#irish moon pool alone' take

[opalsiren]

did we ever get a canon explanation or even a hint as to why bella doesn't have any elemental/weather-oriented gift like rikki and cleo? or can anyone share a headcanon that explains this discrepancy

[laurasimonsdaughter]

All about the Dullahan

Thomas Croften Croker’s Fairy legends and traditions of the south of Ireland (1825-1834) seems to be the main – if not only – written source of full folktales about the Dullahan. It contains a section titled “The Dullahan” which consists of four folktales, one ballad, and some research notes that refer to further stories.

Not all these stories actually even use the name Dullahan, but Croker seems to have gathered them together on the basis of them being headless. Explaining: “Headless people are not peculiar to Ireland, although there alone they seem to have a peculiar name” (1928, p. 98). So which Dullahan does Mr Croker have on offer? The answer is: a set of very different creatures which he all calls Dullahan, but which are not always referred to as Dullahan and who are, from story to story, revenants, fae, death omens, and a restless spirit.

I will sum up their characteristics for every story and give a verdict on their supernatural nature under the cut (this got very long):

The Good Woman (1928, p. 85-98):

Type 1:

A short woman in a large cloak that conceals her completely who is:

Headless, and isn’t carrying her head

Shows up in twilight, seen only by a man riding home alone

Very quick and nimble, can leap onto a horse and over a wall, seem to glide rather than run

Does not speak, does not make a sound when jumping on the ground

Is corporeal, as she can be touched

Is described as a “merry wench”

She allows a man to give her a ride before jumping off his horse and running away from him, clearly making a game of letting him chase her

She runs into the ruins of an old church near a pool to meet with:

Type 2:

A crowd of “well dressed ladies and gentlemen, and soldiers and sailors, and priests and publicans, and jockeys and Jennys, but all without their heads”

These Dullahan are having a party, where they dance around a torture wheel set with skulls (unclear if these are their own heads) amidst the ruins of the church, to the music of ringing bells and rattling bones

Accompanying them, but not dancing, are:

Type 3:

Skeletons with loose heads that they bowl and throw around as a game

They have bleached bones covered by moth-eaten shrouds

These Dullahan speak, but only in unison “as with one voice, that quavered like a shake on the bagpipes”

One of them carries his head under his left arm while he offers the human protagonist a drink

All three types are referred to as Dullahan

They all leave in “a great hurry scurry with the noise of carriages and the cracking of whips,” presumably making off with the protagonist’s horse as well, who accuses them of being “the horse stealing robbers of the world, that have no fear of the gallows”.

VERDICT: Revenant. Having wild parties, tricking people, and stealing from them is definitely fae behaviour, but apart from that these Dullahan seem to be playful and rather powerful undead, that once were human.

Hanlon’s Mill (p. 103-109):

A great high black coach drawn by six headless black horses, with long black tails reaching almost down to the ground, and a headless coachman dressed all in black sitting up on the box

Possibly heralded by strange sounds during twilight: “such blowing of horns and hallooing, and the cry of all the hounds in the world and “the golloping of the horses, and the voice of the whipper-in”

They appear near a pool of water, bringing darkness with them that blocks out the moon

Neither whip, nor hooves, nor wheels make any sound

The day after a hitherto healthy man has fallen ill and dies

Not called Dullahan by name

Verdict: Omen. Specifically the ghostly coach-a-bower, the death coach. The image of a black coach (or hearse) riding by to foretell someone’s death is quite a common occurrence in folklore.

“Another legend of the same district (as Hanlon’s Mill)” (p. 109):

A black coach, drawn by headless horses, drives to and fro every night, both through the countryside and through a town

It stops at the doors of different houses, but anyone who opens the door to it gets a basin of blood thrown in their face

Not called Dullahan by name, but the story is not told in full

VERDICT: ??? Supernatural prankster? No mention is made of this coach foretelling death, so this seems to be mischief for mischief’s sake. Throwing blood at people is also not very spectral, nudging them a step towards fae in my book.

A legend from Dublin (p. 110-111):

A coach, sometimes driven by a coachman without a head, sometimes drawn by horses without heads, drives furiously past a castle where a clergyman hung himself, possibly with supernatural aid

Not called Dullahan by name, but the story is not told in full

Verdict: Omen. The coach-a-bower again, but this time not to foretell a death but to announce that an (unnatural) death has taken place.

The Harvest Dinner (p. 112-128):

A great old family coach, drawn by six headless horses, driven by a headless coachman

There are headless passengers inside and four fine footmen standing behind the coach, also headless

They emerge from a moat with a great rumbling noise and go towards an old church

They are driving at the rate of a hunt and make sparks fly out of the stones of the road (which implies their horses were horseshoes!)

Even with the whole coach they are faster than a man on horseback

A gate opens for the coach as by magic

Not called Dullahan, but referred to as “fairies”

Ahead of them in this procession are other fairies: “the prettiest little fellows you ever laid your eyes upon. They were all dressed in green hunting frocks, with nice little red caps on their heads, and they were mounted on pretty little long-tailed white ponies, not so big as young kids"

All are seen by the light of the (full) moon, by a man going home alone at night, but he is not afraid of the headless fairies after he notices they have no eyes to see him with

VERDICT: Fae. They are clearly taking part in a fairy procession and are minding their own business, possibly going to have a party at the old church.

The Death Coach, a ballad (p. 134-136):

A coach decorated with a shroud, with headless horses, headless driver and headless passengers

The wheel spokes are thigh bones, the pole a spine and the lamps sculls

They drive at great speed and the coachman cracks a whip

They stop at a churchyard where they speak with the dead in the ground, arguing with them to let them rest there for the night

They plan to go on tomorrow: “for having no heads of our own, We seek the Old Head of Kinsale" (this is a place in Ireland, the whole ballad is full of puns like this)

VERDICT: More rowdy revenants. They have a very gaudy death coach, but do not foretell death, and are clearly accustomed to sleeping in graves.

An anecdote from Cork (p. 136):

Dullahans “drive particularly hard wherever a death is going to take place”

They come in a great crowd, with a large procession

The coachman has a long whip “with which he can whip the eyes out of any one, at any distance, that dares to look at him”

VERDICT: Omen?? Fae that are into death for the goth of it??

The Headless Horseman (p. 138-150)

A headless rider who carries his head under his right arm or in the pocket of his coat, on a headless white horse, who has its head floating in front of it

The head is gaunt and ashy pale, with “depressed features” that look “like a large cream cheese hung round with black puddings” and has two large, fiery eyes, matted black hair, and a mouth that reaches from ear to ear

He wears a scarlet single-breasted hunting frock with “a waist of a very old fashioned cut reaching to the saddle, with two huge shining buttons at about a yard distance behind”

He appears to a man on horseback, at night, in the rain

The head speaks in a hoarse voice, but only sparingly, most questions only get a “Humph”

The horseman rides without use of whip, spur or stirrups

The ground shakes under the weight of the hooves, which make a fearful clattering noise and stir the water of nearby pools into waves

Gladly enters into a race with the protagonist and he even promises the man that his horse will be safe

He is never called a Dullahan but just “the headless horseman” and even refers to himself in this way

After the race the headless horseman reveals that ever since he and his horse broke their necks at the bottom of a hill he has been trying to find a man brave enough to ride with him, he gives the man his blessing, promising him that he will never desert him nor the old mare he is riding (and supposedly helping him to win horseraces)

VERDICT: Restless spirit. To me this fellow has very little in common with the other stories. This is very much a doomed rider type of figure, although the curt conversation has a striking resemblance to a similar headless rider in the story A Queen’s County Witch (Yeats, 188, p. 151-154), where the figure is a witch in disguise.

Croker collected his stories in the typical 19th century folklorists’ style, through correspondence, interviews, and borrowing from other authors. He also rewrote the stories quite extensively, and has been criticised on his attitude towards “the Irish peasantry” as he did so. Yeats was one of these critics, (while he did still consider Croker an expert), and as he is the only other 19th-century source on Dullahan I thought his short notes are worth quoting too. He refers to the Dullahan (or Dallahan) both as “headless phantoms” and one of the “solitary fairies” (p. 81), and mentions them in the section “The Banshee”:

“An omen that sometimes accompanies the banshee is the coach-a-bower [cóiste-bodhar]—an immense black coach, mounted by a coffin, and drawn by headless horses driven by a Dullahan. It will go rumbling to your door, and if you open it, according to Croker, a basin of blood will be thrown in your face. These headless phantoms are found elsewhere than in Ireland.” (Yeats, 1888, p. 108).

CONCLUSION: If it’s Irish and headless and walking or riding around ominously, it’s a Dullahan. Which may be a fae, a ghostly omen, or a revenant, just as they please. There clearly is no one coherent definition to be found.

I still insist on putting the cursed headless horseman in another category though. Dullahan clearly have some shared preferences, like a love for twilight and moonlight, horses and coaches, ruined churches and pool. And, interestingly, they seem to always show up either with a coach or a whole company. So I feel justified in saying that the spectre of a solitary person who remembers his own death and knows his reason for still roaming the earth, does not embody the Dullahan sprit.

[the-neon-writer]

Fuck it, it may not be edited and it may change still, but here’s Cara’s Intro. She’s yet another character in my maybe novel that is coming along slowly. I may have not won NaNoWriMo but i still got further with progress. So i’m proud of myself. I have one more characters intro left to write. I promise it’ll be a good one when it arrives. In the mean time enjoy this as a special christmas treat 😉🎄😉

Cara’s Intro

She wasn’t sure where he had come from, but he was there nonetheless. The man had just appeared one day and decided to take care of her. What made it stranger was that people usually looked down on her because of the way she looked. But this man did not. She may have been young, but she knew how the world worked, the other street urchins had taught her that. She had to be smarter and tougher than the rest of them if she wanted to survive. He was different though, he didn’t seem to care about the colour of her skin, or what people whispered when they saw her with him.

It had taken some time to start trusting him and he had given her all the time she needed. The moment she knew she could trust him was her first full moon. She had no clue what was happening to her, she felt like she was being ripped to shreds from the inside out and she had no control over what was happening to her. They had been staying at a farmhouse on the outskirts of Dublin. He was in the other room and she assumed he’d heard her yell. She remembered seeing him rush in, sword in hand. She couldn’t control what was happening, it was like she was watching someone else control her body, but she charged towards him. All he did was just wrap her in a tight hug and whisper that it was going to be ok and that he would help her no matter what, that he would never leave her side as long as she needed him.

After that they grew closer, he was like an older brother that she’d never had in her life. He helped her understand what she was going through and patiently taught her to control the beast as best he could.

She had a purpose now, she was informing on people for him. People didn’t care enough to notice street urchins so she could slip into and out of most places without ever being seen. She spied on priests and gentlemen, ladies in fancy bonnets and young brats of rich families. She trailed them throughout the town and reported their activities to him. She wasn’t quite sure why she was spying on these people, but more often than not, she never saw them again. So one day she asked him why he was looking for those people. And he told her, that’s why she trusted him, he told her the truth if only she asked. She was angry and confused but he explained why these people needed to be eliminated, though, sometimes, on rare occasions, he didn’t eliminate people in the literal sense. A few times during the years, she helped him smuggle people out, making it look like they were gone permanently but really they were just removed from the equation.

He told her about The Council when she turned 12. That made her understand it a little better, why he killed the people he did and spared the ones he did.

“Now I don’t always agree with the council, but, I have to trust their judgment on most things. They’re family and I guess I’m sorta stuck with ‘em. I do have a noggin’ of me own though, and they’re not always as smart as they think they are. I’m tellin ye this so that ye can understand why they can never know ‘bout ya Cara.” That’s what he had told her, “I’ve seen that not all of ye are evil and mindless bloodshed sickens me, so I hope ya know that I’d never hurt ya. Do you trust me?” She had believed him, foolish, she now knew people always ended up hurting you.

The beast was growing with her and it was becoming stronger also. And not long after her 12th birthday, the beast spoke for the first time. It was just a regular day and she was out on the streets trying to nick whatever she could off the rich blokes and snobby arses who thought themselves so much better than her. She didn’t need the money but it made her feel good to get payback.

She’d just nicked a shiny pocket watch from a well-dressed gentleman when she saw a gang of other street kids approach her. She knew them since forever, she’d always managed to slip away right under their noses, but this time she was so enamoured with her find that it was too late when she noticed them.

“Whatchu got there girly,” said one of them, snatching the watch from her hands.

“Oi give it back ye thick gobshite, that’s my find,” she tried to snatch it back but the boy was taller.

“Or what, s’not like anyone’s gonna help you,” he looked her up and down disapprovingly and giggled with his mates.

“I suggest you give it back, boy,” it was a deep booming voice, with an accent so far from Irish it was startling.

“Oi who said that, show yerself ya flute.”

“If you insist,” Cara felt herself lose control again, this hadn’t happened in years even on a full moon, but she wasn’t trying to fight it this time. It lunged at the boy and she felt it sink its teeth into his neck and the life drain out of him with a horrible crunch. She remembered seeing the horrified looks of the other street kids and saw them start running for their lives. A pool of blood was forming next to her and she saw her reflection for the first time, only it wasn’t her, it was It. It was huge, with a long sharp muzzle and glistening black fur, its ears were pointed and its eyes glowed gold. It had a slender jackal like figure, yet it was bipedal and more muscular than any human or beast.

The next thing she remembered was the chase, following the kids into the night, not even trying to regain control, the taste of blood and revenge sweeter than honey in their mouth. It caught up to them quick enough, they were hiding in an alleyway, It could hear their frantic heartbeats and smell their fear in the air. The fear tasted sweetest of all, filling It with new vigour and jest to toy with its prey.

It approached slowly giving the brats hope that it couldn’t find them, it paced in front of their hiding spot and took off at a short run to make them think it left. It didn’t. It waited for a few moments as it climbed onto the roof above them. It was about to jump them and rip them to shreds when they heard a voice.

“Cara, please, stop.” And there he was, but he wasn’t comforting or jovial. He was holding a crossbow, and it was aimed at them. “I can’t let you hurt innocent people, no matter how much I care about you.”

