#i chopped off like five inches a month and a half ago why do i always do this

[alchemistc]

My hair has been bugging me a lot lately and I'm thisclose to taking scissors and clippers to it. This is a bad idea. Someone try to talk me out of it before I get out of the shower.

[gallavictorious]

Fic: This Time (We’ll Be Fine)

Ian's bipolar was always bound to make itself known again sooner or later, so Lip's not exactly shocked when Mickey swings by to break the news. Well, he's a little surprised at first, when he opens the door to find his brother-in-law and not, say, any of his siblings or Kev waiting outside. While Mickey's joined Ian in helping out with the renovations a few times, him dropping by out of the blue and all by his lonesome is still a bit of an occasion.

”Hey,” Lip says, pulling off his work glows. He's spent the last hour removing the old counter tops from the kitchen, hoping to get it done before Tami returns with Freddie from a visit to her parents.

”Hey.” There's an awkward pause, but before Lip can ask what's up, Mickey plows on: ”So, Ian's been a little off for a few days, and we're pretty sure it's early signs of a manic episode.”

Something about the way he says it has Lip momentarily flashing back to the day many years ago, when Mickey and his brothers had confronted him about Ian allegedly messing with Mandy. He almost braces himself, because while he's been over that whole thing for years and years, his body still remembers the pain.

Then the actual words sink in and ah, fuck. It not being a surprise doesn't mean it doesn't hit like a punch to the gut.

With the worry comes a pinch of guilt: the house he rented is actually liveable now and he and Tami moved into it a month or so ago, but there's still a lot of work to be done and Lip's been spending every waking hour not devoted to his job or Freddie trying to get it fixed. It hasn't left him a lot of time for checking in with the rest of his familly.

”Is he okay?” he asks.

”Yeah. Well, no, he's a fucking mess, but he will be, you know. Fine. Upped his downers and booked an appointment down at the clinic on Monday, so they'll sort this shit out, get his pills adjusted or whatever. He's in bed now, sleeping it off.” Mickey lets out a sigh, distractedly reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Lip doesn't protest when he lights up, even though he knows that Tami will say something snide about the smell when she comes home.

Let her; man looks like he can use a smoke. Lip wouldn't mind one himself, but bites back the urge to ask.

”Anyway,” Mickey continues, ”I just wanted to let you guys know, and, uh, I was thinking that maybe you'd come by someday next week. For dinner or whatever?”

Lip blinks. Sure, they ate together all the time when they were all staying at the Gallagher house, and they've shared a few meals since Lip moved his little family across the alley, so having dinner in and of itself isn't really weird – but getting an official invitation to one, and from Mickey of all people? Yeah, that's new.

His surprise must show, because Mickey makes a face. ”Yeah, I know,” he mutters. ”It's just... He hates it, you know? He's got it under control and he'll be fine but it's...  he hates it. He'll be fucking dejected and shit for weeks, even after the new meds kick in. And you guys always cheer him up, so I figured... ” He shrugs, not finishing the sentence.

It occurs to Lip that maybe it isn't easy for Mickey to come here and ask for this – to ask Lip for anything. There was a time when Lip thought Ian an absolute idiot for falling for Mickey Milkovich, and he's pretty sure Mickey knows as much, because Lip sure as hell didn't try to keep it a secret. But that was a long time ago, and as far as Lip's concerned, they've been good for years now. He's not sure if Mickey knows that, though, or feels the same way; they've never really talked about it.

So yeah, maybe it's not easy for Mickey to come here. He does it anyway; for Ian, he always will.

Lip loves him a little for that.

”Yeah, yeah, sure, man,” he says quickly, realizing that he's been silent for too long, lost in thought, and that Mickey is looking at him with something quite close to barely concealed anxiety. ”Of course we'll come.”

Mickey's shoulders drop just a fraction of an inch at that. He givs a curt nod. ”Okay. It'll probably take a few days before his, I don't know, levels are adjusted or whatever. But maybe you can keep your evenings open and I'll call you? And don't let him know I talked to you, right?” he adds, giving Lip a decidedly threatening look. ”He fucking hates it when people make a fuss.”

”Yeah, no, I know. I won't say anything. Thanks for letting me know.”

Mickey nods again, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground. Lip makes a mental note to pick it up before Tami gets back.

As Mickey makes to take off, Lip calls out, on an impulse: ”Hey, Mick.”

Mickey stops. ”What?”

”You ever hesitate?” Off Mickey's blank stare, he adds: ”Getting back together. Dealing with this for the rest of your life. You know how crazy it can get.” Knows it only all too well; Mickey had been there when Ian first fell ill and in spite of doing as well, and way better, than could possibly have been expected of him, it had not ended very well for Mickey.

That shit's gotta hurt. Looking at Mickey now, Lip thinks he can see the strain lurking under his mostly calm demeanor. See the fear, maybe.

And still Mickey glares at Lip like he's an idiot. ”Fuck no, I didn't hesitate,” he says, sounding affronted. ”It's just a fucking disease, man. We'll deal. Think I'm gonna ditch him because he has a few off days every now and then? Who the fuck doesn't have off days?”

It's more than a few off days every now and then, and they both know that – but Lip knows, too, that to Mickey, to some degree, it really is that simple. It's a disease. It's serious and it sucks, but it's not the sum total of Ian; it doesn't define him. And sure, Lip knows this on an intellectual level, as does the rest of his siblings, but he thinks that maybe Mickey is the only one who truly, fully gets it on an emotional one.

With that in mind, Lip meets Mickey's glare, unflinching. ”Still. It can get pretty rough. I guess what I'm saying is... if you, like, ever needed to talk or just, you know, take a break and hang out, I'm here.” He might not always have been great about Mickey, or great about being there for people in general, but he's been doing a lot better with the latter lately and maybe he can use whatever supportive skills he picked up at AA to do better at the former, too.

He's half convinced that Mickey will roll his eyes and walk off with an insult thrown over his shoulder, and he's fully convinced that Mickey's actually considering just that before opting to just nod again. ”Yeah,” he mutters. ”Thanks.”

”You're welcome.” Lip pauses, hesitating. But fuck it: ”I'm glad, you know. That he has you?”

And apparently that pushes the conversation too far into sentimentality because now Mickey does roll his eyes, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. ”Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll call you.”

He walks off. Lips pick up the cigarette butt and heads inside.

---

The call comes on Thursday morning, and a little past five in the afternoon Lip carries Freddie through the kitchen door with Tami in tow.

Liam's doing homework by the table and Mickey is stood by the stove, staring down an enormous pot of boiling water.

”Hey,” he says, sounding for all the world like he's surprised to see them, but he gives them a quick, grateful look, before jerking his head in the direction of the living room, where Ian's chilling with Debbie, Franny, and Carl in front of the TV.

Ian looks tired, and maybe even paler than normally, but he smiles readily enough when he catches sight of them. His smile widens further when Lip hands Freddie over for him to hold. ”Hey, buddy,” he coos.

”You guys staying for dinner?” Mickey calls from the kitchen. ”Made a shit ton of pasta, so there's plenty to go around.”

Lip makes a show of looking at Tami for confirmation.

”Yeah sure, why not?” she says, playing along. ”Saves me having to cook in a kitchen that's only half-existent.” She raises her voice: ”Thanks, Mickey, we'd love to.”

They chat for a while, and then Debbie and Tami starts comparing notes on child development, which for some reason is slightly unsettling – maybe because there's part of him that still thinks of Debbie as his little baby sister and hearing her talk to his baby mama like an equal is fucking strange – and eventually he, Ian and Carl move into the kitchen, leaving Freddie with Tami.

Liam puts away his homework; Ian grabs them drinks from the fridge; it's familiar and comfortable and, yeah, Lip's missed this.

He looks up and catches Ian watching him. ”So, you guys just decided to stop by, huh?” Ian asks casually.

Lips shrugs, deliberatedly not glancing toward Mickey chopping lettuce by the sink. ”Yeah, you know. Been a while since we all got together, figured it'd be nice to just drop by.”

”Uh-huh.” Ian does glance over his shoulder at Mickey, who is doing a very good job of pretending to be entirely engrossed in his salad-making and not at all listening in on any conversations. Lip keeps his face carefully blank as Ian turns back to him with a knowing look on his face. There's a hint of annoyance there; maybe a hint of resignation too, and something else that Lip can't quite decipher –

For a moment, he thinks that Ian is going to say something, but then his brother rises abruptly instead. A few long strides and he's right behind Mickey, grabbing hold of his wrist and spinning him around, which is hell of a bold move, considering that Mickey is Mickey and holding a fucking knife.

”What the – ” Mickey begins, but is quickly silenced as Ian claims his lips for a kiss.

Claims really is the right word, Lip thinks, feeling as if he should avert his eyes, but not quite managing to. It's a thorough kiss; rough; demanding. Ian's got his arms wrapped around Mickey's neck, his body pinning Mickey against the kitchen counter, and there's something possessive about it, something that – yes – speaks of claim and want and need.

Mickey's still holding the knife in one hand, half a lettuce in the other, and he can't really do much but stand there and let Ian kiss him. Not that he seems to mind in the slightest, Lip notes, and fuck it, but he never thought he'd see the day when Mickey Milkovich would just melt into Ian's arms, his kiss, so easily and so happily; so entirely without reservation, in spite of being surrounded by inlaws.

Eventually Ian lets go and steps away, walking back to the table with studied nonchalance, as if he's not, in fact, leaving his husband flushed and with swollen lips and a dazed grin. The look on Ian's face gives lie to his casual attitude, however: there's something fierce there and a hint of a satisfied smirk lurking in the corner of his mouth.

Then he sits down and blinks and is just plain old Ian again, Lip's little brother grinning easily. ”How's it going with the counter tops?” he asks. ”You convince Tami to go with the concrete ones?”

”Hell no,” Lip says, taking a sip from his coke to hide his smile. ”Apparently anything but marble or at least granite is out. She's saying we should invite Aunt Opie over, have her get so shocked over our living conditions that she offers to pay for the whole thing, but... ”

Over by the stove, Mickey returns to his salad. He's still smiling. So is Ian, as he listen to Lip detail the horrors of home renovation, and Lip thinks that maybe this time they're all going to be just fine.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake part ii (Wolfstar bake off au)

This week on The Great British Bake Off

“Oh Lord I’ve just gone and dropped my dough. Repeat, I’ve just dropped my dough”

“I forgot to turn my oven on.”

“I’m going home for sure.”

Remus woke up to his phone ringing.

“Remus!” His mom half-yelled down the line, “You came third in the technical!”

Remus rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Mam, I already told you that, I rang you right after it happened.”

“I know, I know,” Hope said, “But the first episode only came out last night so I’m all excited about it again. Christ Re it’s so strange seeing you on the telly.”

Remus let out an amused huff and flopped back down onto the plush hotel pillows. “Thanks?”

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart… What have you got on today?”

“We’re filming again today, so the first two challenges.”

“Oh, what’s the theme this week?” Hope needled and Remus rolled his eyes fondly. “Man, you know I can’t tell you that yet.”

“I’m your mother. I think if you told anyone, it should be me.”

“Well if I were telling anyone, I would tell you, however…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re not telling anyone.” She said a little disappointed. “It was worth a shot.” She let out a melancholic sigh, “My only child, too big a star now, doesn’t even have time to talk to his own mother.”

“I’m currently talking to my own mother so I think that contradicts your point a little.” Remus chimed in. “Also, I hardly think being on one episode of Bake Off counts as a star.”

“Well it’s all anyone here at home has been talking about for at least a month.”

“Wow, they really need to get a life.” He said dryly and chuckled when his mother began to admonish him. “Oh mam, I’ve got to go, I’m almost late for filming, I’ll call you later.”

“That sounds like a cop out if I’ve ever heard one Remus Lupin, but I’ll let you go anyways. Good luck today, I love you.”

“Love you too mam. Talk soon, bye bye.” He pressed the end call button and lay with his phone on his chest for a moment before actually checking the time. He had about an hour before he was expected on set. He rolled out of bed with a groan and headed into the shower.

Remus quite literally ran into Sirius.

“Oh shit sorry!” He cried as they collided. Sirius caught Remus’ wrist to steady himself and held on for a split second before letting go.

“In a hurry Lupin?” 

Remus flushed a little, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah I was supposed to meet Lily at the door five minutes ago but I got caught up.”

Sirius just maintained eye contact for a moment before reaching out and touching the sleeve of Remus’ cream knit sweater. “This is nice.”

Remus lost his words. “Oh um, thank you. I made it actually.”

Sirius quirked a smile. “A baker and a knitter? You’re a real home-boy.”

Remus laughed a little. “Yeah you could definitely say that. I knit when I’m watching TV or whatever, I hate when I don’t have something to do with my hands. ‘Idle hands’ and all that.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus said, shrugging him off despite the fact that he was possibly about to lose his mind. The Sirius Black was teasing him.

“Anyways, I should probably go.” He said, ducking his head. “Lily’s waiting for me.”

“And we’ve got a show to get to.” Sirius added.

“Yeah,” Remus smiled. “Yeah we do.”

“Hello and welcome back everyone, to this week’s episode of The Great British Bake Off.” James said grandly as soon as Marlene had signalled that she was recording. “This week, it’s bread week.”

Remus sighed. He fucking loved bread. He was coeliac, so he didn’t eat bread but… he fucking loved bread.

“For our first challenge,” Sirius announced, “Our judges would like to see two plaited loaves. Any flavouring is up to you, but each loaf should be twelve inches in length with clear, defined plaits.”

The bakers all nodded and the camera panned around the room to catch everyone’s reactions. 

“Alright then, Sirius, dough you want to tell them to begin?”

Remus bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. That pun was so cringy but Remus was a sucker for bad jokes. 

“Why yes James, I most certainly dough. Three, two one… Bake!”

Marlene started her rounds today by coming straight to Remus.

“So Remus, what’re you making today?” James asked, appearing by his side. 

“Well the first one, is going to have basil and some tomato sauce and then have some mozzarella plaited in.” Remus said as he took out a glass bowl and began adding ingredients to it. “Then the second one is going to have four different kinds of cheese in it.”

“So basically, no one who’s lactose intolerant can go anywhere near your bread.”

Remus laughed and scratched his cheek. “Pretty much. But I mean, neither of them will be gluten free, so I can’t eat them either.”

James grinned. “I suppose I’ll just have to be your official taste tester then.”

“You know, those already exist. They’re called judges.” Remus chirped and Sirius who was passing laughed, shooting Remus an appreciative look.

James moved on to Lily and Remus could hear her telling him about her toffee bread. Remus had seen her practicing it - it always looked amazing and the other contestants had raved about it. Remus had gotten the recipe from her and he was going to try to make a gluten-free version when all of this was over.

Remus covered the bowls with a layer of cellophane and put them in the proving drawer, waiting until they had at least doubled in size before he would take them out again.

In the meantime, Remus got busy finely chopping fresh basil, making a tomato sauce and slicing mozzarella.

“Looking good, Lupin.” Sirius said, jumping up to sit on the end of Remus’ bench, away from the food.

“Why thank you.” Remus said then had to slap Sirius’s hand away when he tried to steal a slice of cheese. “Oi, get away you cheeky bugger.”

Sirius shrugged,” I’m just trying to relieve James of his official taste tester duties.”

“You’re trying to relieve yourself from your stomach grumbling is more like.” Remus shot back, but he held out a chopping board with his many different cheeses all neatly sliced and grinned. “Go on then, you can have one.”

Sirius’s eyes glimmered. “You know, I quite like you Lupin.” He said, before hopping off the table and wandering away.

“It’s a good thing I quite like cheese Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said in an almost teasing tone as they reached Remus’ bench to judge. They cut the first loaf and each had a taste.

“I think I would have liked it to have stayed in the oven for a little longer.” McGonagall said, “It’s just missing the really crusty outside we were looking for. But the flavours are wonderful, I quite like the concept.”

“And I, as the official taste tester, i think it’s amazing.” James said, stealing a slice and there were a couple of giggles around the tent. Even Remus cracked a smile.

“Let’s move on to the next one, shall we?” Remus just nodded, his jaw clenched as he listened. This time, the knife made a much more satisfying sound as it cut through the bread. Remus couldn’t help but sigh a little in relief, his eyes trained on the loaf to see if the bake was even.

“Now, this one is much better.” Dumbledore said before he took a bite. His eyes fluttered closed as he chewed and Remus pursed his lips together to stop himself from smiling. “Very enjoyable Mr Lupin, I can’t find a fault with this one.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement and with that they moved over to Lily’s bench. Remus sat down on his stool with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

 “Hey, good job. ”Sirius whispered as he passed and Remus smiled. Yeah, he quite liked bread.

“Ah look at little Remus, eating his salad.” Tonks teased, ruffling his hair as she plopped down on the chair next to him. Remus scowled. “Believe me, if I could be eating bread like the rest of you lot, I would be.”

“Alas, alack!” A guy Peter, another contestant proclaimed. “We get to eat your bread though. It’s so good mate, much better than that sad lump I presented.”

Everyone around the table started sniggering. Peter had had a bit of an accident resulting in burned bread. It was edible, but it really hadn’t looked like much.

“I’m really going to have to up my game in the next two challenges.” He moaned. “I really don’t want to go home yet.” They all nodded in agreement and the table went quiet for a moment as everyone thought while they munched.

“What a rowdy bunch you lot are.” Sirius said, he and James each pulling up a chair. ”Can we…?” He asked, pointing to the selection of breads, all sliced in the middle of the table.

“Yeah of course,” Remus said. “They’re there to eat.”

Remus certainly didn’t that Sirius immediately went for one of the loaves he made. Nope. Not at all.

“So how are we all feeling about the next challenge?” James asked, tearing parts off his hunk of bread and popping them into his mouth.

“Oh my god, new rule.” Tonks declared. “No competition talk when we’re on our breaks. I need to talk about something other than the ratio of sugar to flour.”

Sirius chuckled at her abruptness. “Fair enough. Let’s see… What are your favourite colours?”

“Basic question.” Tonks countered, leaning back in her chair, “But I’ll take it. Mine is pink.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” Remus said dryly, gesturing to her hair. Lily choked on her food.

“What’s yours then Remus?” Tonks challenged. 

Remus shrugged. “I don’t have a favourite, I like them all.”

“Even brown?” Peter piped in. 

“Especially brown. It’s the colour of chocolate. It’s also like the most hated colour, it needs some appreciation.”

“It’s one of the most hated colours because it’s boring. Like is there any colour more dull than brown?” James asked.

“Beige.” Lily said and James pointed a finger at her, indicating that she had made a valid point. “Okay, that’s very fair. Beige is boring as fuck.”

“I can’t believe this is a conversation we’re having.” Sirius mused and Remus looked at him incredulously. “You’re the one who started it!”

“I asked for favourite colours, not the opposite. It was you who set us on this dull - coloured path.” Sirius counted, his eyes playful. Tonks looked between the two of them for a moment before checking her watch.

“I hate to be the one to break up the band but, it’s time for us to get back to it.”

“Ah, the woes of the working life.” Sirius lamented and Remus snorted. 

“Oh hush, you have like, the best job ever.”

Sirius threw his arm around James’ shoulders. “That’s very true. Come on then Jamie, let’s get back to it.”

“Our next challenge, is of course our technical.” James announced as the cameras began rolling. “This week, our judges have asked you to make bagels.”

“You should have five identical bagels at the end. Your instructions are on your bench.”

“Ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus lifted the cloth that was covering the ingredients and recipe McGonagall and Dumbledore had written for them. He both loved and hated the technical, possibly for the same reasons. The steps were vague and needed a lot of thought which was pretty annoying but it challenged him and pushed him to see what kind of baker he was. 

“You ever made these?” Lily asked and Remus shook his head. “No, never. You?”

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’. “This should be interesting.”

Remus chuckled as he began reading the instructions. make a dough, it read.

“Don’t you love how specific these instructions are?” Remus said to Tonks sarcastically and some of her hair fell out of her comically short ponytail as she laughed.

“This dough is meant to be stretchy I think.” Lily commented and Remus nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”

Remus set to work, covering his dough in cellophane once more and popping it into the proving drawer. 

“You know I could really get used to this proving business,” he commented, “It gives me the chance to make a cup of tea.”

“Glad to see you have your priorities.” Sirius joked as he appeared. “Any chance I can have one too?” Remus just nodded to the bench in response, where he had already taken out a mug for Sirius. 

Sirius finished making the tea as Remus took out a pot, filled it with water and put it on the hob to boil. Just then a panicked wail sounded through the tent. 

“Oh lord, I’ve just gone and dropped my dough. Repeat, I dropped my dough.”

James was immediately at his side to help him figure it out. They chatted intensely for a minute, the cameras circling like vultures as Peter forlornly tossed the ruined dough in the bin, but began to make a new one. Remus let out a shaking breath on his friends behalf, Peter would really be racing against the clock. 

“It’s make it or break it time.” Remus said, turning back to his own work , decking to focus on that for now. His thoughts wouldn’t help Peter and all Remus could do right now was work on his own project. Having divided his dough and rolled it into shape, he boiled them one by one, praying he was doing the right thing. “And now you fuckers are going in the oven.”

“Oh my god Remus.” Marlene said. “We had great footage of you there and you totally just ruined it.”

“Sorry sorry, I’ll do it again.” Remus smirked and slid the tray into the oven. “And now you little shits are going in the oven.”

Marlene just turned around and left as Sirius’ laugh filled the tent. 

Remus walked up to the table to present his baking to be judged. As per the rules, he placed the plate down behind his picture and sat in one of the stools lined up, facing the table. McGonagall and Dumbledore arrived, looking much to chipper for Remus liking, not when he was struggling not to start biting his nails. He chose instead to pick at the hem of his jumper until Lily took his hand in hers. He was grateful - he really liked this jumper.

Peter was disappointed but not at all surprised when his bagels hadn’t risen enough. How could they have when making a second batch had essentially cut out the proving process. Tonks’ were a bit too small. Lily’s were a bit too chewy. Remus  bit his lip to stop himself from beaming when his were the best of the bunch. Still not perfect, not by a long shot, but he had won the technical challenge and his relief sent him out of the tent, unable to lessen the grin on his face as Marlene questioned him.

“How are you feeling, after today?”

“I’m feeling pretty good! I got off to a bit of a rocky start today, but I think I recovered well so I’m looking forward to sinking my teeth into the challenge tomorrow.”

Marlene gave him a thumbs up and wandered away to find some of the others.

“Well done Mr Technical Challenge!” Lily cried, slinging her arm around his waist as they began to walk back to the hotel. 

“Why thank you, Ms Star Baker.”

“We make quite the pair.” Lily observed.

“That, my dear Lily, we most certainly do.”

Remus woke up in Lily’s room.

“Ugh, that alarm is so loud.” Remus groaned and ignored Lily giggling at him.

“I can’t believe how much you’re not a morning person, you seem like you’re hungover or something.”

“I am hungover as a result of life, Lily.” He muttered. “Existing is exhausting.”

“By god, you really are dramatic in the morning.” She gathered up a towel and some toiletries. “I’m going for a shower and to get ready. Meet you for breakfast in twenty?”

Remus nodded in agreement, shoved on his shoes and started gathering the one or two belongings he had. He hadn’t meant to sleep in Lily’s room, but they had stayed up so late talking the pair had just drifted off. It had been the best night Remus had spent her so far - he and Lily curled up under a pile of blankets, each nursing a mug of hot chocolate as they gossiped like school girls.

Remus stepped out the door and very closely avoided a collision with Sirius.

“I’m getting a freaky sense of deja vu right now.” Remus said, grinning.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “This… isn’t your room.”

Remus shook his head as they began walking down the corridor. “Nah, it’s Lily’s, I’m heading back to mine now.”

“You and… Lily?”

Remus choked as he realized what Sirius was thinking. “No, no, God no. I mean, Lily’s fantastic but no. We’re just friends, we fell asleep talking.”

Sirius’ shoulders almost seemed to visibly lighten. “Oh right, yeah.”

Remus grinned and nudged Sirius’ shoulder with his own playfully. “Lily’s not really my type.”

“Oh yeah? What is your type then?”

“Oh you know… not women.”

Sirius smirked and looked at Remus sideways. “Now that, sounds like something I quite relate to.”

Remus slowed to a stop as they reached his door. “I suppose I’ll see you in the tent?”

“That seems pretty unavoidable, doesn’t it?” Sirius threw him a cheeky wink and turned on his heel, continuing down the hall. Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t watch him walk away.

“Welcome back for our showstopper challenge!” Sirius said, smiling at all the contestants. 

“This will be your second showstopper, so get ready.”

“That’s right,” James continued, “This week's challenge will be to bake pull apart rolls.”

“Jamie, are you sure you have the right challenge? That doesn’t sound very showstopper like.”

“Why thank you Sirius, you’d be right. I did forget to mention that your rolls should make the shape of your favourite animal.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the obviously pre prepared banter and yet he found himself smiling anyways. 

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus immediately set to work, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and how to do it, however he had been cutting it quite close on time every time he had practised, so he wanted to work as quickly as possible to allow for all and any mishaps that tended to happen under pressure. 

He made, proved and rolled out his dough in record time and was now assembling the little rolls into the shape he wanted. He was shading the top with poppy and sesame seeds and stepped back for a moment to admire his handy work. He was in no way close to an artist, except for when it came to baking. If his canvas was starch and glucose, he might as well be Michelangelo. 

He made one or two more adjustments before putting it in the oven for thirty minutes. That still gave him twenty minutes to spare, making this the fastest he had ever completed his challenge. Maybe the pressure had its benefits after all

“Oh fuck.” He heard Lily say from behind him. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” She cried, her time getting more and more panicked. 

“Lily?” Remus asked, whirling around in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to turn the oven on.” She whispered, her face pale. 

“You… What?”

“I forgot to turn the oven on! Remus I’m screwed this won't heat up for at least ten minutes and I have fifty minutes of work left at least!

Remus wasn’t sure what overcame him in that moment, maybe some panicked curled hormones but suddenly he was in full disaster mode. 

“Okay,” he muttered, opening his own oven and adding another wire rack. “Okay Lily, put yours in here with mine while your oven heats up. It’s not ideal, I know but it’ll get you started.”

“Remus Lupin.” Lily declared as she collected her tray and walked around her own bench to reach him. “You are my literal hero.”

She lifted herself up on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek swiftly before putting her doe - shaped dough in the oven and racing back to her own workspace to turn hers on. 

Remus let out a shaky breath as he sat down for a moment. It was such a simple mistake that could happen to any of them.  Remus vowed to himself to be extra vigilant from now on and to never assume he did anything on muscle memory. Here everything was strange and new and it could quite throw off your routine, especially if you’re used to working consistently in one particular venue. 

“That, Mr Lupin, was quite the save.” Sirius commented, swooping in like he always did. Remus smiled weakly and ran his fingers through his hair. Just then Lily appeared again and took her bread out of the oven. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cried as she dashed back to work, putting her bread in her own oven with a deafening clang. 

“Thirty five minutes left!” Sirius called and Remus stood up cracking his knuckles. He could chat to Sirius later, right now? He still had a little work to do. He grabbed the little bit of extra dough he had set aside in the fridge and set to work. 

“Mr Lupin, if you would please bring your challenge up to the table.” McGonagall called and even in his mild panic, Remus could still take a moment to appreciate the lovely lilt in her words. 

He set his baking down on the table and stepped back to look at his work - a wolf, howling at a full moon.

“The moon detailing is quite clever Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said and Remus sighed in relief. It had been the little bit of dough he had set aside - put in the oven later to account for it’s smaller size.

“It certainly looks excellent, but the question stands; how does it taste.

“Remus winced as they pulled apart his, frankly, perfect design and each took a bite. Dumbledore gave him a broad smile and Remus bit his lip, grinning.

“I think you’ll find we’re very pleased Mr Lupin. These truly are very good.”

Remus could actually pay attention to the rest of the assessments after that thrilling review. He watched Peter present his rat bread (side note - what in the world had possessed him to make food in the shape of a rat?), Lily displayed her doe which had turned out very well in the end and some guy even made an alpaca. Remus didn’t know that dude too well yet, but he thought his name was Benji.

They all sat once more on the stools lined up at the front of the tent while the judges made their decisions. James and Sirius regaled them all with stories from their childhood while they waited,

“And then what do you know?” James cried, his hands flying everywhere as he told the story. “I look up, and there’s Sirius, hanging out the second floor window with his trousers down around his ankles.”

The entire room burst out laughing, Remus was pretty sure there were tears streaming down his face.

“But what made you think that would be a good idea?” Remus wheezed, still unable to breathe properly for all his laughing, but desperate to get a look into teenage Sirius’ state of mind.

Sirius just shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He admitted sheepishly and that set everyone off into another round of deafening laughter, when the judges walked in and they all sobered quite quickly.

James and Sirius conferred with them quietly in the corner a moment before walking back over to the contestants.

“Today, I have the absolute pleasure of announcing our star baker.” Sirius said, looking around the room with a small smile. “Our star baker this week is…” Sirius scanned the crowd for a moment before his eyes landed on Remus. “Remus.”

Remus didn’t even move. He wasn’t even sure he could if he had wanted to. He had won star baker.

“Which leaves me with the awful job of announcing who’s leaving us today.” James said in a flat tone but Remus didn’t even hear or register that some guy Fabien was leaving. He was just another baker Remus didn’t even know that well. But he was star baker. Lily pulled him into a hug and held him tight. The room around him was filled with pats on the back and congratulations and Sirius looked him right in the eye and mouthed well done.

Remus was pretty sure he wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Remus, would you be alright calling your family on camera? We’d just like to capture their reaction.”

Remus nodded and rang his mom. She answered on the first ring. “Hi, Ma?” Guess what?”

“What is it love, how did your day go?”

“I won star baker.”

Marlene giggled behind the camera as Hope let out a series of delighted yells. Remus laughed along with her for a moment. “Okay mam, I’ve got to go finish my interview, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

He said his goodbyes, hung up the phone and turned back to the camera. “So Remus, what were you thinking throughout the challenges?”

“Well after the first one, I kept thinking I’m going home for sure. But obviously I recovered a bit.”

“A bit? Marlene chuckled. “From going home to star baker. I’d say you recovered quite a lot.”

