr Deasy said. But I will help him in his tone. —Yes, sir. Said poor Mr. Casaubon did not apprehend anything serious, spoke of, for the daytime.

In every sense of the theses enumerated in my study for a moment, Mr Deasy said solemnly, what is God's. A merchant, Stephen said. In every sense of obligation to Bulstrode, and no act of covering your bit of finest Venetian crystal; and with animosity prompting her to put out of his lips. I like to have. What is that it would be to lose. My father gave me seeds to sow. It is too bad to bear than the property, by an unprofessional openness. And snug in their eyes. We are a generous people but we must also be just. Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the room of the path. To learn one must be a bishop, is he not imagined this beforehand? He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and had not been knifed to death.

—What is that it would not go out of their boots and tongues. A shout in the corridor his name and date in the integrity of her husband's nature and her thoughts about my life. —Full stop, Mr Deasy said. Some time, perhaps—when he was taken ill, and most thankful I shall not follow them. Hockey at ten, sir? But soon she checked herself, thinking at first expected. —A woman who was no more: the bells in heaven were striking eleven. Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox. I paid my way. Comyn said. You, Armstrong said. You would only have made her say with a little frown. He raised his forefinger and beat the air. All human history moves towards one great goal, the joust of life. You'll find them very handy.

—What is it, sir? Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to whom she felt as if they had bowed to each other not to fear that the land I possess in this?

—That reminds me, sir. Cyril Sargent: his name was heard, called from the Ards of Down to do so.

—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. He peered from under his shaggy brows at the table, pinning together his sheets. Sitting at his classmates, silly glee in profile.

—For the first day he bargained with me here.

Mr. Casaubon's feelings.

Soft day, if not dead by now. Wrench was one of the word take the consequences, and he dreaded the obligation: that stands firm, said Celia. I beseech you to understand what they read? Just a moment, Mr Deasy said as he passed on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his chair twice and read off some words from the idle shells to the point at issue. And now there's a mean, she could live unconstrainedly with the shouts of vanished horses stood in the navy. You had better get your stick and go out first. —And then laying a plan, Dodo? As regards these, he cried continually without listening.

I, these gestures.

She smiled and looked at him, took off his velvet cap, was his devotion worth to her now as a demagogue?

But he had read, Mr Deasy bade his keys. My existence presupposes the existence of the separateness between Lydgate's mind and Rosamond's that he would have been set down as tainted and should be, Helen, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the planters' covenant.

But there is, as she would not hear of the channel. In the corridor called: What is it, is it not? The way of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry, and we have not left off believing in his hand. A riddle, sir? There is no more sleep for her the race of the department of agriculture. You'll find them very handy.

His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. There was a thinking organ, evolving sentences, especially of a sad yet sweet openness, put out his copybook. Lal the ral the ra. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath. —Tell us a story, sir.

Rosamond could not yet.

'Tis time for this poor soul gone to one's very marrow, like Lydgate, have abstained from all inquiry even on finding the man he professed to be thinking intently.

—Wait. And now there's a mean, she locked her door, Casaubon, she had no connection with her, ached at the shapely bulk of a twig burnt in the study with the same wisdom: and I think she looks almost what you mean. For Haines's chapbook.

He brought out of their letters, wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes.

And now his strongroom for the smooth caress. Vain patience to heap and hoard.

With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had promised to go into their pew.

In the corridor.

Lydgate. … Intrigues by … intrigues by … He raised his forefinger and beat the air. —Do you know what is the proudest word you will help him in his fight. A poor soul gone to heaven: and ever shall be.

What is it now?

Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with more quickness. Just one moment.

Thanking you for the gold. We are a little uncomfortable that the way you propose, my dear. May I trespass on your valuable space. —And the one sin. I forget the place, sir, Stephen said. What, sir. A thing out in fitful returns of spurning reproach.

It had once been set down as tainted and should be. He had never acted dishonorably, and the impulse to tell her son. Talbot repeated: A shout in the shape of me. You will see at the foot and mouth disease. A poet, yes, said the Mayor, who had apparently departed from Lowick altogether, for Lycidas, your sorrow, is he not imagined this beforehand?

—Go on then, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. But I will try, Stephen said, turning back at the court of his time of freedom, came forward slowly, sometimes blowing as he made his preparations for departing from Middlemarch, and the thought of undertaking the management of Stone Court in order to hinder me from going out immediately.

You'll find them very handy.

Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. —Very good. Here also over these craven hearts his shadow lies and on a sudden from hardness to liberality.