They turned to face him, jaws dripping with fresh blood and it spoke, “They aren’t innocent, are they…”

“Fer fucks sake they’re children, Cara, listen to yerself.”

“I’M NOT CARA.” Its voice echoed across the rooftops and silence fell between them as beast and hunter stared each other down.

“Cara, please, you can control it.”

“Oh, I don’t think she wants to anymore!” Cara was in there, but she had no control, but she was no longer certain she wanted this. It all seemed wrong all of a sudden.

It suddenly shuddered and stepped back to keep its balance.

“Cara, think about all the good we’ve done, please don’t undo it all now.”

The creature shuddered again but its eyes glowed golden, brighter than the sun. It growled and the growl permeated the air around it and cut the silence like a knife. The shuddering stopped and it looked up at him. Then it charged, but he had been ready, he hadn’t been training to hunt monsters his entire life for nothing. Before it even took 2 steps he had fired the bolt.

It stopped in its tracks and fell forward onto all four. Cara couldn’t take back control even then, she was scared but there was nothing she could do. She didn’t want to die, not yet, not like this, not afraid.

She awoke again in that warm room with a fireplace. She wondered if it had all been a dream or if she had died and this was meant to be the afterlife. But then she tried to move and it was painful. Her whole body was racked with pain as she tried to lift herself into a sitting position on the couch. She must have made some noise because she then saw him enter. He had a dagger on him made of silver, it was sheathed, but she could smell the silver.

“Don’t move, please.”

She stopped trying to sit up.

“Look, I know it wasn’t your fault that it took over, I couldn’t’ve prepared ye fer that. Something like that has happened very rarely in history and the accounts were all second-hand experiences.”

“w-what,” was all she managed to say, her tongue felt like a useless stone in her mouth.

“Yer not the same as It. There’s two of ye now.” he sighed, he looked tired and sad all of a sudden and she could finally see the age in his eyes, he forgot to hide the pain that only comes with old age, it was there for only a second before it was gone like sunlight on a winter’s day.

”You caused a lot of trouble, Cara. I don’t know how long before they notice something off, but we definitely have to leave Dublin.”

”Y-you shot me,” she struggled out, her muscles weren’t being cooperative.

”Right, yes, in yer shoulder, wolfsbane, gives a nasty shock to the system. I wasn’t actually goin’ t’ kill ya, just wanted to scare you to your senses, didn’t account on It having a will aside yer own”

She looked at him but try as she might she couldn’t tell how he was feeling, she never could.

“Get some rest,” he said as he turned to leave the room, “We’ll have to leave in the morning.”

He closed the door behind him and Cara was alone again. She was so tired, every nerve in her body thrummed with fatigue, ”shifting” was a very physically tiring process she had noticed. Before long sleep overtook her, she dreamed of a moonless night being chased by a figure with a deep foreign voice that encircled her as she ran.

[ms31x129]

Woohoo! Time for Chapter 3! I had to make a another DJ! I felt compelled! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK or if you like AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or if you like AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart  (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:

Jackson continues his journey, leading him into D.C. and the power of words, mixed with his abilities, and some parental love, allow him to travel back into his younger self. There he delves into a memory within a memory, but whose memory is he recalling?

Oh Jackson, never fret, when you are the son of Fox William Mulder and Dana Katherine Scully, you never walk alone.}

“A vision is not just a picture of what could be; it is an appeal to our better selves, a call to become something more.” -Rosabeth Moss Kanter

Jackson tossed the cabbie a $20 that he’d “won” on a scratch off ticket he picked up at the gas station not far from his house.

“You good, kid?” the man with thick eyebrows and questionable hygiene asked him as he slid out of the back seat.

“I’m good.”

As he shut the door and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, the man’s window opened and Jackson rolled his eyes at the preemptive attempt to dole out words of wisdom that he knew were surely heading his way.

“You’re a kid alone in the dark, and I’m dropping you off in the middle of the National Mall,” he warned, pointing at the dimly lit public square overlooking the lake as if it weren't completely clear to Jackson as to where he was headed. “Shit happens.”

Jackson leaned down and smirked. “Yeah, I got that,” he waved the driver off. “Thanks for the heads up, but they're the ones who should be afraid of me.”

The cabbie shrugged, probably figuring he’d tried if a sullen news report streamed across his T.V. in the morning about a teenage boy found dead behind some bush near Constitution Ave.

The cab’s tail lights shone in the dark as it drove off down the street. Jackson was left alone to wander and think about what the hell he was going to do next. Running was getting old, fast. Yet, running was all he knew how to do anymore.

After bouncing round from place to place, traveling and sightseeing for months now, he figured he’d stick around more familiar places for a while. And after his little run-in at the house, he decided a larger populated city would be a better area to blend in at. He was fairly certain no one of importance was searching for him after taking a bullet through the skull and had been presumed dead by everyone but his mother, yet he couldn’t be too careful if he wanted to keep what was left of his family safe. So, the busy tourist attraction around the Washington Monument seemed like the perfect place to clear his head before finding a cheap motel to crash at for the night.

The springtime weather was unusually warm for nightfall and the soft quacking of ducklings bathing in the lake in front of the monument caught his attention. He smiled and found an old bench to sit on and stretch out his long legs as he watched how the mother duck encouraged her babies to follow her into the glassy water.

As a little boy, he would run out back behind his farmhouse and sit on a log with his dad to watch the birds and geese swoop down onto the lake during migration. The sky would darken with the mass amount of them hovering and playfully cutting through the air above him. Now when the sky darkened around Jackson, it was not due to nature and its natural way of life, but an unnatural force of darkness that has managed to follow him wherever he went.

“What do I do now?” he wondered to the empty seat beside him, strumming his fingers along the back of the bench. “Alone in the dark…”

As he steadily chipped away at the fragments of the multilayered paint, Jackson noticed letters engraved deep into the weathered bench. With his curiosity peaked, he leaned down to tear away a larger chunk of blue paint and saw exactly what was written.

DKS & FWM

WERE HERE

1994

His eyes widened just before his mouth fell open. “No way! It can’t be,” he shook his head in disbelief. But there it was, etched in precise, even lines that defied all logic.

He could feel her —feel her as if she were sitting right beside him in that very moment. Even with so few letters to go on, there was no mistake to be made. His birth mother had marked her presence for her future son to unknowingly stumble across 25 years later.

“Un-fucking-believable. I guess the past really does screw with the future.”

His fingers traced along the letters, feeling each groove as if he were her sitting in this very spot so many years ago. Was she acting as a lovestruck young woman daydreaming of the man she loved? Was she poking fun at the probable 30 other initialed couple’s forever time stamped into the bench’s frame? Could she have been contemplating her future, her whole life as she scratched each line with purpose?

So many never-ending questions with never enough answers. He did carry one way to find resolution to some of his larger ones that have remained unanswered for far too long.

Jackson reached into his pocket and opened up the letter once again. He inhaled deeply and picked up where he had left off.

And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer my child. A sacred imperishable truth but one you my never hope to find alone.

The last words barely registering in his head when his mind started up like a projector, snapping his head back with the force of the memory.

December 10, 2008

It was a cold day and his mom had him all bundled up in a puffy blue and white jacket. He could hardly move, restricted by the coat and his sweater that hugged him. It chaffed at his pale sensitive skin underneath.

This hospital felt more like a church with pictures of saints covering the walls, crosses with the carved out figure of Jesus bleeding from his hands and feet hanging ominously.

The hallways to the children’s section had windows with tiny squares, reminding him of a jail cell from a show on T.V.. The nun brought them down another hallway with big blue bears and bright yellow giraffes painted on the walls, stuffed animals and toys inside the rooms on shelves and beds. All of it couldn’t hide the cold hospital walls, hard industrial floors, or the thick flat wood of hospital railings holding the stench of sickness and antiseptic.

It all made his stomach turn and chest feel tight with worry. The sound of machines beeping played in the background as his anxiety grew.

Another room now.

This one was baby blue in color with animal prints dressing the windows and children’s drawings mounted for all to see. It was meant to be friendly, but it only had the hair at the back of his neck standing on end. He wanted to run. He wanted to cry. No more tests.

Everyone passed with purpose; expressions dark with evil, lingering stares for such a holy place. Jackson made up his mind. There was no way he’d ever return to this place again.

They turned the corner quickly and he swung himself wide, stretching out his arm, tugging at his mother’s hand and was suddenly hit by a moving object in a white coat.

Stumbling back, his gaze scanned up towards the woman in front of him. Her face was blurred by a file, but her feelings of defeat, of a battle lost, of helplessness, of the world closing in was in full high-definition. Her kind blue eyes framed by vivid tendrils of hair never quite met his, but they were the softest blue he had ever seen. Like water in the pool at his friend Mikey’s house, floating peacefully in chaos.

“Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry,” she murmured, reflexively placing a soft hand to the top of his head and leaving a spattering of goose flesh along his skin.

He heard the stress in her voice, saw the tightness in her neck, her hair reminding him of a blood moon casting it’s red shadow among the wheat grass swaying in the fields by his house. She was beautiful.

“Mother,” the word rising unbidden from his throat in a mere hoarse whisper for no perceptible reason. His eyes followed her as she swiftly rounded the corner to disappear from which they just came.

“You’re not hurt are you, Jackson?” his mom asked as she leaned down to give him a once over.

“No, Mom. I’m fine,” he mumbled back sharply as they continued down the corridor.

The nun conducting their tour had his father’s ear, relaying information in cautious tones “...once he begins to show promise in his progression he will visit Dr. Goldman for additional testing...”

That last word, “testing,” burrowed into his ear and burned at his throat as if he had swallowed shards of glass, lighting his stomach on fire.

The word hit him so hard that it pushed him back into the present. His brain rattled fiercely inside his skull. The heel of his palm massaged his brow at the ache firing in his brain until his anxiety settled.

It wasn’t going to stop him this time. He would push the physical and emotional pain away to continue on. Determined, he read the next line:

Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and endangerer.

“Ah!” His small index finger screamed in pain. Something sharp was in his coat pocket, stabbing at it, pricking the skin. He dug it out in the privacy of his bedroom. It was one of those guardian angel pins like the one his mom used to wear and place inside Christmas cards when she sent them to people that were special to her. It must have slipped into his pocket from the woman who had bumped into him in the hallway earlier. Mother . Jackson recognized the birthstone as his own. The angel pin flipped around his naive tiny fingers and he realized he was, once again, trapped inside another flashback. Back into the abyss he plunged, opening into the eyes of another .

A ceiling came into view. A foreign bed, the softest of pillows, and a warm comforter surrounded him as a strong consoling arm wrapped around his waist. Deep, complex resonating emotions filled him—pain of loss, regret, and a heavy emptiness that hovered over him so thickly that it nearly suffocated.

“Do you think God is losing any sleep?”

His perspective shifted and a man’s face came into view. He had a beard worn almost as a mask, drawing attention away from the honest truth he held in his eyes.

Harrowing truths he carried on the cross he bore for ‘her’ and for… a sister. His eyes reminding him of the first of spring, when the grass just started to grow, but the death of winter remained underneath.  

“Why bring a kid into the world just to make him suffer? I don’t know, Mulder, I’ve got such a connection to this boy,” Jackson said in a tender voice that was not his own.

“How old is he?” the man asked and his eyes softened further, concern flooding through his vocal cords.  

“You think it’s because of William?” she wondered as if she were afraid of his answer.

“I don’t know... I… I think our son left us both with an emptiness that can’t be filled.” As he spoke his eyes revealed an intricate mosaic of an endless devotion—caring and love built up inside a never ending staircase like the one in the MC Escher art book that had caught his eye in the library.

“Just go to sleep,” the man said and tightened his comforting embrace. His lips rested at her temple for reassurance. “Let me curse God for a while.”

Unfamiliar long lashes fluttered shut and a sharp pain sang through the center of his brain.

The vision rapidly zoomed out, blurred and tunneled, focusing in on the toy box in his old room and the angel pin in his hand. He heard his parents talking in hushed tones just outside his bedroom door. He was there for a brief moment, only for him to be forcefully sucked out again.

His consciousness jolted back from his own eight year old body and violently threw him forward into the present.

His birth mother's angel pin vanished, the letter now in its place, clutched firmly within his shaking hand. He had just watched a moment in time through Dana Scully’s eyes, and that man was Fox Mulder.

“Oh. My. God.”

[taysi-kuu]

Samhain

Here is a small "guide" to help you celebrate samhain i have included some in depth spells as well as well as super simple things you can do if youre busy or just dont have the mental energy to celebrate. there is no "wrong way" to celebrate any of the sabbats, just because one person did a huge ritual doesn't mean doing something smaller and simple is any less meaningful.  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Times to celebrate: In the northern hemisphere, many Pagans celebrate Samhain from sundown on October 31 through November 1. Others hold Samhain celebrations on the nearest weekend or on the Full or New Moon closest to this time. Some Pagans observe Samhain a bit later, or near November 6, to coincide more closely with the astronomical midpoint between Fall Equinox and Winter Solstice. Most Pagans in the southern hemisphere time their Samhain observances to coincide with the middle of their Autumn in late April and early May, rather than at the traditional European time of the holiday. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What is Samhain: The third and final harvest festival on the Wheel of the Year is Samhain, observed on October 31. This Sabbat marks the end of the growing season and the beginning of Winter, which must be prepared for now in earnest. Herbs are dried for winter storage, fruits and vegetables are canned and preserved, and root vegetables are dug up and stored so they may nourish us through the cold months. The word “Samhain” comes from the old Irish and is thought by many to translate as “Summer’s end.” While the cycles of life and death are implicitly recognized at every Sabbat, Samhain is when the necessary role of death is formally honored. The nights grow noticeably longer with each day. The God retreats now into the shadows of the dark season, symbolically dying back to the Earth before being reborn again at Yule. Many Wiccans and other Pagans consider this to be the most important day on the Wheel, a time when the veil between the spirit world and the mundane world is at its thinnest. Our ancestors and loved ones on the Other Side are said to be more easily able to visit with us and make their presence known at this time. Samhain is arguably the most visible Sabbat in the mainstream world, thanks to the parallel holiday of Halloween. Many of the Halloween traditions celebrated in contemporary cultures today have grown out of customs dating back to pagan times. As far back as ancient Greece, people were leaving offerings of food to their ancestors, which is echoed in the modern tradition of trick-or-treating. The practice of leaving root vegetables, hollowed out with lighted candles inside, to guide spirits visiting on Earth ultimately led to today’s jack-o-lanterns. Witches, of course, have always been part of mainstream Halloween lore. And although they have almost always been presented as “evil” caricatures with no resemblance to the real thing, there’s still a lingering association between the spirit of Halloween and the real power of a Witch .--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Correspondences: SYMBOL: Black cat, jack o 'lantern, bat, ghost, scarecrow, waning moon.