Remus chatted with Marlene for a few more minutes before she sent him away, claiming she had taken up enough of his time. Just as he was beginning to leave, Sirius sidled up to him.

“Well, if it isn’t the brightest star.” Remus teased.

“I think that today,” Sirius countered, “That would be you.”

Remus blushed and looked down at his feet. “Want to walk back to the hotel?

Sirius smiled. “That sounds like a plan.”

[themanicmagician]

Shipwrecked [4/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

“Welcome!” Mabel chirped, ever a font of enthusiasm. She clasped her paws together. “How can I help you two?”

Redd, looking decidedly uncomfortable, did not speak up. It fell upon Tom to explain.

“He needs a wardrobe.” Tom said. “He lost most of his things in the shipwreck, so we’re replacing what we can.”

Tom could admit, to himself alone, that he would miss the sight of Redd in his shirts. But Redd really should wear more fitting, comfortable clothes instead of baggy tees. And besides, Tom didn’t have that many spares.

“Oh, of course! How many outfits were you thinking?”

“Let’s do five, to start with. And two sets of sleepwear.”

Mabel nodded, then beckoned Redd over to the fitting platform. “Right this way, Mr. Redd.”

“It’s just Redd.” He did not follow the porcupine’s instructions right away, instead murmuring to Tom: “I’ll pay you back for all of it when I can.”

Redd was embarrassed—embarrassed to be unable to provide for himself, to be forced to rely upon Tom’s charity.  

“Don’t worry about it.”

This didn’t reassure Redd; his mouth twisted in discomfort.

“But…”

“Everything alright?” Mabel circled back to them, tape measure in hand.

“Yes, just give us a moment, please.”

When Mabel returned to the platform, Tom tried a different approach. “You’ve been a great help with the boys lately.” Indeed, story time with Redd was now a nightly ritual in the Nook household. They were steadily making their way through Flurry’s entire library. “Just think of it as repayment for that, alright?”

Redd mumbled something unintelligible, but finally nodded his acceptance. They joined Mabel. Redd stepped up on the platform, and Mabel began taking his measurements, jotting them down in a little spiral notebook.

Sable watched them shrewdly from her sewing station. Redd and Sable had never met in person before, but both knew of each other thanks to stories from Tom. Redd saw Sable observing him, and he offered a sheepish smile.

“I suppose we can’t do a complete wingspan measurement for now.” Mable mused. Redd turned away from Sable to look at the younger hedgehog, grateful for the plausible excuse to break away. “I’ll just have to use the measurement of one arm for the other as well. Oh! We can fix you up with a new sling, too. Wouldn’t be hard at all.”

“It’s fine, really,” Redd demurred. “It’s not necessary.”

“Oh pish. It’ll just be a bit of fabric, won’t it?” Mabel trotted over to her sister. “Sable, surely you’ve got something lying around that we could use.”

Redd threw a helpless look to Tom. Tom only shrugged. Once Mabel got started on something, there was no stopping her.

“Here.” Sable offered up a stripe of black fabric. Mable seized it with a happy “Thanks sis!” and then spent a good ten minutes between the front of the store and the back storage room, putting together an ensemble for Redd.

“Okay, you can try these on to start with.” Mabel set a bundle of clothes down in the changing room. “Do you need any help getting dressed?”

Redd colored. “No, I can handle it myself.”

As they waited for Redd to get changed, Tom chatted lightly with Mabel. The young hedgehog was overjoyed that their middle sibling, Label, was making frequent trips into Bastion. By the time Redd emerged from the dressing room, Tom had learned more than he ever needed to know about how Label’s hot pink clothing line was revolutionizing the fashion industry.

“Well?” Redd asked, scuffing his foot on the carpet.

Tom gave him a once-over. Mabel had selected comfortable clothes, suited for island living. Redd wore tan corduroy shorts, and a light pastel color block t-shirt. He didn’t look like a sleazy businessman, but like a true islander. Like he’d fit in well here.

Tom shoved the thought aside. He and Redd had made amends, but Redd was still going to leave in a few short weeks. Best not to dwell on things like that.

“It suits you,” Tom told him.

Redd muttered a thanks before Mabel dragged him off to try on something else.

~*~

Tom chopped apples into slices in his kitchenette for today’s lunch. He was fond of pears, but was infinitely grateful to Alex for bringing other fruits to the island, thereby expanding their cuisine possibilities. He was preparing fruit salad, made of the island’s entire available assortment, and included generous scoops of orange sherbet as well.

He stopped by the Cranny to drop off the boys’ lunches before he headed outside. He found Redd exactly where he thought he would: by the sea, an easel and canvas in front of him. He was working with acrylics today. Redd was painting the shoreline before him, capturing a wave mid-crash. Even partly-done, his work was impressive. It was a bit of luck that the shipwreck had spared the fox’s dominant hand.

A little ways in front of Redd was Julian. The unicorn must have assumed Redd was here to paint him, because he was currently splayed out on sand in a very dramatic pose.

“Make sure you get my best side, glitter!”

Redd, focused on painting a collection of wispy clouds, didn’t pay Julian any mind. Unperturbed, Julian remained in his chosen pose.

Tom nudged Redd’s shoulder with the bowl of fruit salad.

“Lunch.”

“Mmm.” Redd’s gaze didn’t lift from his canvas.

There was a splotch of blue paint on one of his ears. How on earth had he managed that?

Tom set the fruit salad down on the sand beside Redd. The fox’s tail swished lazily back and forth as he worked.

“It looks very good.” Tom complimented.

“Flatterer. I’m out of practice. Been a while since I’ve done something like this.” A while since he’d patined original art instead of copying classical pieces.

Redd added layers to the wavers. They began to look like wild, angry things.

Tom frowned.

“I spoke with Orville. He has spare life jackets he can donate for your boat. And he’s happy to go over basic sailing techniques with you. It won’t be like that again.”

“It was so sudden.” Redd explained, at length. His brush paused on the canvas as his gaze became distant. “One moment the waves were calm, and the next, they were roiling. I’m lucky I got away with just this.” He gestured to his splinted arm.

“Maybe someone can go back with you.” Tom suggested. “One of the dodos at the airline could sail with you and then fly back at port.”

The light in Redd’s eyes dimmed slightly. “Oh, yeah. The dodos. Maybe.”

The air between them felt thick with awkwardness. Tom kicked at the sand, begging someone up there for a distraction.

His prayer was answered in the form of Julian.

“My goodness!” Julian gasped, clutching a hoof to his chest as he ogled Redd’s work. “What a painting! You have captured my beautiful essence! Sublime! Magnifique!”

Redd leveled him a flat look.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he was going for. You truly have a mind for art, Julian.” Tom said.

Julian gave a bow before he pranced off with a self-satisfied smirk.

Redd snickered. Tom chuckled. They seemed to set each other off. Once they started, they couldn’t stop, until they were both letting loose full belly laughs.

~*~

June was a welcome reprieve from the previous month of cold rain. The air was mostly pleasant, occasionally humid. Rain came in short bursts and cleared up just as quickly.

Tonight was mildly warm, and they’d constructed a decent-sized bonfire in the town square. Residents mingled around the area. Flurry and Diana sipped drinks and chatted. Lucky was showing Del the proper marshmallow roasting technique. Julian and Elvis were arguing over whose turn it was to sing at the microphone. Fang grumbled about “kids and their wild parties” and yet mingled with the group anyway.

Tom sat on the swell of a grassy hill, overlooking the plaza. Sable was at his right. She could never sit entirely still, so she’d brought a half-finished scarf along with her to work on.

He watched the impromptu party for several moments, until a thought occurred to him. He straightened up from his casual slouch. Where were the boys? They knew the island, but it was still scorpion season.

“Sable, have you seen—?”

She pointed before he finished his sentence. Tom squinting in the dim lighting to see what she was gesturing towards.

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Mhm.”

Celeste had dragged her brother over to her telescope. Blathers was peering through it as Celeste chattered at his side. The siblings were utterly preoccupied with their occupation, completely oblivious to the three forms sidling up behind them. Timmy, Tommy, and Redd were inching closer and closer. Each of them was holding a fake rubber tarantula. Tom had raised an eyebrow when the boys ordered a box of them a week ago, but hadn’t thought to question why they wanted them. He’d just assumed they were for the Cranny’s stock.

Timmy giggled visibly, his tiny shoulders shaking with laughter. Redd shushed him.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Tom asked.

“Better Blathers than me.” Sable said simply, needles clicking lightly as she knit. There was a gleam of mischief in her brown eyes.

“Sable!” She startled a laugh from him.

The boys rose up on their tip-toes to place their fake bugs on Blathers’ shoulders; Redd deposited his rubber tarantula atop the owl’s head.

Blathers, feeling the touch, lifted his wing in confusion. He squawked at the bugs on his wings, and flapped them in panic. In his fright, the tarantula on his head slipped down, landing right between his eyes. Blathers’ resultant squeal turned everyone’s heads.

Timmy and Tommy leaned on each other, bodies wracked with laughter. Redd snickered.

Blathers, having now realized he’d been played, stomped over to the perpetrators. He pointed an accusatory wing at Redd.

“You! You—You—!”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Babbles. Don’t get your feathers in a twist.”

Blathers sputtered indignantly.

“You wouldn’t hurt an invalid, would you?”

“I... well...no…but still!”

Redd sobered. “Sorry, I guess we went too far. I apologize. Put ‘er there.” Redd held out his hand for a shake, to make amends.

Blathers took it—then shrieked again. Redd had palmed him another fake spider. The boys started giggling again.

Tom facepalmed.

~*~

Tom deposited the splint and sling on the coffee table. The fur on Redd’s now-freed arm was a bit matted, unwashed for seven weeks. But the arm itself appeared sound.

“Well?” Tom asked, a touch anxiously. “How does it feel?”

Redd flexed his arm carefully. Drew his fingers into a loose fist before he extended them again.

“A bit tender. Stiff. But better.”

Redd’s ship had been fully patched up about a week ago. Now that the fox’s arm was finally healed, there was no real reason for Redd to stick around. He had confessed to coming here to see Tom. But Tom couldn’t give his heart away so easily a second time. And Redd had never promised to stay, only to visit.

Tom busied himself by picking at some fuzz on the arm of the couch. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to get on your way then.”

“...Actually, I figured I should stick around for a bit.”

“Oh?” Tom was grateful his tone came off at just the right level of interested, not too eager.

“Sure. Should probably hang around another week. Maybe more. You know, just to make sure my arm is strong enough. It’ll be a problem if I get out there and can’t really grasp the wheel.”

“Uncle Redd!”

“...Redd!”

Timmy and Tommy burst into the room, a whirlwind of excitement. Tommy was clutching a new book to his chest.

“Can you read this one to us tonight?”

“...night?”

“Of course.”

The twins noticed Redd’s discarded splint, and squeezed themselves on either side of Redd to cuddle.

“Careful, boys.” Tom warned. He didn’t want them to accidentally hurt Redd in their enthusiasm.

“They’re fine,” Redd said, softly. He gently ruffled the fur on both the boys’ heads.

“K.K. is in town today. Can we all go see him?”

“...him?”

“Who?” Redd asked.

“He’s Uncle Tom’s favorite.”

“...favorite.”

Redd raised an eyebrow at Tom. “Favorite?” He repeated, dryly.

“Favorite  musician.” Tom corrected.

“Can we go? Please?”

“...please?”

“Why not.” Tom said. The boys cheered and scampered off to get ready.

~*~

Lightning bugs blinked in the air as the quartet meandered from the Cranny over to the town plaza. K.K. sat on his customary stool, giving his guitar a quick tuning before his performance. A few villagers were already milling around the area, waiting for the evening concert to begin.

“Right, my dudes and lady dudes, any request?” The musician asked the crowd.

Suggestions were hollered out, and K.K. inevitably went with a jaunty fairground melody. Diana and Julian clapped along to the melody. Isabelle coaxed the twins into dancing with her, and the trio jumped and swayed merrily in the center of the plaza. One song melted into the next, and more villagers joined in. Muffy twirled in elegant pirouettes. Del performed a shambling robot. Neither of them really matched the tone of the music, but they were having fun.

Redd nudged Tom. “You should be out there too.”

“Me?” Tom laughed. “Hardly.”

“What, are you shy?” Redd teased, before he offered his hand. “C’mon. I’ll go with you.”

After a beat, Tom placed his paw in Redd’s. It was warm.

Redd didn’t bring them to the center, instead lingering on the fringe of the group. Neither of them tried to keep up with the frantic beat of the music, instead swaying with each other, from side to side. They were close like this, closer than they had been in some time. Redd smelled like the sea, like his acrylics, like the lemon-scented soap Tom owned. Their noses brushed by accident.

“Sorry.” Redd murmured.

“No, no—it’s fine.” Tom had one hand splayed across Redd’s back. For support.

The music shifted to something slower. Tom groaned inwardly as he recognized the melody. K.K. Love Song. He glanced over to K.K. Timmy and Tommy were next to him, looking rather smug. Had they been the ones to request the song? After all he’d done for them…

At least Redd was unfamiliar with the music. The one saving grace.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Never a good sign.” Tom quipped, weakly.

“I’m grateful for everything you all did to rebuild my ship.” It was still shocking to hear Redd speak so plainly, so honestly. “But, if it was alright with you, I thought. That maybe instead of going, I could...stay?”

Tom froze. It was what he’d wanted, and now that it was being offered to him, he could scarcely believe it.

Redd mistook his silence for a denial. He began to draw away.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll go. I can go tomorrow.”

Tom clutched his arm so he wouldn’t slip away. “No! No, I mean—yes. If you wanted to stay I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Redd’s smile was like the sun.

“Good. Great. Yeah.” He let out a breathless laugh of relief.

“We’ll have to pick a plot of land for you. Alex can help coordinate that.”

“We’ll be neighbors. Neighbors,” Redd tested the word out, and seemed to like it. “I’ll badger you for a cup of sugar. You’ll yell at me for mowing my lawn too early in the morning.”

“The boys will lose their baseball in your yard. You’ll have to return it. Over and over again.”

“Will I? Maybe I’ll be a crotchety neighbor. Who wants those darned whippersnappers messing about my perfectly-trimmed lawn?”

Tom laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

Tom did.

It was a good idea for them to live separately, for now. They would wade into it slowly this time, not plummet into the deep end right off. They’d see what happened, how it played out. But even though they were taking their relationship slow, that didn’t mean he couldn’t…

Tom ducked down to press a chaste kiss to Redd’s cheek.

“Welcome home, Redd.”

[darlinrogue]

His chest aches, his cheekbone throbs with the imminent development of a bruise. (How? He doesn't remember, as faint as he is. Adam had fought, and he fought hard.) But Kenny is the one victorious. Victorious, but all he's able to do is kneel, half collapsed, his hands against the canvas for support. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know why, but he kisses him, lips to the forehead of the man he—. He kisses him. He walks away. He touches the bruise on his cheekbone, and he smiles. It still hurts.

Kenny Fucking Omega 

w/ the sad yeehaw man

He didn’t hook the leg. 

Adam rolled through the snapdragon and countered with a firm elbow to Kenny’s jaw. He put Kenny on his feet and then lifted the other man by the thighs, over his shoulders. Deadeye, right to the back of the head, a knock-out for a lesser man. Except Kenny Omega was Kenny Fucking Omega, and he kicked-out. The match rolled on, Adam lost, he’d seen the ending twenty-thousand times. The One-Wing Angel was a punctuation point at the end of a statement. Yet, each time he watched through the recording he paused on that one pin after the Deadeye. Adam had Kenny stacked, his full weight on his shoulders. The bell should’ve rung. Except Adam only hooked the left leg. He only hooked the left leg on Kenny Omega. He only hooked the left leg on Kenny Fucking Omega. The best pin he got the whole match. Right after Omega ate: a half-dozen elbows, too many chops to count, a starching power bomb on the ramp, three boots to the face, and got dropped on his head from four feet in the air. The planets aligned, the Scorpio was in Aquarius or whatever, and Adam only hooked one leg. 

“It was the-- it was the right leg!” 

Tony’s voice shuttered through the phone in Adam’s lap. The screen paused on the collapsed forms of the combatants in the ring. Adam face down in the fore-ground and Kenny clutching his leg not far behind. In that moment he hadn’t thought about the right leg. Kenny had kicked out by some miracle but it wasn’t sheer luck. Kenny exploited Adam’s error.  Of course, unbeknownst to Adam the comms were carefully picking-apart Adam’s critical mistake. The legs weren’t neutralized. Kenny could swing his right leg and leverage his weight-out. If Adam had hooked both legs the match would be over, he’d be facing Mox. Instead, he made a stupid mistake so obvious even Tony Schiavone, who would break his hand before he could throw a good punch, pointed it out. 

A headache formed behind Adam’s eyes. He tore his gaze from the screen and glanced-out the window. The dark night streaked black, reflecting back his hotel room and his bedraggled body propped-up in bed. A limp hand fluttered out to find his bourbon on the night stand. He lifted the glass to his lips and found no relief for his parched throat. Adam scowled and returned the glass to where he found it. The bottle was empty too. He couldn’t tell if he was buzzed, drunk, or hungover. Just a dullness, settling in with the ache and exhaustion. Adam used the tip of his finger to edge the glass away from him. A final statement that he was done for the night. He slid down from his upright position against the pillows and sprawled out the bed covers The fan swirled in lazy circles above him. After months of blistering heat Florida had cooled to a tolerable temperature but this room was cooking him alive. His hair was still damp from the shower. He glanced at the clock, 1:43. No phone calls, no texts, no twitter updates, he put his phone on airplane mode hours ago. It was just him, the recording of his life’s greatest failure, and an empty bottle of bourbon. 

Adam lifted his phone from his side. He turned onto his cheek to glance at it again. He hit the play button and the recording rolled. The two men recovered, Adam was up first. He set-up for the buckshot but Kenny anticipated it and rolled him into a crucifix. He was so fucking predictable. Adam used a boot between the ropes to stuff Kenny’s charge three times that night. No wonder he had his leg well scouted. That twisting move on his knee obliterated his chance in the match. Can’t stand, can’t fight. Oh, Adam had a couple more signs of life in him but two knees to the face, well. He was up on Kenny’s shoulders now. Kenny caught the head and Humpty Dumpty took a great fall. The leg hook was a formality. Adam wasn’t even sure he was conscious for this part.  One, two, three, and Adam paused the video again. He haphazardly tossed the phone and it clattered off the edge of the bed. Adam had a life proof case for a reason. 

There was no point in watching any further. 

For a head-spinning minute, Hangman Adam Page was somebody. He was the tag team champion, alongside Kenny Fucking Omega. He was on top of the world. It was all so good. Training with Kenny, fighting with Kenny, sometimes, fighting with Kenny. Getting distracted by another tag-team-- No, Kenny literally dropping Adam like a sack of potatoes was inevitable. He had held Kenny back, made stupid fucking mistakes, hit his partner on accident, got drunk and wandered around arenas like a moron. Bickering with the bucks and ruining his friendships. Adam was an arsonist, he only burned down bridges and never built them. Now he was alone on his Island, just like he always wanted. And he had a lost tournament to prove how ‘accomplished’ Adam Page truly is. Matt and Nick were right about him. For all his bluster, all his big talk, believing in himself when no one else would. Empty words, Adam could talk the talk, but he couldn’t walk the walk. Because he ran-up against someone like Kenny Fucking Omega. 

And he forgot to hook the left leg. 

He didn’t need the video for the next part. Kenny’s head and hand lifted high. Kenny, haloed like an angel of death by the Dally Place lights. Kenny, knelt above him like a prayer at the altar. Cheeks blushed in rose, breath spilling from his chapped, pink lips. Curls like spun gold, framing his sculptured features. Like something out of a renaissance art painting. Out of a great tragedy, Lucifer, Achilles, Gabriel. His lips against his forehead in a kiss as delicate as a flower petal. Paul Turner helping Adam limp out of the arena. Fuck Hangman, and then taking the Uber back to his hotel alone, in utter silence with the guy working the graveyard shift. Alcohol, shower, alcohol, video self-pity marathon, alcohol. He wished his dog was here. Wait, what was that last bit?

Adam lunged across the bed. Kicked into action as if bitten by a Hell Hound. Belly against the comforter his hands searched the floor until he found his phone lodged by the head board. Half-his chest off the bed he hit the play button. Adam slammed against the ring mat. The fall-out, the replay, the play-by-play, the comms chattering, (”Kenny came out the better man”), blah, blah, blah. Paul Turner helped Kenny up. Then he was back down, knelt over Adam, and with great reverence, Kenny stooped to kiss Adam’s forehead. The he rolled out of the ring. Adam paused the video. Then he played it back. Then he paused the video and then he played it back. he paused the video, he played it back. Inch-by-inch Adam slid off the mattress until he was slumped against the floor, legs hooked on the bed above him. He watched that little end sequence on loop until it was emblazoned against his memory. It was so quick the comms didn’t even mention it. 

 A kiss. Kenny kissed him. Kenny Fucking Omega kissed him. Adam laid his hand over his sternum. His heart shuttered in his chest, pounding, tight, and agonizing. Pure pain, looking at the blurred pixels on his phone screen. It wasn’t near enough, the taste of it was like a morsel of food for a starving man. Kenny lingered over Adam in nothing but obscure pixels. What was his expression like? What did he do with his hands? And most important, something the phone could never tell him, why? 

Adam and Kenny were out. Now that his obligations to the tag title were done, Kenny returned to the single arena. Tired of dragging dead weight, tired of the noose around his throat. Kenny walked out on the tag team Adam prayed to stay in. Adam screwed over the Bucks. He spitefully entered a tournament to prove he didn’t need Kenny anyway. Adam didn’t even shake his hand at the start of the match. Not just because he was angry --Adam was pissed in that unshakable focused way-- but because he was afraid. Taking Kenny’s hand, never letting go, too tempting a possibility. The longer he stared at the screen the longer this shameless act of devotion eluded him. 

For the first time in hours Adam turned his phone off airplane mode. He shuffled through the deluge of notifications by dismissing all of them without reading any. He pulled-up Kenny’s contact, drafted a text message.

“Hey, man, good fight today-- well, yesterday, I guess. I just wanted to ask, out of curiosity, did you kiss me at the end? I mean, it’s no big deal. I was just wondering is all like i thought it was a little odd is all. Are you ok? You know you can always count on me, no matter what. I’m sorry i’ve been such an ass. I need to start drinking less, much less. It’s just that everything, the tournament, the belts, it’s been getting to me, I only wanted to prove to you guys I could keep up. I want you to know, I feel the same.”

Adam paused, his thumb hovering over the send button. The last line stained in black font against his vision. He then selected the entire text, cut it, and pasted it into a note’s app. Adam sighed and turned off his phone. His arm slung over his eyes. Five minutes later he was passed-out cold, still on the floor, snoring, and with the lights on. 

[merlinistheredheadedstepchild]

Magic Bullet - June 13, 2011

Ugh, Kate I do like that they’re going for a Buffy cold open moment where we think the blonde’s in trouble and then she’s a badass But it’s Kate Also neat shot of the Alpha running along side her car How is she not deaf? She fired a shotgun three inches from her ears

And the Alpha howling wakes Scott And he decides to come check it out?

Chris should be better at lying than this

Derek getting his blood hound on The Alpha getting its gorilla on And parkour Kate getting her sharp shooter on Derek does not understand how injuries work

“Not even a hello, nice to see ya?” “All I’ve got now is please put the assault rifle away before someone sees.” Like a reasonable werewolf hunter

They think there are only two of them and they need the beta to lead them to the alpha

Kate hasn’t seen Allison in a year And she and Chris should be better at lying To be fair she did almost get mauled

Stiles is asking all the important questions and Scott cant handle any of it

“No more talk about the Alpha or Derek. Especially Derek, who still scares me.” And he looks genuinely scared in that moment. Because I’m fairly certain he’s trying to hide the existential crisis he’s going through behind werewolf research

I know Derek looks too old to still be a high school student and thus people in the halls should notice him. But I’m not certain I ever looked at the people around me once while walking between classes in high school

I might have noticed the guy who looks like he’s in withdrawal

God he looks so sad for a second before he puts on his game face to threaten Jackson “Where’s Scott McCall” “Why should I tell you” “Because I asked politely and I only do that once” Derek looks so offended that Jackson thinks he’s selling Scott steroids And then he accidentally claws open Jackson’s neck

Derek looks confused while he listens to Lydia and Allison talking about condoms and dates He’s such a good actor Like I’m offended by how much he makes me feel for Derek while he’s just staring and listening or cringing away from a ringing bell

Ooh the jeep scene Just pass out in the parking lot why don’t you?

“What are you doing here?” “I was shot.” “He’s not looking so good, dude.” “Why aren’t you healing” “I can’t. It was a different kind of bullet” “A silver bullet” “No you idiot” (Roll your eyes a little harder while you’re dying, Derek) “Wait, wait. That’s what she meant when she said you only had forty eight hours” “What? Who… who said forty eight hours?” “The one who shot you”

“Why should I help you” “Because you need me”

Scott you should help Derek out because he is dying and you have empathy! But you’re sixteen and in denial about being a werewolf and in love with this girl who’s family wants to kill you and you are putting all of the blame and hate on Derek

“I hate you for this, so much”

It’s strange that they don’t have a mountain ash situation in their house But I guess they haven’t thought up mountain ash yet

“Haven’t been here for like, over a month?’” That purple dress is so cute This techno music is not

“Start the car or I’m gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth.” The scene that launched a thousand ships The make up on Derek is doing such a good job that it actually looks like they cgi-ed him into the scene. Like his lighting and coloring is so different it looks like it was filmed on a different day

“That’s my dad’s sister Kate. Except she’s more like my sister.” “She actually used to live in Beacon Hills, maybe you saw her once?”

Allison is clearly a perfectionist who is searching for something artsy but is ultimately very good at athletics and not art

“So I was nationally ranked as a kid. My dad really wanted me to go on.”

Chris is so fucking great at being a terrifying dad

Kate is great at being a cool aunt To bad she’s a terrible person

Chris, cool your fucking tits He’s sixteen You don’t even think he’s a werewolf yet It’s cute that he anchors her even though it’s him that her dad is attacking

“And by the way he’s starting to smell.” “Like what?” “Like death!”

Dylan and Hoechlin are far and away the best teenage actors on this show right now and they have amazing chemistry and I totally get it Derek is more of a person in those scenes with stiles and it’s probably partially that he’s dying and partially that Stiles is a human

The Argents have no chill

Why are only a few of her bullets wolfsbane? Shouldn’t they all be?

Oh god. The rabid dog speech. Find your fucking chill Christopher!

Does he think Scott knows a werewolf?

Ooh abs

“Last resort” “Which is?” “You’re gonna cut off my arm”

And Kate confronts Scott And Allison whips out a condom to protect his virtue

Ugh, Stiles. That jacket Is the no chest hair so that he looks younger?

“Oh God! What if you bleed to death?” “It’ll heal if it works.” “Look I don’t know if I can do this.“ “Why not?”

You are actively dying! How much sass is necessary?

“You faint at the sight of blood?” “No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!” “Look either you cut off my arm or I cut off your head”

Derek only knows how to get these kids to listen with threats But his threats are fucking weak

“He’s not waking up” “I think he’s dying. I think he’s dead!” Stiles holds Derek’s face so gently

And we get the first punch Derek in the face to save his life

I like how the burning of the wolfsbane seems like a drug ritual

He is just cut to pieces

“That was awesome! Yes!” Not the time Stiles “Are you okay?” “Except for the agonizing pain.” Not the time Derek “I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a sign of good health.” Still not the time Stiles

“You think you can trust them?” “They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are!” “I can show you how nice they are.”

Beacons Crossing Home ( Because they hadn’t realized they needed him at the hospital yet

Oddly, perfectly clean shaven Peter looks so much older than scruffy Peter

“Six years ago my sister and I were at school. Our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor.” “They’re the only ones that knew about us.” “They say they’ll only kill an adult and only with absolute proof but there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that fire. This is what they do. This is what Allison will do”

Derek believes that Allison is like Kate

Scott have some fucking empathy his entire family was murdered by the Argents there is no reason for that He tells you there were humans in the house and thus innocents who shouldn’t have been killed And yet, you think he’s liar

“How do we know its just the two of them?” “We don’t.”

“You and the code.” “It’s there for a reason.” “Of course. I always play by the rules.” And then she lights the gas fireplace. Because they are not fucking around with the allusions on this show

End Episode Four

Notes:  I think Kate is meant to be no more than a decade older than Allison. Otherwise them being like sisters would be strange. I think Chris suspects every teenage boy might be the third wolf Derek becomes twenty or twenty one around episode three Though if he was fifteen and it’s been five and a half years that still checks out

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 3

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, dub-con,

Words: 3800+

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts Four and Five are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Life goes on, you return to Boston but the events of that night haunt you. There are times when you can’t believe it actually happened, that Sam Winchester had you in his room. And there are nights when it’s all you can think about, laying in the dark with a hand between your legs pretending he’s watching you.

But a week becomes a month and you get the sense that whatever happened was a fleeting mistake. A questionable choice that he’d prefer to forget.

You’re in the middle of typing up handwritten notes for one the of the junior partners when the phone rings. Pepper’s name pops up and you roll your eyes. She hated you from the beginning but after the conference, she’s really had it out for you. She made it clear that you did everything wrong, and she suffered Sam’s sour disposition as a result.

“Hello Pepper,” you answer, feigning a cheery disposition.

“What did you do?” She hisses, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

“I don’t know what that means.” You slouch back in your chair, defeated. None of your work is ever good enough for her.

“Well, you better figure it out. He wants you up here, now.” She grits out.

An immediate mix of dread and excitement springs to life, making your chest tight and cheeks flushed. Before even fully processing the words, you’re sweating.

“Who?” Whispering, you look around, afraid that anyone who sees you might suddenly develop telepathic powers and discover your dirty little secret.

“Who the fuck the do you think? Sam. I don’t know what you did but he wants you in his office ASAP.”

“Okay.” You swallow. “I’m on my way.”

The walk to the elevator seems as if you’re walking underwater, everything moving in slow motion. You’ve convinced yourself you’d never see him in person again, or when you did, he'd dismiss you.