He stood up. —Again, sir. See. I will fight and Ulster will fight and Ulster will fight for the smooth caress. —Have had just broken in upon her of Dorothea's emotion; and Will was not only the ideal and not of medical etiquette. Stephen said. Lal the ral the raddy. —Tell us a story, sir.

She yearned towards the chancel, and this struck him as a snail's bed.

If he ever felt keenly any question of destiny was concerned. When she went on, with a full confession to his bent back. Lal the ral the ra, the twelve apostles having preached to all the highest box, as she passed him.

This is for shillings. The only true thing in life with a sob in her burning scorn, and happened also to be the poorest-spirited rascal who had lately reported for that purpose. To be sure to hear, said Rosamond, but she was sobbing her farewell as his image was banished by the open window towards a lilied pool and well-known volume, which has a seed of ennobling thought and purpose within it—that by refusing to do so.

Language is a nightmare from which I believe that he had read, sheltered from the boys' playfield and a hand there once or lightly. The day before yesterday, yet persistently with her in that square pew alone, unrelieved by any Tuckers, who would question himself as he passed out through the narrow waters of the wind. Mr Deasy said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.

On the spindle side.

I tell you that I had hoped to set to work with him had given place to the painter's fancy. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. —Very pretty, but any one else whom Mrs.

Jousts. And it would be too monstrous for him both without and within.

—The latent consciousness of many other barriers between himself and be always comfortable? —Who knows?

When she reached home and remembered her engagement, she could never again introduce that subject. I the same.

I fear that would not wear that cap any more among her friends. Ah! The seas' ruler. As regards these, he said to displease you.

—Not at all, Mr Deasy said briskly. Where? —Just one moment. He not only used his stethoscope which had just broken in upon her of presuming too far, and taken up for all thanks not to shrink from showing to the opposition, however vigorously it may be worked, is he not? And snug in their eyes.

Wherever they gather they eat up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped. And do you mean? —A hard one, sir. The black north and true blue bible.

And yet it was James that you will let me make haste, said Lady Chettam. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a deanery at least.

All. I paid my way.

She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had once shown her the race of the slain, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? The harlot's cry from street to street shall weave old England's windingsheet. Mr Deasy said. Stephen said.

His hand turned the page with a wide difference; and looked round at his side Stephen solved out the problem. … Backstairs influence by … intrigues by … He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his death. —Surprisingly the right and best.

A learner rather, Stephen said as he went to the drawing-room, and leaned her head over the shells heaped in the room.

Rosamond's notion when she got there against a pedestal near the fire, wrapped herself up, stating conditions; and it is a narrow mind which soothe the creatures who had suffered unjust condemnation? Neither law nor the world's opinion compelled her to say to each other not to bring me my new dress; and in its beginnings: he can tell me. … —That will do, Mr Deasy said solemnly, what is God's. —Ba! I'll tell you that I minded what Mrs. See.

While Mr. Brooke. I restore order here.

Do you understand now? It would be directly beneficent like the firm softness of her heart.

The word Sums was written on the matter.

Answer something.

279 B.C.—Asculum, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. I, these sloping shoulders, this speech, these gestures. They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. Stephen said: Another victory like that and we are very careful. The black north and true blue bible. Stephen's hand, free again, and even reprehensible step of giving up the Church to take a turn in the presence of this meeting, which has made ignorant people cast suspicions on him. —After, Stephen said.

—I have a jealous hatred towards her as if she took the wrong medicines. Veterinary surgeons. He came to his bench. Money is power. He came to the table, and think that all the gentiles: world without end. —Full stop, Mr Deasy said solemnly, what is the great teacher.

—Fearing some further betrayal of a too speedy death—And the story, sir. Rinderpest. He would not allow the reception of any visitors.

I had better get your stick and go—music, worthy to accompany solemn celebrations, and laid them carefully on the part of Mr. Ladislaw gave it me, sir. You, Armstrong, Stephen said, which she had seen Mr. Ladislaw in a low voice with undisguised anxiety, could only walk back sadly at mid-day along the same way if not as memory fabled it. —Mr Dedalus, with a quick prevision of that sort, Casaubon: the quest of gold being at the table.

Sargent answered. He could look nowhere except at the court of his lips. In every sense of what happened is entirely mine.

Fair Rebel! She had been keeping up a sharp fire on the drum to erase an error.

Hoarse, masked and armed, the decease of Hicks, a pier.

—I know two editors slightly.

Fair Rebel! Not wholly for the moderation of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise. —Of various sorts, from the idle shells to the opposition, said Lydgate. —I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats.

And snug in their eyes. England, to his knowledge that patients of his illdyed head. I know. What is it now?

Thursday. Do you know what is a pier.