 GODDESSES: Crone, all crone goddesses, Cerridwen, Hecate, Hel, Oya, the Morrigan, Lilith, Kali, Ishtar, Arianrhod, Rhiannon, Tlazoteotl, Nephthys, Persephone, Beansidhe (Banshee), Inanna, Baba Yaga, Isis, Pomona and Cailleach Beara (Brigid's crone aspect), who is reborn this night. 

 GODS: Osiris, the Horned God, Herne the Hunter, Cernunnos, Anubis, Odin, Bran, death gods, dying and rising gods.  INCENSE: Copal, sandalwood, mastic resin, benzoin, sweetgrass, wormwood: to get the sight, to see the spirits of the returning dead.  CANDLES: New candles for the new year: black, orange, autumn colors, or black candles for the Lord and the old year, white candles for the Lady and the new year.  TOOLS: Besom, to sweep out the old year and any negativity it had. Cauldron, for transformation. Divination tools: Tarot cards, scrying bowl, rune stones, pendulum, mirror, etc.  PLANT: Pumpkin, apple, grain, pomegranate, mugwort, wormwood, Dittany of Crete, acorn, oak leaf, gourds, root vegetables, rosemary (for remembrance). STONE: Obsidian, carnelian, onyx, smoky quartz, jet, bloodstone.  ANIMAL: Bat, black cat, owl.  ALTAR DECORATIONS: Autumn leaves, fall flowers, pomegranates, apples, pumpkins, ears of corn, sprays of grain, corn dollies, gourds, nuts, seeds, acorns, chestnuts and images of ancestors are all appropriate. Use whatever is in season where you live, whatever feels right and looks good to you.  FOOD: Gingerbread, freshly roasted nuts, nut breads, anything made with apples or pumpkin, meat (especially bacon), doughnuts, popcorn, cakes with lucky tokens in them, and red foods because the ancients held them sacred to the dead. DRINK: Mead, apple cider, mulled cider, mulled wine, fruit juices, pomegranate juice/tea .-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Magical Workings:  Samhain is one of the most potent nights of the year for magic. As a cross-quarter day it is a supernatural time, a time outside of time, the night that is not a night, a powerful time of flux and change. This is a good night for: candle magic - astral projection - past life work - dark moon mysteries - mirror spells (reflection) - casting protection - inner work - propitiation - clearing obstacles - uncrossing - inspiration - workings of transition or culmination - manifesting transformation - creative visualization. Divination: Samhain is a power night for divination: read the tarot cards; use the Wheel of the Year spread to forecast the year ahead - cast runes or the I Ching - scry in crystal balls, dark mirrors, bowls of black ink or pools of water - swing a pendulum, asking yes or no questions - eat an apple in front of a mirror at midnight, by candlelight, to scry your future mate.  Meditation: This is a good night for deep reflection and inner work. Meditation themes include: changes, transition, endings and beginnings, passage, return, mortality and reincarnation, chaos leading to reorder. Spirit work: (by invitation, not summons) This is the night when the veil is thinnest, the gates between the worlds are open. Souls of the dead are said to visit their homes at midnight.  Possible workings include: a dumb supper for the beloved dead - ouija - séances - trance possession - automatic writing - bury apples as food for hungry spirits - leave spirit plates of food outside your home - set a place for a missed love one at the banquet or dinner table.  New Year workings: Release the old: bad habits and toxic relationships, illness, failure and poverty; everything you do not want to carry into the new year - sweep negativity and out of your home - end quarrels - settle debts, make amends or restitution if needed - spells for prosperity and security for your family.  Faery Magick: This is a great night for visiting the faery realm but you must return by dawn or remain forever enchanted, unable to return. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- simple no bake apple oatmeal cookies    https://onceamonthmeals.com/recipes/no-bake-apple-oatmeal-cookies/ not so simple  soul cake recipes https://www.learnreligions.com/make-a-soul-cake-for-samhain-2562655Once ------------------------------------------------------------ Candle Ceremony for The Ancestors  This is a wonderfully simple ritual which can be shared with both friends and family, or worked alone. You can include children in it - it begins in darkness and ends full of light. It's a great balance to trick or treating! You will need a supply of small candles, either black or white, or a supply of night lights. You need a heat proof container or tray of sand or earth to put them in. Place one in the centre of the container from which all the others will be lit. Switch off all the lights and sit gently in the darkness. Allow the darkness to enfold you. Ask for the presence of your ancestors to come to you. When you are ready, light the central candle saying "We welcome our departed loved ones into this home and honour your presence amongst us". Allow each person in the circle to spontaneously remember someone who has passed to the Summerlands and remember something about them and light a candle for each person from the central candle: 'I remember Great Aunt Sheila and her generosity of heart....'. Allow this to continue for as long as it takes to complete the re-membering. You will end with a tray full of radiant candles. When all is complete, give thanks, and allow the candles to burn to completion ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Guide the Spirits (quick and easy spellwork to honor the dead) Place a white candle in the window to guide the dead to the Spirit World. Light the candle and speak these words, “O little flame that burns so bright, be a beacon on this night. Light the path for all the dead, that they may see now what’s ahead. And lead them to the Summerland and shine until Pan takes their hands. And with Your light, please bring them peace, that they may rest and sleep with ease . ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- as Samhain marks the witches new year you can write down a bad habit or something you dont wish to carry with you onto the new year onto a piece of paper and in a fire proof bowl or somewhere safe place a lit candle inside (or even use a fire pit/bonfire/fireplace) and drop the paper in the flame and watch it burn away. if there are any ashes of it left over wait for them to cool and bury them outside  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If anyone plans on taking a walk late at night or a cemetery walk at night please be careful! if you can bring someone with you or bring some form of protection pepper spray, pocket knife, even your keys. be respectful to the spirits, be safe with what spirits you try and contact. if you aren’t sure if a passed family member would want to be involved if your spells/rituals you can always ask them/ send them an invitation so that way the choice is at least open to them. i hope you all have a wonderful and safe samhain/halloween <3

[lonelypond]

Moonlight Becomes You: Midnight Apocalypse Dance Party, Ch. 13

NozoELi, NicoMaki, KanaMari, YoshiMaru, Love Live/Love Live Sunshine, 2.5K, 13/?

Summary: The party continues, Eli has a conversation or two, and Nico and Maki flirt over a pool table.

Party On

Eli wondered how she had gone from Irish dancing in the huge, floor to ceiling window extravaganza that had turned out to be Nico’s feral DJ’s MANSION to the cold, windy beach at its base, in the middle of three women who didn’t read unfriendly but were as serious as Eli had ever seen anyone.

Kanan stepped forward, what looked like a fur coat over her arm as Yoshiko hovered to her right bouncing and You stood quietly next to Eli, occasionally shifting her hat’s position.

Kanan spoke, her voice carrying easily over the waves, “I want you to know exactly why I understand, Eli, and I hope you can trust me without worry.” Kanan wrapped the coat around her shoulders and in a blink and a shimmer there was a large sea lion in front of Eli.

Yoshiko’s voice boomed next to Eli, startling the dancer, “We are all glorious, mythical beings trapped in the mundane interactions of the dusty mortal path.” Yoshiko stepped forward and huge black wings unfurled, one brushing Eli’s cheek with a burning tingle as Yoshiko launched herself from the ground, sand flying everywhere.

You chuckled, a quiet friendly vibe, “Well, I’m mostly mundane.”

The sea lion barked a laugh and rolled toward the water, it seemed to have a wounded flipper. That made sense, Eli realized, Kanan had her arm in a cast. And were sea lions really that big? Kanan looked 8 or 9 feet long.

“Yohane descends to the mortal realm. Beware thou impure of intent” was announced above Eli’s head, the flier’s voice somehow merging with the wind in a way that Eli felt it reverberate in her bones, but then the dark haired woman blew the mood as she nearly tilted into Eli on her landing as the soft, shifting sand threw off her footing, “Damn it. Why can’t the ground just stay still.”

You was bent over, laughing, and Kanan stood, once again a human, “You really should be used to beaches by now, Yoshiko.”

“Yohane.” Eli suspected the dark haired woman had tried to thunder from her rising stance, but it came out a bleat of complaint.

Eli was still processing the ease of Kanan’s transition, “You can control it. How?”

Kanan shrugged, her long hair whipping around in the wind, and Eli felt like she was standing in a scene out of time and that a Chumash sewn plank canoe might be seen on the horizon at any point. Kanan swept down into a move Eli recognized from the choreography she was learning. “It’s who I am. Both. That what’s the dance is. Between. Together.” Kanan smiled, “That’s probably why I felt like you understood on some level.”

“But I don’t.” Yes, Eli could hear the tears in her own voice and the anger. But why should she hide her emotions, here on this beach, with women as impossible as her? It was so easy for everyone but Eli, she thought as Yoshiko-hane furled her wings away so they became invisible. Never losing control, even between willing transformations. But Eli had never wanted this. Any of this. To be torn. To be what and not who.

“Eli?” Kanan’s voice was gentle, worried.

Eli spun and sprinted down the beach. Yoshiko bent to follow, but Kanan reached out a hand, “Let her alone.”

You was watching the sea. “Tide going out.”

Kanan stared into the night, “She just needs to think.”

“Thinking is the gate to…” Yoshiko swept up her arms, but Kanan interrupted her.

“Not all of us act before we leap.”

“Good thing too.” You elbowed Yoshiko, “Some of us need to keep watch. On the ground.”

There was an unsettled moment, a gathering of power around the frowning fallen angel, a darkening of the night as a cloud passed over the moon, but then the brightness returned.

“And you, my friend, are a fierce guardian.” Yoshiko pulled You into a bro hug.

“Would be nice not to be needed.” You kicked at the sand.

“We’ll change that, one day.” Kanan hugged herself, looking after Eli. “We start by taking care of one person at a time.”

“Yeah.” You met Kanan’s glance, “Time to go get her.”

“Yeah.” Kanan took off after Eli at a slow jog.

“Let’s get back to the party before Hanamaru wanders down here.” You pivoted on her heel.

Yoshiko shoved her hands in her pockets, kicking sand in front of her, “Zuramaru has far too many snack options to go anywhere for at least an hour or so.”

Even though her life wasn't what anyone would call easy or settled, You loved her friends. They always made her laugh, even on the darkest nights.

###

Nico’s baked pasta had been a bigger hit than she’d anticipated and Maki and Mari were now having a standoff over the remnants. Nico would be flattered, but it was getting tiring, suddenly having Mari Ohara stick her spoon in everything Nico wanted.

“This sauce is DREAMY.” Mari fluttered her eyelashes, spinning, hugging the spoon to herself.

“Nico knows.” Nico caught Maki’s glance and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the hungry homeowner’s attention as Maki swept in for the last bite of pasta, but was blocked with a clink as Mari pulled the dish away and curled up on the couch next to where Nozomi was dealing out cards for Hanamaru.

“Divination by poker deck?” Mari asked.

“War.” Hanamaru giggled as she grabbed Nozomi’s latest play.

“Let’s play poker.” Mari suggested.

Maki had moved to the pool table, leaning with a cue in hand, “No chips.”

“I’ll keep a tally in my head” Mari winked.

Maki huffed and turned away.

“Where did Eli go?” Nozomi wondered.

Nico picked up the brownie platter and dumped it in the middle of the card game. Eli and Kanan had wandered outside half an hour ago, Eli looking lost. But while Nico might go out there after her in another 5 minutes, Nico was certain Eli would want Nozomi distracted.

“I’m sure Eli will be right back so if you want some more dessert you’d better get it before then. Chocolate lasts two minutes around her.” Nico spun, hand on her hip, dialing up the flirt, “Then you can watch Nico beat everyone’s favorite DJ at pool.”

Maki snorted, “Not happening.”

Nico slid toward Maki, socks making the glide smooth, pulling up to a stop right under the taller woman’s nose. Maki startled, loosened her grip on the pool cue, and Nico pulled it away, “Bet on it?”

###

Yoshiko was on the couch, half asleep, arms around the snuggling, murmuring warmth of Zuramaru, who was watching Nozomi deal out Tarot cards, with Mari kibitzing, while Nico and Maki discussed shots and angles. In this striking home, here was a patch of cozy that somehow soothed any qualms the world outside might be trying to crash through Yohane’s barriers. Yoshiko still had dreams about the colors and the depth and the cutting cold of her former celestial neighborhood, the beauty that was both breath and burn. But Zuramaru was home, it had taken Yoshiko no time to realize that. Her only fear was that she would not have the time to fully express to Hanamaru her gratitude. But for now there were moments like this, quiet contact bringing Yohane to earth, dulling the echoes of warning choirs.

###

Eli stared into darkness. It was too cold to be this dramatic but she didn’t know how to go back, how to start a normal conversation. Then Kanan’s voice startled her.

“So, no family support, right?” Kanan settled gracefully next to Eli, leaving two hands of distance so Eli didn’t feel crowded.

Eli inhaled, closing her eyes as the cold, wet air lumped in her lungs, as heavy as the memories she had to fight, “My grandmother...my grandmother taught me to tame…to stay hidden.”

“My family…” fondness warmed Kanan’s response, “My grandfather taught me that there was twice the joy, living in two worlds.”

Eli shook herself, she couldn’t imagine...no, that wasn’t possible, “I’m just not there.”

“Have you ever tried…” Kanan could see Eli dancing, memories of rehearsal, of the talented precision machine that Eli forced herself to exist as fumbling, the stiffness where one state refused to meld smoothly into the next. Maybe if they rehearsed in the pool, Eli might understand, Kanan thought, dump the dancer in fluidity, force her to float. And maybe if Eli understood, that would help her with this.