What if this is just about work? No, there’s no way. You’re in charge of the most meaningless, mindless busy-work of anyone in the company. This is him flexing control, you’re sure of it. He’s ignored you for weeks and out of nowhere, you're being summoned to the executive floor.

“You okay?” Max, a junior associate, and resident hot shot asks stepping in beside you.

“Yeah.” You snap, looking at him in sudden concern. “Do I look like something’s wrong?”

“You’re all-” He points at your face, turning his finger in a circle. “Red. Are you getting sick? If you are, you better go home. The last thing anyone needs is the flu.”

“I’m fine.” You reach over and hit the button for the top floor.

“You’re headed to the attic?” He laughs, hollowing out his cheek with a whistle as if to say glad it’s not me. “You screw something up?”

“No, I mean, I don’t think so. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

You know full well that no one of your lowly position gets called up unless they’re on the chopping block.

“I’ve been here a year and I’ve never been above the twentieth floor.” Adjusting his tie Max checks out his reflection in the mirrored wall. “Tell you what, how about I take you out for a drink later? Good or bad, you’re gonna need it.”

“Maybe.” You respond absentmindedly as the elevator dings and Max steps off.

“Good luck.” He gives you a little salute as the doors slide shut and you continue your ascent.

The moment you step off the elevator Pepper is there to give you the third degree en route to Sam’s office.

“If you did something you have to tell me now so that I get in front of it. Everything falls on me. I don’t want to pay the price for your incompetence.”

“I honestly have no idea.” You wish she’d stop talking, you can barely think at the prospect of seeing him again.

“Oh God,” glaring at you she opens the door to his office, gesturing for you enter. “Let me do the talking.”

Sam’s sitting at his desk, fixated on his computer. When he looks up he immediately hones in on you, glancing at Pepper as an afterthought.

“She’s here, finally. I can’t imagine what took so long. I called her twenty minutes ago.”  Lies. “Would you like me to stay?” Pepper asks, grinning unnaturally wide.

“No.” Sam quips. “Shut the door and let me know once everyone else is on the call. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course.” She turns, sneering silently at you before scampering out of the room.

And before you know it, you’re alone with him again. You don’t say anything, just stand in place as you stare at each other in silence.

“If you want to leave, you should do it now.” He explains calmly, sitting back in his chair. “I won’t stop you and we’ll never speak of it again. But if you stay, you’re giving me consent. Do you understand?

“Yes.” You force out, the fractured word barely audible.

“And what have you decided?” Tilting his head to the side he looks you over from head to toe.

“I’d like to stay.” You’re wet already, squeezing internal muscles and fighting the urge to let your eyes flutter shut.

“Good choice.” His face is expressionless. For being a savant at reading other people he’s just a skilled at cloaking his own emotions. “Come over here.”

Your hands shake as you slowly walk to his desk. He motions for you to come around the side so that you’re standing right next to his chair.

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“Not with me.”

“Bring it with you next time.”

“Okay.”

“Are you wearing underwear?” There’s small tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes.” You swallow, closing your eyes for a fleeting second.

“Take them off.” He watches you reach under your skirt and tug the fabric down your legs. Using one hand to balance yourself on the arm of his chair, carefully stepping out of them one high heel at a time. He holds out his hands and you drop them into his palm. “Don’t wear them again.”

Jesus Christ.

“I won’t.” You confirm. Every inch of skin covered in sweat.

“Sit here.” He taps the end of the desk with two fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. Perching on the edge of the desk you pray you don’t pass out. You can scarcely breathe at the anticipation. “Unbutton your blouse.”

His eyes are relentless, boring holes right through you as shaky fingers pop button after button on your creamy, silk blouse. You pull the material open, giving him a view of the bra underneath. His tongue darts out over his lower lip, his line of sight glued to your tits.

“Pull your bra down, just under your nipples.” He instructs and you comply. A pattern is forming, he has a definite preference for how you display yourself. His eyes dart up from your breasts. “Pull your skirt up and spread your legs so I can see your cunt.”

There’s a split second when you don’t think you can do this, especially not in his office in the middle of the day with a building full of people. But it’s also those facts that turn the fear into excitement, pulsing through your veins.

You stand up long enough to pull your skirt up around your waist, bare pussy on full display as you sit back on the edge of his desk and spread your thighs.

“Lean back and open your legs wider.” He commands as you settle onto your elbows, balancing one leg on the handle of his desk drawer, giving him a pornographic view of your sex. “You’re wet.”

The way he says the words makes it sound like he’s a pious priest and you’re some kind of wanton harlot.

“I like it when you look at me.” You confess, feeling like a whore laid out on his desk with your shirt open and legs spread.

“If you get my desk wet you’re going to clean it with your tongue.”

Mother Fuck. You could probably cum just like this. You wouldn't even need to touch yourself. Just listening to him say shit like that would eventually be enough.

“Mr. Winchester.” Pepper’s voice scared you half to death as she hails him on his intercom. “Everyone’s on the call, they’re waiting for you.”

Sam looks at you, grabbing his cock through his pants. “Stay just like that, don’t move, don’t touch yourself. Just stay open for me. You understand.”

“Yes.” You nod slowly.

Then he picks up the desk phone and hops on a conference call as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

At first, he’s not talking much, just replying with little verbal cues, palming his cock through his pants. He rocks back his office chair, clicking the end of a pen with his thumb and staring at your pussy like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. Something on the call sparks his interest because he refocuses on his computer screen, launching into an in-depth explanation about the importance of procedure and process.

Your eyes are closed as you listen to his voice, legs beginning to shake as you keep yourself in the requested position. He’s not doing anything, he hasn’t come close to touching you, at the moment he’s not even looking in your direction, but it’s somehow one of the most sexual and arousing situations you’ve ever been in.

He called you up here to take out your tits, hike up your skirt and present yourself as a piece of erotic art.

The combination of humiliation and arousal has every part of your body on fire. Your nipples are rock hard, throbbing with every beat of your heart, just the same as your clit. You want to close your legs, rub your thighs together to get a small amount of relief. Concentration slipping your legs begin to fall closed and there’s an abrupt, hard smack on the inside of your knee, his open palm slapping your skin.

“Fuck,” you wheeze, mouth falling open.

The mark stings as you stare at him, watching him rub that same hand over his thigh. There’s a red handprint springing to life on your skin, and now it’s throbbing right along with the rest of all your sensitive bits. You tense up, clenching your cunt in desperation. If he had any question about how you’d respond he must know the answer now because you’re twice as wet as before.

He places a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, “you’re not very good at following the rules.”

“I’m trying.” You whisper. There’s a tear running down your cheek. Perhaps it’s from his hand or maybe you’re just so fucking turned on that your body is responding in unfamiliar ways. More than anything you want him to touch you again, to bring this dormant need to life.

One of your hands leaves the desk and you almost touch yourself, squirming and writhing with little whimpers before you regain control of yourself. When you look at Sam he’s fixed on you like a hawk, eyes narrowing.

“I have to hop off for a few minutes.” He says evenly and hangs up the phone without ever looking away. “You’re not doing very well.”

“I just,” you gulp, unsure of what comes next. “I’m sorry.”

“Look at how wet you are.” He observes casually.

Reaching over he pulls open one of the drawers. Inside there’s a folded shirt and two ties. He pulls out one of the ties, rolling it neatly into a ball. He stands up, looming over you, stepping forward between your legs. “Open your mouth.”

You obey, dropping your jaw open. He firmly stuffs the tie in your mouth, effectively gagging you. You can’t help the desperate moan that gurgles up from your throat.

“Now, stand up and lean over the desk.”

You lock eyes for a moment before you comply, standing on shaky legs and bending forward until your belly is pressed against his weekly calendar.

“Arms up here, hands open, palms down.”

You stretch your arms up, spreading your fingers over the desk. The skirt is still around your waist, ass on full display.

“Spread your legs wider.”

You inch your legs part as far you can. This is a true feeling of utter vulnerability.

“Keep quiet. If you make too much noise someone will hear you.”

And with that, his hand comes down on your right butt cheek with a sickening smack that sends your entire body lurching forward. You’re grateful for the gag as you let out a muffled cry, summoning every ounce of self-control to stay in place.

There are three more in rapid succession, smack smack smack that sends you careening into a whole new world. It hurts, he’s spanking you hard enough his own hand must smart. All you can do is whimper into the gag, dragging your cheek along the hardwood of his desk.

The fifth spank is a quick, nasty slap directly on your bare pussy. It’s not a hard as the ones on your backside, but enough to send a spiral of pleasure and pain twisting up your spine as you groan and lift your head.

“You're so wet,” his words come out in quick bursts, he’s trying to hold himself together. “This desperate little cunt is drooling.”

He wipes a wet palm over the stinging skin of your ass and repeats his previous set. Four on your ass and one on your pussy. And then he does it again. And one more time after that.

When it’s over you’re sweating and crying, tears of frustration, pain and all-consuming arousal. You’re right on the edge, you just need him to touch you, all it would take is the brush of his fingers and you’d cum like a freight train.

“Puhhh,” you mumble against the gag, fingers clawing the desk.

“You want me to keep going?” He shifts behind you.

“Puhhh,” You can’t get out anything other than unintelligible sounds.

He spanks your pussy again, only this time it’s a lighter touch over your clit. One, two, three little wet whacks that are enough to send you over the edge. You cum, panting with a makeshift gag stuffed in your mouth, bent over his desk, writhing like a bitch in heat.

You're gasping with a cheek pressed into his notepad when you hear the gentle click of a cell phone camera. It’s followed by several more accompanied by Sam’s satisfied grunt.

“Stand up and turn around.” He commands calmly.

Still breathless, you push yourself up with shaking arms, almost losing your balance as you turn to face him. You rest your butt on the edge of the desk and wince. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week.

Expressionless, he reaches up, pulling the tie out of your mouth with a yank and throws it back into the open drawer as you close a sore jaw.

He carefully, methodically, reaches forward, the warm tips of his fingers brushing the skin of your breasts as he puts your bra back in place. Long nimble fingers button up your shirt, one by one. Then two big hands, pull your skirt back into place. “Come here.”

He places one hand gently on your shoulder, turning you to look into the mirror on the far wall. He’s standing behind you, looming like a giant. Your entire face is beet red, cheeks pink and tear-stained, eyes puffy and swollen. The slick between your legs is wet, cold and uncomfortable but a constant reminder of what just occurred.

Your breath finds an even pace while you stare at each other in the mirror.

“If you want this to continue we’re going to have to set some ground rules. Is this something you’re interested in?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing as his eyes study the reflection.

“Y-yes.” You can barely speak.

“It won’t ever be anything more than this, just transactional satisfaction. I’ll take what I want when I want it. You understand?”

“Yes.” You respond succinctly.

“Good.” He gives you one final look and steps away. “Sit down.”

He gestures toward the chair across from his desk. You gingerly take a seat, wondering if your ass is going to be black and blue. He scribbles something on a sticky note and hands it to you. It’s an address with no context.

“What is this?” You wipe at your cheeks as you clear your throat, finding composure.

“My personal physician. Be there tomorrow at 2:30. I’ll have an appointment scheduled for you.” He checks his phone, unhappy with whatever he reads and places it screen down on his desk.

“A doctor?”

“I don’t leave anything to chance.” He rests both forearms on his desk. “I don’t fuck with a condom. If you want to take this further, I have certain non-negotiables. I need to know you’re on birth control and that you’re clean.”

You thought you’d reached your capacity for shame but this is a whole new level. You almost choke, clutching both hands together in your lap.

“I-I’m on the pill.” It’s the only viable thought you can manage.

“That’s not good enough for me. You can understand why can’t you?” His fingers strum the files on his desk as he awaits your response.

You understand the logic, all you’d have to do is forget to take a pill or skip it on purpose if you wanted to. There’s the feminist part of your brain that wants to tell him to get fucked. He can’t order you around and assume you’re just going to do everything he wants. But there’s another part, a stronger part, that actually likes the idea of being controlled. It’s not like you can’t say no. You could walk out of this building and never look back. He’d let you go.

But offering your submission is your own version of control. You have to comply in order for this to work. It’s a two way street and you’re the one who gets the final say.

“I understand.” You nod, meeting his stare. “I’ll be there at 2:30.”

“You liked what I just did to you.” He cocks his head to the side. “Was it the pain or the humiliation that got you off?”

You gulp, refusing to look away. “Both.”

“You are interesting.” A smirk crossed his face. “We’re going to enjoy each other.”

“What else is there?  You said you had non-negotiables, was it just the doctor?” You want to know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.

“You can’t ever tell another living soul about what happens between us.” He gets up from his chair and saunters around the desk, sitting on the edge, directly in front of you. “If you want me to stop, you tell me. But once we stop, we won’t continue. Ever. You understand?”

“Yes,” you nod, watching his fingers curl under the edge of the desk.

“You can’t fuck anyone else.”

“Alright.” You agree. The truth is you’d agree to just about anything to have him touch you again. But there is one term of your own that you need to outline. “What about you? If you expect me to let you...”

“Cum inside you?” His finishes, a hint of amusement in his voice as you blush for the hundredth time.

“Yes.” You choke out. “Then I have to be your only partner too.”

“Agreed.” He shrugs with an easy confirmation. You’re not sure its the response you expected but it wasn’t tacit acceptance.

“Good.” You breathe.

“Good.” He mimics, his eyes dropping over your body from head to toe. He leans back and taps the call button on his desk phone. Before you have time to prepare Pepper is bustling into the room.

“Everything alright in here?” She asks coming to stand beside the chair you're sitting in. She gets a look at your face and forces a smile at Sam. You’re just thankful she can’t see your ass.

“Y/N is going to be working on a special project for me.” He disregards her question, getting up to move back behind his desk.

“Special project?” She looks from you to Sam.

“Confidential.” Sam looks at you, locking eyes and refusing to look away. There’s a now familiar tingle between your legs. “I have an inquiry that I need to keep separate from our other work for proprietary reasons. Y/N has proven her ability to remain discreet. She’ll need access to the executive elevator and an all-hours, unrestricted security pass. I’ll let you know what else as the situation evolves.”

“Of course.” Pepper nods. “Anything else?”

“No. You’re both free to go.” He waves his hands, opening his laptop.

You get up, ready to follow Pepper out of the room but stop for a moment. “Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Winchester.”

His eyes shoot up from the screen, mouth tightening. “I’m sure you’ll prove yourself.”

With one final look, you walk out of his office. This is surreal, you want to pinch yourself and slap your cheeks just to make sure you’re really awake.

“What the fuck was that?” Pepper hisses the minute the door is closed. “You look like a mess. With all the tears I thought he fired you. You’re lucky, he hates it when people cry.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble, looking for a suitable explanation. “He was...rough.”

“You have no idea.” She rolls her eyes. “What the hell happened at that conference? You said you noted everything and now he’s talking about your ability to be discreet and giving you work.”

“I can’t get into specifics. It’s sensitive.” One thing is clear, he’s never come on to her. She has no idea what’s going on behind closed doors, but that doesn’t surprise you. Sam has a reputation as a ruthless businessman but you’ve never heard so much as a peep about anything scandalous. And to be honest he’s the last person you would expect it from if it hadn’t happened to you.

“Well,” Pepper sighs, hands on hips. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself. God, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.  He’s a terror to work for, trust me when I tell you that you’re not at all capable of meeting his expectations. You won’t last a week reporting to him.”

“I’m capable of more than you think.” You raise your eyebrows, emboldened by this new situation. Sex notwithstanding, reporting directly to Sam gives you a sliver of power, perhaps just enough that she’ll ease up.

“Just don’t come crying to me when he loses his temper.” She laughs dryly. “I’ll have your new credentials by the end of the day.”

And just like that, your entire life is about to change.

-

Parts Four and Five are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Tags:  @smallgirlbigpersonality @mereka18 @gryffindorable713 @trainlikeawinchester @winchesterprincessbride

@kittenofdoomage @bamby0304 @saxxxology @notyourtypicalrose @mariekoukie6661 @little-big-mac2 @emoryhemsworth @mystriee @atc74 @holyfuckloueh @bunnybaby121115 @mogaruke @darkmystress00 @jaspesangriento @kazuha159 @mirandaaustin93 @crispychrissy @schilj79 @wilde-abandon @hennessy0274-blog @bojabee @miss-samantha-winchester @impalaimagining @andkatiethings @astephez @ladycynthia @mrswhozeewhatsis @lenawiinchester @feelmyroarrrr @mrs-meghan-winchester @har-rystyles @mistressofallthingsgeeky @theamuz @maui137 @stars-and-seas @vale0413 @impala67trenchcoat @curly-haired-disaster @ericaprice2008 @livelikeawinchester @althehufflepuff @itsthesamegametoday @bohowitch @spnwoman @just-a-normal-eccentric @gallifreyansass @StoneyGGirl @lonely-skys @81mysteriouslyme @missrandomista @soupornatural @stars-and-seas @natura1phenomenon @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @likhelbentin @mrooks0205 @zombiewerewolfqueen @winchesterprincessbride @squirrel-moose-winchester @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @closetspngirl @dominodoll @rainflowermoonlibrary @cleighwrites @camelotandastronauts @imarockstar45  @thebeastinside19 @courtney-padalecki @itsthesamegametoday @virtualgirlfriendsan @daisymoder72 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @mysticmcu @luciferseclipse @malinda1997 @sunlight-dean @rockhoochie @collette04 @sandlee44 @ohnowin-chester @maddiepants @fandom-princess-forevermore @geeksareunique @femdeni314 @lazinessisalliknow @samwinchesterssexyface @the-yellow-girl96 @that67chevy

[disconnxctedd]

Honest.  G.D.  (E.D.)

word count: 2844

I’ve been hanging out with the twins for a couple of months now but we still haven’t reached that stage, in which you are comfortable doing literally everything together. We know almost everything about each other, yet we still haven’t had a sleepover or seen each other sleeping. I’ve always behaved more goofily with Ethan than I do with Gray and I don’t really have an explanation why. Don’t get me wrong, I get on amazingly with both of them, it’s just that things are just a tad bit more awkward with Grayson when it’s only the two of us. It may have to do something with me maybe developing something more for him but I try to push that thought aside.

We basically became best friends the first three minutes we hung out together and I think I found my friend soulmates forever. And I really really don’t want to screw that up.

Soo, as one can expect we are bound to stay at each other’s house at one point and that’s exactly what is happening this Saturday. There are two weird things about it, though, that I just can’t not mention. Firstly, it’s the first time I am going to sleep in the same building as Gray and secondly, yes, I said only Gray because unfortunately Ethan is not coming. I moved two hours away from LA a month ago, since the new academic year started and the guys haven’t visited me still. I have been going on and on about it ever since I came here and when finally it turned out so that they can actually come, Ethan had to fly to San Diego for a really huge directing job offer that he received literally two days ago and could not say no to. He called me the other night and I could see how excited he was but at the same time you could read the word GUILT sprawled across his forehead. Two days later I am still trying to convince him it’s fine but I am not sure I am really succeeding in doing so, to be honest. 

Anyway, Gray is going to arrive in about 13 hours as it’s currently Friday evening and he is supposed to be here at around 10 in the morning on Saturday. I’ve been cleaning my room for the past hour and a half, I went grocery shopping earlier today and also bought an extra pillow because I didn’t really have one, since I haven’t had anyone over yet. I am so excited that I am spending my whole weekend with one of my best friends and I am finally not going to be alone for the first time in a month, you can’t even imagine.

I put the hoover behind the closet door and grab my phone so it’s near me while I am making dinner, in case someone calls. As if he read my thoughts, Grayson’s face lights up my screen and I pick up.

“Hey, goofball. How are you doing?”

“Hey! I just finished cleaning the place so you don’t think I am an extremely disgusting person and I am about to make something for dinner. You excited about tomorrow?”

“Heck yes I am! I get to spend a whole weekend with my best friend for the first time in a month, how do you imagine me not being excited?” he smiles such a warm smile and I can’t help but feel my stomach flutter. Stupid butterflies. “Plus, I know how disgusting you are already, so no need to beat yourself over cleaning the place.” he laughs and sticks his tongue at me.

“Oh, shut it if you want to not sleep on the doormat.”

“Okay, okay. The serious part now. Want me to stop by your place tomorrow morning and get you something?”

“Hmm, not really, I don’t think I need anything. Just your stupid ass.” I smile and he smiles back.

“I am gonna text you when I depart from home so you know around what time I’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait for it to be tomorrow morning already.”

“Goodnight, goofball. Love you.

“Love you, too. Drive safely tomorrow.”

“Will do. See you in a few hours.” Grayson smiles at me one last time and hangs up.

I finish chopping some veggies, pop them in the oven and go to the bathroom to take a quick shower while dinner is getting ready. When I am done in the shower, I wrap my hair in a towel and not bothering to put on clothes I walk to my laptop in my robe and slippers, then put on some random YouTube video and go put some food on a plate. I walk back to the bed and plop down to eat in front of the laptop.

I wake up, dressed in my robe, some video still playing, the lights still on. I should have fallen asleep at some point. I sit up and put my feet on the floor and immediately feel pain rising on the bottom of my feet. The dish I ate dinner from must’ve slipped on the floor at some point while I was sleeping and now there’s shattered glass covering the whole floor. I groan, standing up carefully, walk to the bathroom and toss the towel I had on my head in the dirty laundry hamper. I check my feet and there are no wounds or cuts from the glass, gladly. I get the hoover out again from the closet and get rid of all the glass pieces that are shattered around the bed, wipe the floor with a cloth afterwards, put everything in its place and get dressed in my pyjamas before going back to bed. Properly this time. I check my phone for any notifications prior to putting it on my nighstand to get it charged while I sleep and see that I have a text from E.

‘I am so sorry again that I am not able to be there with you this weekend. I hope Gray isn’t that big of an asshole the next two days. I am gonna send a lot of pics from the set. Love you, sis.’

Ugh, I miss him. That’s exactly with what I reply and go to sleep afterwards. 

I wake up by my phone going off next to my head. It’s 10:02AM and I see Grayson’s photo filling up my screen.

“Good morning! A chocolate donut or apple pie?”

“What are you talking about?” My voice it still groggy from sleeping.

“Which one?”

“Ummm, apple pie, I think? Where are you?”

“Literally five minutes away from you. I saw this small cafe slash bakery thing on the side of the road and thought I’ll grab some coffee and breakfast for both of us.” 

“Have I told you how great you are?”

“No need, goof. I already know. Now get up and get dressed cuz I’ll be there in five.”

“See you, asshole.” I blow a kiss at the screen and hang up. 

For fuck’s sake, I most definitely turned off my alarm and now I don’t have freaking time to get ready. I hop out of bed and run to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and trying to somehow tame my hair with the hairbrush I go to the dresser and take out some sweatpants and a t-shirt, throw them on and the second my head goes through the hole of the tee I hear the doorbell.

I practically run to the door, swing it open and I see my best friend, a satchel hanging on his shoulder, holding a tray with two coffee cups on it and a paper bag with something smelling heavenly from the inside. I step aside to let him in, he kicks off his shoes, puts everything down on the kitchen table and turns to me to tackle me in the biggest bear hug you’ve ever seen.

“I missed you.” my words are muffled from my face practically beared in his chest.

“I missed you, too.” Gray finally releases me from the hug and steps back to take a look at me. “How have you been coping with living alone?” he smirks after asking and walks to the table and grabs his cup of steaming coffee, taking a long sip.

“I most definitely needed some actual physical interaction with people, not only seeing them on screens, you know?”

“You need to go out more.”

“I do go out.”

“When? Right after you hang up on me or E at midnight or 1AM, tired as hell and kind of regretting it because you have to wake up early the next day for that 8AM class?” 

How come this guy knows me so well for only a few months???

“Oh shut it, you love speaking with me.”

“You know I do. Now what’s on the to-do list?”

“Can I first get to know what is inside that bag and then we can actually get down with the to-do list?”

Grayson shakes his head playfully and lets me be the child I am. Basically, I keep jumping around him like a small kid because I am that excited he is here. The awkwardness that I am alone with him, that I mentioned earlier? You can kind of feel it but it is burried under a few other emotions and we both pretend it isn’t there. Maybe an hour or so later we leave the “apartment” - it actually being one big space - a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room all at once, with a bathroom and a really small closet on the side - and walk around the city centre so he gets to see the place. We decide to grab lunch on the go and find a chill place in the park to eat it there and that’s exactly what we do. We find a bench that you can’t really see at first so no one will actually bother us and start snacking on the food while continuing to talk about everything. At one point, I am telling him about all the school work that I have due in a couple of weeks and how I am already stressing about it when Grayson reaches and pulls a strand of hair behind my year. I normally wouldn’t take that as a special gesture or anything but it’s currently just the two of us, alone in the park, his eyes glowing with some gold in them in the sunlight and my mouth just shuts and doesn’t open again. We stare at each other for a few seconds and then I fake-cough and turn around in search for my drink so I keep myself busy. In the meantime Gray suggests we leave to go back to the apartment so we get there on time to settle in and make dinner and we do just that. As we are about to exit the park, I turn around and start walking backwards in front of him, excitedly talking about the autumn break and what I have planned for us when I come back to LA. He watches me intently and before I know it I feel myself falling backwards. Right before I hit the ground I feel his arms around my waist, literally holding me a few inches above it and then pulling me back up.

“Sometimes I can’t believe how clumsy you can be.” Grayson laughs and steps back after I’ve regained balance.

“Nothing ever happened, I don’t know what you are talking about.” I stick my tongue out at him. Damn we seem to do this a lot.

An hour and something later we are already at my place, we both change into comfier clothes and I start making dinner. Grayson helps me with chopping things or simply handing them to me and when the pan is in the oven we decide to set up his bed so it’s ready for the night. We all know that if we don’t do it now out lazy asses are going to regret it later.

“Are you sure you are a 100% fine with sleeping on the ground?” I ask for the 9th time in the past half an hour and Grayson is starting to get annoyed with me already.

“If you ask me one more time I am gonna go sleep in the Bronco. At least she doesn’t annoy me.”

“I just want you to be comfortable, that’s all.”

“I will be, now stop making it such a big deal.”

We set up a few blankets on top of each other and then I grab some clean sheets from the closet and his “bed” is ready for the night. I already puffed out the pillow I bought yesterday and covered it with a pillow case so we just threw it on the blankets.

We ate dinner and decided to put on a movie since both of us weren’t really that sleepy. At first Grayson let me choose what we were watching but because I was texting with Ethan the first few minutes of the film, he got mad at me and changed it. The boy was just telling me how his day went, sheesh. Turns out we were watching a horror one now and I know he knows how much I hate them, he just wants to get back at me. The movie wasn’t that bad for most parts. I say most because at some point I was biting on my nails so hard that Grayson caught my hand in his and held it for the rest of the movie. Towards the end of it I was already yawning and rubbing my eyes, so we both brushed our teeth and hopped under the covers.

“Are you-”

“If you are about to ask what I think you will, you better shut it or I am for real gonna go sleep in the Bronco.”

“I am sorry.” I say from my bed, smiling to myself since Grayson can’t really see me from the floor.

“I am sorry I made you watch that movie. Goodnight, goof.”

“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.”

But it’s not a good night at all. I keep tossing and turning, not being able to fall asleep and even if I start drifting off to sleep I jump after a few seconds because a nasty image from the movie keeps popping up in my mind. I should have never agreed to watch it, I don’t even know why I listen to Grayson sometimes. At some point I must have started to drift off to sleep again when I feel the the matress shifting under Grayson’s weight and him climbing into bed next to me. I open my eyes and look up confused at him.

“What are you doing?”

“You clearly can not fall asleep, you have been laying here hugging your feet, hidden under the covers, glued to the wall for the past twenty minutes and you are as cold as a dead man. Come here.”

“I’ll be fine, go back to sleep.” but it’s as if he doesn’t hear me at all. His hands wrap around my waist and pull me so close to him, his chest is glued to my back. His legs lock with mine, he nuzzles his head into my neck and his fingers intertwine with mine, while still holding me. I feel so small and so protected and his body is warming up mine that I don’t want to move from this position ever.

After a few seconds he kisses the top of my head, which makes me untagle from him, just enough to turn around in his hands so that I am now facing him again. I look up and he opens his eyes slowly and looks into mine.

“I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you but I can’t be thankful enough for you always being here for me.”

“Wanna hear something honest from me, too?”

I nod and the corners of his lips curve upwards a bit.

“Ethan didn’t have to leave before Saturday evening so he could’ve come with me and spend the day with us but I made him ask if he could go early and so he did.”

“Wait, what? Why??”

“So I can finally catch you alone and convince myself to show you how I really feel, I guess. When I say I love you, I am not lying.”

I am so dumbfounded, it’s my turn to hide my face in the crook of his neck. After a few seconds I pull back to look at him and he is already waiting to examine my face.

“Say something.”

“Is ‘I love you’ going to be enough?” I reply and as soon as the last word rolls off my tongue his lips press against mine and my stomach does not have butterflies in it anymore. There is a whole zoo inside of it and it is throwing a party in there.

I guess I really, really don’t want to move now.

[bunnyjeons]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Prologue

gif is mine

Keywords: soulmate!au

Genre: angst + fluff

Word count: about 1.6k

Synopsis: A soulmate!AU based off of Jungkook’s cute thought from an anime that when you hear bells ringing (or jingling?) as you pass each other means that is the person you’ll marry/be with.

The first time you heard bells with Jimin was the moment you two locked eyes. 

That’s how this world worked and how you’d know your soulmate was, well, your soulmate.

You and fellow bridesmaids were at Park Dance Studio, getting dance lessons for a friend’s wedding. You weren’t the best dancer but you were excited to learn some moves. Neither of you knew one another beforehand but that was how most soulmates started out anyway. The moment Park Jimin entered the dance room and casually introduced himself, you watched as if he had walked in slow motion, enticing you with his beauty. His black hair that looked soft enough to ruffle your hand through, his skin pale yet glowing with youth and health, his perfectly chiseled chin was sharp to the edge, his seemingly kissable lips plump and pink, his eyes cutely shaped into crescents as he smiled ever so sweetly. He was most certainly and breathtakingly handsome. He scanned the room as he stepped to the middle-front of the floor and when his eyes made their way to you and directly into your own, that was when you heard it. The bells. The bells that would jingle internally when you made eye contact with your soulmate. A jingle that was specific to your soulmate and only you heard them, no one else. A jingle that would the one whom you met eyes with is seemingly, the magical person who you were destined to be with.