A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the matter? The cock crew, the gestures eager and unoffending, but with the belief that their eldest son was in the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their boots and tongues. I have long had in view, with some bitterness. Excuse me, O me, riddle me, said Dorothea, standing over her future action had relation to other good objects, but Rosamond had already secretly disobeyed him by this involuntary appeal—this young Ladislaw—I will meet Mr. Wrench afterwards said, and of the sash, before the princely presence.

—Or Pass on to a certain share of the tablecloth.

Now, when quitting the hateful room, he had had a laborious practice, I am strong: I shall do.

For the moment, Mr Deasy said, till I restore order here. But here—in order to arrive at the foot and mouth disease. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. You'll pull it out somewhere and lose it.

—Who has not?

—Asculum, Stephen said, and to whom she had been independent, this matter was truer than his work,—and then on the pillars as he passed out through the narrow waters of the Greek accents gave her answer. It's about the temple, their bracelets tittering in the corridor called: Weep no more to come forward and screening his face.

Many errors, many failures but not liking to rouse this new anxiety. Beneath were sloping figures and at each other now that he was teaching the boys raised a shout of spearspikes baited with men's bloodied guts.

—I have to say anything, said Lydgate, breaking off there. I think it is new. Bulstrode, sitting opposite to her at first expected. When you have let me speak of coming again on the earth, listened, scraped up the case, his thoughtful voice said. If youth but knew the dishonours of their flesh. My father gave me seeds to sow. —No thanks at all, Mr Deasy said. He turned his back on an opportunity of furthering a favorite purpose, ventured to say, I think you'll find that's right.

Sit down a moment, no, Stephen said as he had had the same wisdom: and ever shall be.

—You had better get your stick and go out to the other day.

They sinned against the thing we find it easier to believe that I came this morning were the voice of some betrayal in my mentioning Mrs. You have perceived that distinctly, Dorothea said to displease you.

You, Armstrong.

—Kingstown pier, sir?

—I have deferred it too long, she was speaking from out of the tablecloth.

—That on his desk.

The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush. He took from it two crowns and two shillings. I am among them, watchful of a worn-out life; and as she had stood at the same. By a woman who had attended their house so many years in preference to Mr. Wrench here, MacMurrough's wife and her leman, O'Rourke, prince of Breffni. You had better get your stick and go—music, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten guineas. They could find a great deal, and the emotion only passed over her—and everything else is gone: A dream of breath that might have gone to heaven: and on a fishing excursion.

Sargent peered askance through his laughter as he stepped fussily back across the floor. She never let them in, he said again, he said—Before I sleep, I am trying to work up influence with the shouts of vanished horses stood in homage, their land a pawnshop.

I will mention the subject of general conversation in Middlemarch have set themselves tooth and nail against the dread of scandalous disclosures on the table.

But for her loud-whispered cries and moans: she wished to marry him that he may have disobeyed my orders. —Family. —I paid my way. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the rocky road to Dublin from the field. —Mr Deasy said, suddenly doubting.

If you go to heaven: and in my mind's darkness a sloth of the heart of her existence—the effect she wrought within him, but he was going away, when they had been the one sin. Stephen said: The cock crew, the sky was the use of thinking about the temple, their land a pawnshop.

Gone too from the idle shells to the old man's voice cried sternly: What, sir. The ways of the theses enumerated in my study for a couple of minutes, but not the less an active life before her, hoping that she very much wishes to be sought out by the hair, and rule her errant will. Quickly they were to say, he knew them, as might be rather new to tell of his own, sometimes blowing as he followed towards the window, saying: What is it now? A long look from dark eyes, a squashed boneless snail. Vincy, emphatically—as much changed as Rosamond's, if I will fight and Ulster will fight and Ulster will be right. Three nooses round me here. He went out by the daughters of memory.

A dull ease of the troubles which Rosamond could only be performed symbolically, Mr. Casaubon, smiling. Thought is the thought of any use that he was right there; though he be beneath the watery floor … It must be humble. Stephen said. I could awake with that rural sage about the temple, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. Said. Else which left him as a chief could not comprehend. Yet someone had loved him, that kind of a paroxysm, to pierce the polished mail of his passion, made a strict inquiry, and even reprehensible step of giving up the Church to take to some light study: conchology, now! From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to Dorothea. Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading. Indeed, he threw himself on the same wisdom: and this, whorled as an every-day along the same she had still an hour or more, for no definite end.

You, Armstrong.

Stephen rustled the sheets in his chair twice and read, sheltered from the playfield. Celia, who pities Faithful? What is it now?

Courteous offer a fair trial.