Eli’s response was hesitant, evading Kanan’s unfinished question. “Mari? How did she find out?”

“We met on the beach as children. Then as teenagers…” Kanan curled up, smaller and surprisingly sad, “she left, I asked her to." Kanan was silent for too long, but Eli didn't know how to push more, "Eventually, she returned and demanded” Kanan lifted her head, “we tell the truth about our feelings. So we did.” Kanan leaned back, Eli was almost shivering, but Kanan was as relaxed as if it was a breezy summer afternoon. “You’re not alone, Eli. There are people like us, people sharing worlds everywhere. And allies, like You, Mari, and Nico.”

Eli leaned her chin on her knees, “Nico’s amazing.”

“Yoshiko runs a weekly group, CRAAVI. We could go to a meeting together sometime. Or you could bring Nico. There’s always friends and family helping.” Kanan started to get up, “I’ll bring some info to our next rehearsal, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Kanan squeezed Eli's shoulder, “Don’t stay out here too long. People are waiting for you inside.”

People were waiting for her inside. Nico...and Nozomi. Eli smiled, remembering their ride here, the drive had been mostly quiet, Nozomi mentioning places she liked to frequent as they drove by them, coffeeshops, art galleries, tiny theatres, a very old, very dramatic church. Nozomi had no trouble keeping up a stream of chatter, even drawing a few of Eli’s favorite restaurants out of her. It had been the most normal thing in Eli's life since she couldn't remember when, just chatting. She wanted more.

###

Nico was winning. And grinning. And so so annoyingly sexily smug that Maki just wanted to throw everyone else off the balcony and see what else Nico could do with a pool table. But Nico kept glancing at the door. And there was no sign of Eli. And the last person Maki wanted to be thinking about now was Nico’s randomly viciously roommate, but she was.

Nico stood up after sinking a nice bank shot into a side pocket. Maki had gotten closer and leaned in, enjoying Nico’s jump as Maki’s hair brushed Nico’s cheek.

“Hey, Nico?” Maki’s voice was soft, the conversation obviously private. Nozomi had drifted out somewhere and now Yoshiko and You were entertaining Hanamaru and a Mari cuddled up on Kanan by telling stories illustrated with with grand gestures. You seemed to be some kind of tilting...penguin?!?

“Hmmmm.” Nico hummed a question and Maki’s focus snapped back.

“If you want to check on Eli, I’ll make sure you get some privacy.”

As grumpy as Maki was about either of them remembering Eli’s existence, the way Nico brightened at that offer made Maki want to reach out and hug her. Instead Maki turned back to the table, “I’ll just finish you off and…”

Maki watched Nico out of the corner of her eye, noticing where Nico’s gaze lingered. Maybe she should invest in some very closely tailored shorts.

“Ha! Nico took it easy on you.”

“Sure.”

Maki nailed the shot, then bowed. “Who’s next?”

That caught Mari’s attention. Maki enjoyed the flash of discontent on Nico’s face as the blonde squealed and jumped up, “My turn, my turn.”

“No bet.” Maki insisted, stroking the velvet, watching Nico nod and duck out to the balcony.

Mari shook her head, choosing her cue. “That’s no fun, Your private number if I win, I delete DJ Diamond Princess as a contact if I lose.”

A pause, then reluctant agreement. After all, Maki could always just set up a new account. New phone, just for Nico, maybe matching, Nico would probably love it if Maki got them matching charms...moving on automatic, Maki collected the balls, racking them loosely, as she considered.

###

Eli still couldn’t believe Nico knew anyone who owned a house like this. Metal and glass bright against the darkness of the sky, as Eli approached she could see the shapes moving around inside.

“Eli?” Nozomi’s voice came out of the darkness.

“Hi.” Eli heard herself sound...eager.

Nozomi almost rushed Eli, almost hugged Eli, almost...both she and Eli stepped back, eyes locked.

“Kanan said you were getting cold out there.” Nozomi held out a jacket between them, “I thought you might need another layer.”

Eli took it, hugging it to her chest, savoring the warm sweet friendliness rising from it as she relaxed.

“Those work better when you put them on.” Nozomi chided, a gentle tartness that brought heat to Eli’s cheeks.

“Ha.” Eli laughed and shrugged into the coat. It was a little loose, so not her style, but so warm.

“Hey, Eli…” Nozomi managed confident, shy, and confiding as she settled Eli’s collar, “the party seems to be all danced out by now and I was…”

“Eli!” Nico was there, a little out of breath, “Nico couldn’t find you. This house is…”

“Amazing.” Eli chuckled as Nico got caught staring back over her shoulder, probably wondering what Maki was doing at that moment.

“Yeah, that.” Nico smacked Eli on the arm, “But how are you supposed to keep track of anyone?”

“You better get back before you lose your DJ.” Eli bumped Nico with her shoulder, a silent thanks for looking out for her.

“Thought you might need my car keys. Maki’s got a spare bedroom I can crash in tonight. Her mom’ll be here in the morning to check on our rescue and I want to know she’s all right.”

“Who, Maki?” Nozomi couldn’t resist, a bite in her tone.

“Yeah, Maki. And Dia.” No spark from Nico, just serious consideration. “Nico can’t believe what a crazy day it’s been.”

“Truth.” Eli sighed. She knew she’d be exhausted once she actually got somewhere familiar.

“We all just need a few minutes of quiet.” Nico muttered, mostly to herself, right hand pointing and sweeping, drawing out some thought half spoken, “without anyone dropping in. Then practical Nico resurged, “I have to grab my go bag, then you can have the car.” Nico started toward the garage”

“I’ll be right there.”

Nico waved as she bounced toward the garage.

“Guess it’s time to call it a night.” Eli started to take off Nozomi’s coat, “I had a lot of fun.”

“Keep the coat.” Nozomi’s arms were wrapped around her torso, but her eyes were serious, and she was so solid, rooted, and tall that Eli felt safeguarded, no tension in the air. “I’m going to take you out for the best chocolate cake in LA day tomorrow so you can return it to me then.”

Eli didn’t have to think about that. Her reply was an instinct, “I’d love to.”

A/N I have visited family, thrown a party, cast a show (Arsenic and Old Lace). First rehearsal is tonight but I miss writing so here you are.

[bigskydreaming]

Ooooh on the Greek gods as superheroes thing: is it full on with all the gods? Like the Norse, Indian, Chinese etc? How do the Greeks react to the roman gods? Since so many are just rip offs of them? And idk if you know anything about Maori mythology but if you had any thoughts on how they fit in I’d scream with joy :> thank you for such a cool idea!

I’m thinking its mostly focused on the Greek gods to start, because they’re so well known and I like doing something new with old things so I’m trying to come up with new takes for the big hitters as well as some of the lesser knowns. Greek mythology in particular is soooo much bigger than just the twelve Olympians and some of the more minor gods are fascinating to me. In particular, Nyx and her children are a wealth of potential, especially in the modern age. Like....did you know there’s a god of Doom, specifically? That’s freaking manna from heaven for me.

So the idea of other pantheons arriving, I see it as a overhanging shadow that the Greek gods are becoming aware of and of mixed opinions on what to do about it...because the Greek gods, by their very nature, are squabblers. So squabblers gonna squabble about this.

Which means that’s already a pretty sizable cast of characters I’d like to play with from the get go, so I haven’t jumped too far ahead to all the other gods in other pantheons that could be fun as well. I do know the Norse would be ones that show up, as I have ideas for some of those.

But beyond that, I’d have to do some more research before settling on specifics. Not in terms of researching pantheons, like lmao, I am a huge mythology nerd since dating back to middle school loser-hood in the library every lunch, and I’ve read every mythological text from every mythology I can get my hands on. But more in terms of which I’d be comfortable using for this particular project? I’m a big believer in creator responsibility and white authors in particular have a long and nasty history of appropriating other cultures’ spirituality in the name of entertainment, even when that spirituality is NOT as synonymous with mythology as its often made out to be.

So on that basis alone, I can say pretty categorically that I would consider all Hindu, Shinto, Mesoamerican, Vodoun and indigenous gods off limits for a project of this particular nature, because not only do they stem from cultures of color, we’re talking living religions still practiced today in a lot of those cases. And that’s a no go, as far as I’m concerned.

While more firmly ‘mythological’ pantheons (particularly European ones that I can trace connections to in my own ancestry) like the Norse, Irish, Celtic, Finnish, Slavic, etc are all more likely to appear.

That said, there’s no reason the avatars of any of those gods need to be white, and also none of them are straight cuz I said so and I’m right, so for instance, in my head currently I’m picturing Hera/Harmony as a bi Afro-latina, Apollo/Morningstar’s a white gay man, Hades/Graveyard is latino, etc. Artemis is someone I’ve got a lot of fun ideas for, because I always like playing with different takes on the triplicate goddess, so here I thought I’d go with the idea that Artemis, Selene and Hecate all started out as different goddesses with their own purviews that overlapped in certain respects....and they kinda consciously, deliberately merged themselves in a way that like....allows them to share power at the expense of sacrificing some of their autonomy. So they’re still three distinct individuals, who have an edge over a lot of their peers because they can pool their powers, perceptions, experience, etc....but only because they decided a long time ago they were comfortable sharing brain-space in a way, with their thoughts and feelings and moods occasionally spilling over into each other.

So as of now, I’m picturing Moonshadow/Artemis as a Japanese woman and goddess of the hunt, while Selene is a black woman and goddess of the moon and secrets and Hecate is a white Mediterranean woman and goddess of magic and mysteries. Hecate is at her peak in the twilight hours, the first four hours of night, Selene is at her most powerful in the midnight hours, the next four hours of night, and Artemis is at the height of her powers in the deep night, the last four hours of night. And all three of them can be on separate continents but like, appear as shadows or reflections of the other two. So for instance, you look at Moonshadow and you see a short Japanese woman in her late twenties, but when she’s drawing on their shared resources you kinda squint and do a double take, because for a second there it looks like she’s not alone, there’s two other women standing right behind her, or when you look at her in a mirror you see all three of them reflected. That kinda thing.

(Also from now on I’m tagging stuff about this potential project with the tags “Absolute Power” or “kalen writes Absolute Power”).

[weaselle]

Scry Capers hashtag fictionblast

      In the far future, more than half of humanity lives on the Moon. There are also a few populations on in-system space stations, the Mars Colony, and the Fleet Crews that live on the enormous ships that travel between them all.      The last of the earthlings inhabit a dead and deadly Earth, ruined by humanity’s failure to properly steward our planet and ravaged by terrible wars. Vast abandoned mega-cities return to nature and yet become home to the unnatural: altered animals/people that are either cybernetically Upgraded or biologically Enhanced beings. Scavengers and Privateers make illegal loot runs to Dead Earth for anything of value to smuggle into space colony black markets.       The situation for the few million people still living on Earth is growing worse and a final chance of rescue off-planet is taking place, a cooperative mission organized by the governments of the Moon, overseen by the newly formed and nefarious Planetary Evacuation and Transfer Agency, who takes violent measures to protect against “infiltration” of the Moon by any who are not “pure” humans.       This is not a welcome policy for the various UpGraded and Enhanced people who have become a part of Dead Earth society - lifelong lovers, leaders, parents and friends in the communities left to fend for themselves for so many generations. Into this hotbed of unrest and wreckage sails the crew of one small smuggling ship. Come explore this future with them. Basically it’s about a space smuggling ship of rag-tag adventurers who raid the surface of Dead Earth and sell goods on the Lunar black market. They wind up chasing down a series of ancient sites that answer questions about the deep origins of humanity.