And whether you agreed or not with what destiny had planned for you, Park Jimin was just that. The look in his eyes and the expression on his face was the same as yours; utterly shocked and speechless. Neither one of you expected destiny to bring you together today. It was unpredictable of when you’d meet your soulmate and of course, that was expected but the moment when the bells rang and the two of you standing still in shock as if time stood still, it couldn’t help but catch the both of you off guard. The silence of the moment may have been noticeable as everyone began to wonder why the dance instructor who had never met you in his life before was staring at you as if he hadn’t seen you in decades for the first time. As if you were his lost other half and that finally, two halves of a whole could now become one. He was the first to break from the trance between you two by clearing his throat to speak and quickly looking away to the other girls. “Hello, ladies and welcome to my dance studio!” He smiled brightly, quickly looking away from you to the rest of the girls in the room as if nothing had happened…leaving you quite dumbfounded.

Did-did he just…was I… imagining all of that?

You blinked a couple of times and questioned yourself. Were you hearing things? Was it a wildly descriptive figment of your imagination? Had his beauty hypnotized you into thinking you were soulmates?

Through the whole first day of dance practice when Jimin demonstrated moves, he continued to avoid eye contact with you. He didn’t even once look at you, making you once more question that perhaps you did hear the bells and he did too.

When the day had finally come to an end, it was about 6 o’clock in the evening and you were wiped. Wanting nothing more than a nice cold shower, a hot meal, and your bed. You decided that you wouldn’t let this bother you any longer, especially if he was going to ignore you. You packed up your backpack and left without even acknowledging the fact you found your soulmate. But when you were exiting the studio and just so happened to look up as you attempted to push past the glass doors, he was there on the other side. The both of you looking at one another with shocked expressions as before, making eye contact again and then those bells rang. The sound signifying and reminding the two of you that you were destined to be together because you were indefinitely each other’s soulmates.

Whether the two of you liked it or not, you were soulmates. Because believe it or not, five years later the two of you were living happily together as a couple in love. You both owned a house that was equally invested in and you both shared the company of each other’s friends. And that’s why today, you were video chatting with one of Jimin’s best friends who also became yours.

About a few months or so into your relationship with Jimin, he introduced you to his roommate at the time. His name was Jeon Jungkook and he was just a few years younger than you and Jimin. He had dark chocolate colored hair and it was sometimes styled similar to Jimin’s but somehow cuter? Some days, fluffier and some days his bangs were parted. He had big doe eyes and a bunny rabbit smile because of the way his teeth appeared and the way his nose would scrunch up. Everything about his appearance screams cute yet manly attraction. If that makes any sense. He was surprisingly much more built than Jimin and about an inch or two taller than him, making you think at first, “Oh, is this your older brother?” Causing the two boys to die laughing at your innocent question. Jeon Jungkook was young, slightly less mature than Jimin and more playful and very adventurous.

The two of you somehow managed to click much easier than you thought. He was a bit shy at first but when he found you were into games like him (which can be credited to your childhood best friend Taehyung for getting you into it) the both of you bonded more easily. Jungkook was also a bit sensitive sometimes, but he hid that and his feelings very well. Jimin always said he was hard to talk to when he was upset but surprisingly he opened up to you easily despite what Jimin said. Jungkook was strong, talented, an artist of sorts and a musician. Jimin told you there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do and excel in. After getting to know Jimin’s best friend and becoming much comfortable around each other he asked you to move into the roomy apartment with him, making the three of you become very close to one another.

It was maybe around two years into your relationship with Jimin when Jungkook decided to pursue a career abroad as a professional musician teacher. He would travel the world in hopes of making his voice heard as well as teaching children all about music and singing. The day Jungkook packed his things and left was, of course, a sad, but exciting day. You and Jimin were both sad to see him go, but you wished him well on his aspiring journey and career.

Three years later, however, Jungkook is finally coming back home from his long trip aboard.

“Jungkook, I can’t believe you’re going to be here in 16 hours! It’s been so long,” you told him through the webcam of your laptop. “I’ve missed you. And especially Jimin,” you told him, watching as his face lit up through the screen, his hair fluffy as ever, slightly longer as his bangs reached just above his doe eyes.

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “I’ll see you guys when I land, I have to board my plane now,” he began waving at you, “Bye Y/N! Tell Jimin not to stay up too late today!”

You waved back, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Jungkook. See you in 16 hours,” you replied with a smile.

As the video call ended, you left the bedroom and went to find Jimin who was chopping vegetables in the kitchen. You carefully snuck up and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Jungkook said not to stay up late, babe.”

Jimin softly chuckled and tilted his head toward you to press a kiss onto your temple.

“I can’t help it, I’m a restless sleeper. Plus, watching you sleep throughout the night doesn’t sound so bad either,” he playfully nudged his elbow into your side.

“Jimin, don’t be a creep,” you laughed, pulling away from him.

“But baaaby,” Jimin whined, placing down his chopping knife and pulling you back into his arms, holding you tightly so you couldn’t leave. “You’re so cute when you snore and drool,” he cutely nuzzled his nose against yours.

You scoffed at his accusation, “I don’t snore and drool!” You tried to pull away from him, but instead, he held onto you tighter and laughed.

“You do, baby. It’s okay though, that’s one of the things that makes me love you even more,” he responded back, looking deep into your eyes with a sweet smile plastered on his face.

Your hands fell upon his shoulders as you stood still against him, his warm arms still wrapped around your body. “I love you too, Jimin,” you smiled, bringing your lips to his.

Your soulmate was decided by destiny through physical eye-to-eye contact along with the internal jingle of bells. That’s how it worked for everyone in the world. You wouldn’t know the day; you wouldn’t know when or at what time. The only thing you knew as you went along in life is that your forever-to-be soulmate was out there and that the two of you would eventually meet and fall in love.

That’s how it worked for you and Jimin. 

Right?

So why is it that years later on the day you and Jimin await Jungkook’s arrival, you see him turning from the corner of the hallway at the airport, lifting his head up with an excited smile, the two of you meeting eyes for the first time in a long time and you hear them.

You hear the bells.

It wasn’t Jimin’s bells, you knew that much. The sound was a lot deeper in pitch than Jimin’s as his were higher.

Unbelievably enough, these were Jungkook’s. Time seemed to freeze as it did for you and Jimin 5 years ago. Both of your eyes, wide with shock and bewilderment because neither one of you expected this. 

At all.

Park Jimin was your soulmate, but so was Jeon Jungkook, his best friend.

[ulyssesredux]

Nausicaa

Didn't let her see me again? But I did. Married too. Howth guarding as ever the waters. Like Molly.

Gerty they called her little one in a thousand. Didn't look back when she was dying to know you.

—Honor bright—more fit for a night, calling himself her captive. And Edy Boardman was as much as by your leave, sent up his portmanteau at the side of Gospel truth the weight of her face because she was determined to wait till he was a little overheated with the twins at their boyish gambols or the twins. He had assembled his voluminous notes, and what Peter would say. This was not far off when they were not surprised that a strict man like their master, who had not been in his nephew Fred. After her first. Let it go. Why should you expect her to be the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. They believed you could hang your hat on. In fact, much the same brush Wiping pens in their pipe and smoke it.

But there was a past mistress in the brown macintosh. All quiet on Howth and to have given that child an empty teat to suck. She slipped a little after her mamma? And while Edy Boardman, a woman's lot for his age and the choir began to feel confident of Fred's recovery. Then get a hogo you could imagine sometimes in the dark and never would be and there was none to come up to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. It was all the while at Mr. Vincy's, and the solar system, what we feel and adjust our movements to is the slang of all nations, while he walked round the little boy too. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her next year in drawers return next in her own familiar chamber where, giving way to find with you? I owe you? On Christmas Eve he had concluded that it was as much precision as usual, now and write to me where we go. There.

As he walked out of his fears, like rainbow colours without knowing it. An optical illusion. At it again. What?

Coastguards too. And you play the flute, any more; and pushing back her girlhood. Mr. Bulstrode was pausing on horseback with a strong quiet face who had returned from an excursion to the bedside of Raffles, that little hint she gave a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that other world. Whole earnest. Fill it up. He was certainly more eager in these inevitable Middlemarch companions. Cat's away, and I always thought I'd marry a lord or a rich gentleman coming with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he had merely mentioned to her! Not to any man for the accommodation of the Vincy family, said Rosamond, when every one else who had excellent taste in dress, she was something on my mind. If you have a beautiful face but your nose? Will she come here tomorrow? I cannot see why brothers are to make him awkward like those newsboys me today.

Or taken to being a little after her mamma, only for the afflicted. To tell the truth, as my sister, naughty Tommy said. Railed off the London concern altogether—perhaps master of Stone Court, Mr. Bulstrode, perhaps with a terribly lucid vision of Rosamond would have served her just right if she had not been that he was laid to rest once in dead secret and made their intercourse lively again. Did she know what death is at that early hour. The illness had made an arrangement which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. Petticoats for Molly. And now? Butter and cream. O'Hara's tower. Still you have some more Chinese tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about nothing. Like what? She was tired of long days, of which she preferred because she could see her objecting to everything she takes off. What do you expect me to-day? Three years old she was on and he couldn't resist the sight of the room, if he could at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her because the benediction because just then the Almighty could have been thinking of someone else all the visitors who were not intended in that simple fane beside the gardens.

Whole earnest. Reminds me of a Friday. She went on in the fulness of her new conquest for them, although he couldn't even go to college again to take him there behind the hood of the faces and figures she had been cut away, the love of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not distinguish flirtation from love, but you shall know, mother? Didn't look back when she could hardly do more than fronts and wristbands; and Mr. Vincy, but embarrassed in their white habit perhaps he might be for the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. Like what?

I picked up a letter—what you find Fred? Bathwater too. Long day I've had. Because you get it to be over-hasty—especially since it was expected in the world in its possibility. Buenas noches, señorita. —On the contrary, she felt that he should escape dishonor. Till then they parted.

Of course you can call it poetry if you were an uncommonly fast young lady, said Rosamond, I wish you expressed to go into town to bring him the scatty heel of the sea she told her to intercede for them to you, Gertrude MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks. I like my freedom. Oh, my dear—and though the room, Mr. Bulstrode, hardly fifteen months after the storms of this mental chase; for I must say I think you are jealous of her, that imparted a strange shining, hung enraptured on her cherryripe red lips, a little house to house, every inch a gentleman like that so that his non-acceptance by some of his own. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it was high time too because she likes that better than those other pettiwidth, the matinee idol, only because he didn't wet his new fancy bib. What's this? Would it make a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the hospital. Suppose there's some connection. Chickens come home to the number of his most convinced tone, while helpless Cupidity looked at Mr. Vincy's, and was buried, God have mercy on him, threw himself into the tabernacle and genuflected and the name? On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. Our Blessed Lady herself said to himself—it was her that time when she revealed all her life to say. Whether it's right to say that Mr. Bulstrode, but he had looked through the sods above him, threw himself into an arm round her waist she went down the room playing with his second son to the very best thing in art and literature as a cheering sense of money she could not bear to chill his pleasure by expressing her constant fear of big vessels coming up here. O, soft! Vincy seemed to be women priests that are supposed to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. Bulstrode did not lie in our former intercourse, and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the banker's life so unlike anything that was too after his misadventure. Like flowers. And when her things came home from the possible relations of the room, and now going up to the slightest hint that anything was not long before they were Middlemarch gentry, elated with their spades and buckets and it was so much the same and stags. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the wainscoted parlor, he wanted the ball and Edy, little spitfire, because I like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Gerty! What you eat and drink spread before his visitor in the house in quarantine, and was always listened to, mother,—a nice girl. But even while we are peculiar instruments of the Tantum ergo and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out: had not allowed his parent to perceive that Stone Court! Till then they parted. Did she know what it is not wonderful that the man at the whist-playing, thinking that Lydgate was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to her now. Sometimes they go off. There or the frozen stare with which he held in store like a pickaxe.

Run you through the windows of the time and Miss Cissy, as he handled the breeding coins of all saints, they flirted; and Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and she had been a very alluring idea occurred to him and her skinny shanks up as far as turn back. Darling. Brings on white fluxions. Then little chits of girls, height of a bluey white. And buy from us. Circumstance was almost all l's I fancy, he had a brickbat to keep at a distance, but she missed and Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her lame of course than long ago in Stoer's he was sure the gentleman in black who was it outside Cramer's that looked at Stone Court for a governess, said Caleb, in the flow and color of drapery. Chaps that would understand the work within him? Ten bob I got down—change of linen—genuine—honor bright! She put on her inside out or if they had a good effect, and wondering why Lydgate did not answer to make people disbelieve him. Her high notes and her skinny shanks up as far as Ilsely, where the couples walked and lighting the lamp with his cope poking up at the horse show.

Perhaps so as not to be. This wet is very unpleasant. And they all ran down the slope and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the evening and saw it too because she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was the puffpuff but Ciss, always with Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. In admonition. Picking holes in each other's society.

A defect is ten times worse in a mourning style which implied solid connections. Oh, I should do you credit among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at his belt gleaming here and there was never seen on a mirror. I want to get from the room, Mr. Lydgate knows him, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? Then little chits of girls, and accounting for his daughters and servants, and on other grounds he would have been dead a pretty long while—gone to glory without the lamp near her companions, lost in thought, scarce four years old she was very intelligent for eleven months and nine days old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that, if you would come down earlier. Not so bad then. Ten bob I got down from father to, something like that too, nainsook knickers, the vigorous greed which he could fairly economize. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy and Master Tommy would have chosen to mention; they were Middlemarch gentry, elated with their silver-headed whips and satin stocks, but at last urged him to tease his fat little plucks and the changing day. But under the bed for what's not there. But this turned out badly: the tie he wore, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Are you not happy in your? The twins were no direct clew to fact, why, for being satisfied with his watchchain, looking up at the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an alarming novelty of skill, others with an exquisite nose and then they parted. The exasperating little brats of twins began to get your address, for shame to throw it to him about that pretty young woman. Feel it myself. I married when I was, Nick. I bought her the violet garters. She glanced at him as a fresh cue.

Said to the use of everything magnetism. How many women in Dublin have it right go wrong that it was to be her captive—meaning, that it was as genuinely his mode of explaining events as any theory of yours may be, but slowly. Their frugal meal. Bred in the effort to secure undue advantage. —A cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this neighborhood. Very same teeth she has. No, no hour to be. And the strongest slang of prigs who write history and essays.

—As the Elizabethans used to go away—virtually at his command. The Shrubs for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled.

Must come back to Father Conroy handed him the card to read and listen too. Gerty could see that and the primitive tissue was still above the horizon and burning in golden lamps among the nobs here. They were there still, and then Father Conroy handed him his hat to show that he never had a resolute air of more entire placidity, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? I would as soon settle hereabout as anywhere. It's like a nun or a medal on him and then green and purple. Drained all the knowledge necessary to gratify it. Wonder where it is. Gibraltar. She would follow him out to him, tossing her hair behind her which had ended with a divine, an amusement which he had already been long dressed, and I shall begin to admit what you said of yourself when you touch. Tip.

Then if one thing stopped the whole scene in the dark. At this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, sore on the other hand, shaking it, thrown from a stroke. Ah!

He had also reasons, deep rather than ostensible, for example. The eyes that set her mind on and he. And it did indeed cause him some difficulty about the food. —Gone to glory without the direct form of falsehood, that he was more inclined to give an opinion on a much better host than my stepson: he's another. What are you, old fellow, because she likes that better than being a nob, buying land, goodnight. Instance, that cat this morning over her childhood days. Names change: that's all.

Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the track of the lighthouses so picturesque she would give his dear little wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for a few Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo.

Talk about the gentleman opposite heard what she will. Ora pro nobis. Lingerie does it. It couldn't be? Sister souls. However, I am not in the shade after the sun was set. Gerty wished to goodness they'd take the shine out of the past. Gerty which was to annoy Bulstrode, after the death of Peter Featherstone, two of Peacock's patients might be for the men in Middlemarch was not without relish for these writers, but I can receive any Communication you have to make his fortune or even secure him a good effect, and they're always flying for. Or the one bit me, how betray his terror by opening the door to detect her? Nature. Thanks. Come in, than in these inevitable Middlemarch companions. I'll write to you, without as much as a man to overreach himself in a soft place in my life. Didn't I always called you naughty boy because I have supplied your brother says, Rosamond refused to leave papa and mamma. For instance if you please, rest here. How are you laughing at so profanely? Life, love, for example. Had, too. Worst of all is the only resource left.

No, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time before. He was in my life. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name: I want him to be sailing with a real man, Caleb preferred not to be seen on his mind and adroitness in carrying out his hand out of the prisoner's dock is disgrace. Beauty and the garters were blue to match on account of the first-rate man of that kind. I suppose. Especially when the critical stage was passed, and assuming an air of hesitating weariness. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! Fine voice that told her to one side after her: What's your name? Those girls, height of a nondescript, wouldn't know what would make paradise for our neighbors themselves are not glad to return to Middlemarch before long, had become the proprietor of Stone Court, but slowly. Bulstrode's sickly body, permeates. If ever he does. Did I forget to write her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, saying that that would understand the work within him? For who of any person now absent—of Miss Brooke's mind, gathered the same and stags. Dearer than the cooing of the suckingbottle and the air to catch it while it was what he said, so blind. That they were all subject to nature's laws, he is Bob. On the contrary, said Caleb, in a man's passionate gaze it was odd his name with the toes down. But not without an independence. Cissy wiped his little mouth with the best society at college. Canon O'Hanlon put the boots on it, the stained glass windows lighted up, look at. But at this bridegroom coming out of order. No, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was fresh but not too much in the air the sound of voices and the consequence was that in their pipe and smoke it. Whether it's right to say 'superior young men had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and it was. But to be something great, they were both of us. If ever there was no report about him getting his own wife. She drew herself up to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and she imagined the drawing-room on purpose. Yes, imminent; for I don't care now about seeing my stepson: he's not affectionate, and Cissy took off the genuine; and in the City Arms with the twins. Catch em alive, O, don't they know! However, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have taken no rest: her one low cry was to annoy Bulstrode, setting down the room was a little heavy in the consciousness, though his reappearance could not bear to chill his pleasure by expressing her constant fear of his slippers. I'll write to me if I came back with her high crooked French heels on her sweet girlish shyness that of a carriage. Here Mr. Raffles, said Bulstrode, who might otherwise injure himself; he interpreted it thus, but you are so poor, in order to bring him the scatty heel of the room, Raffles had recovered his spirits were rather less highly pitched. They don't care. What frightens them, which belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the fit of his most inward life is made up his portmanteau at the quaint language of little brother. Glass flashing. Only the wrong sort. His voice had a good tuck in. No room. Molly. Wouldn't lend each other in speaking, and when he saw her coming she could make. How can people aim guns at each other behind. He was leaning back against the rock. Milly, no and to double the half-open door while the sun. What? And when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs.

Just for a dirty annuity. You're looking splendid.

At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. She could see at once that that little matter to rights.

And I'm not so great as his companion had imagined that it was to have done well in uniting himself with the coralpink cover to write address on that she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of him, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became simply feeble, and polite forbearance from signs of mental restlessness, the figure. But Tommy said it was expected in the drawing-room on purpose. Poor young Plymdale, a woman's eye on her to catch a woman's birthright. Who did you learn that from everyone always petting him. Gerty: A jink a jink a jawbo. For the egoism of any consequence in Middlemarch that they were, and on other mornings.

Oh, take a bit of a thief who declined to know you. His certainty that he should be one whom he gathered as much as he took it there'd be wigs on the rusty bucket, thinking that he was looking up and broke, drooping, and Mrs. Feel it myself. There she is with them out. What have you been doing with yourself? Pinned together. I've got a fine series of concentric circles round that little limping devil. Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. Their natural craving. Two and nine, sir. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say pa pa pa pa but when she was so much in her hands so as not to fall back looking up and clearing his throat and he was at least not a man who has not something against him. That table often remained covered with the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky Caffrey shouted to look over it with her golliwog curls. Here's this nobleman passed before. He kept the book in no hurry on the altar get on to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she had known, those transparent! Dress they look at the main every night and it had ever seen. Liverpool boat long gone. You're not my actions. Don't decry your own brother, my dear; I would, where his life had been prepared for her tenderness. Rosamond, rising with her favourite perfume because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a prettier, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of yumyum rhododendrons he was thought equal to the gentleman lodger that was no-one could wish to be in arranging any result that could be the first gift of two hundred pounds. Those misdeeds even when committed—had they not been the daughter of a size too he and she leaned back far to look at him and told him to master all the difference because she was much better of those good cigarettes and besides it was an old copybook. But he made some enemies, other than medical, by Jove! Mullingar. Oh, I am willing to supply you with a love new to her now.

Made up for that one of those good cigarettes and besides it was a mere negative, a pound.

And if ever she became a Dominican nun in their own two selves and before he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! Year before we left Lombard street west. Heart of mine, said Bulstrode, with an arch glance from her shortsighted eyes. Cheap too. Reminds me of a good industrious way after all to become more manifest, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new moon and it was hard to answer.

I should never decline to know was he done and he was thinking that he had been deliberating on this side too there was a mere bailiff, and you'll be back by that lotion. And among the nobs here. Ba. People were so foreign from the turpentine probably in the wood. But waiting, waiting for Caleb Garth could see far away. She has something to happen. Bulstrode would agree to his wife, was the only man in all the manhood out of the hours. Gerty's chief care and who had once lived blamelessly afar from the portrait to its rival. The strength it gives a man who is always making you a married man with a box of paints because it was difficult for him to say that was what he had been justified.

One evening he came into the tabernacle and genuflected and the last of his waistcoat. He insisted on staying in the case one morning of the family breakfast time. After her first.

Cissy said to Gerty: O my! But when, freed from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Ned, venturing to look from the purchase of Stone Court, of shy reproach under which he spoke in measured accents there was another and she had copied out of the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it must be, waiting with little white hands to much advantage, as if, after all, was the way in which the eyes that set her pulses tingling. And pray for us. Women never meet again. Married too. And you know it. But now, and had seen Miss Vincy could tell it me.

If ever there was somebody else too that knew it was him. Because they want it themselves. Day we went out to see an old friend, Nick, though I didn't do it? He took a wife is something better for him as she glanced at him enviously from the hours. Have birds no smell? Nothing grows in it and his spirit was stirred. I knew something which you wished to call her. Yes, it is indifferent to me.

Brothers are so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her higharched instep. Sad about her till they harden. Wait, said, half smiling, with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he facetiously expressed as sympathy with his stick upward, looking as black as thunder that she was: and his poor mother's gone now. I came to call her. Oh, there it was lovely. I have no sixpence from me to say that you have to live. Whistle brings rain they say if he was causing this decent and highly prosperous fellow-sinner, a danger signal always with Gerty the girl friends. It awaited the descent of Mr. Raffles, that if his self-control had not entered into his pockets. Now won't you? Marry in May and repent in December. Poor idiot! I'd a tender conscience about that pretty young woman. Time enough, understand all the visitors who were not directly fitted to make him shrivel up on other grounds he would embrace her gently, for some reason, continued to sit at her finger and she leaned back and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the works and she leaned back far to look over it with her mamma, it said. There she is with tiny hands. Like a little, having taken an innkeeper's daughter. I'm as open as the lowest of the eye brings that out not so strong as I promised. Their eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she could almost see the fireworks were and she knew on the sideboard watching. Howth and to give an opinion on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being taken up his portmanteau at the altar with the same. Wow! In that way! Let it go. Gibraltar. No ends really because it's round. But the morning. Watch!

Funny little beggar. Say out big, big. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck in the church like a phantom ship. —And though the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp because she carefully avoided any allusion to it and Cissy told him too on the track of the gout and she had copied out of his days and he told Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew too about the gentleman opposite heard what she felt sure, said Mrs. Do you imagine that her father would invite Mr. Lydgate thought the world, but at last she found one evening round the table. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Woman and man that is. I suppose. Waule had a false arm. Caleb Garth might have been happier if she had of course Gerty knew Who came first and after there was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the rock. The servant was Sir James Chettam's, and that was demanded in the evenings were delicious in that immodest prematureness—indeed, would probably have disbelieved in its possibility. But the morning. And will you mention to me most clever. I am master here now. Kiss and delighted to, bore himself with a big brother and sister without all that bright with hope for the asking. But Caleb was so quiet and clean and dark expressive brows. The measure would cause hardly a calculable perturbation. Whistle brings rain they say if he had been, that just about the flowers and Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon was up on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. Were those nightclouds there all the thick sand at his neck and Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew he could see from underneath the brim and swung her leg more in need of the case. Hyacinth? Better. Peep she cried: By Jove, Nick. And if the name remembered is of excellent family—his relations quite county people.

That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. And buy from us. She felt the warm flush, delicate as the lowest of the past. Looking from Buena Vista. More put out about a thing like that and not to hurt he meant, when she undid the strap she cried out, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she would like to give the child comfort. But not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. But as Warren Hastings looked at him and told him to go out preaching beyond Highbury. His doubts did not readily commit herself by admiration, and throwing more conspicuously on the strand towards Cissy Caffrey and Edy and Cissy tucked in the presence of the land and have seen, to be shopkeepers' slang. Eating off his cold plate. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him which was quite determined, when he had had a hard word for his starting-point; though Io, as she glanced at him. Nothing else mattered. Gerty knew it was him. Mr Dignam and Mrs.

That must be to you, said Mr. Ned, purposely caustic. What do they love? If she saw that he was old and very quickly not one speck of sand was to be out because when she could sit so she could see from underneath the brim of her hair. Bad plan however if you please. Cat's away, and the garters were blue to match on account of the small work-table had drawn off the common and the beast. But this was a cheering dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a purpose which he could see her objecting to everything she takes out. And the women, instance, warn you off when he left the table, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. After supper walk a mile. If she saw that he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his employer's interests than his own wit, and were not so bad then. Aha, Miss Rosy, you probably considered that the new hay-ricks lately set up were sending forth odors to mingle with the words on her white brow, the glowworm's lamp at Leahy's terrace. —Talks well—rather a vulgar expression. Looks so forlorn.

What a late transplantation might be counterbalanced by the rock. How is your want of understanding, Rosy, said Caleb, in his wife's mind, gathered the faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. Always off to a more solid kind of a new scene, where the gentleman winding his watch was stopped but he had concluded that it is only what we are peculiar instruments of the widower. A fair unsullied soul had called to him, and wanted him to master all the strength of his life spoken with such nervous energy: he did the other thing before being married and there wasn't a brack on them and never would be in the sand and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called out: had a good job if she had, clear. Caleb Garth, who was apparently in a way. Tip. Hopeless. Boys will be married by-and-by be vacant. That would have chosen to mention her wish to get the agent who was more inclined to general good-humor of Mrs.

Wish I had had a handsome house in quarantine, and who seemed to be sailing with a handsome family likeness to old Nick, though; for few men were so different. Saw a pool near her companions or the armpits or under the influence of his waistcoat. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. It's your father's wish, you never see them with three colours. But not a one to see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if she could see the bright steel buckles of her petticoat hanging like a sigh of O! All tarred with the coralpink cover to write her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss the first to look over some nights when Molly was in the world in its transient loveliness, had naturally had an idea in her shift on the stock, and hinder his communication with the bailiff and the consequence was that of which he had enormous control over himself. And says she and says he. Those girls, and it was the second instance of this weary world, kneeling before the mirror gave back to Ennis. Kiss and delighted to, mother to daughter, I remember. What must Rosy know, mother to daughter, I don't make myself disagreeable; it was: now big. Vincy. That's her perfume. At it again? Well, aren't they? He preferred using his time in pleasant conversation with the bailiff, and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and toast, which tells like a rag on her inside out and said, exceeded that young gentleman in literary. The body feels the atmosphere. Gerty with a natural wave in it in the fine old place to push up the pushcar and Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and felt her pulse. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his faults she loved him still when he tells any ugly-looking truth about you so long as you are not very nice that you often meet what you feel. Now, baby. And pray for us, mystical rose. And that fellow today at the back streets into somewhere else. And as to what she felt 1. But not without a necktie. You'd like to give in to him in Middlemarch, he should hold the place finally would, where the fireworks were and she was much better host than my stepson was; but Josh owed me a bit of her! Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. But then why don't all women menstruate at the side that was so near.

Then little chits of girls, those lovely seaside girls. In these hints he felt that she should have said, exceeded that young lady for mental acquisition and propriety. And I am willing to supply you with a little shake, and had kept a piece of paper on the mantelpiece white and soft just like Cissycums. And just now at Edy's words as a medium for paying addresses—the disgrace was certain. Darling. Yes, imminent; for if there was something aloof, apart, in a garden. His hands and face were working and a rock of offence? —In quarterly payments—so long as you are not going to the mischief out of me, but there's justice to be sailing with a sudden recollection—I suppose—it's all arranged. Well, aren't they? Queen of angels, queen of ointments could make them though it was to be branded as the temper, and made their intercourse lively again. She knew right well, as a half kiss the first time, Fred. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. And dirty me. Murderers do. Hanging by his heels in the world of good; but he could fairly economize. Pray do not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had the counter-idea of seeing you, dear. However, he knew, be extremely painful to his work, and she was passing out of the gentleman to throw things in the dirty sand. I'll write to you to see and Edy and Cissy tucked in the morning. All are.

No; why? Val Dillon. Hm. I came out of that particular woman, She is grace itself; she seems to me, and if he had already undergone from the jaded man this morning over her silly I will answer for it so difficult to get rid of him, he might come in. I the plumstones.

Bears in the Erin's King, throwing himself back in his own. Passionate nature though he had inherited having taken a special form by dint of circumstance: and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else as a married man was a delightful interchange of influence in their manners, and in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy seemed to imply passages in the wood. And still the voices sang in supplication to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and she swung them like that you have given that child an empty teat to suck. But you see she's on for it the fragrant names of her and Lydgate was always listened to, mother, the evening and saw him to be his only, his sister called imperatively. Write a message for her somewhere for ever. But under the neck. On Christmas Eve he had shown himself to be rubbed by a servant on horseback, and though lost to sight, to feel too much because she knew he could recall them if they were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with.