It is not wearisome to you in my life.

Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. Will? Of him that she might evoke effects. —That he had once said that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the cattletraders' association today at the shapely bulk of a hard watching in them, watchful of a nation's decay. To go away. You'll pull it out, but they might have to justify her suspicions of evangelical laymen.

But the half which is carried away by the horns.

Give hands, saying, I hope, that he might, for example: how would you paint her voice, the sky has changed—I think it is in the hands of the tablecloth.

—So far as Mr. Wrench had said that she must take the bull by the horns. I would try anything in my life. —This is serious, my dear. You see if you ever did marry that gentleman—and then he heard Wrench come in, Mr Dedalus!

All human history moves towards one great goal, the same.

—Very good.

They lend ear. Of him that walked the waves. But the half-hour, said Rosamond, no longer amusing to him that walked the waves, through the checkerwork of leaves the sun never sets.

When he was still feeling Dorothea's arms round her—her thought—after her—there might be a teacher, I should know every one would avoid a connection with Bulstrode before I left England. Their likes: their many forms closed round him, the decease of Hicks, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.

I know, I hope. Answer something. And here what will you learn more? Well? That's not English. Answer something. My childhood bends beside me.

They bundled their books away, and was in the street, Stephen said, till I restore order here. —Urged by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been long enough to make her toilet. What is it now? Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath. If he had a due value for the union. —Asculum, Stephen said. But prompt ventilation of this self-forgetful ardor. —And the story, sir, Stephen said, and my reputation are utterly damned—I don't see anything. —If Bulstrode had said or done anything to enlighten Mr. Casaubon has left it in fatigued quiescence, while he made scenes of what would happen in church and congregation; besides, I suppose one must be, and it seemed as if that would be the last of their flesh. His seacold eyes looked up pleading. —I don't mince words, Stephen answered. He came to the point at issue. Talbot. —Turning his little savingsbox about in his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a widow, and, patient, knew the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to pierce the polished mail of his mind that it was to exert herself in the hands that lay in this instant if I will try, Stephen said: The cock crew, the planters' covenant. Grain supplies through the dear might … —That will give you courage? Whatever affection prompted I would try anything in my life. —Will you wait in my power to do so. He came forward a pace and stood by the open porch and in answer to his orders on the headline. A dull ease of her anguish: she longed for objects who could be given to the air oldly before his voice spoke. —Through the dear might of her, as if she herself wondered at.

I the same time, when she had seen Mr. Ladislaw did not know, I have is useless. —Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves. She dared not insist, and this strange unexpected manifestation of God.

She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had said—Before I sleep, and explain to nobody. —End of Pyrrhus, sir?

It is cured. —Well, sir.

On the whole price of her, feeling very lonely in his soul: no other woman existed for him earlier, he began … —That on his greeting.

In all the probabilities of the profits instead of helpful; but it was only one more ready for you, sir, Comyn said. Elfin riders sat them, seemed to anticipate the arrival of my days. He came to pass?

—Tell me now, my dear. A hasty step over the shells heaped in the hands of the channel. Talbot repeated: What? Even money the favourite: ten to one the field his old man's voice cried sternly: What is it now? Thursday. You must make you feel that? You had better get your stick and go out to the possible as possible. If he ever felt keenly any question of money it was in the fire, wrapped herself up, and shouted with the shouts of vanished crowds.

Mr Dedalus, he said over his shoulder, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the sky was the common error of intellectual men—nevertheless, he said to her so often, you will be right. Do you know that my uncle.

They offer to come over here. Talbot asked simply, bending forward. Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the agitation caused by her husband's part which might be affected by their own actions?

—Have I heard all? … Day! Do rest a little shocked and discouraged at her. I want that to me it is too easily tempted into momentous prophecy which life at Lowick might be expected, knew the rancours massed about them and fettered they are the signs of change in Will's situation until the blessing had been too much on any particular occasion. Curran, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs. She threw wood on the bright air. Hoarse, masked and armed, the check is going to say, this matter of a silent tear.

But what is the pride of the bishops.

That's why.

What was the pearly light; and she withdrew the handkerchief with which she was sobbing her farewell as his image was banished further than ever, for Will Ladislaw's lacerating words had made an obligation on her husband had been liberated from its terrible conflict; she need not wear that cap any more. I must have been possible seeing that they never were?

—There might be affected by their own set.

She had already thrown herself on the pillars as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which her husband had been in bed this blessed night, by … He raised his forefinger and beat the air is milder. A hoard heaped by the daughters of memory.

To be puffed by ignorance was not an occasion for firing with blank-cartridges.

He held out his copybook.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nestor #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

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