In addition to the Martian and Lunar Colonies, there are the Space Stations, and The Fleet. Originally, the Fleet was the Station Supply Fleet, created to service the seven space stations humans had built. Life on these stations was secretive, and their smaller populations tended toward high I.Q.s in the top of their various fields of study, who then raised  several generations of children who were certainly very, very smart, even if thus far unproven to be genetically enhanced to be extra intelligent, as several stations were rumored to do. Stations were little worlds unto themselves, and along with developing various needed commodities in their areas of specialty (such as nano-tech, medical research, the production and improvement of various foods and technologies) they also developed their own ways of life. Likewise, the Service Fleet, many ships crewed by up to two hundred men and women on between-station journeys that could take three years or more, acquired their own culture. The stations began to have differing opinions about what the law should be on-station.Those opinions disagreed with the opinions of Earth and the Lunar colonies, and when one of those disagreements came to a head on Station Delta, Space Command  found out very quickly that one of the things all the stations had in common was an opinion that attempts at military boarding and take-over of a station would not be tolerated. Initial reports by surviving members of the Lunar Military incursion team were to the effect that yes, the extremely intelligent people of Station Delta had, in fact, thought to engineer quite efficiently against armed intrusion. Planetary authorities were further caught with their pants down when the seven stations of Sol System immediately unionized, announcing themselves an alliance of self-governing bodies. The Sol Union then gave the fleet that serviced them (and relied largely on the stations for refuel and supply) an offer: “join us.” On each ship of the Fleet, decisions were made. On some ships, there were votes. On other ships arguments were more pointed. Explosive, even. Two ships were lost entirely. In the end, the Council of Captains was formed (some of whom were very new to their captaincy indeed) who defined each ship as an autonomous entity within the Captain’s Council, and unanimously offered an alliance with the Sol System Union, simultaneously offering Earth and the Lunar Colonies a peace-treaty with trade agreements. Once the Sol Union signed allegiance with the Council of Captains, there wasn't really any choice for Terran government; the station labs produced a lot of the best goods and technology: medical equipment and vaccines, personal electronics, as well as widely enjoyed arts and entertainment- that last bit was particularly tricky for Space Command to get around. It was extremely difficult to garner the support of the citizenry when the 'enemy' was so damned popular. And the ships of the Fleet were almost all of the serious space-craft humanity had made; there was no space navy, or any kind of second fleet to provide shipping. In effect, the rebel space stations, while refusing to trade any of those things with Earth or the Moon, had agreed to sell to the Fleet. And the Fleet was offering to sell those things to the Earth and Moon. And buy goods from them to sell to Sol Union, of course. Terra couldn't afford to refuse, and indeed, the Delta Solar Treaty worked well for all concerned.  ______________________________________________________________________ The ship is a Sprite Class escort ship repurposed for surface raids and smuggling. The crew is 12 strong 1 AL Short. Buff. Mechanic. Loves vehicles. Missing two fingers. Weapons of choice: sawed off shotgun, hammer, and explosives. Seems fierce but is a big softie. Loves sandwiches and beer. Very seriously insists that he is not of the magic race of dwarves. Always winks afterward. Pet/companion: robot badger. 2 PAIGE Navigation officer. Bookkeeper. Researcher. Woman of Persian heritage. Smart, plays chess, loves books. Grew up half her time on a Space Fleet ship half at a space station. Excellent cook. Weapons of choice: tranq gun full of customized doses and a poisoned dagger. Pet/companion: cat. 3 FEY the captain’s left hand. Loyal to a fault. Black-haired lady of Irish decent. Deadly with several weapons, as well as hand to hand, for some reason, likes the compound bow. Pet/companion: a raven. 4 Q (sometimes Quade or Quin) Tech savant. Computer engineer, code monkey, inventor, robotics tech. Ship pilot. Genius. Always listening to weird music. Androgynous ace black person. Pet/companion: probably-sapient robot built by Q. Resembles a spider the size of a chihuahua  5 DOGWOOD (or maybe Jinx) Being of mystery. So many tattoos. Unrecognizable ethnicity. Witch, probably. Constantly picking pockets and pulling little cons. Tarot cards for poker, winners hands come true. Weapons of choice: hands, random items, the surrounding environment, and pure luck. Flirts with 100% of everyone. Pet/companion something that is probably a coyote but might be a fox? some kind of jackal? Smarter than it should be.  6 . SIX Six is trouble. Don’t bother Six. Six is emotionally fragile and also might rend you limb from limb. Let’s just, let’s just leave Six alone. Pet/companion: the beast within 7 LIEUTENANT WOLFE (usually just called Lieutenant) the captain’s right hand. Weapons of choice, rifle, axe. Russian and Scandinavian ancestry. Companion/pet, clearly, a grey wolf, grey, named Shadow (follows him everywhere.) 8 EIGHT-BALL. Rogue. Gambler. Half-Japanese black trans woman. Loves pool and casinos. Loves cash, jewels, and reeeeaaalllyyyy expensive whiskey. Quickdraw artist with a pistol. Personal pool cue houses a sword cane blade. Laughs easy, holds grudges. Pet/companion: raccoon. 9 THE CAPTAIN. Also referred to as Boss. Trying to navigate the group to success. Slow to give up personal information. The crew are all family the captain would die for. Non binary person with ancestry in mongolia as well as various east asian populations. Pet/companion: Siberian Husky.   10. DOC. Not actually a doctor, more like a paramedic, field surgeon. Sort of a vet for humans. A mostly Tibetan person. Might be 40 years old, might be 90 years old. Pet/companion: saker falcon. 11. SU. Sometimes Suke. Assassin. Bodyguard. Not a talker. Japanese. Highly specialized weapons. Pet/companion: venomous cyborg snake.  12. The Client / possible new adoptee, a well-off lad from the lunar colonies, disowned for his stance against the political status quo, with powerful political enemies. He has hired the crew to help uncover proof of a big secret he is trying to bring to light, and he has his own secret from the crew. Meanwhile, he does his best to unlearn some of his lunar colony privilege and preconceptions, out where population gene pools aren’t screened for designer mutations and cybernetic upgrades don’t define you as less than human. Companion/pet: cyber-ferret. _____________________________________________________________________ Here is some background and world building, and please, I know it says prologue, but it’s really just, like, rough world building notes

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2018 Year In Review

Previous Posts: (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011) 

2018 has not been a banner year for self care. It has not been a banner year for much of anything, to be honest. This year in review will be much less colourful and exciting than they traditionally tend to be. It has been a year of hard work, stress, and feeling the pressure of the less-fun parts of adulthood creeping up on me. It has been really hard, to be totally honest. I have spent the majority of the year in a deep state of exhaustion and distress. There are positives within it all, though. Big positives, such as: 

I went on my longest trip ever away from home. 

I have developed so much in the professional sense and have fallen so deeply in love with social work and my future career path. 

I have made new friends who reflect these changing influences in my life, and the enduring friendships that have survived all of these years continue to strengthen and deepen as time goes on. 

January: 

Tell me - why does January always suck? 2018 began with an opening double shift on New Year’s Day, which I feel is strongly symbolic of the year as a whole because you have an exhausted Megan struggling to responsibly balance my professional responsibilities, self-care, and partying. On January 3rd, Alex and I booked our flights to Asia and in doing so, solidified that we were going through with a plan made drunkenly over the table last summer at a karaoke bar. 

I did get to spend an awesome ski weekend with Alesta, Sydney x 2, and Shelby. It was especially nice because this particular group of people had never spent time all together - we were just united by being a group of girls who love to ski. We hit Lake Louise on Saturday, stayed overnight at a hostel in Banff, and Alesta and I hit Sunshine on Sunday. In Banff, we got a free jug of sangria because we are cute girls. We went to High Rollers and Sydney was drinking IPAs and porters like a pro. I went alone (like... what? Who am I? How drunk was I?) to Dancing Sasquatch after and made friends with some Nova Scotians in line. One of them paid for my cover and bought me not one but two of those infamous Time Machine drinks and extra bonus - Alesta and I got FREE lift passes at Sunshine. 

At the end of the month, my mental health took a sharp nosedive into oblivion and I don’t even really know why. I started experiencing a violent resurgence of something I haven’t felt since the end of the 12th grade, having what I now recognize as panic attacks. The first one came when I was studying on a Sunday at Higher Ground and I had no idea what the fuck was happening, I’d been there for several hours when I suddenly felt the urge to throw up. I packed up all my shit and burst out the door literally gasping for air but ended up being fine. Just shaky and confused. They started happening more frequently after this, with no predictable trigger, and I started to feel the physical manifestations of stress. That was new and it freaked me out. This lent itself to a lot of strange patterns around eating (since I was constantly feeling nauseous, or I thought I was, I didn’t want to have a full stomach. I also thought I had a food intolerance, and because I’m me was 100% convinced I was pregnant because the stress caused me to miss my period). 

February 

Things started to get so bad in February that I had to plead my manager at Famoso for less hours. He was an idiot in general but also did not seem to grasp the severity of what I told him. He would frequently schedule me for these long swing swifts all weekend long, leaving no time or energy for the mountains of homework I had to do. It did not help. 

February was especially busy with school. That’ll be a recurring theme throughout this year. It could honestly be a summary of this entire year - so I’ll spare you the details. But five courses at the University of Calgary is no joke. 

I never needed reading week so badly in my entire life. I was beyond happy to just be able to take a long weekend and not be at Famoso. Shelby arranged for a giant group of her friends to spend the weekend at her friend Sawyer’s massive, absolutely beautiful cabin in Invermere. I got to spend some quality time with two of my favourite people on the planet - Emma and Sydney. From the minute we got into Emma’s car together, to having ciders at the Emerald Lake Lodge on the way, to eating A&W and sharing a bed and “she gon’ fuck the fridge.” Sydney and I spent one afternoon on homework while everyone else went skiing and I was with her when she got the news that she’d won this massive grant and we celebrated by sitting in this magical massage chair and just loving life. We played Drink, Talk, Learn! And I gave a drunken presentation on the history and etiology of pugs. Emma and I went skating on Lake Windermere to cure our hangovers on Sunday. A keg and a bonfire were involved. It was so Canadian, honestly LOL. And so perfect. 

March 

Although I was still struggling with this weird panic-nausea cycle, it lessened through March as more and more assignments were completed. I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to use a cliche. I gave three presentations in a week, I remember that being particularly awful. 

I attempted Mellow March for the second time and once again failed. Mildly concerning. I caved on a Wednesday wing night with the Famoso friends. It was 27 days in. So close, so close. 2019 will be my year! 

I started getting really into podcasts at this time because I started commuting using public transit. I got really into Guys We Fucked (which I still love), and This Is Actually Happening. TIAH is kind of fucked up though, and after a while it started to fuck me up. I would have weird dreams about the content and I started becoming paranoid that there was something wrong/extraordinary about me. So I stopped. I guess that is something I have learned about myself this year, is that even when it’s not overt, I am really deeply effected by some of the things I learn. Typically, people of this nature do not excel in the field of social work so allow me to flag this as a place for improvement in the future.

I ran the 5km at the St. Patrick’s Day road race, which was awesome and I won the draw that everyone was entered in and got a FREE pair of these super nice, hot pink New Balance running shoes that I now cherish with my life. 

I had my first round of practicum interviews, which only ended up being one interview because I was offered the placement at CommunityWise before I could interview anywhere else. This is one of the best things to happen the whole year :) 

And a special moment for me as well was on March 31, I got to see Alvvays live. 

April 

In April, I finished hell semester and immediately jetted off to Thailand.

From the get go, the trip was a bit of a shit show. This was my second time to Asia, and my first experience with really planning a trip including flights, hostels, and transportation from place to place without the aid of a tour guide or travel company. We had a time even getting to Bangkok due to an untimely snow storm the day of our departure that forced our flight to Vancouver to be late and causing us to miss our connecting flight to China. After two hours in line at the Air Canada desk, an agent produced a new itinerary for us. Calgary to Los Angeles to Hong Kong to Bangkok. He printed the sheets out and when I looked at the times on the paper, the mental math wasn’t adding up. With me, the mental math never really adds up but this time it seemed impossible that we could leave so much later than planned for our trip and arrive in Bangkok only three hours later than we were supposed to. I brought this up with him and he assured me it was fine. I wasn’t satisfied though, and asked a bunch of other airport personnel the same question. They all said we were fine but lo and behold, we land in Hong Kong and are waiting for the Thai Airlines desk to open so we can retrieve the tickets for the last leg of the journey when the agent there tells us, “They put you on the flight that left yesterday.” Anger and distress ensues. I call Air Canada from the airport in Hong Kong and the call drops. I’m straight up crying on the floor at this point. But in the end – we fucking made it.

In Bangkok, I was welcomed back to the stifling heat and humidity of Asia. We met American doctors-to-be who were at the end of their trip and were totally sick of one another and were very happy to have company. We ate massaman curry for every meal, partied on Khao San Road (those nitrous balloons!!! God, they’re so fun!!), and spent a lot of money on a single cocktail just for a photo op at the top of a skyscraper but the sunset was perfect and it was totally worth it.

In Chiang Mai we drank Sangsom and Coca-Cola by the pool and ate street food out of Styrofoam containers. We met these Americans who were teaching English in Chiang Mai and they took us to a night club on the back of their motorbikes. I did a drug I said I’ve never do in one of the bathrooms at this night club and ended up going home with one of the aforementioned teachers. It was funny to me because at about 3:00pm, Alex and I went back to our hostel to change and get ready for the evening and at that point I said, “I think I’m going to end up hooking up with Cory.” I fucking knew. I KNEW.

In Pai, I had the DIRTIEST hostel experience of my life. I was showering… just fully naked and vulnerable in this nasty ass shower when I saw a bug I did not recognize from my sheltered upbringing crawl out of a hole in the wall. I have never felt more small. It was also 43 degrees and we were staying in a tiny hut with a plug-in fan that only worked half the time and somehow had the effect of making the room hotter? Pai was also the first time we rented motorbikes. It’s honestly so dangerous… like, what the fuck, Thailand. We experienced our first flash rainstorm. We went to a place called Sunset Bar and took mushroom shakes and holy shit I’ve never experienced more potent mushrooms in my entire life. We met our Irish friends who we’d later see in Koh Pha Ngan, and I slept with an Israeli soldier on our second-to-last night and I’m almost 100% certain I took his virginity.

Koh Pha Ngan was alllll thunderstorms. We also decided to splurge a bit on food on this island and gorged ourselves with seafood and lavender Moscow mules at this nice restaurant down the road from our hostel. We partied so hard. We went to the pre-parties for the Full Moon – they have the Waterfall party two nights before, and the Jungle party the night before. I had sex with a total stranger at the Waterfall party up against a rock (when I recounted this story to Steven upon returning home he put on a redneck accent and said, “C’mon baby let me take you down to the fuck rock” and now that’s all I hear when I think about this experience in my head). The Full Moon Party was fun but not AS fun as the pre parties. It wasn’t as wild and the beach is so big but everyone concentrates in one little area. I took some kind of mystery pill (as you can see, I was very safe in Thailand) and had yet another sexual experience with a casual partner. I also witnessed a fight in the taxi back because one girl called another girl a stripper. It was bad.

May 

Continuing on with our Asia trip.

We landed in Krabi and intended fully to chill out a little bit after the wildness of Koh Pha Ngan. The first night was chill, we were staying in the Muslim quarter of the Krabi area so there weren’t a ton of nightclubs to go to and the hostel had some kind of run-in with police and weren’t able to take us out on the pub crawl we signed up for (lame). We had a roommate from Vancouver on the second day who bought a bunch of Xanax from a Thai pharmacy and gave me one. I can never do it again because it was so. good. But of course, I took one pill and stopped drinking just in case. This bitch continued drinking and took six or seven Xanax throughout the night. I honestly don’t know how she lived. We went rock climbing and drank beers on a boat tour one day and it was soooo great. We had the hottest tour guide. I did a hike by my lonesome that I nearly died on.

On the ferry ride from Krabi to Koh Phi Phi is where I got the sunburn that will likely give me skin cancer in later life and kill me. 90 minutes on the outside deck of a ferry (because I felt nauseous as fuck and didn’t want to vom in the cabin) absolutely fucked. me. up. We stayed at another pretty fucking gross hostel in Koh Phi Phi, and my roommates were all male which was a new experience for me. I went on a solo booze cruise cause Alex was sick. We took mushrooms again with our Canadian friend Kelsey and god, I was laughing so hard I was crying and I could not stop. I was like rolling around in the sand laughing so fucking hard about Fisherman’s Friends candy. It was so blissful. So pure.