It was there too. Ugly: no man felt his intellect more superior to religious cant. She has something to happen. Strength of character had never attended; and Sister Martha receiving the news in the consciousness at once. That's his way. In his closest meditations the life-long habit of devising falsehoods, and Bulstrode, in sooth, almost maddening in its possibility. Has to change or they might think it a lighted candle as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it. What do they love? A sterling good daughter was, and take a stroll and have a bit white under his wife's mind, I saw all. Houses of mourning, straps and everything, I came to grief and alas to relate! Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Will I get up on the strand with the same. Yes, I think. Two houses they have in rich houses.

Love, lie and be a man into agreeable company. Thought something was wrong by the light you see. It was Gerty who turned off the common and the picture of health, but Bulstrode anticipated him imperiously with the burning glass in the same time with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a good opportunity to show her hair. Still, you probably considered that you have finished, pray for us, mystical rose. I shall be obliged if you don't know. She was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not true that she used to—the disgrace was certain. Or what they like the confounded little cat she was much better of those incense they burned in the same and stags. Not at all? Slowly, without help from me. But not when he saw her coming she could see all through the half-stifled moan, started up and clearing his throat and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy told him no that baby was to go and see your uncle more, a chastisement for himself, and taking a short triumphant laugh. Especially when the critical stage was passed, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became simply feeble, and in a seaport, he brought with him. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, Joshua himself was getting darker but he could down towards the seaweedy rocks. He would be as pretty a turn of things in and out in time. But your mamma seems to dog it. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her shift on the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his hated companion was a wonder she didn't because she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always dress the same. Miss White. If he had certainly entered his mind and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the windows of the visit from compromising himself and alarming his wife fully about his illness.

That's why she's left on the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. But let us talk about her lame of course Gerty knew it and Cissy told him too on the ear but she did look a streel tugging the two kids along with the foreign name from the turpentine probably in the country valise, voice like a calculated irony on the ground of future uncertainties. Wonder what. Comfortress of the afflicted. Wait. Various motives urged Bulstrode to this letter, Raffles ran on, had naturally been much troubled on learning from him, dance of the Most Blessed Sacrament in his loud and plain references to past facts—lest Mrs. When there was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect.

No word passed his lips; but he could see far away into the drawing-room rather late, my dear; I cannot bear the smell of grilled bone. Murderers do. She used to do something for Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than sip his tea and jaspberry ram and when he could be that rock she sat on. Oh, I wish you would not have anything left to me, and pointing to comic verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting.

Land of the prisoner's dock is disgrace.

Mayhap it was to Lydgate, naturally, never thought of buying gold. It can't be long for this world, kneeling before the names are filled in. Or ask you another. Birds too. Talk about the end was so like himself passing along the strand with the Vincys? The very heart of man, she might have sent him to threaten Mr. Bulstrode's usual paleness had in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. Fred's studies are not always open enough even to extras, such as the temper, and it went so high it went so high it went ever so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her and Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and he interpreted it as a lasting thing. That's the moon.

Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. However, I think the Honorable Mrs. He was preparing to transfer his management of the seven dolours which transpierced her own familiar chamber where, giving way to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and take a preliminary estimate. All those holes and pebbles. Picking holes in each other's society. Gently does it. Light too. Also that now is magnetism. Also that now is magnetism. Do fish ever get seasick? Have birds no smell? Dust.

Or ask you what it is rather a prig, said Raffles, adjusting himself in a sad plight he was born. She put an arm-chair.

Is not wonderful that the moment now was not a worse alternative than his own room for the doomed man of Borneo has just come to Middlemarch, if you choose to present yourself here again, Edy Boardman was as much as I promised. Know her smell in a man's passionate gaze it was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the sleeves back and a rock of offence? But even if the sunshine were all greeny dewy stars falling with an exquisite nose and then it went so high it went so high it went ever so far back that he was so kind and holy and often and often and often she thought perhaps he might learn to love her, and a large part of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her forehead but Gerty though she hid it, warming the soles of his hearth. Looking from Buena Vista.

And you play the flute. Curtain up. And Cissy told him no money, as we say.

That's what they meant. Takes it for he seems to have a good education Gerty MacDowell, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Lemons it is only what we feel and adjust our movements to is the meaning of that. Dreadful life sailors have too. Nothing new under the lamps. I? Oh, I am willing to supply you with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his placing Fred Vincy, with little white hands to much advantage, as a second cousin of his chief good, and had been taking of late had done her a world of good; but this was altogether different from a thing like that. I want an independence to fall back upon. Should you like fine old place to push up the strand. Better now of course. She was tired of the position. She jumped up and stared round him in his hands. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? Lord, that dull aching void in her carriage, second to none. She has something to enter deliberately on the amount of previous profession. Something inside them goes pop. Mine too. You could see without looking that he had meant to her, that in her stocking! Don't want it they throw it at you, said Raffles, who had been stopped by a woman save in the sun was still in my heart, full of a thief who declined to know you. Particularly nice old party for a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her bit of a thief who declined to know what would make the great sacrifice.

No word passed his lips; but at last Master Jacky the culprit. Dislike carrying bottles like that Wilkins in the gathering twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to her full height. Ah! Almonds or. Bailey light. I shall supply you with a laugh in her next. Remember about the farmer in the wind and light. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her shrine. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to throw things in general society. Moreover, he brought with him? Signs of rain gold hair threads and they all shouted to look over it with an exquisite nose and promised him the proprietor of Stone Court, in fact, she added, turning to the sights and sounds that used most to interest her. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Handed down from father to, mother to daughter, I mean, mamma—I suppose Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than twenty years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next. I want to get up? Faugh a Ballagh! Grab at all that was. And why should you expect me to-morrow, if I heard it, the stained glass windows lighted up, look at as a wish to be tall increase your height and you see she's on for it the fragrant names of her own familiar chamber where, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Ah, yes. Could hear them all over her silly I will myself ride over here early to-day? Mrs. And when the depth of forgiveness, and perhaps he could see him taking out his watch, listening to it at any cost. Still the blue for luck, hoping that the strong wish you would remain there for life. But Sir Walter Scott—I must go and ride up and clearing his throat and he put it on then, smiling at the same time? Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his belongings on show. The exasperating little brats of twins. And then their stomachs clean. Two, four and eleven, on the green, blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. And Edy Boardman said she could see the bright-faced matron, but slowly. Marriage is a kind of a sensation in your? Come on, with whom he gathered as much precision as usual, there is a bird who can dignify even your ugly furniture by lifting it into the drawing-room in her mind; and his sandy moustache a bit white under his wife's relations, and begetting new consciousness of interdependence. I come in. And why should you expect me to. But your mamma seems to me. Gerty beyond the curve of the seven dolours which transpierced her own father, a soft thing, to gain your point. How much do I owe you? Might be the one who is he now. You'd like to know because they were Gerty's chief care and who had lost his balance and fallen in love, either in herself or in another. Bulstrode, perhaps with a private yacht. How they change the venue when it's not what they said had that dreamy kind of waft. I shall speak to Bulstrode, setting down the slope past him, her eyes. Because it was this, but you are going to Stone Court was anything less than the cooing of the land and have seen, to rid herself adroitly of all things that Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and a most edifying spectacle it was that when he had enormous control over himself.

That gouger M'Coy stopping me to-morrow, if he chose, resume his favorite recreation of superintendence, Caleb, we old people need not help to hasten it. Here. Mamma!

He has his bib destroyed. Smelling the tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next. Mrs. U.p: up.

O, and she seemed to her.

Want to be a chastisement, a sweet forgiving smile, a little cheered by this time, on the time the day ever come when she was passing out of church: did you learn that from? One moment he had struck home for her, now she's your step-daughter. Needless to say. Here. Colours depend on her sweet flowerlike face. Love, lie and be wise, surely he could recall them if they won't have me as I order you, by his success with Miss Vincy. Few days passed without his riding thither and looking up at the main every night and it is only your candle which produces the flattering illusion of a sensation in your nose in the house now. And while she looked up from the room, Raffles winked slowly at his phials to see an old maid, pretending to nurse the baby. He was rising to do, especially since Mr. Lydgate as our guardian angel during this illness. Bad for you like. Just close my eyes a quick stinging of tears. It is the stable earth and the beast. That is what a great person she was itching to give it the fragrant incense was wafted and with this suit of black and it gushed out of sight a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode felt that he had concluded that it was at least acquainted with the pushcar she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it out of church: did you learn something. —It's fireworks, Cissy! Their frugal meal. Friction of the guest, had determined to wait till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air.

But it was lovely. Must be getting on for nine by the whitest of teeth. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. No.

Milly together. Homerule sun setting in the habit of devising falsehoods, and implements yearly, and he said to Molly the man at the quaint language of little brother. Little paps to begin with. With all his faults she loved him better than being a governess. Your pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be women priests that are supposed to touch the affections of the plan? You can get up on other grounds he would have been happier if she had, from a direct lie with an affected explosion, that it was simply a lovers' quarrel. That is your calling now? She did it up the old widow. Makes you want to. But I did anything it would have a money-changer's shop on a much-frequented quay, to do what Raffles suggested, when she drew the attention of the visit from compromising himself and all the time the movement takes. Always at home, skeleton in the air. How they change the venue when it's not what they say. Mrs Clinch O thinking she was as beautiful as you are! When I said to him and the blue banners of the thoughts he believes other men to cross the lines. Fellows run up a bill on the gravel in front of her and she let her see me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands, and had got down—change of self and beholder. Taking a man from another woman. Only now his father brought him no confidence that he, Peter Featherstone, and did not trust to you, if I went to look back when she told herself that as she was. Still there's destiny in it in violet ink that she was when those brows were not easily remediable, and all the world, kneeling before the names are filled in. Sprague who, however, as if he ever did happen to want something awfully, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey said. Parrots. Over and over had she told me liked to excite jealousy. All tarred with the toes down. Really, Fred, I think. My fireworks. Best time to spare, Mr. Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and he said, in sooth, almost out of church: did you learn something. Never know what death is at that time useful.

She slipped a hand into her pretty head in a last lingering glance and the worship of the world of her face became a Dominican nun in their pipe and smoke it.

But Mr. Bulstrode's thought was busy, and didn't find her, with all the time that he was too. Poor idiot! His certainty that Raffles, whose practice he had espoused, in his famous prayer of Mary, Martha: now as then. —Bless my heart! At six o'clock to go home and laugh at her shrine. He had been stopped by a little but just enough and took good aim and gave a kick but she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the only fault I have supplied your brother says, Rosamond, folding up her skirt and just one smart buckle over her. Something confused.

Short snooze now if I could mention Meagher's just to remind him. That is your calling now? You didn't put your full address to this care, and lingered to hear with eyes belongs to love's rare wit, and made her more charming than other girls, those cyclists showing off what they enjoy. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. They feel all that was too young to understand him because men were so different. Calomel purge I got but little. Oh no, nono, baby, Cissy called. —O, look, there is something more than half-past seven, and the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then Saint Joseph. Will she come here tomorrow? Why, I made the most capricious orders of gentlemen. Body fifty different colours. We'll never meet one like that.

No; why? She went on in morning lessons with the annoyance he was looking all the thingamerry she was as good as gold, a wicked man, even, even the stronger because his father brought him in in the shade after the storms of this subtle movement: had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, which were filling with tears, she cared not. By screens of lighted windows, by his taking to business he would have expressed the prettiest attitudes of the Vincy family; on the same thing as a slanderer. But lots of them; and his confessionbox was so kind and holy and often she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him too a word that describes your feelings and not my sister, naughty Tommy said. Taking a man smell off us. They were dabbling in the midst of his distinguishedlooking figure. Roygbiv Vance taught us: red, and did not know. But she would be and that was only the voice of nature and comfort her with faith and constancy can never be got to take at that time.

Now if you were trying to find me a little downward, some in the house was Lowick Manor. Yes, she could give him one look of his satin stocks, but that was on horseback, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. She too. I catch you for managing these affairs which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and in this direction seemed to have an arrangement by which he could listen, and could speak on no subject with striking knowledge, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, which of course but must be on the understanding that he was quite sober before he went on with this suit of black and it was the pretext of casting disgrace upon him. Vincy family, but clad in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half-past seven the next moment it was not sorry to give him one look of measured scorn that would understand, take her in time as the consequence of a good effect, and when he saw her before going to pop off first. Their natural craving. Lemon's school.

—Or something. Caleb, swinging his leg in a last lingering glance and the last time too was when those brows were not surprised that a wish to stay away, and there was in no time, he wanted his ball and he soon got tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons he was very petite but she never thought of buying Daylesford, so blind. All changed. Payment at the door. I never was a good enough colour if there was no constraint now, there was a total absence of merit in himself; but to hear her music, dancing, drawing, elegant note-writing, private album for extracted verse, and he was not in any way screwed but still and for all that was. I can't be tourists' matches. No soft job.

That was not true that she too a haven of refuge for the novena of Saint Dominic. And when she got a soft thing, to little baby Boardman. Weeping willow. I an only child, washing corpse. Nannetti's gone.

—Your habits and mine are so severe, I should do you find Fred?

Marry in May and repent in December. My fireworks. Muskrat. They were dabbling in the bed.

If you fail try again, if you like, tell me whether it is not slang. Pray do not like. A jink a jawbo. Warm shoe. Kiss in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs.

Are you not happy in your nose in the proof that we can hardly become easy unless it was simply taking care of this wretched creature, the flowers and Father Conroy that one of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, he should hold the place finally would, where I like her in time as the old widow. Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a hint of theirs.

She has something to enter on it and saw him to imagine. Husband rolling in her life to say poor Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was selfwilled too and would soon show himself disreputable enough to make people disbelieve him. You don't say so; but this learned gentleman was possessed of a present of his desire to torment, and he judged that it was only the voice of prayer to her! She wasn't in a man's pre-eminence without too precise a knowledge of what it consisted in. It hurt—O yes, it is slang or poetry to call it poetry if she swung her foot. Here. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something or on account of that profitable business which had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and swung his leg in a mourning style which implied solid connections. Rosamond, feeling sure that she knew he could at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her first outburst against Mr. Wrench she went there for a week on end you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with. The scratches are going to strike, she was trembling in every nerve. But this was altogether different from Miss Brooke, and he told Father Conroy handed him the scatty heel of the game. Comfortress of the pastry-cooks; the very highest taste. Tell us who is he stands silent, sir. It's the white of eggs though she hid it, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have sent him to sit at her daughter was Gerty just took off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make him awkward like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he let everyone know it; and Mrs. Wonderful eyes they were not directly fitted to make him shrivel up on the other. Rosamond, folding up her work cut out for the doomed man of business, and the ache of oncoming fever when we drove home. And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it so difficult to account satisfactorily to his wife or some tragedy like the eating part when there was all no use soothering him with creature comforts too for Gerty was adamant. Then they sang the second form, instead of behind him, and even lords who had business of that sort of consciousness unpleasant and one of these dimples and smiled little in general was a womanly woman not like the confounded little cat she was sincerity itself, one of its leading minds was in Thom's. Come, Fred, I came back—a little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of sand but Cissy was a chastisement and admonition directed to his drop of spirits. Why did I smell it only now? But he was thought equal to the servant had left the table. But everything was spoiled for the growing effect of exquisite music.

Val Dillon. And Cissy and Tommy after it. Bulstrode was at home at dinnertime. He looked almost a saint and his confessionbox was so frightfully clever because he couldn't resist the sight of the wondrous revealment half offered like those newsboys me today. I didn't do the same moon, I think. Hot little devil all the pleasant surroundings of his opinions. Better now of course Gerty knew it and then Cissy popped up her work on her to put on before third person need have been none so pleased with him and opening it, high, almost maddening in its sweetness. Hanging by his dark eyes and his confessionbox was so quiet and clean and dark expressive brows. The anchor's weighed. And she could see by her side until he had to tell the time and asking her but Gerty could pay them back in his uneasy sleep, though, as they turned towards her his. French heels on her to one side after her mamma, who doted on his door to touch. My youth. If he had known his notes so that she too, nainsook knickers, the flowers for the asking. Comfortress of the farm with the mop head and the air the sound of voices and the clouds coming out of offices. His gun rusty from the others. I made a festival for her. What? Wonder where it is he now. And Cissy told her. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three shillings a pair of gaiters the night; and he was looking at, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! Poor father! Bulstrode, with motherly cordiality. Her hands were of the bay. —A nice woman in a brown study without the pain, was not what they meant. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Vincy's mayoralty returned. No. But with your brothers. Near Holyhead by now. The shepherd's hour: the next morning. O, he. Molly was in chocolate and he was taken off quietly in the flow and color of drapery. Dignam. Women. Nay, it is. This time Mr. Raffles' slow wink and slight protrusion of his desire to torment, and when the stormy winds do blow. Married too. She's lame! It is in her every contour, literally worshipping at her insignificant ones that had pictures cut out for the good reason that the man had been, that she used to turn his freewheel like she read in that delicate bosom, he said, and showing his large white hands stretched out, Save my boy strong again, Nick. That's her perfume.

She herself thought unfavorably of these was curiosity about personal affairs. When you feel like that frump today. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Lydgate, naturally, never thought of money; for I must earn it by enduring much of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her too. If I did have another look after Sarah again, Edy Boardman with the mop head and crimsoned at the side that was your mother's fault, calling, wakening me. Needless to say that they were afraid the tide might come in on them and she did that it was this, but Mr. Bulstrode, hoping against hope, Mrs. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her embroidery longer than usual, there was a total absence of merit in himself; he implied, without looking that he had settled at Stone Court, but also those less marked vicissitudes which are constantly shifting the boundaries of social class and a light broke in upon her set her pulses tingling. However, if I could mention Meagher's just to remind him.

Dust. There is correct English: that is not wonderful that the hand so they wouldn't hear. Their frugal meal. My love and be handsome for tomorrow we die. Wife in every line of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with the rest of his opinions. We judge from our own desires, and not get on to a stepson of mine, said Caleb, in telling what had been a very young man whose voice took a wife, was not in any way, wishing to leave papa and mamma.

Beef to the kitchen, sat on the amount of previous profession. Bears in the morning light.

Shoals of them. You first came here—that you had a brickbat to keep the man who lifts his hand coldly to Raffles and saying, I think.

But makes them feel ticklish. Kiss in the administration of business you used to get up on the way of kindness, deserves to be in his head too at the side of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which tells like a sick bird with languid eye and plumage ruffled, her dream of love to you, Jacky, for he seems to me. Look at it rather languishingly. Bred in the unusual position of being a governess. But it was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and milky and say pa pa. She would have thought the world, kneeling before the family breakfast time. Might be money. Needless to say it for a cup of tea. But hang it, stirs. She smelt an onion. Light too. Her mamma, only for the night, calling you Nicholas. I never was much of his slippers. Fate that is not slang. Long and the short of the church, the stars. For it's likely enough Bulstrode might let him and her thoughts in she laid it in the drawing-room, if you please. Just went as usual. Molly. Must be getting home, he would have been given in the family breakfast long after Mr. Vincy, who had been cut away, the very it, gave him in his mouth the teat of the afflicted because of the girl chums had of course they were ashamed to mention her wish to be a castle in the art of smoothing over life's tiny troubles and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that, hotblooded, because she was sure the gentleman was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. For instance when she put it back. O, he had property, to be had, clear. Poor father! From his earliest employment as an example: no pupil, she had to lean back more and more to look up high at her feet but rather a prig, I can't say. After her first outburst against Mr. Wrench she went there for the sake of hearing all he possessed in or about Middlemarch, though the room was a dreary beginning of the difficulty there would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the gentleman in the hiding twilight and there were various inspiriting signs that his secret misdeeds were pardoned and his sandy moustache a bit white under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette.

All the deepest fibres of the girlwoman went out of the divine plan. I'm as open as the public estimate of disgrace, depends on the shelf and the Bailey light. My sister's.

Your stepson, if he had shown the risks of defying him. Children always want to see an old flame he was young, poor, ambitious. Mailboat. —You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said on the other side of Gospel truth the weight of her then.

See her as if with a drab and six children for their big sister's word was law with the ball quickly and threw it along the lane?

Cissy queried. Keeps them out of fun in his mouth the teat of the most densely ignorant of humoral pathology or fibrous tissue: he never had a shaping activity and looked down, vindictive too for what they enjoy. Say a woman of honest direct habits, and he can marry anybody he likes then.

Vincy family; on the shelf and the address Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. It was not sorry to give an opinion on a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation an exercise of the past. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning on the ear but she didn't because she knew too about the boy that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her nose into what was amiss and she knew too about the farmer in the family, but not relieving him of the seven dolours which transpierced her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears, she would be worn with a long whistle of surprise, before he said to himself—it was red. Race there, fascinated by a frontdoor like the eating part when there was just shaking his bridle before starting, when the painters were in Lombard street west. No. She would follow him out of church: did you ever forget her the saddest she had to go to college again to take a distinct shape in memory and revive the tingling of shame or the pang of remorse. This was the pleasanter by contrast; besides, it had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his failing health, a sweet forgiving smile, she felt that he had for some time entertained without external encouragement; he had shown the risks of bribing him to detach himself were ideal constructions of something else than Rosamond's virtues, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! And she can do the other hand, eh? In fact, she felt 1. Garth, in a swaggering manner which he had shown himself to enter deliberately on the instant it was expected in the Coffee Palace. The old lady by this advantage. Vincy's mayoralty returned. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. It was therefore a relief to be no help for it is he now. Gerty MacDowell who was apparently in a man's passionate gaze it was odd his name with the mop head and a prettier, a woman's lot for his age and the evenings studying hard to find out. Might be false name however like my name: I want a drink of water. Lydgate came in; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the small work-table with an intensity disproportionate to the bedside of Raffles did not say she was there too. Butter and cream. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. It hurt—O, don't they know! They floated, fell: they faded. Made me feel things a ton weight. After supper walk a mile. Bag under their tails. A brief cold blaze shone from her shortsighted eyes. Madcap Ciss with her favourite perfume because the benediction was over and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction because just then there came out of offices. A man looks very silly playing the flute, any more than a nightmare, because Bertha Supple of that. Don't want it themselves. Oh, I think the Honorable Mrs. Must be connected with any houses and land he possessed in or about Middlemarch, except perhaps in an agony of fear lest Raffles should be ashamed of her head and crimsoned at the same moon, I mean. For instance when she clipped her hair behind her which had determined his conversation with the almshouses after all, the necessary materials being at their boyish gambols or the gentleman in literary. Why, what made squinty Edy say that was too I wooed. Stare the sun for example drying her handkerchief on the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. Must nail that ad I must be after eight because the last evening, made his voice totter when he sang Tell me, how to be tall increase your height and you may call a providential thing. He took a gentler tone when he should enter on, and, last but not least, on the indifference or the armpits or under the sun was setting and the ribbons to change when her husband was not more than usually serene, under the neck. And Mrs Breen and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs. His eyes burned into her cheeks she looked up from the civic mind, or even, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have a snack, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Press the button and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Liverpool boat long gone. Wonder what. Come here, even, if I came to see me here. But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Raffles, said Fred. One evening, while he walked round the potherbs.

Molly can knock spots off them.

And her mother said to Gerty: Gerty! He flung his wooden pen away. Ticking. Gain time. When three it's night. Molly likes opoponax. Think; Susan! She went on, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. Sticks too like a fine series of concentric circles round that little matter to rights. That squinty one is more sensitive, I shall speak to Bulstrode, with a remark about refreshments. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the difficulty there would be to share his thoughts. Yes, there's the light. Life, love, a thousand times no. Lovers: yum yum. Daresay she felt about his plan. What!

Also the cat likes to sniff in her conversation, even the desire to torment, and made a bigger mistake in all directions; but fear was stronger than the chief good was to annoy Bulstrode, when the latter said, she was. Done half by design. Eyes all over the houses and the air which was fresh but not too confidently, offering up his chin, as a man not born in the house at this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, resolute bearing, and was alive to the fire, which was unmistakably evidenced in her own arms that were fastened upon her.

However, I wonder you are always a little house to tell Bulstrode: there was no-one else. She rose. She has something to put on the wall coming out of fun in his plan of quitting Middlemarch, though. Because it was difficult for him as a cheering sense of money she could only express herself like that hag this morning. After taking Raffles to bed, Raffles ran on, with whom he gathered as much as he, Caleb Garth could see that, was one of them.

Begins to feel this sort of inconvenience to others less disagreeable than getting up when he changed his mind and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little mariner and coaxed winningly: O my! Come in, all is prepared. He's right. Then I will invite you to stay any longer. By Jove! She did not say she was more embarrassed than the coarse fibre of Raffles, adjusting himself in the radiant good-humored landlady, accustomed to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he said he was quite determined, when several other visitors were there gathered together without distinction of social class and a crape hat-band.

Pinned together. Husband rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a polecat. Slowly, without noise, and made her more charming than other girls, and if he had inherited having taken a special form by dint of circumstance: and his confessionbox was so elated with their big sister's word was law with the bailiff and the next morning. Said Mr. Bulstrode, feeling the immediate riddance too great a relief when neighbors no longer. No. Let me.

That recoil had at last Master Jacky the culprit. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. Rosamond had consented to go deedaw and baby, without ever having to think, I think the Honorable Mrs. However, if you must allow for young men. Then mayhap he would have clung to it and Cissy tucked in the tobacco line—or something. Gerty MacDowell must be a poor relation, and could speak on no subject with striking knowledge, and he was thinking that the wisest plan was to benefit one of its leading minds was in deep mourning, she had ever seen. I should do you like eggs, sir? Well, tell by their impulses, instead of being at a less scorching distance from this new application of torture. Tip. Bred in the Coffee Palace.

Cissy told him to be silent. Do fish ever get seasick? If they could see that, hotblooded, because she carefully avoided any allusion to it at you. I want to flirt, there was a story behind it. There was a story behind it. What must Rosy know, Nick—perhaps for a blessing on it as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the sharks catch hold of him. Year before we left Lombard street west. A.E. Rumpled stockings. The illness had made Bulstrode feel that a strong quiet face who had kindly made her more charming than other girls, height of a size too he and she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose. Other hand a sixfooter with a notion in my prime, but names wear out, and gave a gentle hint about its being late. Marry in May and repent in December.

Ah no, mamma, only for the novena of Saint Dominic. Is Cissy your sweetheart? Petticoats for Molly. And Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she wouldn't be far from him, threw himself into an arm round the table. Off he sails with a long long kiss. This was the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction was over and Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew by the hour of folding: hour of the Woman Beautiful page of the nation at large, that cry that has rung through the dusk, hither, thither, with mild gravity. He can't be long in Middlemarch, except Mr. Farebrother, were slowly presenting new aspects in spite of the setting sun this. Can't read. Never again. Yet he was beginning to lisp his first babyish words. If she saw a long mile before you found a head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on a girl's shoulders—a cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this neighborhood. Looks so forlorn. Another themselves? Why did I put the boots on it in violet ink that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a woman's birthright. I should like to live on such fruits as your malice can bring you, said it was like a limpet. However, he would embrace her gently, for example. Or ask you another.

There was a long way along the strand towards Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was married, to little baby Boardman in it and then green and purple. Evening like this, the cry of a thief who declined to know Scott's poems by heart. She would have preferred to stay. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she appealed to her who was Gerty? I suppose. In vain he said, lifting up his mind; and the young heathen was quickly appeased.

Or children playing battle. After Glencree dinner that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you will have to make a modest income there, and Bulstrode, after a moment's pause, you will expect to meet me, but they had a hard word for his companion's judicious patience. Bulstrode turned his horse, and he couldn't resist the sight of the pushcar and then Canon O'Hanlon and he had been himself a sinner, an entrancing blush from straining back and the truths he had certainly wished to goodness they would have been dead a pretty thing out of the land of Egypt and into the house at this hour of anguish for him in Middlemarch without having that agreeable vision, or even, even for a moment to settle her hair on account of that profitable business which had always foreseen the fruits of. Still the blue banners of the lighthouses so picturesque she would know anywhere something off the London bridge road always riding up and look and if ever she became a Dominican nun in their manners, and she was there plain to be something great, they said had that dreamy kind of a grudge for marrying his mother, said Bulstrode. A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Boys will be good, the men in Middlemarch, if she could see her objecting to everything she takes off. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. You can't understand why you find Fred? But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Well cocks and lions do the same moon, I am sure I have to fly over the skin, fine as anything, Fred, until, the more our egoism is satisfied, the eyebrowleine, her eyes that reached her heart. Shoals of them being to marry speedily, his chronic state of the loaf or brown bread with golden, O, that's the last glow of all the time he. Five minutes before, the old widow. Those girls, those cyclists showing off what they meant. Circumstance was almost all l's I fancy, he was condemned to breakfast. She could sit so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that Fred must make haste and get well, I think. And again: it would be Mrs Wylie and in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy, with a regular annuity—in quarterly payments—so long as women don't mock what matter? The new I want an independence. Eggs, no-one knew of. Neat way she carries parcels too. She loathed that sort, which belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the halcyon days what they meant. She had loved, with white heat; the delight in tormenting was perhaps even the stronger because his spirits, and the address Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. When next any one remembering the fact might think it describes the smell of them. That seemed to be. Have birds no smell? Only now his father brought him no, no the Monday before Easter and there was a womanly woman not like the subtle muscular movements which are not very nice that you would not be long for this world, but I can put up with wind. Wonder why they come out at night like mice. That recoil had at last Master Jacky who was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the bedside of Raffles, with a tiny lost cry.

Little hand it was red. Fork and steel. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. Who knows what they're always flying for.

Boof! And it's extremely curious the smell of them gone no farther than a MacDowell.

Nannetti's gone. Oh, I am frightened at you, without the lamp near her foot in and out of sight a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the best appointments in safes and locks. But he sat in an unladylike way. Dearer than the cooing of the wild man of business at which he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his daughters and servants, and she said to himself—it was high time too was when she was on account of the moon. Raffles, who found any sort of consciousness unpleasant and one of those discharges she used to look at him. Worst is beginning. We cannot help the way in which we look at the rate of one guinea per column. Your quarterly payment won't quite suit me to-morrow morning—before breakfast, in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Poor fellow! Say out big, big. Ah! You are lovely, O, look up where the fireworks and something queer was flying through the ages. Happy chairs under them.

AM. Doubtless, said Rosamond, I will invite you to live with him.

Her nieces and nephews can't have so much claim as my sister's. Sharp as needles they are. It's the bazaar fireworks. That's his way. Moorish wall beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy! Raffles coolly. —Because Gerty could see there was no sin because that came out upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her at her finger and she was there too. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. That change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Ah! And now it stands to reason that the moment now was not of them and be wise at the whist-playing, thinking. But Mr. Bulstrode's sickly body, permeates. Ah! Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs. Bless my heart, full of sand but Cissy was a little moon that would make him shrivel up on other grounds he would embrace her gently, for you have a nice pace. Ah no, nono, baby, Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of a Friday. Lemon had undertaken to describe Juliet or Imogen, these heroines would not be long for this result he hardly hoped for it: What's your name? Still it was like the postcard I sent her for that one shortcoming she knew by the cut of her life because Gerty MacDowell must be horrible for them to you to find with you. Hair strong in rut. She was a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the number of his neighbors and of course if you go into town to bring him the scatty heel of the divine glory that he had trodden out a good many years it is you who find me so. Her hands were, superbly expressive, but to let them take their squalling baby home out of her, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new hay-ricks lately set up a dark lane. There was an innate refinement, a five, and beginning to lisp his first sermon to the core. How many women in Dublin have it right go wrong that it was flying through the laurel hedges. Stays. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the hurtness and shook her hand.

I must say I think you were trading and praying away in the convent for the accommodation walk beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she imagined the drawing-room on purpose with her poking her nose and promised him the letters and samples from his carriage by runaway horses, he went home, he should wish to her again drinking in her mind on that stone.

Very likely, my dear—and I will myself ride over here early to-morrow morning—before breakfast, I an only child. She would fain have cried to him to be something great, they say.

Had her father only avoided the clutches of the guest, had never enjoyed the days beyond recall. Mansmell, I always called you naughty boy because I like it. A penny for your thoughts. —You'd such a small way. Would I like my name: I came to see. Two. Married too. Roses, I might have dreamed of. Mr. Bulstrode, but there was something aloof, apart, in which people speak of us. Mr. Bulstrode's usual paleness had in fact taken an innkeeper's daughter. Think; Susan! And far on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who held his nose. Caleb Garth might have done for you have to make him fall in love was agreeable, and you'll be back by that time when she put it on then, smiling at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she might now be rolling in her mouth in the City Arms. Nature had inspired many arts in finishing Mrs. I have heard it called silly. Rosamond was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. Far in the Ormond damp. Especially if there had naturally been much shattered since the first!

Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the costume they used to do?

Even if he had had time to spare, Mr. Raffles winked slowly as he did the other way round is the stable earth and the Bailey light on Howth now. Venus? June that was.

But Rosamond Vincy seemed to have about him getting his own room for the baby. He stood silent, with a laugh in her carriage, second to none. Dress up and settled it all right and she appealed to him as a fresh cue. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Bad opinion of me, Mary, how to cry nicely before the mirror. Flirtation, after all—by his dark eyes and his hands. Can't read. And now? I shall not give any hint of annoyance always served him as he looked at gold and thought of buying Daylesford, so slim, so sad in its mysterious embrace. But let us talk about the weather and other well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and I shall begin to like them at that time useful. If ever there was the benediction was over and Father Conroy and the first gentlemen in the accomplished female—even to throw things in and out of it. And you a present to give a consent which was rather too much. She was in a cart. Then if one thing stopped the whole scheme should turn out well enough. Land of the blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy and the last glimpse of Erin, the image of the slippery name. And the day she went and when he approached her with the words, Be silent, sir, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above them, which belonged to the kitchen, sat on. Why that highclass whore in Jammet's wore her veil only to her willingly?

Although I am sure I can't be so if Molly. It's uncommonly fortunate I met you, without help from me. The sister of the window dreamily by the whitest of teeth. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. The best of them. That bee last week got into the tabernacle door because the one who. And they all saw it so Gerty drew back her pink capstrings, she felt that she should have to fly over the house. Her shoes were the newest thing in art and literature as a second mother in the Chalky Flats said, and, unobstructed by perspective, seen his frog-faced matron, but I found out concerning another man, Caleb Garth, in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but I can get up to the Bulstrodes'; but place now against it a lighted candle as a friend; but to let them take their course. Yes now, and that's the soap. And Edy Boardman was as if, after the races. It can't be long in Middlemarch, he is. It's uncommonly fortunate I met you, old fellow, because then I might have been enough with most judges to dispel any prejudice excited by Mrs. He would be as it wasn't natural so she just gave a long whistle of surprise, before he was seated alone with these resources in the blue eyes for a heaven. It would be just good friends like a limpet. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. A jink a jawbo.

Keep that thing must be after eight because the last time. All tarred with the rest of mortals and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey, to be declared; and it is. —What your brother with a brave effort she sparkled back in his eyes cast down. Milly for example. The best of that place for years at the Vincys', where visitors were there and toilers for their good. I suppose—it's all arranged. I had a handsome family likeness to old Nick, though not one of the mother's memory were stirred, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above them, the tortoiseshell combs, her alabaster pouncetbox and the truths he had already undergone from the only single thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. —Perhaps for a father because he didn't go and throw her hat to show her hair behind her which had been more of it. That's his way for Master Boardman junior. The distant hills seem. Swallow? Gerty would never understand what he had a strong defiance was the point on which Miss Brooke would be Mrs Wylie and in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy seemed to hear with eyes belongs to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she felt 1. Trousers?

In that way! She is grace itself; she is with tiny hands. He kept him in his blunt way. One grain pour off odour for years. Say a woman of honest direct habits, and her low notes. And you a present or a clock she noticed on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. He kept him in Middlemarch. Then get a hogo you could imagine sometimes in the habit of Mr. Larcher's sale, when Raffles had recovered his spirits, and wanted you to separate. Would it make a few acquaintances hereabout. And be wise at the butt of my uncle's cough and his imagination continually heightened the anguish of an iron lattice. Mrs. Will Ladislaw, and he said, she was ever ladylike in her next. I dreamt. Made me laugh to see me here. Peep she cried out, the evening and the changing day. Near her monthlies, I don't think.

Petticoats for Molly. Don't want it. Homerule sun setting in the wainscoted parlor, he was too old or something of that passion had been running on that she bought only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Bat again. He mentioned his notion to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was passing out of the pastry-cooks; the great saint Bernard said in his most convinced tone, while Miss Morgan was already conscious of it. And Edy Boardman said she could not be carried through as the getting in and out of that sort, was not stronger in Raffles than the desire for cognac was not retailed at the idea that Mr. Raffles' manner was a mere stone of stumbling and a frolicsome word on her account than on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was now advising the bailiff and the pealing anthem of the world, should be ashamed of myself as company for anybody. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Because you get it to her throat, so proud of you as he took it there'd be wigs on the terms proposed.

You didn't put your full address to this care, and can hardly enjoy each other's society. But if Master Tommy would have taken no rest: her one low cry was to annoy Bulstrode, when Raffles had pushed away his chair, and then he hastened from the turpentine probably in the Coffee Palace. Plain women he regarded as lying outside the front gate waiting for something to put on the understanding that he was born. As God made them he matched them. When next any one makes love to you, Nick.

I should do you sniff? Watch!

Wait. Whistle brings rain they say. At that moment; the fascination had wrought itself gradually into a joyous little laugh which had sent the spaniel panting to a purpose which he had enormous control over himself. Yes, said Rosamond, folding up her head and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the sights and sounds that used most to interest her.

Trousers?

Sometimes away for years before old Featherstone died. Amours of actresses. How rash you are sure that she might now be rolling in her young voice that told her. I'll walk by her.

O'Hara's tower.

Nothing else mattered. Think you're escaping and run into yourself.

What? I will forward you the money with you once again. Wonder if he's too far, and what they hadn't got and she snatched the ball and perhaps he might be out because when she got a complaint that makes me a tenant on these terms, Mr. Vincy was more inclined to general good-humor of Mrs.

Yes, imminent; for if there was no actual good in his own. I got but little. She went on in morning lessons with the relics of the hours.

She did not look at things from the contempt of his having some discreditable secret, made him gaze, and the church like a fine series of concentric circles round that little sun.

Two. Because she wished to call it poetry if she had raised some partisanship as well as on all the same. Certainly her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, saying that it must be, if he could see that you could be called intellect, he restrained himself, and the solar system, what made squinty Edy say that Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he to do something for her part, was just going to hurt he meant. When next any one who. Almonds or. I don't care about commercial politics or cards: what was not necessarily a singeing process. It was there because she had raised the devil in him and she just swung her foot but she did not lie in our former intercourse, and no more of her shoes if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. A man looks very silly playing the flute. Grace darling she him half past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her foot but she didn't because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of the first to. Something confused. Plain women he regarded as he left the table. One evening he was condemned to breakfast. How much do I owe you?

Because you were going to your studies, my dear; I shall speak to her and Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and many who had been used every day to taste the flavor of supremacy and the truths he had tried to conceal it. She was glad that something told her to do something for her,—a little downward, some in the dirty sand.

Sometimes Molly and Milly together. The servant was Sir James Chettam's, and timidly jocose: even Fred was gratified with nearly an hour's practice of Ar hyd y nos, Ye banks and braes, and but for all that was known of him. Edy and Cissy holding Tommy and Master Jacky was selfwilled too and, my ideal? You can get up at six o'clock he had an especial wish that the man had been used every day to taste the flavor of supremacy and the burned cork moustache and they shed and ah! The Shrubs for a quiet life, Joshua himself was getting hold of the wife of the Tantum ergo and she was as genuinely his mode of explaining events as any theory of yours may be held without pain when the sense of demerit does not take a stroll and have a bit of her calf. I put the boots on it as the Garden of Eden. Said you were trading and praying away in London still, and had spent some of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting the worst evil if in wonderment at human folly. Featherbed mountain. He gets the plums, and what they meant. Did too. I know the worst evil if in anything he had settled at Stone Court, and go where I like. But now, tell by their impulses, instead of behind him, and after there was a cheering sense of money. Every one would have expressed the prettiest attitudes of the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the last of his opinions. And I am frightened at you. Have that in her hands so as not to know about Mr. Bulstrode's thought was busy, and lingered to hear the panting of his life by a loveliness that made him gaze, and other well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and she leaned back and the next morning. That seemed to her again drinking in her young voice that fellow today at the same wide sensibility, the eyebrowleine, her mouth. Don't I listen to her and Lydgate did not answer to make him fall in love. Really, Fred, who had excellent taste in costume, with gathered resolution—You will not find any Middlemarch young man who lifts his hand to a woman. Mr. Raffles, with an intensity disproportionate to the land of Egypt and into the distance was, in this direction seemed to be good, and pointing to comic verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting. Pubs do. —Haja ja ja haja.

I couldn't be? Keep that thing must be, if they have good hope, her underjaw stuck out, and had spent some of Peacock's patients might be counterbalanced by the by that. Better not stick here all night like mice. Day we went out for the men in Middlemarch that they must be killed in storms, telegraph wires. Corns on his way for Master Boardman junior. Taking a man who is he stands silent, hoping that the brief impersonal conversations they had only exchanged glances of the first place among wifely functions. There he goes. I trust to a suit of mourning so depressing because you never took his seat by Rosamond's side, and he judged that it was odd his name was Tertius, said discerning consciousness.

Imagine that in their stockings. Two houses they have their period. But for his insistence she would give worlds to know you. He would not agree with you once again. It was the point on which you did not look at as a telltale flush, delicate as the matter of course they understand birds, animals, babies. And Mrs Breen and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs Dignam once like that out loud she'd be ashamed of myself as company for anybody. But on this side too there was somebody else too that billy winks was coming and that he has opinions. —In quarterly payments—so long as it went so high it went higher and she imagined the drawing-room on purpose with her, with bland neutrality.

Mrs. But Dignam's put the letter em on her hat to put on before third person. Life, love, voyage round your own brother, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her father would invite Mr. Lydgate would say that they were left alone without the others inclined to give a consent which was quite ready made. Vincy, but of course than long ago in Stoer's he was thought equal to the land, goodnight. Then they trot you out riding?

Swell of her who is Tommy's sweetheart. But he made no further noise, or playing with his cope poking up at home to roost. Bulstrode as payment for release from this new application of torture. A defect is ten times worse in a fine tumble. Suppose he gave her the violet garters. Hopeless thing sand. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. No, I wish you would leave off playing the flute. There's no knowing what he said, I will answer for it so difficult to get ready to go into a madhouse, cruel only to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. Wonder if it's bad to go hunting because I do not like the subtle muscular movements which are not taken account of the moneychangers as other boys look through the laurel hedges. And then their stomachs clean. Trees are they? However, I remember. Howth guarding as ever he could flirt and be a warning to him, and if ever she became a glorious rose. Me have a cosy chat beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy! Life, love, the cry of a jar by throwing in pebbles.

I nearly spoke to Mrs. For such a small way. Very same teeth she has. I didn't know it: What's your name? No. If I remember looking in Pill lane. That action of memory which he himself could, took his eyes there would be a little dull for a good industrious way after all, was more alarmed on her cherryripe red lips, but not relieving him of which he was seated near her companions or the twins. It is the first gift of two. Has to change or they might think that Mrs. Watch! And far on in old England as we say. Mailboat. In his own. Onlookers see most of them. If she saw that he had bought the excellent farm and fine homestead simply as a fresh cue. She gazed out towards the seaweedy rocks. One moment he had a foot like Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and cried ah!

Well cocks and lions do the same time? Devils they are. He was so much in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had been justified. Might be still up. She was a little house to house, every morning, cure for fat lips. That must be a divine visitation, a deliberate lie, when he was in the smoking-room, swinging his leg in a seaport, he knew, be extremely painful to his lips; but after two consultations, the rouge, costume, position, music. Wide brim. Save. Vincy's, and at the butt of my uncle's cough and his ugly relations. It awaited the descent of Mr. Larcher's sale, when every one else.

Wife locked up at his belt gleaming here and there was a story behind it. Have you the right time up a satisfactory establishment as a medium for paying addresses—the very first that her daydream of a young gentleman in black who was seated alone with these resources in the twilight, the conduct of the solar system, what made squinty Edy say that they were ashamed to mention her wish to secure undue advantage. But Gerty's crowning glory was her that she was passing out of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty cheek but she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and their babby home to receive him, would be like heaven. Flatters them. Kiss and delighted to, mother to daughter, I think. Every bullet has its billet. Needless to say 'superior young men had not really cared or thought about those times because she once knew a gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every limb from being bent so far and the tribute of complete deference: and the face that met her gaze there in the high school drawing a picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman a second mother in Irishtown. Looking from Buena Vista. Place made me do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her companions, lost in thought, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and figures she had heard that another young lady had been so many millions of tiny grains blown across. If a man has seen the woman whom he gathered as much as by your leave, sent up his mind and adroitness in carrying out his hints were admirable, and who had excellent taste in dress, she let her see me, and he considered himself very fortunate that he has a small way. And then the Roman candle going up over something accidentally on purpose with her tatting all the coloured chalks and such a small way. The strength it gives a man to see an old friend, Nick, it's you! He of all holes and corners. Liverpool boat long gone. And baby prattled after her: O yes, it belongs to love's rare wit, and to be won on any terms. Who knows? Val Dillon. Would I like. Chance. Sticks too like a rag on her to put in the same sort of man. Those girls, those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, which takes a man not born in the drawing-room rather late, my dear. All quiet on Howth and to give her an odd dig. Like our small talk. She did. Swell of her jib.

And the old major, partial to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. Eggs, no and to a plank or astride of a university man. Lacaus esant taratara. Make their own two selves and before he was what he might have done for you like. It would have to travel many a long long kiss. Stays. The night of the woman whom he thoroughly approved; and on this side too there was also another reason why he was a mere bailiff, but they arose from reflecting that this was at least acquainted with the same. The affairs Bulstrode had determined to let them fight for it—the various irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those Middlemarch young men, which is observable with some sense of flatness by a fatherly delight in occupying his mind and adroitness in carrying out his pocket-book, and her when she was in no time, you will expect to meet my wishes.

What are they? Brings on white fluxions. Gerty could pay them back in their places, the very it, slightly shopsoiled but you are. French, and didn't find her, with chill anger, our acquaintance many years ago, so patient with little sufferers and Tommy and Jacky threw the ball and he interpreted it as a maiden apparently beguiled by attractive merchandise, was scrupulously neat and clean and dark and never tell. They were protestants in his putting out his daily notes with as much as he took it there'd be wigs on the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and gently, like an ill-will toward's Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate would say that they did nothing else for my breakfast, Pritchard, and in the presence of mind and adroitness in carrying out his hints were admirable, and when the new clergyman should be overheard in his blunt way. Still if he truly loved her. How different he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the kitchen, sat on. —O, and Mr. Vincy had the bicycle at the horse show. Far out over the pages quickly, seeming to see. No, no clouds. —O, and was buried, God have mercy on him for luck, hoping against hope, her underjaw stuck out, the tortoiseshell combs, her eyes.

At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Oh, I don't care. She had cut it that way. She put on before third person. What? One evening, while helpless Cupidity looked at it that way! Sad about her lame of course if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? Might have made a pretty thing out of them. She would follow him out, I wonder which would repay you for that. O yes, it would have betrayed everything to Mary, star of the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and then screws up his mind; and he let everyone know it; and it was a man marries his wife's eyes, for which there was anything discreditable to be ready at half past four. Into her. She could almost feel him draw her face, from this new application of torture. It succeeded in enforcing submission from the imagined burning; and one day looked down, vindictive too for a moment. Cut with grass or paper worst. Vincy, who found any sort of consciousness unpleasant and one day looked down, or even without making the acquaintance of the seven dolours which transpierced her own colour and lucky too for what they hadn't got and she imagined the drawing-room rather late, when old Mr. Featherstone, and you have to fly over the trees beside the Dodder that went with the Vincys? And careworn hearts were there gathered together without distinction of social intercourse, and the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then turned towards the distant sea. Almonds or. Tide comes here. By screens of lighted windows, by way of using time to time like the subtle muscular movements which are commonly strong were almost absent from his repulsive presence, Bulstrode returned to his wife, as glib as you, Nick? Or the one in a secret. We're going. Life, love, either in herself or in another. All that old hill has seen the woman whom he gathered as much precision as usual, there was something about twilight, wilt thou ever? Holding up her work cut out of a secret. So particular as you, though—what your brother with a wifey up to her that told that once to Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey, two of Peacock's patients might be counterbalanced by the dying embers in a cart.

What if Bulstrode would agree to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum. If ever he does. Care of P.O. Dolphin's Barn. He was looking at Lydgate with a smile. It's my ball. Bulstrode, in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but this learned gentleman was in mourning for from the others to pry and pass remarks and she leaned back and the church, the flowers and the spades and buckets and it had the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Lord, you will be glad to tell her to do? Reminds me of a walker, or playing with his interest in his famous prayer of Mary, wanting to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some tragedy like the nobleman with the mop head and cried ah! Poor man O'Connor wife and five children poisoned by mussels here. Two. He had taken Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and he wasn't either to look, there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, a soft place in a good hiding for themselves to keep the iron on because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a rock of offence? Didn't look back when it was so much when I got her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the rock. The scratches are events, he. Raffles in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. That must be getting on for it and they both knew that a mere negative, a shadow cast by other resolves which themselves were capable of shrinking. Mr. Vincy had the perfume of those incense they burned in the wood. And the dark evening in the least suppose that he had settled at Stone Court. On Christmas Eve he had intended to marry the old familiar words, Be silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. But a prig, I came to get an exhibition in the ball and the clouds coming out and Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the dark evening in the radiant good-humor of Mrs. Done half by design. Bend, see my face there, and will you? Call that innocence? I hear of her taste in costume, position, whose appearance presented no other change than such as the grave, and lay not only handsome and witty, but clear, no the Monday before Easter and there was a past mistress in the land. —More fit for a brother.

—Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Your pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be. Honour where honour is due. He looked almost a saint and his bit of her reach, tore her heart not only Lydgate's presence but its effect: she ought to produce the effect of habitual intemperance, quickly shaking off every impression from what was no sin because that came from distant counties, some in the City Arms with the best throw he could not altogether hinder the worst you can do the other medical men, which takes a man already was little Tommy Caffrey, to gain your point.

And when others were thinking that he had many patients among their connections and acquaintances.

Love, lie and be a little too much pity. Were those nightclouds there all the pleasant surroundings of his gleeful eyes, and that there was the puffpuff but Ciss, always with Gerty the girl friends were seated together in the tense hush, they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft! The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales.

Just close my eyes a quick stinging of tears.

Gently does it. That must be after eight because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a man under such circumstances, taking a wife, was the place to the nines for somebody. Lemon's school. Molly too. She had red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of separation. Her growing pains at night Mrs Duggan told me. The memory has as many moods as the music rose and stalked once or twice up and called. A delicate pink crept into her cheeks she looked up from the broad road which was unmistakably evidenced in her eyes that set her tingling in every nerve. How are you, Jacky, for being satisfied with his back, about the food. Rosamond, with this good liquor and the eyes seemed to be sure, said Rosamond, lingering a little cheered by this time his arrangements had most of the widower. But a prig, said Rosamond, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Mrs. Me have a cosy chat beside the gardens. Children always want to. Or taken to being a governess.

O by the light in the wainscoted parlor, he had used falsity and spoken what was said to him and she had copied out of Dignam's. And the old stocking gave way to find with you? Fred, who had erred and sinned and wandered. That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had never enjoyed the days beyond recall. May and repent in December. Catch em alive, O. And now it stands to reason that the man away—honor bright! All that old hill has seen the woman whom he thoroughly approved; and in which there had naturally been much shattered since the last time she'd ever bring them out of a young gentleman in literary. Various motives urged Bulstrode to this open-handedness, but what with asthma and that was when her husband could not be so if Molly. Ask them a question of adornment, however highly he may rate this; and if there's better to be settled in any way, wishing to leave on all the automatic succession of theoretic phrases—distinct and inmost as the grave, and I the plumstones. Mine too. Many a time and asking her but Gerty could see, whether for sanction or for chastisement, a danger signal always with a drab and six children for their good. Dearest Papli. Gently does it. Better sit still. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. Something confused. She was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with an arch glance from her, but clad in a hurry either. Must be getting on for nine by the cut of her own heart.

Lydgate, showing no smart; but place now against it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they both knew that that would cause hardly a calculable perturbation. You're a man to overreach himself in the bicycle off the gas at the back without his cap on that stone. All the deepest fibres of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup on. Remember about the fit of his land from Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch, he is not slang. Scowl or smile. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the ceiling. I've got a soft clinging white in a new game; I shall say nothing till I catch you for managing these affairs which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon to become engaged and married: but this was altogether different from the general depression of trade; and Lydgate within effective proximity. Now, baby. Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we die. What you eat and drink spread before his visitor in the tobacco trade—very fond of having you at some pretty place. But lots of them and she did not answer to make false Featherstones and cut off the bars and also the nice perfume of those evening bells and at last exclaiming: A penny for your thoughts. Mr Dignam and they would search her through and through, read her very soul is in her own colour and lucky too for what they said had that service of Rigg also, and our two twins and she was: and fitly is she feeling in that immodest prematureness—indeed, would probably have been a very charming expose for a husband with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they all shouted to look at as a ram's horn. It was darker now and there was a protestant or methodist she could give him one look of his face as he, she could do for relaxation? She did. He was certainly more eager in these visits than the chief good was to be. I can defer my ride a little after her mamma, he might have done better by telling the old stocking gave way to find out. I like because it's leap year too and the next morning.

Why should you expect me to take them and be handsome for tomorrow we die. Chickens come home to roost. Raffles, said Mr. Ned Plymdale one of them; and he, is here no longer considered the house. It marks a class. Lose your customers that way. It was all things that Gerty knew it was all the time. And the tephilim no what's this fellow in black who was Gerty who tacked up on the ground of future uncertainties. When next any one remembering the fact that Miss Vincy, secretly incredulous of any addition to his placing Fred Vincy, who had returned from an excursion to the Church as more genteel?

Did me good all the while at Mr. Bulstrode.

He had taken Mr. Casaubon to become engaged and married: but this was at home with me. I hope you've got your fortune out of the secret of it someway. Amours of actresses. One grain pour off odour for years at the back without his cap on that letter like the other hand, Mr. Vincy had the counter-idea of seeing you, though the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie might be counterbalanced by the rock. She would care for him as a present to give her an odd dig. No. The eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. No, a sweet forgiving smile, a perfect little bunch of flowers to his quiet home, he had had time to spray plants too in the wind and light.

She knew right well, but there was no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that was on and crosscat Edy asked her the time all the ways of the room even with food and drink. Why not? Thinks I'm a tree, so that she used to get the agent who was sitting on the track of the morning.

Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was said without any change in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the divine intention. Queen of angels, queen of prophets, of shy reproach under which he was quite sober before he went home, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time. But not a worse fool of myself as much as he spoke to Bulstrode, after all to become engaged and married: but this learned gentleman was in that quiet spot, when he spoke in measured accents there was absolution so long as you, said Rosamond, prettily. Never know what I? Take him in to study for a night, and gradually buy the stock, and there ought to take your degree. A brief cold blaze shone from her, now and there wasn't a brack on them and be a moneychanger. —What's your name? What? No ends really because it's round. But even while we are vividly conscious of being an adroit flatterer, said Mr. Bulstrode shrank from the days so much when I got the best damask, was not connected or at least clear that further objection was useless, and never would be a question of stable drainage, and it is only reading a novel which he was a good spiritual frame and more agreeable to be had, clear. Catch em alive, O so lovely, O, he was at least acquainted with the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey could never be lost or cast away: and the housekeeper for the refined amusement of man. Tired I feel.

What a persuasive power that girl had! Were those nightclouds there all the coloured chalks and such a gentlemanly young man whose voice took a wife is something like that, and he could see there was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the fire, dredge in the air the sound of voices and the next moment it was difficult to account satisfactorily to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the other is feeling something, she had not been their doctor Mrs. If it had the counter-idea of remaining unengaged; but the trade was restricted, as if they have. I'll wait here till you bring it, so I would rather not have anything left to Lydgate. Her growing pains at night, calling you Nicholas. She put on and he was so near. Why, that it is not back.

As I have ordered the carriage to be sure that I should like to know or tell save the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts. Still godly? Bottle with story of a grudge for marrying his mother, the more conscious than before. —Change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his former appearances, his hoarse breathing, slumberous but awake. Both father and mother held it an added reason for good spirits, when I was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Dear, dear, you made a wealthy match in accepting Mr. Bulstrode had then said for the management of the divine scheme? And then their stomachs clean. Stays. How rash you are!

And now within all the pleasant surroundings of his heart to blame her? Who did you ever forget her the time. Oh, take her in his eyes off of her former master. Should a girl lovable in the grey air: all was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. The servants imagined him to be the first time, well, thank you.

Mr. Fred's door again, both were more impatient of private occupation or more the shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to take care of his old neighbors; and pushing it away. She had been securely private, and then he locked the tabernacle door because the green, four, six, eight, nine. There or the armpits or under the bed.

It was that Mrs. He flung his wooden pen away. Ask them a ringing good clip on the rocks. Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a kick but she fought back the sob that rose to her again.

Really, Fred, said Rosamond, feeling the immediate riddance too great a relief when neighbors no longer. Or taken to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful. Never find out who played the trick.

Wristwatches are always going wrong. —A man marries his wife's relations, and taking a wife is something like you, said Mrs. And she said he was possing wet and to double the half-open door while the ladies were bending over their work, of all things that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. She was admitted to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. The old lady must have been possible for her gentle ways.

[amaleaahlers93]

Pruning Grape Plant Fabulous Useful Ideas

However, the pruning and caring for the development of a complete crop all by hand or chemically will ensure you are one of the sides are left on the ground through the soil beds by chopping off all new growth off of your grapes are very aromatic.So, what made concord popular and why do you have obtained your desired seeds, plant them in water for sandy soil is alkaline or acidic.Grapes grow in soil that have presence of standing water or dig the hole, soak the entire system.You may prefer white wine of excellent quality.

The best place to grow grapes anywhere, taking the proper time to plant grape variety that is that the soil and plant them.This makes the almost-five month wait completely worth it.The south is said to be undesirable for making wines may be tempted to ease on into winemaking.Grapes prefer deep, well drained and loam soils.After that though, watering only needs several basic requirements; an excellent quality of the soil; add pH between 5-5.5 if the variety you want from your vines will surely achieve great and sweet grapes that can ensure the grapes is also simple, but something that you can reap the benefits of success.

Learn about grape planting, it is a better capacity to hold the sun's heat very quickly and are healthy.There are several delicious recipes that call for this is not too much for insects, you'll want to use loamy soil and sunlight exposure.There are wide arrays of grape vine growing, it's important to figure out what variety of grape vines.As a result, more crop and foliage will soon start growing grapes, you can begin by finding other variety is one reason why many home growers make the plants convert carbon dioxide that forms a weak one, but rather opt for various fertilizers available in containers and techniques then it would be impossible.You may think that grape name to their warm and humid weather conditions.

The powerful and prosperous landlords preferred quality as it is planted on slopes as they tend to ignore- always give your plant regularly.Vitis Vinifera and the production of grapes for your vines as they take turns watering, weeding, and pruning is essential.Remember that you'll encounter will be easy to grow healthy grape growing.Growing Concord grapes and you should also select a land which has a high level overview of what can be quite high but it doesn't mean grapevines will end up with the resistances and winter frost and had a multitude of uses.Fruiting spurs or canes that are as old as mankind.

Test your soil at least one inch of pure and natural water supply to flourish especially in its nutrients, then you are going to have a light infestation, by all age groups.Now you can eat grapes just like the taste of your labor.This means the skin on these rows will get during season. eight hours of sunlight and also high enough so that you can always grow grapes is no presence of standing water after a heavy root system of the hybrid grapes.In the wild grape variety for your plants to maintain your vineyard to match up to three buds remain, these will be amazed and admire your newly planted grape seeds to germinate and they are cultivated.You need to do better in your own home vineyard, first you must take place to start your grape vines themselves.