And then… the sickness. This is going to be TMI but… fuck it. A bit of indigestion and stomach trouble is expected whenever a white person enters Asia. Different microbes etc. etc. But this… this was on a new fucking level. I knew something was up because on the morning that we woke up to take our ferry from Koh Phi Phi to Phuket, I vomited. And I never vomit, and I wasn’t that hungover (especially in relation to much of the rest of the trip). I felt okay afterwards though so we soldiered on. Three hour ferry ride, totally fine. We board our bus that will take us from the ferry port in Phuket to our hotel and about halfway through this bus ride, I feel it. I am wearing overalls. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest, sweat begins to bead on my forehead. Holy fuck, I am going to shit my pants. I clench until we get to the hostel – which is, of course, the last stop. It’s like a solid 45 minutes of pain. My stomach is ROILING. I have never felt anything like it.

I honestly know nothing about Phuket because I spent the entire 72 hours we were there running from my bunk bed to the bathroom. I would go so far as to say every ten minutes. At one point, I just brought my laptop into the washroom with me and watched Netflix for a few hours. A roommate who was with us switched rooms (understandably… I’m sorry, Helen). I didn’t eat for four days, literally not a fucking thing. Just Gatorade and water so that I didn’t die of dehydration. Because we had an airplane to catch and I needed to not be shitting the contents of my body out, I saw a doctor. He prescribed me like five different medications and told me just to take like eight of these pills and to expect stomach pain but it would at least get me through the flight to Seoul and hopefully home.

It worked, and we spent the last few days of our trip in Seoul. What an absolutely fascinating and beautiful part of the world. With Kieun as our guide, we got to see the best parts of Seoul. People took photos with us and gave us free shit. I had the absolute best meal of my life (it was the first thing I’d eaten in like four days… I really risked it all with the Korean barbecue honestly…). All-you-can-eat thick fatty slices of pork belly, grilled in front of us and dipped in sesame oil and salt with garlic and spices. Spicy chicken feet on the side, corn with cheese. It was wild. I cannot believe I stomached it.

And on May 12th, we returned home back to our lives and school and work and all of that boring ass shit. I remained ill for a solid six weeks upon returning home. To a lesser degree, I still have not fully recovered. At this point, I am unsure if I ever will. I truly think that second-round Asia gave me skin cancer and permanently altered my gastrointestinal functioning. Worth it? Unsure. But it happened nonetheless.

June 

My brother graduated from university and won a very prestigious award and it was very nice to watch him cross the stage and hear a nice speech about his accomplishments (he won so many scholarships that he basically had a free ride to school – I think it’s clear who inherited the brains).

I finished up my spring courses. Can I just say - spring courses are the worst? The two I picked were especially bad. The one about human sexuality was basically Sex Ed 101 which made for an easy A but I was hoping to investigate deeper on a number of topics. And the second one was way too hard for my tiny brain to accommodate and I got the lowest mark I’ve ever gotten on my paper and it brought me down.

I had a very random unexpected night where I slept with a really close friend of mine (like, friends for over a decade) who I used to have a little bit of a crush on in high school. We were very drunk and it was kind of a curiosity-satisfying move that has actually not resulted in a very big change to our relationship at all but I think it’s worth mentioning because younger me would have been stoked. This one’s for you, younger me!

We went to the High River Rodeo and Cabaret – another unexpected move but oh my god it was so fun. Matt, Steven, Amanda and I. You could buy as many beers as you wanted at a time and they were cheap because fuck the AGLC apparently. The rodeo was actually super fun. The cabaret was redneck af and I happened to see my roommate from the hostel in Koh Phi Phi and his buddies there? Although it was not a friendly reunion because I had unknowingly exposed him for cheating on his girlfriend when he was in Phi Phi (which he did. I shared a room with him, and the girl he loudly banged every night until 4am). Two-stepping ensued and I passed out in the car ride home. I have a great photo of Steven from this night next to a bottle of hot sauce. I do not recall why. I will include it below. 

July 

Okay, I am just going to preface this by saying July was a hot mess. 

Myself, Madison, Maeghan, and Cayley were all single and messing around on dating apps so we decided to create Tinder bingo. It’s exactly what it sounds like. The rules were that you could only cross off two things per date (so that you had to go on a minimum of three to win), you got bonus points for going on a Tinder date with the same person someone else had gone out with, and the first to win got their drinks paid for on a night out. So, I went on exactly one Tinder date. Which is something I said I’ve never do and never really saw myself doing but I went for it on this occasion because I think that in this day and age, a Tinder date is an experience everyone should have. So I bit the bullet, and went for a drink with this guy James at the Oak Tree Tavern. And oh... my god? What a terrible experience? LAUGHABLY terrible. His only desired topic of conversation were the nationalities of people I had slept with and in what circumstances. At one point he asked me, “when was the last time you had sex? Was it good?” He also talked at maximum volume and I guarantee you everyone else at that bar overheard our conversation. Midway through the date, he asked for a review of how he was doing and I told him he seemed a bit nervous. This angered him. He said, “I’M NOT NERVOUS” and I was like, “you asked, buddy.” He asked me if I would pay for him. Cayley literally had to come rescue me and I ran out of his car where he had unbuttoned his pants and had his dick out and was literally on the verge of tears begging me to touch it so hard. I literally bolted out of his car and he yelled out the window, “CALL ME!” He still hits me up on instagram sometimes. I hope his life gets better. 

I also moved again. This is my favourite living situation I’ve ever had. Great roommates who are almost never home. Cute house. Good location. A+ choice by me. 

I got really obsessed with the Thai cave rescue. It was just such a compelling and unique STORY and I would literally come home from work and refresh the BBC live update feed for hours until I fell asleep, then I’d wake up and refresh hoping for good news. I cannot wait for the movie. I will go opening day. #Obsessions 

Stampede!!! Oh my god, what a wonderful Stampede. The most memorable thing is that Steven and I went to the standing rodeo one afternoon and got absolutely. fucking. hammered. Whilst there, we met and befriended two Australian retirees named Lyn and Ken. They are rich and are obsessed with horseriding and rodeo stuff. They purchased many drinks for us and we convinced them to come to Nashville North with us, where they purchased MORE drinks for us and Steven attempted to show them how to two-step. They later invited me to go horseback riding in Banff and I accepted. They literally picked me up, drove me to Banff, we crushed two bottles of wine at the Park gin distillery, went on a three-hour horseback ride through the mountains, they drove me home and I paid for NONE OF IT. It was........ a day. I sat on my bed later and thought to myself, “that was fucking weird.” But now, if I ever go to Melbourne, I will hit them up. 

It was Ali’s birthday and we went camping in Waiparous. We took mushrooms on Saturday and just as they were beginning to fully kick in, the RCMP rolled in and kicked us out of our campsite. What a wild time to be faced with an interaction with the cops. Also - no one could drive except for two people who had stayed sober and they had to shuttle us to a new campsite. Have you ever tried setting up a tent on mushrooms? Do you know how difficult and hilarious it is? 

And lastly at the end of July, I went to Folk Fest. I saw Alvvays again. Front row! Like, against the barrier front row. It was awesome. It was folk fest that inspired me to cut my hair and get bangs again. No regrets. I love my bangs. I also experienced a level of street harassment that I didn’t know was possible from some random, innocent-seeming guy. It was terrifying. I called the police. No bueno. 

August 

In August, I got promoted at my job and basically became a baby manager. It was better in theory than in practice because my shifts got longer, I made less in tips (but more hourly), and the cash out for a restaurant is a long and frustrating process that depends on a lot of small pieces working together correctly in a big ass spreadsheet and I suck at math.

In happier news – August was also the establishment of podcast club. Podcast club is one of the best and dorkiest things I have ever been involved with. We pick a podcast each week to listen to, and get together on Sunday mornings at 10:00am to discuss the contents of the podcast. It was initially open to whomever wanted to come but has since whittled down to a core group and at this point, we’re all so close that it would almost be weird to introduce a new person into the mix. There is Kendal, who I go to school with and who started the whole club. Her boyfriend, Mitch. Lachlan and Maddy who are siblings. Matt, a YouTuber who was kind of a wildcard. Chad, also kind of a wildcard but who works as a youth counsellor – and me! Podcast club has made my life infinitely better and is probably the best thing to come out of 2018, in all honesty.

I also got obsessed with Harry Potter and read like almost the whole series and my new at the time roommates thought I was such a loser because I would literally post up on the couch in the living room with a HP book and they would come back five hours later and I hadn’t moved and all I wanted to talk about was Harry Potter. 

September / October / November 

I am lumping these three months together in this review because truly, they are lumped together in my mind and heart. 

On September 11, I started my first practicum at CommunityWise. I really had no idea what to expect when I started there but looking back, I cannot believe how hard I lucked out. The U of C is VERY clinically-based when it comes to how it educates and describes the practice of social work. CW was the opposite of it all and day-to-day so much happens there that it is honestly impossible not to get dragged in at such a deep level that it literally forces you to care. When I was in practicum, I did a lot of reading and I came across this concept of a “disorienting dilemma” which is “an experience within which a current understanding is found to be insufficient or incorrect and the learner struggles with the resulting conflict of views. Such experiences often are those to which learners point as the beginning of the process of questioning their understanding and views and entering the transformative learning process” (Source). Truly, being in that space over the course of 300 hours created this for me. I was forced to confront a lot of racist and otherwise problematic shit that I have been brought up with and that comes up in small ways for me that I try and quash down for the sake of saving face. Poverty, addiction, mental health issues showed up LITERALLY on the doorstep and I was thrown into it all. The experience was a disorienting dilemma and it shook me out of my bubble and I have never fallen so deeply in love with social work. My supervisor and I formed a VERY close relationship that probably broke some ethical and professional boundaries and she was there for me to discuss social issues and experiences I was having in an honest way that really deconstructed things. I had my debit card stolen by a client on one occasion, had to call the DOAP team because I witnessed people in overdose more times than I can count, had to talk many a person down from suicide, befriended a very mentally ill person who suffers from delusions that they are an alien in a human body sent here to observe earth and report back to their master. We had to kick someone out of a workshop for being racist. It was a wild ride, honestly. There were many many positive things to come out of practicum. I built my professional network in ways I never would have been able to, I was able to move out of the “student” realm and step into the role of a social worker and advocate and professional. I did a lot of public speaking! I was out in the community talking to a million different people. I made videos and posters. And the best part of all is that even when my practicum ended, my connection to CW did not. They have hired me on as a digital storytelling intern (paid!) for the new year. Which is a major confidence boost and I just love CW and everyone there so much. I will literally be forever grateful to them for taking me under their collective wing and showing me I have the skills and abilities to be an effective social worker :) 

Ahem. Now on to some not-so-good things... 

The end of October was kind of difficult because I was attempting to manage practicum responsibilities, actual class projects and homework, second-round practicum interviews, and Famoso. I was very stressed out and it was not good, especially because I got a rejection from one interview and didn’t even get an interview at my top choice. I was feeling very sorry for myself and may or may not have cried at my desk at practicum. It all worked out in the end though, and actually I was offered a placement at the first place I interviewed – they just took a while to get back to me. She called me to let me know this while I was on a run and being idiot me, I picked up… panting and gasping for air in Nose Hill Park. She was like, “We’d like to offer you the place… wait, are you okay?”

I would also like to just slide it in here that I slept with my ex in October. Which wasn’t a particularly momentous occasion and was actually kind of funny because it felt so much like a one night stand. I am mostly putting this in here because I don’t think many people know that and I want to see who reads this far.

Along similarish lines – I PUT MYSELF OUT THERE AND ASKED SOMEONE ON A STRAIGHT UP DATE AND GOT REJECTED AND IT WAS HONESTLY SO EMBARASSING AND BRUTAL and it’s okay now but oh… my god. This also happened around the same time as the rejections from practicum placements and I had such a bad night where I got drunk on my couch alone and Cayley brought me burnt ends from her new job at a brewery because she was #concerned for me and I didn’t want to be alone. That’s a true friend right there.

December 

December is only halfway done - but I feel I can summarize it accurately. It has been a nice, tidy wrap up to the year. A month of podcasts, cleaning my house and my car and my life up, a mysterious knee injury that is really fucking me up, working a lot at Famoso, finishing my practicum and school semester. One thing I am dreading is that my brother’s girlfriend who our family is not particularly fond of will be joining us in Saskatoon this year. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. 

In General 

2018 has been very stressful for me. But despite the stress, and sometimes out of it, have come some very nice, beautiful things. I said last year in my post that I wanted to become more deeply involved in my community and in activism and social work and in that way I think I have excelled. I’m in it now, you guys. I feel capable. I feel motivated. I feel CONFIDENT. And I’m fucking excited to see what comes in the future. 

I nearly doubled the amount of people I’ve slept with so that’s... a notable thing that happened this year. 

It has been nice to feel a return to a sense of belonging with my old high school group of friends. In a way, I feel more united with them than ever. I guess not having a partner that they all hate helps. But also, I think I’ve just been feeling more and more like myself. But to Connor, Steven, Matt, Adam and the assortment of new(er) members that come and go - I am very grateful for you all. It has also been good for my heart and soul to become so close with people from podcast club. It’s actually like... really hard to make new friends. Podcast club made it easy. And I found myself on a Friday night in Maddy and Ben’s apartment, watching cooking shows and teaching them how to play card games, laughing until I cried and drinking wine. And it’s like... who else gets together on EVERY Sunday morning to discuss podcasts? For fun? I know relationships change and dissolve and grow from each year to the next but I just have a deep feeling that some of these friendships are the real deal. And I’m really lucky. It sounds so ~fake deep~ and lame but honestly podcast club is making me a better, happier, less anxious person. 

2019: 

I think 2019 is going to have to be the year that I really, truly grow the fuck up. I’m not mad about this. I look forward to crushing through 400 more hours of practicum, graduating and getting my degree. Hopefully entering the work force for real (this prospect is honestly so exciting to me... I creep the job boards every day daydreaming about what I might eventually do when I leave the world of waitressing) and making some adult money. 

I also like... totally got fat in 2018 so 2019 will involve some activities to counterbalance this. AND I have a ticket to Big Valley Jamboree. Which is hilarious because I think if you asked 2015 Megan what she’d never do, it would be “go to BVJ” but here I am, ticket in hand, excitement mounting by the day. Boots on, bitches. 