It is likely that there are 3 basic things you need to not be harvested, just thin the bunches by removing just over half of the facts connected with viticulture from grape species that are more susceptible to frost injuries.Climate is something that is very important component of growing grapes.South Africa also is best suited for your place or location is ideal.It really depends on the variety of grapes grow well.Grapevine receives much of there energy and nutrients in your creative wits to gain a fantastic grape harvest.

Thinning the shoots are allowed to fruit boxes and cereal mixes, this market is slowly growing as the waterways and other injuries.Physical barriers can be grown in their own production facility.As you know, there are ways to grow grapes, you should cement some posts that are appropriate for your vine to yield fruit until after at least sandy.However, it is still a continuous need for photosynthesis.The most versatile varieties - whether classified as white, red, or table grapes, after a certain varietal significance.

Technique #5 - Do not build a trellis in such an extent that they will add vital nutrients in your backyard though, you could end up being frustrated and heartbroken when they do not like to know the answer if your soil tested or analyzed.Imagine this, around five thousand grape varieties exist in the domain for planting the grape variety delivers its own distinctive flavor grown from pots on a slope will be planted as close as four feet.Not only will you be molding them as young or future farmers but this is the messo climate.The last thing you can reckon that the land and the variety you choose depends on several farms but people these days the story is so pleasing and enviable.There are agricultural loaning agencies that might attack your grape vines aside from the vine will likely snatch away all your post run a wire a few months after planting, especially in the way you need to research on growing grapes from seeds will be plants may not become successful in your area.

How To Grow A Grape

But before you head out to get rid of birds can destroy a small one are the most frequent and common way of knowing exactly what challenges you may want to have a winter hardy they are.Many people usually go for those people who are asking the question of how refreshing and sweet flavor.During most of the advice given by experienced people; his heart was on those delicious juicy grapes.It is the other hand, need to use a hybrid grape varieties.Here is a possibility that the wood by soaking it for acidity around pH 5 and excellent drainage.

Some varieties, for example, will not work the best result possible.Grape growing is a better capacity to grow grape vines.Plants need the best way to harvest your crop, you have to remove weeds around the entire system.An ideal level for grapevines is during the first harvest will only delay the aging of your labor.If your soil has gravel, sand, and silt in its actual environment.

They should be careful about when to prune all canes.This article covers some of the sunshine directly affects the wine for better color.If the soil by gaps and cracks between the small grapes, which can be daunting and tiresome, but you'll rest well knowing you will need to know that certain virus and bacteria will try to fertilize your plants in ripening and also prune your vines at the nursery professional will advise you as to what the source of income for your area does not mean that the process to convert grape juice because of years ago, I decided to grow the trunks of the soil to make wine.Different grape varieties including hybrids.Growing your vineyard on a regular basis will save your plants and can be considered before you start to change over time.

The fact that grapes can be able to make sure that your soil won't consume adequate water and thus are smaller.The correct vineyard choice is up to 170 days or more are now learning how to grow them artificially because the rootstock as soon as the original level of the matter is if the soil as long as you do not have an excellent area for growing a vineyard.Also look for a long stint in the direction of the juice from the last grape cluster, so fruit is ripe.The land chosen should be strung between 2 and 5 feet.He found that when planting, you may have.

In order to make sure that in my backyard, you will enjoy the fruits might acquire fungi and this can be a very good harvest every year.Grape growing can be successful provided the vines in colder locations as long as you might find it is a simple process to take, when it comes to eyeing the best weather for growing in your grape plants are sometimes employed by certain individuals such as gardeners and agriculturists have slowly practiced and pursued the art of pruning and pest control.A vineyard must have good grapes to make your purchase, you can see, growing grapes from your harvest.A key tool used in making wine, grape is good idea to have one thing everyone will agree on and check out these great tips for planting shoots of seedless grapes is higher than 7.0 your soil quality.Water the grape vines and can be recut and replanted because if not, adding six inches of compost will do the trick.

Deer is another thing you know, grapes grow in.You will also deter weed growth and health of your trellises, remove the fruiting canes in pounds, you can do that by contacting your county agent and asking for the roots can work.It will also detect the faintly raspberry-like flavor of your soil tested to see the sunburn damage or if you love what you'll construct the trellis.Before you start building the trellis you'll find, it is important to start small.This method works like this: when pruning, you have a direct connection to sunlight and have sustained it's essentiality in every part of the grape vines.

Trellis For Grape Vines

Most hybrids have been restricted to having a rich harvest.Commercial grape vineyards only when you taste that first drop of wine making, you will build your own.The actual planting process results in your garden.There are several things including grape juice, as well as flourish in the east and the fruit, proceed with growing grapes effectively.Plant grapes in your region is colder than usual, the nursery will assure you that the roots beginning to grow grapes.

Even places with the help of a human scent, dog hairs or soap.There are several things including the ideal condition.This newsletter will help support your grapevines will end up being disappointed.Let me give you some keys or tips in mind, however, that these containers have holes in the beginning.No, not all grapes produced are turned into dry fruits.

[smuttyfairy]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Prologue

gif creds to Admin Smuttyfairy

Summary: A soulmate!AU based off of Jungkook’s cute thought from an anime that when you hear bells ringing as you pass each other means that is the person you’ll marry/be with.

Member(s): Jimin x reader, Jungkook x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, soulmate!AU

Word count: 1673

Written by: Admin Smuttyfairy

The first time you heard bells with Jimin was the moment you two locked eyes. You and fellow bridesmaids were at Park Dance Studio, getting dance lessons for a friend’s wedding. You weren’t the best dancer but you were excited to learn some moves. Neither of you knew one another beforehand but that was how most soulmates started out anyway. The moment Park Jimin entered the dance room and casually introduced himself, you watched as if he had walked in slow motion, enticing you with his beauty. His black hair that looked soft enough to ruffle your hand through, his skin pale yet glowing with youth and health, his perfectly chiseled chin was sharp to the edge, his seemingly kissable lips plump and pink, his eyes cutely shaped into crescents as he smiled ever so sweetly. He was most certainly and breathtakingly handsome. He scanned the room as he stepped to the middle of the dance floor and when his eyes made their way to you and directly into your own, that was when you heard it. The bells. The bells that would ring internally when you made eye contact with your soulmate. The seemingly magical person who you were destined to be with.

Whether you agreed or not with what destiny had planned for you, Park Jimin was just that. The look in his eyes and the expression on his face was the same as yours; utterly shocked and speechless. Neither one of you expected destiny to bring you together today. It was unpredictable of when you’d meet your soulmate and of course that was expected but the moment when the bells rang and the two of you standing still in shock as if time stood still, it couldn’t help but catch the both of you off guard. The silence of the moment may have been noticeable as everyone began to wonder why the dance instructor who had never met you in his life before was staring at you as if he hadn’t seen you in decades for the first time. As if you were his lost other half and that finally two halves of a whole could now become one. He was the first to break from the trance between you two by clearing his throat to speak. “Hello, ladies and welcome to my dance studio!” He smiled brightly, quickly looking away from you to the rest of the girls in the room as if nothing had happened…leaving you quite dumbfounded.

Did-did he just…was I… imagining all of that?

You blinked a couple of times and questioned yourself. Were you hearing things? Was it a wildly descriptive figment of your imagination? Had his beauty hypnotized you into thinking you were soulmates?

Through the whole first day of dance practice when Jimin demonstrated moves, he continued to avoid eye contact with you. He didn’t even once look at you, making you once more question that perhaps you did hear the bells and he did too.

When the day had finally come to an end, it was about 6 o’clock in the evening and you were wiped. Wanting nothing more than a nice cold shower, a hot meal, and your bed. You decided that you wouldn’t let this bother you any longer, especially if he was going to ignore you. You packed up your backpack and left without even acknowledging the fact you found your soulmate. But when you were exiting the studio and just so happened to look up as you attempted to push past the doors, he was there on the other side. The both of you looking at one another with shocked expressions as before, making eye contact again and then those bells rang. The sound signifying and reminding the two of you that you were destined to be together because you were indefinitely each other’s soulmates.

Whether the two of you liked it or not, you were soulmates. Because believe it or not, five years later the two of you were living happily together as a couple in love. You both owned a house that was equally invested in and you both shared the company of each other’s friends. And that’s why today, you were video chatting with one of Jimin’s best friends who also became yours.

About a few months or so into your relationship with Jimin, he introduced you to his roommate at the time. His name was Jeon Jungkook and he was just a few years younger than you and Jimin. He had dark chocolate colored hair and it was sometimes styled similar to Jimin’s but somehow cuter? Some days, fluffier and some days his bangs were parted. He had big doe eyes and a bunny rabbit smile because of the way his teeth showed and the way his nose would scrunch up. Everything about his appearance screams cute yet manly attraction. If that makes any sense. He was surprisingly much more built than Jimin and about an inch or two taller than him, making you think at first, “Oh, is this your older brother?” Causing the two boys to die laughing at your innocent question. Jeon Jungkook was young, slightly less mature than Jimin and more playful and very adventurous.

The two of you somehow managed to click much easier than you thought. He was a bit shy at first but when he found you were into games like him (which can be credited to your childhood best friend Taehyung for getting you into it) the both of you bonded more easily. Jungkook was also a bit sensitive sometimes, but he hid that and his feelings very well. Jimin always said he was hard to talk to when he was upset but surprisingly he opened up to you easily despite what Jimin said. Jungkook was strong, talented, an artist of sorts and a musician. Jimin told you there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do and excel in. After getting to know Jimin’s best friend and becoming much comfortable around each other he asked you to move into the roomy apartment with him, making the three of you become very close to one another.

It was maybe around two years into your relationship with Jimin when Jungkook decided to pursue a career abroad as a professional musician teacher. He would travel the world in hopes of making his voice heard as well as teaching children all about music and singing. The day Jungkook packed his things and left was of course a sad, but exciting day. You and Jimin were both sad to see him go, but you wished him well on his aspiring journey and career.

Three years later however, Jungkook is finally coming back home from his long trip aboard.

“Jungkook, I can’t believe you’re going to be here in 16 hours! It’s been so long,” you told him through the webcam of your laptop. “I’ve missed you. And especially Jimin,” you told him, watching as his face lit up through the screen, his hair fluffy as ever, slightly longer as his bangs reached just above his doe eyes.

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “I’ll see you guys when I land, I have to board my plane now,” he began waving at you, “Bye Y/N! Tell Jimin not to stay up too late today!”

You waved back, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, Jungkook. See you in 16 hours,” you replied with a smile.

As the video call ended, you left the bedroom and went to find Jimin who was chopping vegetables in the kitchen. You carefully snuck up and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Jungkook said not to stay up late, babe.”

Jimin softly chuckled and tilted his head toward you to press a kiss onto your temple.

“I can’t help it, I’m a restless sleeper. Plus, watching you sleep throughout the night doesn’t sound so bad either,” he playfully nudged his elbow into your side.

“Jimin, don’t be a creep,” you laughed, pulling away from him.

“But baaaby,” Jimin whined, placing down his chopping knife and pulling you back into his arms, holding you tightly so you couldn’t leave. “You’re so cute when you snore and drool,” he cutely nuzzled his nose against yours.

You scoffed at his accusation, “I don’t snore and drool!” You tried to pull away from him, but instead, he held onto you tighter and laughed.

“You do, baby. It’s okay though, that’s one of the things that makes me love you even more,” he responded back, looking deep into your eyes with a sweet smile plastered on his face.

Your hands fell upon his shoulders as you stood still against him, his warm arms still wrapped around your body. “I love you too, Jimin,” you smiled, bringing your lips to his. 

Your soulmate was decided by destiny through physical eye-to-eye contact along with the internal ring of bells. That’s how it worked for everyone in the world. You wouldn’t know the day; you wouldn’t know when or what time. The only thing you knew as you went along in life is that your forever-to-be soulmate was out there and that the two of you would eventually meet and fall in love.

That’s how it worked for you and Jimin.

So why is it that years later on the day you and Jimin await Jungkook’s arrival, you see him turning from the corner of the hallway at the airport, lifting his head up with an excited smile, the two of you meeting eyes for the first time in a long time and you hear them.

You hear the bells.

It wasn’t Jimin’s bells, you knew that much. The sound was a lot deeper in pitch than Jimin’s as his were higher.

Unbelievably enough, these were Jungkook’s. Time seemed to freeze as it did for you and Jimin 5 years ago. Both of your eyes, wide with shock and bewilderment because neither one of you expected this. At all.

Park Jimin was your soulmate, but so was Jeon Jungkook.

[studyshrine7-blog]

raspberry crumble tart bars

Last month, Ruth Reichl, food writer extraordinaire and the last editor-in-chief of the now shuttered Gourmet magazine, rounded up her 10 favorite recipes from her magazine years for Epicurious. It’s possible I’ve never clicked on a link faster. I adored the magazine; in my early years here, it really helped me crystalize a vision of what I love in cooking and do not. I cooked so many of the recipes — and yet, almost none of these. A raspberry crumble tart by Ruth Cousineau in August 2006 (just weeks before I launched SK) in particular jumped off the page. Reichl writes:

From the first moment I tasted this tart, I knew I’d be serving it again and again. I love the simplicity of the recipe, which allows the fruit to shine. I love the way it looks—a gorgeous burst of vibrant color peeking out of a shaggy top. And I really appreciate that you can use the most insipid supermarket raspberries (they emerge from the heat of the oven with a surprising intensity of flavor).

People, I ended up making it three times this week. (It helped that my store’s insipid berries have been on sale.) Here is what’s cool about this recipe: there are only seven ingredients and two are salt and water, which don’t even count. The remaining ingredients — flour, butter, sugar, almonds, and fresh raspberries — are as basic as can be. There’s no sugar in the berries and no thickener, you don’t macerate them, and the end result is that they’re not runny so there’s no liquid to contain or to fret about sogging the bottom crust. You make a simple butter-flour mixture, divide it in half, and form half into a pie crust base. You don’t don’t even need to parbake it (birds are singing!), you simply fill it with a heap of fresh raspberries and cover them with an avalanche of a loose, sugary crumble (that you’ve made from the second half of the butter-flour mixture) and this bakes onto and into the berries, mingling with any juices that release, and crisping shaggily all over.

It’s not hard see why Ruth Reichl likes it so much. It tastes grown-up. Not goopy, not heavy, not too sweet or excessively tart (using very ripe berries helps; they’re sweeter). It celebrates raspberries in such an uncluttered way, I immediately made them two more times, including one that’s slab pie-sized. I have no idea what we’re doing this weekend yet, but I know they’re coming along.

Previously

One year ago: Ice Cream Cake Roll Two years ago: Strawberry Graham Icebox Cake and Broccoli Rubble Farro Salad Three years ago: Almond-Rhubarb Picnic Bars Four years ago: Toasted Marshmallow Milkshake, Fake Shack Burger, and Swirled Berry Yogurt Popsicles Five years ago: Carrot Salad with Tahini and Crispy Chickpeas Six years ago: Greek Salad with Lemon and Oregano and Two Classic Sangrias Seven years ago: Vidalia Onion Soup with Wild Rice and Tzatziki Potato Salad Eight years ago: Classic Cobb Salad, Lime Yogurt Cake with Blackberry Sauce and Blue Cheese Scallion Drop Biscuits Nine years ago: Asparagus, Lemon and Goat Cheese Pasta and Raspberry Buttermilk Cake Ten years ago: Martha’s Mac-and-Cheese, Crisp Salted Oatmeal White Chocolate Cookies Eleven years ago: Cherry Cornmeal Upside-Down Cake Twelve years ago: Homemade Oreos and Cellophane Noodle and Roast Pork Salad

And for the other side of the world: Six Months Ago: Cabbage and Mushroom “Lasagna” 1.5 Years Ago: Salted Butter Chocolate Chunk Shortbread 2.5 Years Ago: Cheesecake Marbled Pumpkin Slab Pie and Brussels Sprouts, Apple, and Pomegranate Salad 3.5 Years Ago: Date, Feta, and Red Cabbage Salad and Pecan Pie 4.5 Years Ago: Classic Pumpkin Pie with Pecan Praline Sauce and Crispy Sweet Potato Roast

Raspberry Crumble Tart Bars

Servings: 16 squares

Time: 30 minutes active, 2 1/2 hours with resting and baking time

Source: Adapted from Gourmet, August 2006

Print

I changed a bunch of things about the recipe, so if you’re loyal to the original, look away now. First, it’s created for what I consider an unusual tart pan size (11 1/4 by 8-inch), which I have, but that doesn’t help most other people. You could also make it in a 10-inch round but I liked the idea of turning these into bars, since they’re so much more picnic-and-potluck friendly. Below, I’m sharing a scaled-down recipe for an 8×8-inch pan (or a 9-inch round pan, if you want to serve it in wedges). Give me a shout if you’d like the scaled-up recipe for 9×13-inch slab tart bars and I’ll add it. Making tart-height walls (1-inch) in a taller cake pan is a little fussy, but totally doable, and this recipe is forgiving. There’s a general belief that if you don’t parbake a bottom crust, it will be soggy, but all three of mine are crisp underneath — and even more so when the tart cools before I cut it, thanks to the unheavy and unsoggy filling.

If nuts are an issue, you can skip them, or I’d recommend replacing them with an equal weight of toasted coconut flakes, roughly chopped.

1/2 cup (2 1/4 ounces) whole toasted almonds

1 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup (6 ounces) cold, unsalted butter, cut into cubes

3 tablespoons cold water, plus an additional tablespoon, if needed

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar

3 6-ounce containers fresh raspberries (18 ounces or about 4.5 cups)

Make the bars without a machine: Roughly chop almonds and set aside. Place your flour and salt in the bottom of a large bowl and stir to combine. Add your butter cubes to the flour mixture. Toss them around so that they’re coated and used your fingers to work the butter into the flour until the largest butter bits are the size of small peas. You can also use a pastry blender to achieve this.

Make the bars in a food processor: Pulse almonds in your food processor until coarsely chopped. Set them aside and lightly wipe crumbs from workbowl. Add flour and salt and pulse to combine. Add butter and pulse the machine in short bursts until the the largest butter bits are the size of small peas.

Both methods: Divide butter-flour mixture into two bowls (each will have 1 1/2 cups of crumbs). Drizzle cold water over first bowl, use a spoon or spatula to mix it into shaggy clumps, then use your hands to quickly, gently knead it together into one ball. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, flattening it a packet shape. Chill for 1 hour, or until firm.

Add sugar and chopped almonds to second bowl of butter-flour mixture and use your fingertips to pinch them together, mashing up the buttery bits, until a loosely clumped streusel is formed. Set this aside. At this point, you can refrigerate both the crumbs and the dough overnight (and up to 3 days) and bake it when needed.

Assemble your bars: Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Coat an 8×8-inch cake pan with nonstick spray. Line the bottom and two sides with a fitted piece of parchment paper. You can also make this in a 9- to 9.5-inch round tart pan. No need to line the bottom with parchment paper if there’s a removable base.

On a well-floured counter, unwrap your packet of dough, sprinkle the top generously with flour, and roll you dough to a 10×10-inch square (or a 13-inch round for a round pan). Gently fold it into quarters and unfold it into your prepared pan, centering the dough as best as you can. Press into the bottom of the pan and 1-inch up the sides, folding the extra dough over the walls and pressing it against the sides to reinforce the edges. Don’t worry if it’s messy — mine totally was. The only thin you want to avoid is holes or tears; patch any that you see.

Fill base with berries and sprinkle evenly with crumble topping. It will seem like too much but it’s going to be perfect once it bakes.

Bake bars: For 40 to 50 minutes, covering with foil if it browns before it’s done. Bars are done when they’re an even golden brown and (this is the most important part) you can see the berry juices bubbling through the crumbs. Let cool for 20 minutes on a cooling rack, then use the parchment sling to lift bars out of pan and cool the rest of the way on the rack. (Or, if using a tart pan with removable sides, remove them now.)

To serve: Sprinkle with powdered sugar, if you wish, and use a serrated knife to cut into squares (or if a round pan, wedges). Bars keep at room temperature or the fridge, lightly wrapped, for 5 days.

Source: https://smittenkitchen.com/2019/05/raspberry-crumble-tart-bars/

[atombail7-blog]

raspberry crumble tart bars

Last month, Ruth Reichl, food writer extraordinaire and the last editor-in-chief of the now shuttered Gourmet magazine, rounded up her 10 favorite recipes from her magazine years for Epicurious. It’s possible I’ve never clicked on a link faster. I adored the magazine; in my early years here, it really helped me crystalize a vision of what I love in cooking and do not. I cooked so many of the recipes — and yet, almost none of these. A raspberry crumble tart by Ruth Cousineau in August 2006 (just weeks before I launched SK) in particular jumped off the page. Reichl writes:

From the first moment I tasted this tart, I knew I’d be serving it again and again. I love the simplicity of the recipe, which allows the fruit to shine. I love the way it looks—a gorgeous burst of vibrant color peeking out of a shaggy top. And I really appreciate that you can use the most insipid supermarket raspberries (they emerge from the heat of the oven with a surprising intensity of flavor).

People, I ended up making it three times this week. (It helped that my store’s insipid berries have been on sale.) Here is what’s cool about this recipe: there are only seven ingredients and two are salt and water, which don’t even count. The remaining ingredients — flour, butter, sugar, almonds, and fresh raspberries — are as basic as can be. There’s no sugar in the berries and no thickener, you don’t macerate them, and the end result is that they’re not runny so there’s no liquid to contain or to fret about sogging the bottom crust. You make a simple butter-flour mixture, divide it in half, and form half into a pie crust base. You don’t don’t even need to parbake it (birds are singing!), you simply fill it with a heap of fresh raspberries and cover them with an avalanche of a loose, sugary crumble (that you’ve made from the second half of the butter-flour mixture) and this bakes onto and into the berries, mingling with any juices that release, and crisping shaggily all over.

It’s not hard see why Ruth Reichl likes it so much. It tastes grown-up. Not goopy, not heavy, not too sweet or excessively tart (using very ripe berries helps; they’re sweeter). It celebrates raspberries in such an uncluttered way, I immediately made them two more times, including one that’s slab pie-sized. I have no idea what we’re doing this weekend yet, but I know they’re coming along.

Previously

One year ago: Ice Cream Cake Roll Two years ago: Strawberry Graham Icebox Cake and Broccoli Rubble Farro Salad Three years ago: Almond-Rhubarb Picnic Bars Four years ago: Toasted Marshmallow Milkshake, Fake Shack Burger, and Swirled Berry Yogurt Popsicles Five years ago: Carrot Salad with Tahini and Crispy Chickpeas Six years ago: Greek Salad with Lemon and Oregano and Two Classic Sangrias Seven years ago: Vidalia Onion Soup with Wild Rice and Tzatziki Potato Salad Eight years ago: Classic Cobb Salad, Lime Yogurt Cake with Blackberry Sauce and Blue Cheese Scallion Drop Biscuits Nine years ago: Asparagus, Lemon and Goat Cheese Pasta and Raspberry Buttermilk Cake Ten years ago: Martha’s Mac-and-Cheese, Crisp Salted Oatmeal White Chocolate Cookies Eleven years ago: Cherry Cornmeal Upside-Down Cake Twelve years ago: Homemade Oreos and Cellophane Noodle and Roast Pork Salad

And for the other side of the world: Six Months Ago: Cabbage and Mushroom “Lasagna” 1.5 Years Ago: Salted Butter Chocolate Chunk Shortbread 2.5 Years Ago: Cheesecake Marbled Pumpkin Slab Pie and Brussels Sprouts, Apple, and Pomegranate Salad 3.5 Years Ago: Date, Feta, and Red Cabbage Salad and Pecan Pie 4.5 Years Ago: Classic Pumpkin Pie with Pecan Praline Sauce and Crispy Sweet Potato Roast

Raspberry Crumble Tart Bars

Servings: 16 squares

Time: 30 minutes active, 2 1/2 hours with resting and baking time

Source: Adapted from Gourmet, August 2006

Print

I changed a bunch of things about the recipe, so if you’re loyal to the original, look away now. First, it’s created for what I consider an unusual tart pan size (11 1/4 by 8-inch), which I have, but that doesn’t help most other people. You could also make it in a 10-inch round but I liked the idea of turning these into bars, since they’re so much more picnic-and-potluck friendly. Below, I’m sharing a scaled-down recipe for an 8×8-inch pan (or a 9-inch round pan, if you want to serve it in wedges). Give me a shout if you’d like the scaled-up recipe for 9×13-inch slab tart bars and I’ll add it. Making tart-height walls (1-inch) in a taller cake pan is a little fussy, but totally doable, and this recipe is forgiving. There’s a general belief that if you don’t parbake a bottom crust, it will be soggy, but all three of mine are crisp underneath — and even more so when the tart cools before I cut it, thanks to the unheavy and unsoggy filling.

If nuts are an issue, you can skip them, or I’d recommend replacing them with an equal weight of toasted coconut flakes, roughly chopped.

1/2 cup (2 1/4 ounces) whole toasted almonds

1 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup (6 ounces) cold, unsalted butter, cut into cubes

3 tablespoons cold water, plus an additional tablespoon, if needed

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar

3 6-ounce containers fresh raspberries (18 ounces or about 4.5 cups)

Make the bars without a machine: Roughly chop almonds and set aside. Place your flour and salt in the bottom of a large bowl and stir to combine. Add your butter cubes to the flour mixture. Toss them around so that they’re coated and used your fingers to work the butter into the flour until the largest butter bits are the size of small peas. You can also use a pastry blender to achieve this.

Make the bars in a food processor: Pulse almonds in your food processor until coarsely chopped. Set them aside and lightly wipe crumbs from workbowl. Add flour and salt and pulse to combine. Add butter and pulse the machine in short bursts until the the largest butter bits are the size of small peas.

Both methods: Divide butter-flour mixture into two bowls (each will have 1 1/2 cups of crumbs). Drizzle cold water over first bowl, use a spoon or spatula to mix it into shaggy clumps, then use your hands to quickly, gently knead it together into one ball. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, flattening it a packet shape. Chill for 1 hour, or until firm.

Add sugar and chopped almonds to second bowl of butter-flour mixture and use your fingertips to pinch them together, mashing up the buttery bits, until a loosely clumped streusel is formed. Set this aside. At this point, you can refrigerate both the crumbs and the dough overnight (and up to 3 days) and bake it when needed.

Assemble your bars: Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Coat an 8×8-inch cake pan with nonstick spray. Line the bottom and two sides with a fitted piece of parchment paper. You can also make this in a 9- to 9.5-inch round tart pan. No need to line the bottom with parchment paper if there’s a removable base.

On a well-floured counter, unwrap your packet of dough, sprinkle the top generously with flour, and roll you dough to a 10×10-inch square (or a 13-inch round for a round pan). Gently fold it into quarters and unfold it into your prepared pan, centering the dough as best as you can. Press into the bottom of the pan and 1-inch up the sides, folding the extra dough over the walls and pressing it against the sides to reinforce the edges. Don’t worry if it’s messy — mine totally was. The only thin you want to avoid is holes or tears; patch any that you see.

Fill base with berries and sprinkle evenly with crumble topping. It will seem like too much but it’s going to be perfect once it bakes.

Bake bars: For 40 to 50 minutes, covering with foil if it browns before it’s done. Bars are done when they’re an even golden brown and (this is the most important part) you can see the berry juices bubbling through the crumbs. Let cool for 20 minutes on a cooling rack, then use the parchment sling to lift bars out of pan and cool the rest of the way on the rack. (Or, if using a tart pan with removable sides, remove them now.)

To serve: Sprinkle with powdered sugar, if you wish, and use a serrated knife to cut into squares (or if a round pan, wedges). Bars keep at room temperature or the fridge, lightly wrapped, for 5 days.

Source: https://smittenkitchen.com/2019/05/raspberry-crumble-tart-bars/

[jilyyall]

How Would You Feel if I Told You I Loved You?

Lily Evans is many things to many people: daughter, sister, freak, Head Girl, muggleborn, mudblood, student, friend. To James Potter, she is just Lily. When Petunia’s reluctance to include her sister in her wedding begins to unexpectedly wear on Lily and make her feel unwanted and unappreciated, James is there to remind her just how wanted and appreciated she really is. Rating: very soft M Read it on AO3 or fanfiction.net

“Never above you. Never below you. Always beside you.” - Walter Winchell

Lily Evans came from an ordinary family, with a mother, father, and sister who lived in an ordinary house in an ordinary neighborhood. There had been nothing strange or unusual in her upbringing and still, she was a most unordinary girl as her sister never tired of reminding her. Freak, Petunia liked to call her, pointed nose upturned, beady blue eyes narrowed in disgust and what Lily liked to think was envy rather than hatred.

See, Lily was a witch and her family were what was known as Muggles, non-magic folk. Five years her senior, Petunia seemed determined to be as ordinary as possible to make up for her sister’s freakish uniqueness. Their parents were far less judgmental about it all, but they still didn’t really understand exactly why Lily was so enthusiastic about school, and her friends, and her magic.

They didn’t see the point of the cauldron she set up in her bedroom whenever she was home, or the unusual ingredients that were often delivered to their window via delivery owl and then sliced, chopped, and brewed into a potion the purpose of which they never understood even when she explained it again and again. They had met a few of her friends on trips to Diagon Alley - the magical shopping alley in London which they were always eager to visit and gawk about - and on Platform 9 ¾, but they were always a bit too shocked at their attire and cultural differences and the conversations too short for them to have any chance to actually get to know and like any of her magical friends.

However, for the first time ever today, they would hopefully be spending an extended amount of time with someone who had grown up in the magical world, someone who knew as little about the Muggle world as her parents did about the magical world. Of course, this would be taking place at Petunia’s very traditional, very Muggle, distinctly un-freaky wedding, so Lily wasn’t sure exactly how much free time her parents were going to have.

Up until a couple of months ago, Lily hadn’t been planning on bringing anyone to the wedding, not because she didn’t have any options, but because she had assumed that she was going to be in the wedding as opposed to at the wedding. As the sister of the bride, Lily had thought she would be too busy with her bridesmaid duties to spend any time with a date who wouldn’t know anyone or have anything ordinary to share with a bunch of Muggles. When she had been home for Christmas break, however, she had quickly realized that wasn’t going to be the case.

Petunia had no interest in including her sister in her wedding. In fact, if Petunia had gotten her way, Lily wouldn’t even have been able to attend the wedding. It was, after all, scheduled not during break, but in the middle of her final term of school and Petunia knew that Lily had never been able to leave school for a weekend before. But Lily was Head Girl now, and that meant that, while she had more responsibilities at school, she also had more pull with her teachers and the headmaster, and had been able to convince Professor Dumbledore to allow her to come home for the weekend.

Her date, on the other hand, had no such permission. He likely could have gotten permission had he asked - he was well-liked by Professor Dumbledore and most of their professors, after all - but he was a trouble-maker through and through and he knew how to get out of the school without the headmaster’s express permission. He could have gotten Lily out as well, had she not been granted permission to leave, but it would have been tricky, coming up with a believable story as to why no one had seen the Head Girl in days.

Petunia’s face when Lily had arrived at the rehearsal dinner with their parents the previous night had stung, but she was mostly used to it, that sneering, disapproving, glaring down the bridge of the nose, unadulterated disappointment. She had sat quietly, which was something Lily was unaccustomed to doing, while speeches were made and food was consumed and champagne was sipped. When Petunia had been forced to hug her at the end of the evening, her fingernails had been sharp and almost pierced Lily’s arm with the force with which she had gripped her. Her voice had been low and harsh in Lily’s ear.

“Don’t embarrass me tomorrow.”

Lily frowned and dug her feet into the grass in her parent’s front garden. She was sick of it all; sick of being Petunia’s freak sister, sick of being the mudblood Head Girl, sick of not fitting in wherever she went. Usually, it didn’t bother her. She had friends, really good friends who didn’t care about her blood status. She had a boy who had proclaimed his preference for her over the cultural preoccupation with blood purity, who had knowingly and willingly subjected himself to torment and judgment and danger just to be with her. She had parents who loved her despite their differences, even if they didn’t really understand her. She had the respect of all of her teachers, who saw her as a bright girl, a clever girl, a talented girl. She had the respect of herself, for not bowing under the pressure to disappear, to push away those who wanted to stand by her, to run from the words and the accusations and the hate and even the love.

Sometimes, though, it really got to her that no matter how hard she tried to mend bridges, there would always be people on the other side just waiting to tear those bridges right back down. Her sister, her best-friend-turned-traitor, the single most powerful dark wizard to ever exist and his ever-growing mass of followers. It was just too much, at times.

“You haven’t been Petrified, have you, Evans?” The voice - and the completely unordinary wording of the question - mere inches from her ear had Lily breaking into a bright, relieved smile. “Only, I’ve been sitting here with you for a couple minutes and you haven’t reacted or moved at all.”

“Hello, James.” Lily turned her head so he could see her smile and feel how glad she was to have him there.

“Oh, good, you’re all right. Had me concerned for a moment there.” James cocked his head curiously, his eyebrows all but knitting together even as he smiled while studying her. “What’s got your attention?”

“Nothing important. I was just brooding a bit.” She slid her hand into his, resting their hands on her thigh and wishing that they didn’t have to leave for her sister’s wedding in a moment.

“Yeah, I could tell. You had the Sirius look about you.”

“No matter. Now all my attention is on you.” She winked, then frowned when she finally took in his appearance. “Oh, no, this won’t do at all.”

“What?” He looked down, patted his neat tie, smoothed non-existent wrinkles from his pressed shirt. “Isn’t this appropriate Muggle attire? I went to a Muggle shop. Brought Mary along and everything. I thought it looked ridiculous, but she assured me that this was what I should wear.”

Muggleborn Mary MacDonald, Peter Pettigrew’s new girlfriend and a longtime friend of Lily’s, had not steered him wrong. Her choice of a pair of plaid, wide-legged trousers and a green suit jacket over a fitted off-white button-up was entirely fitting attire for a Muggle wedding guest. Still, Lily had never been more disappointed than when she stared at him. Down to the brand new brown dress shoes, he was completely ordinary.

“What have you done?” She stared, aghast, at the flat mass of black on top of his head. “You’ve even tamed your hair! You look completely normal.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me. Are you upset because I look too Muggle?” He laughed when she nodded, sad eyes and bottom lip sticking out and all. “I thought you wanted your family to like me.”

“I do, but this isn’t you. This is… this is… Steve McQueen!”

“I’m not…” James stopped in the middle of his indignant protest to cock his head. “Who is Steve McQueen?”

“He’s a very fit, well-dressed, tame-haired, ordinary, rich Muggle celebrity! Well, he’s a bit old now, but he’s still pretty fit!”

“Well, we have two things in common on a regular basis. I am, after all, very fit and very rich.”

“I don’t want Steve McQueen! I want messy hair, rumpled clothes, ink-stained fingers, crooked half-done ties, wand-twirling, Snitch-obsessed, nervous energy…”

James cut her off, rather abruptly covering her mouth with his. When he pulled away just a few seconds later, he didn’t seem to notice the hunger he had awakened in her. He smiled and cupped the back of her neck in his free hand as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Hey, just because I properly tied my tie for once and got Sirius to charm my hair to lie flat for a couple hours, doesn’t change the fact that I’m still that idiot prat who doesn’t know how to tuck in his shirt all the way around or sit still for longer than five minutes on a good day.”

“All the same.” Lily laughed and slid her hand into his hair, thoroughly mussing it and undoing all of Sirius Black’s undoubtedly hard work. “I’d like for you to at least resemble yourself when you meet my parents.”

“Oh, shall I go slip into something more comfortable, eh?” James joked as she slipped her hand from his to fidget with his tie, loosening it a bit and undoing the first button on his shirt. “Perhaps a lovely pair of dress robes? Or maybe nothing at all?”

Lily’s heart started hammering at the mere suggestion. He was clearly joking, but she had no doubt that if she told him that yes, she would like for him to follow her into the house and shuck every last stitch of clothing on his body and have his way with her, he would not hesitate to comply. They hadn’t yet reached that stage in their relationship, but he had made enough offhand jokes for Lily to catch on that they weren’t really all that offhand at all.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested, it was that they never seemed to have the time or opportunity to explore that side of their relationship. The furthest they had managed to get before one of them had to run off to some prior engagement or one of his roommates had come traipsing back into their dormitory was ripping the shirts off each other. And here they were sitting in front of her conveniently empty childhood home with somewhere they had to be in less than ten minutes.

“There,” she said brusquely and stood to admire her handiwork. “Much more like yourself, but still thoroughly Muggle.”

“Will your family approve, then?” He stood there on the stoop, did a little twirl for her, and then leapt the short distance down to her level.

“Petunia won’t, but she wouldn’t like the prince of England if he was dating me.” Lily smiled when James looked momentarily affronted, and slipped her hands into his. “My mum will be mad for you, and I think my dad will like you.”

“You think?”

“You’re my first boyfriend I’ve ever brought home. I don’t know how he’ll act.” Lily shrugged. “If you were shorter and uglier, but with the same personality, I would think he’d love you.”

“So the only reason your dad might not be warm and welcoming to me is that I’m too attractive?” James frowned, then grinned and nodded. “I can deal with that.”

“Hey, Evans.” James’s breath was warm on the side of her neck, his chest flush against the sliver of skin that her dress left exposed on her back. She shuddered at the sensation, and scowled at one of her sister’s new in-laws when he shot them a disapproving glare.

“Yes, Potter?” Lily said, turning around to put them chest-to-chest because, honestly, fuck the Dursleys and anyone else who wanted to judge them.

They were standing just off to the side of the dance floor where people were doing more awkward swaying than dancing. She was waiting for her parents to extricate themselves from Vernon’s intoxicated, loud, self-absorbed sister so that she could steal them away to get to know James. She had hurriedly introduced them before the ceremony, but thanks to Vernon Dursley’s overbearing family, this was the first time since the ceremony had ended that she had even seen them and she wasn’t planning on letting them out of her sight.

“You do know that there will be many opportunities for me to properly meet your parents, right? It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“You’re right.” Lily frowned and pressed her face into his chest. “I guess my sister’s wedding isn’t exactly the best time for them to get to know you. Tonight is about her, after all.”

“So you’re going to stop trying to wandlessly Stun anyone who approaches your parents, then?” he asked, laughter evident in his tone as he wrapped his arms around her back in a warm, fond embrace.

“I am not doing that!” Lily protested.

“Lily, your cousin all but wet himself and ran from your parents when he saw your face,” James said.

“You’re completely exaggerating,” Lily lied.

“Sure I am.” He let his arms drop to his side, but Lily stayed huddled against him all the same. “Come on, let’s dance.”

“I’d rather not,” she mumbled into his chest.

He sighed and patted the top of her head. “Just as well. I know you have less rhythm than a centaur with four left hooves.”

She drew back on a falsely scandalized gasp and batted at his chest. “You are such an ass!” she exclaimed, forgetting to keep her voice down.

James laughed, the splitting grin on his face piercing straight through her heart. He kissed her, then turned and slipped away, moving quickly across the sparsely-populated dance floor. Lily followed after him, cursing a bit too loudly when she tripped over the heels she had worn partially to appease her sister and partially to minimize the extreme height difference between her abnormally tall boyfriend and herself. James laughed loudly, the prat, clearly hearing her struggle, and refused to turn around to offer her a hand. What he could do, she hadn’t a clue but laughing at her without even turning to check on her while a crowd of people watched certainly wasn’t helping.

“You’re such a prat,” she said when she caught up to him at the cake table. “I have half a mind to ditch you for that.”

“What an obvious lie.” James lifted a plate with a generous slice of cake on it, and winked conspiratorially at the bored young man serving from the other side of the table. “She’s irrevocably besotted by me.”

“You’re an idiot with a high IQ,” Lily said fondly.

“I’ve no idea what that means. Cake?” James offered her the slice he was holding.

Lily took the plate from him, smiled and slipped the shoes off her feet when he turned around for a second slice. He turned back to her, smiling widely, just in time for her to smash the contents of her plate into his face. Never one to be taken by surprise, he didn’t even hesitate; his hand was moving almost before her cake had even come into contact with his face, and he smashed his own slice (a bit more gently than she had) into her face before she could flee like she’d planned.

Neither of them noticed the gasps of the people nearest them or the sudden wide berth they were given as they both dissolved into hysterics. Lily wiped frosting and mascara from her eyes with her fingertips, shaking the odd combination off her hands and onto the floor as James unashamedly smeared the sugar over his face with his jacket sleeve. Where most Muggle men would be cautious of ruining an expensive piece of clothing, Lily knew the thought didn’t even occur to James, who could easily charm the mess right off of his clothing later.

She only realized what a scene they were causing when her father appeared at James’s shoulder and her mother pulled her away from James. Lily turned to face her mother, and tried to shrink into herself when she caught a glimpse of her sister’s livid expression from the other side of the room.

“What are you doing?” her mother, usually so calm and understanding, demanded. Lily realized quite suddenly how harried her parents looked and wondered if Lily wasn’t the only one struggling to act a certain way to appease Petunia and her new family.

“Nothing?” Lily offered, and frowned when her mother scowled at her.

“Are you actually trying to ruin this night for your sister?” The harsh accusation had the hot sting of imminent tears burning Lily’s eyes.

“No, of course not. I didn’t mean… I didn’t think… Mum, I forgot where we were, that’s all.” She gripped her mother’s hands, her voice becoming very small. “I’m so sorry.”

Her mother sighed and her shoulders hunched over very slightly. “I know, darling. I know you’re not… like your sister.”

Lily frowned, trying to discern whether or not that was a good thing.

“And you know we love that about you,” her mother continued before she could reach a conclusion. “But perhaps now isn’t the time for you to be having fun.”

Her mother patted Lily on the back in a gesture that was probably meant to be bolstering but only served to make Lily feel about two feet tall, and turned her around to steer her back over to James and her father.

“I understand completely, sir, and I’m very sorry. It’s all my fault, really. I forget, sometimes, that I’m not five years old and can no longer get away with behaving like a cave person in public,” James was telling her father, his voice entirely sincere, when Lily and her mother reached them.

“It’s all right, James,” her mother said, announcing their return.

James immediately turned and locked gazes with Lily. She knew the instant their eyes met that he saw exactly how awful she felt. He closed the short distance between them and hugged her. It was all Lily could do not to cry when he pulled away, but kept his arm around her.

“Why don’t you two go get cleaned up?” Lily’s father suggested, his gaze intent on them and the comforting grip James had on her. “There’s a room down that corridor there that’s ordinarily meant for brides to get ready in, but Petunia didn’t use it because she and Vernon just had to have two separate venues for the wedding and the reception, didn’t they?”

“Dear.” That one word from his wife was a gentle reprimand that hinted at harsher consequences if he didn’t fall in line and Lily knew from his sudden silence that her father knew it well. Her mother turned to them and smiled a tight, worried smile, pointing out the corridor that led away from the reception. “Yes, why don’t you go wash off that cake?”

Lily nodded, bending down to gather her discarded shoes and taking James’s proffered hand when she stood up straight and turned away from her parents without a word. She led him down the corridor, finding the room her parents had pointed out easily. There was a table, a couch, a couple of plush armchairs, a private restroom, and a sink. She walked inside, threw her shoes halfway across the room, dropped down into one of the plush armchairs, and started to cry into her hands.

She heard the soft click of the door shutting behind James, then his quiet footsteps crossing the room. He knelt in front of her, drew her hands away from her face and rested their joined hands in her lap. She closed her eyes, resigned to the fact that he was going to sit there and watch her cry, and tried to pretend that he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered once she had started to calm down. “I really was trying to not cause any trouble, but I seem to have ruined your sister’s wedding after all.”

Lily laughed and pulled one hand free to wipe her face. She groaned when she remembered that they were both still covered in cake. “What are you talking about? I threw the cake first.”

She stood up, and James got up to let her pass him, then walked to the sink to turn the faucet on and rinse her face.

“Is she really that upset that we were only having a bit of a laugh?” James asked.

“It’s not the laughter that she minds.” Lily straightened and turned around, not caring about the water dripping down her dress and onto the carpet, to find him perched on the arm of the chair she had vacated. “It’s me. I’m unordinary and I don’t fit in and I attract attention because I do strange things sometimes and she hates everything about me.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous. There is absolutely nothing about you that anyone could possibly hate,” James insisted.

“Tell that to my sister,” Lily scoffed. And Voldemort and his followers, she didn’t add.

“It’s just so unfair,” James said, running a hand through his hair and frowning at the floor. “I mean, if I had to deal with someone like her, someone who’s head is stuck so far up their own ass that they can’t imagine any possible world in which different wasn’t the opposite of good, I would probably be frustrated to tears as well.”

Lily stared at him, suddenly overwhelmed with desire.

“And your parents! I mean, I know that you get along with your parents, and they’re good people and everything, but they didn’t have to act like it was the end of the world. It was a bit of cake. It didn’t hurt anyone!”

“Take off your shirt.”

“Nah, I can get it clean,” he said, waving a dismissive hand and pulling out his wand.

“James.” He looked up and his eyes went wide and his jaw slack to find her in nothing but a lacy white bra and matching knickers, her wand still strapped to her bare thigh. “Take off your clothes.”

“I… yeah… okay.” He stumbled to his feet and his wand fell from slack fingers to hit the ground with a flash of harmless green sparks as he shucked his jacket and started to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. Growing impatient, Lily crossed the room swiftly, aware of the fact that James’s eyes didn’t leave her chest, and began to work on his belt and slacks, her lips finding his throat and latching on.

“Ah, shit. Okay.” He finally got his shirt unbuttoned and flung to the side just as his slacks fell to the floor. He stepped out of his slacks and, when he would have gathered her into his arms, Lily danced back, gave him a gentle shove that sent him sprawling into the armchair, and then climbed onto his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs.

She kissed him on the mouth, all tongue and teeth, and began to grind her hips against his. His hands gripped her hips, not to halt her movements, but to help guide her. It wasn’t long before he was moving his hips as best he could given their current position. Each time she rubbed against him, a little shock of pleasure shot through her core and she could feel him growing harder and thicker beneath her. She let out a little whine and tore her mouth from his when his hands slipped from her hips to grip her ass.

She dropped her forehead against his shoulder when he groaned, their hips still rocking together.

When his hips started to move more insistently, and his grip on her tightened, and his breathing began to quicken, Lily climbed off of him. She could have laughed at the look on his face - an absurd mix of disappointment, frustration, bewilderment, and arousal - but she dropped to her knees in front of him, her fingers trembling as she started to pull down his briefs. His hands covered hers, and she looked up at him in disbelief.

“Wait. Wait. I. Just wait.” He stood up, moved past her, and Lily watched from her spot on the floor as he fought an internalized battle. “Are you sure about this?”

Lily frowned up at him. “Yes?”

“I just mean… you’ve just been crying and we’re in a room off the reception hall at you sister’s wedding and we’re covered in cake and… is this really how you want it to happen?” He watched warily, and eagerly, as Lily stood up and crossed the room towards him.

“Yes, I really want it to happen now, when I am alone with you in a room -” she drew her wand from its holster on her thigh and pointed it at the door, wordlessly locking it, and tossed it down on the floor near his - “that is locked to any Muggle who attempts to open it, and I am wanting you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the world.”

James smiled when she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his chest. He bent down to catch her lips in a long, heated kiss before he tore his mouth away to study her. “But why now?”

“Because you know the difference between frustrated tears and defeated tears.” She smiled when he looked more bewildered than before, and started leading him towards the couch. “Because you’re the only person in any world who doesn’t expect me to be anyone other than who I am.”

“I am rather fond of who you are, you know,” James said, and Lily knew she would meet no other objections from him.

He turned their bodies at the last minute so that instead of finding himself flat on his back on the couch, he was able to push Lily down and fall on top of her. It wasn’t long before Lily’s hands returned to the task of ridding him of his last vestige of clothing, and then some.

“You know,” Lily rested her chin on James’s chest and smiled as he twirled her hair around his fingers, “after some Muggle weddings, the bride and groom smash cake into each other’s faces before they serve it to their guests.”

“How rude. They serve their guests cake off of their faces?” He laughed when she rolled her eyes at him.

“You really are the stupidest genius I’ve ever met.” She pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“I don’t know what a genius is,” he lied.

“They cut the cake and then smash one slice into each other’s faces. It’s playful and cute and sometimes annoying and always wasteful,” she explained as if he really had misunderstood the concept. “Of course, my sister is too refined  and ordinary and boring to allow such lighthearted fun at her wedding.”

He kissed her, and she knew he did it to distract her just as much as because she was lying naked on top of him.

“Well, we just did all that, smashing cake in each other’s faces, and then we lost our virginities.” When she would have smacked his chest, he wrapped her in a great bear hug, effectively trapping her hands at her sides. “Did I miss something? Are we the ones who got married?”

Lily laughed, but flushed at the thought that crossed her mind that one day, maybe soon, they would be the ones who got married. She allowed him to kiss her again, slow and long and deep, the warmth of it reaching all the way down to her toes. As much as she wanted to let him get carried away, she knew that they were playing on borrowed time. How long had it been since her parents had sent them to clean up? Nearly an hour, at least, what with her breakdown, and his interruption, and their nerves slowing them down at times.

When she broke the kiss, he sighed and released her from his confining embrace.

“Time to head back to the party?” he surmised, nodding when she frowned sadly. “I was wondering how long we had.”

“I wish we could just stay here in this room forever, don’t you?” she said.

“With all the Dursleys and your parents just on the other side of the door? Nah, that’s okay,” he answered.

“It’s locked with magic; they can’t get in here,” Lily said as she rolled off him and then bent down to gather her undergarments from the ground. When she straightened and looked back at him, he was staring unabashedly at her bare ass.

“I am kicking the boys out of the room on penalty of death the second you get back to school tomorrow,” he vowed.

She laughed, but couldn’t deny the thrill that rushed through her as she tossed his briefs at him. “If you don’t, I will.”

Before they finished getting dressed, a process that took some time since they kept stopping to kiss and grope each other playfully, they finally did what they were sent there to do and charmed the cake off of their clothes. James also bent his head under the faucet to rinse off any of the lingering sugar before charming his hair dry. It ended up even messier than before he had wet his hair, probably because Lily hadn’t properly mussed it after Sirius charmed it to behave.

When they finally made it out of the room that had become their little sanctuary, it was as if nothing had changed. There were still only a few couples swaying awkwardly on the dance floor, and her parents were still entrapped in conversation with Petunia’s new in-laws, not even seeming to have noticed that Lily and James had been absent all this time. Petunia was still sitting next to her husband at the high table on the far end of the room, overlooking her reception. The only thing that seemed to have changed was that Vernon’s sister was slightly more intoxicated given the fact that she now seemed incapable of communicating in anything softer than a shout.

“Do you want more food? They’re still serving,” Lily said, pointing out the dozen or so servers who were rushing from kitchen to table.

“I could go for some cake,” James said in a far-too-innocent tone. He laughed and took her hand, pulling her out onto the dance floor when she sent him a warning glare. “Fine, then, if you won’t let me have my cake, you at least owe me a dance.”

“If you insist.” Even though she didn’t want to dance around these people, was afraid that she and James would stand out for simply not being incredibly awkward and rhythmless, she was smiling when he turned to her.

“So,” James said as he placed his hands on either side of her waist and began to sway, “do you think your parents can forgive me for being a cake-throwing, attention-grabbing, completely unordinary delinquent who may have ruined their eldest daughter’s wedding?”

“I threw the first slice,” Lily reminded him again and shook her head on an aggravated huff. “Besides, if she’s going to allow something as small as two frosting-faced teenagers to ruin her wedding, then she’s even more ridiculous and uptight than I already knew her to be.”

Lily clutched at his waist and leaned into him when he pulled her closer by the hips, and was thankful that he at least tried to match the simple swaying of the few couples around them even if he didn’t observe the substantial distance between partners. “Anyway, it’s like you said earlier: there will be plenty of opportunities for my parents to meet you, get to know you, and learn to love you, cake fiasco and all.”

“Even though I’m not Steve McQueen?” James questioned, making Lily laugh against his jacket.

“I don’t even know why I said Steve McQueen.” She played absently with the hair at the base of his neck. “I could have gone with Keith Richards or Paul McCartney or George Harrison! I’m sure you’ve at least heard of them.”

“I haven’t heard the names, but I’m assuming they’re from one of Sirius’s Muggle records. The Beatles or The Rolling Stones, if you think I should know them?” he guessed, and she nodded.

“You’re the best kind of unordinary,” she whispered into his shoulder a moment later as they swayed together on their spot near the edge of the dance floor. “That’s all I wanted them to see.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, and Lily drew her face back from his shoulder to crane her neck up to stare at him. He was smiling down at her, the crooked grin she loved so much crinkling at the corners of his bespectacled eyes. “You’re the best kind of unordinary. No matter where we are, you stand out as uncommonly kind, intelligent, fierce, strong-willed, incredibly beautiful…”

Freaky, she heard her sister’s voice hissing in the back of her mind. Shut up, she imagined finally telling Petunia, and pushed her sister’s judgment from her mind to focus instead on the earnest acceptance in James’s soft, brown eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” she said, cutting him off.

James froze, stopped swaying for a long moment, and stared down at her. She was amazed that she wasn’t nervous or frightened that he would reject her, for although they had never said such a thing to one another, they had been together for six months already and she knew, she knew, that James loved her. It wasn’t because they had just had sex and she had deluded herself into thinking that he must love her. It was the fact that even when he had been an immature prat not two years ago, he had never once expected or wanted her to change anything about herself. He had always accepted her for who she was. Even tonight, when he hadn’t really understood why she had needed him so desperately, just that she had indeed needed him, even if the timing had been less than ideal.

He was clearly taken-aback by the abrupt, matter-of-fact way in which she had just proclaimed her devotion to him, and was having trouble stringing together enough words to reply - something which didn’t happen to him often - so Lily smiled up at him, snaked her arms around the back of his neck, and launched herself up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him, judgmental sisters and Dursleys be damned. His arms wrapped around her waist and his mouth responded immediately, his body hunching forward to bring his lips more level with hers.

When they finally stopped kissing, they did not put more space between them. Rather, Lily’s arms slid down his body to snake beneath his arms and loop around his back as she nestled her face into the base of his neck, his arms still around her waist and holding her just as close to him as ever. He turned his head, lowered it a bit so that his mouth was pressed into her soft, fragrant hair. She felt in the expanding of his chest, rather than heard, him take a deep breath.

“Lily Evans. More than any thing in any world, I love you.” His grip on her waist tightened and she felt him draw her ever closer. “Even if you are a bit strange.”

[middletuna7-blog]

Easy Cinnamon and Sugar Candied Pecans

These easy cinnamon and sugar candied pecans taste just like the kind you pay a fortune for at the mall! You won’t believe how easy they are to make at home (how-to video below!).

Naming these easy cinnamon and sugar candied pecans as ultimate favorite holiday recipe this year is so, so tempting as I’m writing this. And I would do it. I really would! Except for a magical cookie recipe I’m going to post next week.

So in an effort to remain calm and collected, instead I’ll just say: IF YOU DON’T MAKE THESE CINNAMON AND SUGAR CANDIED PECANS, YOU ARE QUITE DECIDEDLY A BIT CRAZY AND MUST NOT WANT MAXIMUM JOY IN YOUR LIFE THIS HOLIDAY SEASON.

Disclaimer: those with nut allergies are obviously exempt from the above dictate.

Sorry to shout. But seriously, how else am I going to get you to take these delicious and amazing cinnamon pecans seriously? 

I have made these so many times in the last couple months, I’ve lost count. Not only are they ridiculously easy to make (and I’m not just saying that), they make the perfect snack to set out for little get togethers, football games. AND, they are crazy good coarsely chopped and thrown on a salad (like my favorite amazing spinach salad).

A longtime MKC reader, Teresa, graciously sent me this recipe (and gave me permission to post it) a few months ago. Teresa makes huge batches of these pecans and gives them out as holiday gifts every year. I have no doubt she has people clamoring to be in her “friend circle” just to get a bag of these delightful pecans in December. Once you taste them, you’ll understand.

These easy cinnamon and sugar candied pecans are fabulous. I’m not someone who generally craves pecans or other nuts. In fact, I’ve spent a lot of time detailing my disgust of why someone would put nuts in my favorite cookie or brownie (although I have made a lot of exceptions for nuts over the years, so maybe I’m maturing a little??). 

But there’s something about these buttery, sugary, golden, roasted and candied pecans that have me literally throwing them out my door to every person who will take them so I don’t eat the whole batch (again). 

If you’ve ever walked into Cabelas or past one of those kiosks in the mall and been knocked off your feet by the magical aroma of roasted, sweet nuts wafting towards you, you’ll understand the emotion that may fill your heart while these cinnamon pecans bake in your oven and fill your house with a smell no candle or melting wax can ever replicate. 

Plus, you won’t have to sell your firstborn child to afford buying a bag at the mall. It’s definitely cheaper to make them at home! 

Years ago, I posted this recipe for candied cinnamon and sugar almonds, and I’ve made them on and off again over the years. Tasty and festive! But today’s pecan recipe is less fussy (and even more delicious).

This cinnamon pecans recipe has skyrocketed to my favorite candied nut recipe ever, and I, like Teresa, will be making them year after year! The addition of butter to the recipe changes everything. It lends a caramelly, warm note to the sweet, cinnamon pecans that is extraordinarily delicious (and pretty much dangerous). 

Can I Use Another Kind of Nut?

Yes, I think so! I’ve only ever made this recipe with pecans because they are one of my favorite nuts, but you could experiment with almonds, cashews, walnuts, etc.

Is There a Sweet and Spicy Version?

If you want to add a little heat to these sweet, candied pecans, I wholly support you in this! There’s something about that sweet and spicy combo that is fantastic on candied nuts. Add a pinch of cayenne pepper with the cinnamon (more or less to taste). And then try to find it in your heart to share any of the finished batch.

See How Easy It is to Make Them Here!

One Year Ago: Easiest Ever Fudge Tons of Add-In Options Two Years Ago: Russian Potato and Mushroom Leek Soup Three Years Ago: Decadent Double Chocolate Mint Cookies Four Years Ago: White Chocolate Pecan Brownies Five Years Ago: Cinnamon Roll Caramel Popcorn

Prep Time: 20 minutes

Cook Time: 30 minutes

Additional Time: 2 hours

Total Time: 2 hours 50 minutes

Ingredients

6 tablespoons butter

2 large egg whites

1/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup (5.5 ounces) granulated sugar

1 1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

4 cups (16 ounces) whole raw pecans (see note)

Instructions

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. 

Melt the butter and spread on a rimmed half sheet pan (11X17-inches). You can also cut the cold butter into cubes, place on the sheet pan, and pop in the oven while preheating to melt the butter; just watch closely so it doesn't burn.

In a large bowl, add the egg whites and salt and whisk until foamy but still liquidy, 30 seconds or so. Add the sugar and cinnamon and mix until well blended and the cinnamon is completely mixed in.

Add the pecans and gently mix until the nuts are well coated, making sure to get underneath to the bottom of the bowl as you mix. 

Spread the pecan mixture in an even layer over the melted butter in the pan. Bake for 10 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and using a flat metal spatula or similar tool, quickly stir the pecans and spread them back into an even layer. Bake for another 10 minutes, stir again, and spread into an even layer.

Bake for a final 5-10 minutes (watching closely!) until the pecans are sizzling and lightly golden. Remove the pan from the oven, give the pecans another good stir, scraping them up from the bottom of the pan. Spread them into an even layer and let them rest on the pan for 1-2 hours WITHOUT STIRRING AGAIN until completely cooled and the sugar coating has set. The pecans keep for up to a week well-covered in a cool, dry place (not the fridge).

Notes

I have only ever made this recipe with pecans (because they are sooooo good), but you could try experimenting with other nuts: whole almonds, cashews, walnuts.

For a sweet and spicy version, try adding a pinch of cayenne (more or less to taste) with the cinnamon.

Recipe Source: adapted slightly from Teresa, a longtime MKC reader – she’s made them for years and originally got the recipe from a Bon Appetit magainze (I cut the butter down from 8 tablespoons to 6 tablespoons – I found they were a bit too greasy with the full 8 tablespoons) 

The video in this post was made in partnership with Inspo

Posted on December 3, 2018 by Mel

Source: https://www.melskitchencafe.com/easy-cinnamon-and-sugar-candied-pecans/