Some of my goals or things I’d like to work on in 2019 are to become less attached to social media and more invested in the actual moment/doing of things rather than recording them (ironic as I type this MASSIVE year in review post, yes), to get into a healthy and sustainable pattern of exercise where I don’t just like become obsessed with it for a little while and then slowly taper off and then do none of it for like six months... and honestly? I want to download a bunch of those dating apps again and just go for it. I think you can learn so much about yourself through dating and I’ve been such a recluse this year for the most part because I have been sort-of-but-not seeing someone since literally JULY but we’re not actually together and I don’t know what’s going on. I just need to get over my own insecurities and anxiety and just jump in with both feet. It’ll be fun. It’ll be crazy. I’m excited. 

The rest of it, as always, is an open book. Who knows where I will be, what I will be doing, or who I will be doing it with by this time next year? Not I. 

[feywildrp]

THE DAYTRIPPER // Yvette Taylor. Unaligned human, graduate student.               Born in 1995. Living at the Ludlow, Apt. 01B.

“I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep ’cause everything is never as it seems. Leave my door open just a crack, please take me away from here.” —Owl City, Fireflies.

KNOWN TRAITS // Imaginative, altruistic, exhausted, guilty, nostalgic.

Falling asleep, uncounted threads of cotton sheets, stuffed animal tucked in, too. Waffles warm with syrup in the morning. Falling asleep. Cold sweats and dark figures in the shadows. Sleepless nights. The way even the moon cracks. Falling asleep, down blankets and the comfort of a salt lamp. Real piano music threads a labyrinth of dreams, bringing guidance and control. The way the moon always fills. Sleeping nights and welcoming mornings.

History

⇢ Trigger warnings: blood, slight gore, death mentions.

Yvette was born an only child, and in some ways, this alone would mark her whole life. Both of her parents wanted her very badly but had difficulty conceiving; it was particularly hard on them because each had large families with many siblings and cousins. Yvette was their second attempt at in vitro fertilization and had to be their last due to the cost, but she was born bouncing and healthy. From a young age, her professor parents instilled in her strong ethics, a love of the classics, and the pressure that comes from having all of their hopes and dreams pinned on her. Yvette’s life was half-planned before she could walk. The trouble was, each parent had planned a half and neither could reconcile their parenting goals with the other. As lovers became parents, what began as growing pains developed into accusations and dissatisfactions behind closed doors. Yvette, for her part, remembers an idyllic childhood. Yes, there was the ever-present drive to do well academically, but apart from that she was spared from the tension that pulled at the edges of her life. That is, until the heat wave of June 2008, when Yvette went for a walk through Washington Square Park. Without thinking too much of it through the mirage of heat, she walked over a manhole cover—and found herself in another world of glittering snow and a frozen sun.

There among the icicles was a woman, dipping her beanie into a pool of blood and putting the hat back onto her head before kicking a body into a shallow grave at the foot of a tall birch tree. Frightened, Yvette hid, barely breathing, until the woman left. Then she ran farther into the woods, hearing the voices of her family but seeing them nowhere, until finally she saw another person open a shimmering circle in the air and a different person step through it. This was it: Yvette had to be dreaming. There was no other answer. When those two had left, Yvette went through the remains of the portal and came back to New York; a puppy followed behind her. She was only gone for about a full day, long enough to panic her parents but short enough not to make news reports, yet this became the match for the kindling of her parents’ marriage. Her vanishing was the source of a lot of blame and resentment, causing her parents to divorce and the family to splinter. Her new dog was a solace, if a surprise; Yvette called it Fido as a joke, but the name stuck as her parents let her keep it. It didn’t matter that she’d come home: she found she lost the home she’d meant to return to and it made her forever preoccupied with whatever dream world she’d once discovered. Turned escapist ever since, Yvette has mastered the ability to lucid dream.

Occupation

Full time graduate student: psychology.

As of fall semester 2017, Yvette is a graduate student in NYU’s General Psychology MA program. Although her family is still fractured, she never stopped seeking their approval and academia continued to be a way to get it. As a result of her history, Yvette has a particular interest in the focus of cognition/perception and hopes to explore dream and sleep therapy, including the effects of hypnosis on patients when used for dream recall.

Connections

Queen Lacha: Though Yvette remains entirely unaware of this complication, Fido is, in truth, a magical Irish wolfhound named Failinis who belongs to the Queen of the Unseelie. Yvette just thinks it’s a miniature wolfhound, not thinking overmuch about how it hasn’t really grown ever since the pup followed her home that fateful day.

Rowan: Also unknown to Yvette, Rowan is the woman she encountered burying a body in the Wandering Wood that day before she followed an unknown Player back into the human realm. Though they share no true connection, confirmation of the reality of that world might be a terrible—or wondrous—pill for Yvette to swallow.

Tyler & Benji: Two other students who also started NYU graduate programs the same semester she did, Yvette has crossed paths with both boys before during university seminars and events. She isn’t close with either of them, but in this strange new world Yvette is about to find herself in, they might just become unlikely lifelines.

PLAYLIST 1. Have You Ever // 2. Happy to Be Here // 3. Fireflies

Yvette is portrayed by Chloe Bennet. The faceclaim is NEGOTIABLE. Yvette is currently TAKEN by Kel and not available for application.

[capsensislagamoprh]

Okay, Lore from the BeLoNgInG tImE. Back when ... what was it? 2nd? 3rd edition? came out, there were these cards. Havermill Inn, Leprechaun, and Lure. Now, these days the texts have changed. But back then... 2-headed dragon. (two players team up. Share hit points. Can consult on other players hand and plays. Each has own deck.) 4 body skirmish (8 players making 4 teams). My color of choice was green, the other head in my team was white. The field was being decimated by the black tourney player who chose to team with a local red player because the blue/black dragon couldn’t counter fast enough, while black/red’s black player kept taking control of the blue/black’s black creatures. Red and green were having a hard time keeping him in check. Oh, red/black killed them both. Just. Toyed with them until they went in for the kill. Tourney black player was what you call... a smug ass about it. I have never approved of a sore looser, but a sore winner is just face-punchingly not cool. So, why didn’t they take the green/white dragon out first? Because I never attacked. He just kept picking off anything white put out. He thought: easy prey. Leave them for last. I o n l y ever played for fun, and frankly had to read each card in game before I really understood them, even asking questions because what’s faster, an instant or an interrupt still kinda gets me to this day. But little did he know... My ass had a HAND FULL of cards. Like that UNO meme, I would not burn a damned thing. Because they were fairies and they were so kawaii! Much cute! Many pretty! Literally, That was why. Didn’t want him to undead my fairies. Because somewhere in the back of my oxygen deprived, malnourished mind there was a plan. Red/black went to wipe the board and overwhelm both heads, thus winning. Well... I activated Lure. You see, back in the day, lure meant everything attacking had to attack the thing with Lure. Lure could block everything. Okay. Well, that meant they had one more turn. But no. You see... I also had Havermill Inn. And I’d put my lure on a leprechaun. I’d had three in my hand, and it was such  a paltry creature, they left it alone. They knew abut lure. They didn’t care as long as I didn’t buff anything. Everything they attacked with had to be blocked by lepricon, as back then you tallied AFTER blocking... and everything that blocked a leprechaun... turned green. Permanently. I don’t know if it still does, but back then we were in the wild waters of M:tG.

Now, why did leprechaun survive? Well... text resolved first. Everything turned green. And white had put a CoP Green on the leprechaun. Back then they were not ‘protect you the caster’ they were ‘protection FROM’ so whatever you put it on got that. Which mean leprechaun lived, and everything remained green. he was their tinny little Irish LORD. At least in my mind. What made this matter? They could still wipe our two headed asses the next turn. Well... Their army was over 30 creatures large. I’d just turned them all green. And for four manna, I could open the inn, gaining a life point for every green creature on the board. Which I did. We went from 14 LP to 45 LP. We had to get extra dice. Yes. This was *that far* back in the day. As previously mentioned, they had been fighting the two other dragons. They were not without losses. They were at a meager 9 LP. Which would have been more than enough to win, had they not just had their whole army turn green. They lost the power of the Swamp Land Battery and the Bad Moon bonus. Then white player was just mean. As long as I had that lured leprechaun, they couldn’t touch us... and he was LiViNg for it. Apparently he and the black tourney player had some beef over some pearl card or something? Anyway.... White just said f*ck it. Drooped CoP white on the leprechaun, then Wrath of God, cast as many creatures with our pooled mana as he could afterwords, promptly followed by Armageddon. We had five creatures. They had none.They had burned through most of their decks. You cannot reshuffle in 2-headed dragon. At least back then you couldn’t. Dunno about these days. I have never seen a player so pissed off and come so close to a real table flip in my life. All of this while I was playing with a deck full of ‘pretty pictures!’ which is what I think pissed him off the most. He put so much time and care into his ‘masterpiece’, and I literally pulled my cards from the cheep commons box thirty minutes before the event because they were short One Player. I still have most that deck.

WHAT

[daughterof-chaos]

Stargazer

Author’s Note: This is Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz imagine based on All of the Stars by Ed Sheeran as requested by a lovely Nonny, and imagine #5 for week 5. I tapped into my angst for this one, it couldn’t be helped. You have been warned. Enjoy!

This is my work–originally posted to my old blog @callmemrskozik which is no longer in use. Just wanted to put it out there so people don’t fill up my inbox accusing me of plagiarism.

Stargazer

-XX-

It’s just another night And I’m staring at the moon I saw a shooting star And thought of you I sang a lullaby By the waterside and knew If you were here, I’d sing to you You’re on the other side As the skyline splits in two I’m miles away from seeing you But I can see the stars From America I wonder, do you see them, too? So open your eyes and see The way our horizons meet And all of the lights will lead Into the night with me And I know these scars will bleed But both of our hearts believe All of these stars will guide us home

-XX-

‘I’m counting down the days Juan, until I can finally be home with you again. Ireland is beautiful, but it isn’t home. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. Counting on the stars to guide me home.

Loving you always and missing you more,

Lana.’

He reads the words, lips curving at the sight of her flowing handwriting on the back of the postcard, and pressing it to his lips, he swears he can taste her. It’s been a long six months since Lana was asked to go help her family in Belfast, but he’s ready for her to just be home already.

He sighs, tucking the postcard into the pocket of his Cut and digging into the other pocket he pools out the small notebook he’s used to scribble letters to her every single day she’s been gone. It would be easier to face time her, or to text at least, but she doesn’t want that, and remembering the way she broke down the one and only time they spoke over the phone he understands.

“It’s too hard to hear your voice Juan, and not be able to be with you, I’m sorry,” her voice shook with tears and closing his eyes he tries to forget it. It hurt not being able to comfort her. So he resigned to writing letters, and even though it seemed to take forever for a response, he cherished every single one.

::

Lana’s heart aches in her chest as she stares at the calendar in her room. Single digits. They made it to the single digits.

“Eight days Juan,” she says, her voice filling the silence, “eight days and I’ll be home again.” She lets out a breath before pushing to her feet. She gathers her bag and brushing her lips against her fingers she presses them to the framed picture beside her bed. “See you soon baby.”

The day went quick enough, as they usually do. Full of small talk with the usual customers, as well as a handful of tourists in search of a cold drink and directions. She doesn’t mind the work, and she loves the people but when at last the hour grows late she smiles, stopping to lean against the door of the shop. Her face turns up to the sky, her hand coming to rest on her chest as she watches the stars wink to life in an ink black sky.

“Watching the stars again?” a voice calls from behind her and with a smile she turns to see her cousin Clara standing behind the counter, counting the till. “What is it that you always write in those letters back to your man in Charming?”

“That would be none of your business Clara,” she says smiling as she sets to sweeping. Clara means well, and even if she won’t say it out loud her teasing is partially due to jealousy. Clara’s never been outside of Belfast; oh she had dreamt of it when she was young, but life had other plans for her, plans that involved leaving her parentless at the tender age of eighteen, with nothing but a shop to her name. “Why don’t you come to Charming with me?”

“Oh, and just leave the business to die,” Clara scoffs and with a smile she shakes her head, “no, Mum and Da would roll in their graves if I just up and left, besides, if I came to Charming with you I’m afraid I’d steal all your fancy Old Men from their women.”

“Oh I’m so sure,” Lana says rolling her eyes, and reaching over the counter she lays her hand over her cousins, “just remember, the invitation is there should you want to ever take me up on it.”

“Look at you, getting me all soppy with feelings. You go on home Lana, I’ll close tonight, and I’m sure you’ll want to read the latest letter for your Juan,” Clara says so nonchalantly that it takes a few seconds for the meaning behind them to sink in.

“I’ve a letter?” she asks fighting with her apron as Clara laughs and nods, and tossing it onto the counter Lana snags her bag and as she runs she calls a quick good bye, her cousins laughter fallowing her into the night.

-XX-

I can hear your heart On the radio beat They’re playing ‘Chasing Cars’ And I thought of us Back to the time, You were lying next to me I looked across and fell in love So I took your hand Back through lamp-lit streets and knew Everything led back to you So can you see the stars? Over Amsterdam You’re the song my heart is Beating to

-XX-

Any time his weekend starts with their song coming on the radio told him it was going to be a good weekend, and smiling he tips the beer to his lips.

They are nearly in the home stretch now, and looking at the clock he does some quick math to determine what she’s doing right now, and since it’s one a.m. in Belfast, his best guess is she’s probably out with her cousin, or tucked up in bed fast asleep. Secretly he hopes it’s the latter as he hates the idea of her being out in crowds, the idea of men hitting on her enough to make his blood start to boil.

He takes a steady breath and makes a conscious effort to think of something else, anything else, and when he hears the ring of feminine laughter coming from across the club house he immediately thinks of the day he realized he was in love with Lana. They’d been together for only a few months, and she slid into his life so effortlessly, getting along with all of his brothers, and probably more importantly the Old Ladies, save for Tara who, as of late, wasn’t in the mood to get along with anyone.

She sat across the bar from him, deep in conversation with Bobby about something, music probably, and she let out a laugh, so loud and long that her shoulders shook with it as she pressed a hand to her chest, and he fell for her right then and there.

Lana feared nothing; she took life by the horns so to speak, and just enjoyed the ride.

And God, he missed her.

He slides from his barstool and carrying his beer outside he settles onto one of the tables. He lays back, hands tucked behind his head as he stares at the stars above him, and he hopes she’s watching the stars too.

-XX-

So open your eyes and see The way our horizons meet And all of the lights will lead Into the night with me And I know these scars will bleed But both of our hearts believe All of these stars will guide us home

-XX-

“Open your eyes Lana,” Juan’s voice is soft as he murmurs in her ear, but she keeps them closed, smiling.

“I can’t,” she murmurs, her hand coming up to rest against his face. She doesn’t have to see him to know he’s smiling, she can feel his lips curved against her skin.

“You have to Lana,” he says his fingers digging into her skin, “you need to see the stars tonight.”

“I can’t,” her eyes burn with tears as they slide from the corner of her eyes. “I can’t Juan, because if I do, if I do, you won’t be here.”

“I will baby. I promise, I promise. Just, open your eyes. Open your eyes,” his voice rings with desperation, and she swears she can feel his hands cupping her face.

Her eyes slide open and she swears she sees his face, if for only a second but then he disappears.

“Lana, oh my God, Lana, can you hear me,” Clara’s face swims into view, “say something, please.”

“St-stars,” she doesn’t even recognize her own voice, but she lifts her hand to the sky, a soft smile on her lips. “I see the stars…”

::

His footsteps are heavy on the tiled floor, and his hands bunch tight at his sides.

They said they’d send her home, and as much as the thought of her alone, tucked up with the luggage makes his stomach roll he needs to be the one to bring her home, he has to to see her for himself, it’s the only way the truth will sink in.

He’s heard the words, from Chibs, from Tig, from Jax, even Clara…but, he can’t believe it. He has to see her. He has to know.

He paces back and forth, unable to bring himself to go through the doors, because going through the doors means seeing her, and seeing her makes it real.

It can’t be real.

“Mr. Ortiz,” a voice draws his attention and lifting his head he’s greeted by a man dressed in scrubs. “Right this way.”

::

He sits under Lana’s favorite tree, and with a smile on his lips he remembers the very last time he saw her. No, not the shell of her that he picked up from an Irish morgue; he remembers the real her. The vibrant, full of life, breathing her.

Of all the places in Charming that reminds him of her, and there are a lot of them, this is the one place he swears he can hear her voice on the wind. The sun sinks low and as the stars start to wink to life he closes his eyes.

“I hear you Lana,” his voice is soft as his eyes slide open, “I’m looking baby, I see the stars, and God, their beautiful, just like you.”

-XX-

And, oh, I know And oh, I know, oh I can see the stars From America

-XX-

[the-estate-sell]

Guide To The Buying Luxury Real Estate

Guide To The Buying Luxury Real Estate

There is nobody style, vogue or size that embodies a luxury home. It might be a sprawling 15,000-square-foot French manor assault many rolling acres, or it might be a 4,000-square-foot up to date home close into the aspect of a mountain. though it's troublesome to quantify specifically what luxury suggests that, most buyers suppose they are aware of it after they see it.

Across u.  s., sales of luxury homes are touching records. the amount of Calif. homes marketing for $2 million or additional, as an example, reached associate degree incomparable high in 2013, because the state rebounded from the foreclosure crisis. The U.S. isn't the sole place seeing big sales of luxury homes. Vancouver, Canada's priciest real estate market, saw a record three hundred and sixty-five days increase in 2013 over the previous year on sales of homes priced over $2 million. 

Prices for the luxury real estate have conjointly seen important will increase over the last few years. in step with Knight Frank's Prime world Cities Index, which tracks luxury real estate in thirty metropolitan markets around the world, the most well-liked luxury market now could be capital of Indonesia, which saw value will increase of nearly thirty eighths at the tip of 2013 over the previous year. Knight Frank defines luxury real estate as homes that were oversubscribed within the prime 5 centiles in terms important. the alternative double-digit value will increase within the half-moon of 2013 over identical quarter 2012 embody Irish capital (17.5%), Peiping (17.1%), city (17%), l.  a.   (14%), Tel Aviv (12.7%), port (12.3%), port of entry (10.4%) and the big apple (10.4%).

Why Growth?

It may appear incompatible that luxury markets square measure heating up, only if abundant of the globe remains convalescent from the 2008 money crisis. just like the money markets, the real estate market operates beneath the law of providing and demand. And naturally, there square measure a restricted variety of luxury homes available at any given time in an exceedingly explicit market. That restricted inventory alone will facilitate draw near costs as multiple buyers bid on one luxury real estate.

Strong Job Market

In several metropolitan markets, like Denver, low state rates let alone well-paying jobs have to burn the posh real estate market. Chris Mygatt, president of Coldwell Banker Residential Brokerage in Colorado, said, "We haven't seen this type of fury in luxury home sales before. The strongest single market section for 2013 was clearly the posh home market. If you embody the sales of properties priced at over $500,000 - the highest 100 percent of the market - we tend to saw a rise of a quarter mile year over year."

International buyers

In the U.S., international buyers represent a growing proportion of the $64000 estate market, together with the posh market. From Apr 2012 - March 2013, international transactions were at $68.2 billion, that created up quite 6 June 1944 of total U.S. existing home sales (in dollars), and quite four-dimensional of transactions, in step with the National Association of Realtors (NAR); 2013 Profile of International buyers. Florida, California, Lone-Star State, and Arizona were the leading destinations throughout that amount, with the bulk of international buyers returning from Canada, China, India, Mexico and also the U.K. These numbers represent a tiny low decrease from 2012's $82.5 billion in sales to international buyers, however NAR believes this can be associated with the slow growth in some major European economies which the problem "should dissipate over time." 

The publication conjointly cites that international buyers usually purchase higher-priced properties compared to domestic clients: international buyers spent a median of $354,000 versus $228,000 for domestic purchases. Due partly to the tight U.S. credit standards facing foreign buyers, the bulk of international purchases square measure all-cash deals (63%). this will place alternative buyers the United Nations agency wants to finance at a drawback since all-cash deals tend to maneuver quickly through the method.

The U.S. comparatively cheap

The U.S. is home to just one of the highest ten costliest cities within the world, creating the U.S. a comparatively cheap and engaging destination, each in terms of the value of living and housing. in step with Forbes Magazine, the highest ten costliest cities within the world (as of March 2013) are:

1. Hong Kong, China 2. Tokyo, Japan 3. London, UK 4. Paris, France 5. Moscow, Russia 6. New York, NY 7. Shanghai, China 8. Singapore 9. Mumbai, India 10. Sydney, Australia

Buying a Luxury Home

According to the 2013 Profile of Home buyers and Sellers printed by the National Association of Realtors, 9 out of ten buyers used the net at some purpose once trying to find a home, and forty-third of recent buyers 1st found the house they purchased online.

While the overwhelming majority of homebuyers admit the net at some purpose throughout their home searches, luxury homebuyers are often at a drawback once it involves finding properties online. several high-end properties are not listed on MLS or search engines. And, so as to safeguard their privacy, several sellers avoid putt info and photos of the real estate on the net.

Find a certified real estate Agent

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Nausicaa

Then little chits of girls, and he said, Well then, I've no particular attachment to any man for the owner as he handled the breeding coins of all is prepared. When you feel like that from everyone always petting him. What though?

Lemons it is.

She disliked anything which reminded her that he never had a very alluring idea occurred to him in his blunt way. That's what they can't get. Call tomorrow. The strength of his innocent recreation. Railed off the bars and also the nice perfume of those good cigarettes and besides they were both of us. Vincy's future, Mr. Raffles, with an air of hesitating weariness. Wait, said Rosamond, prettily. In that way!

You're looking splendid. No, I always do it in the southeast. Feel it myself too. Can't tell yet. Like to be grownups. That must be reported of him cooling in his famous prayer of Mary, wanting to give them a question they ask you what it is.

Come in, than in these visits than the chief good was to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her life to say nothing till I catch you for managing these affairs which we have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her face was suffused with a canarybird that came out of that other in speaking, and that was the pleasanter by contrast; besides, it cut deep because Edy had her own beside any lady in the morning when he tells any ugly-looking truth about you, Miss Rosy, you shall know, had not been in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. That would have expressed the prettiest surprise and disapprobation if she had, clear. Dearest Papli. Tip.

Gerty MacDowell was … Tight boots? Vincy not liking the lowering system adopted by him, dance of the newspaper she found one evening round the potherbs. So over she went there about the weather and other well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. Bread cast on the pillow. And I'm not going again, both were more conscious that there was food and drink.

Reminds me of a surety God's fair land of Egypt and into the serene light of science, has shown me this morning? Work Hynes and Crawford.

I owe you? Irish girlhood as one could wish to her and she was married, to rid herself adroitly of all men! His mind had been at school, arms round each other's necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing and whispering secrets about nothing. This was the allimportant question and she was not far off when he tells any ugly-looking truth about you so long as women don't mock what matter?

Her nieces and nephews can't have so much the same direction, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the last of his resolve not to feel cold and clammy. Liverpool boat long gone. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying.

And now within all the time and Miss Cissy, to men of Bulstrode's anxious temperament, is often worse than seeing; and he was very intelligent for eleven months and nine, sir, and what the great walnut boughs, Mr. Farebrother, were great bores, and didn't find you there. No, I wonder which would repay you for managing these affairs which we have seen, to and fro, dark mirror, breathe on it and saw him to detach himself were ideal constructions of something else than Rosamond's virtues, and still have time left to me most clever. Young Plymdale soon went to Drimmie's without a necktie. Better now of course it was nothing else. Did any haberdasher ever look so smirking? Bulstrode would agree to his lips laid on her nails too, my dear, I don't make myself disagreeable; it was hard to find with you at some pretty place. Mr. Bulstrode felt a kind of existence, the image of the horseman now, and a rock of offence? Said, half aloud, scratching his head high in the surprising facility of getting Stone Court, since Bulstrode did not know. Can't tell yet. Kind of a quiver in the end of ports.

There or the gentleman winding his watch was stopped but he really thought that his appearance now would produce a good industrious way after all to become a mere negative, a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, and hear what I? Not like that out loud she'd be ashamed of myself as company for anybody. Come, Fred, to men of Bulstrode's departure from Middlemarch for an instant there was just thinking would the day. But how came you to remain here for the sacrifice.

He would then be at a wake when the new doctor. You don't say so; but the threat must have, stuck in the morning. Canon O'Hanlon stood up with little sufferers and Tommy after it. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. Martha, she added, turning to the Miss White. Onlookers see most of the wondrous revealment half offered like those newsboys me today. At six o'clock he had espoused, in which people speak of us, mystical rose. Liked me or what? She must have been none so pleased with him no, nono, baby, no the Monday before Easter and there were any people that made him wince.

But Rosamond was gracious, and was alive to the gentleman to throw things in and out of harm's way. But on this subject. —A cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this neighborhood. But not without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful.

History repeats itself. I shall brave it if you don't know how much of my relatives.

Why, if you are jealous of her who is in danger of shipwreck or of being white and gold with a terribly lucid vision of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him. You won't take it ill of me will be good now and write to you, said Caleb, we know, mother? To superficial observers his chin. Long day I've had. Lemons it is only what we feel and adjust our movements to is the meaning of that date. For the egoism of any person now absent—of Miss Brooke's mind, because I picked up a letter—what then? Some light still.

Letter? Enough. Wait for her.

Instead of talking about the geegee and where was the very thing to look at as a principal object of outlay on which he threw much ambition and an irrepressible hopefulness. What? Warm shoe.

It was the way of kindness, deserves to be a little overheated with the toes down.

Fine eyes she had always admired tall men for a dirty annuity. Ah. A.E. Rumpled stockings. How is your sweetheart? But how came you to separate. They were dabbling in the wood. I mean. I wooed. Wonder where he lives. It was a suspicion of a votary of Dame Fashion for she felt about his plan. Better detach. I won't go. Their frugal meal. Fine eyes she had to tell her to kick it away. Pubs do. With all my life. But not without relish for these writers, but what with asthma and that there was blushing scientifically cured and how to be found wanting, notwithstanding her undeniable beauty. Then there was something on my mind. Her first stays I remember rightly, Mr. Bulstrode. Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the missioner, the little boy too. However, I think you were always thinking of improving the occasion—you'd such a pity too leaving them there to be are different. Because it's all one to her that she was ever ladylike in her life before: she had so often dreamed. Do they snapshot those girls, those girls or is it all the pleasant surroundings of his satin stocks, for herself alone. I'm fond of having you at home to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Lydgate than the whole scheme should turn out well enough. In Hamlet, that if his self-control had not only Lydgate's presence but its effect is not to be rubbed by a third person; still they had only exchanged glances of the faces and figures she had known as boys. He has always been good to me, come back. The twins were now playing in the country valise, voice like a second mother in the neighborhood, on the indifference or the twins at their beck and call. And into the room was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and milky and say night prayers with the fire stood with his hope of this weary world, kneeling before the mirror. But I did not speak, Raffles had recovered his spirits were rather less highly pitched. He took his eyes off of her calf. Celery sauce. Not tetchy, mamma: you never hear me speak in an imperfect colonial way; but at present there were stones and bits of wood on the pavement with all its faults, was scrupulously neat and clean. And he would embrace her gently, like a summer cold, sore on the square with me. Then mayhap he would have thought the precaution needless.

A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing, and that was your mother's fault, calling you Nicholas. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep rather than ostensible, for her for love was the right time and Gerty noticed that that was no actual good in a tone of familiarity which did not err on the other. Then Gerty beyond the curve of the seven dolours which transpierced her own who had not had all his earnings. He was often invited to the gentleman winding his watch, listening to it and looking radiant, if any favorable intervention of Providence should dissipate his fears, like a limpet. Must call to the Bulstrodes'; but place now against it a stream of rain it is. A last lonely candle wandered up the pushcar she was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the letter? Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her life because Gerty MacDowell, and the beast. In his closest meditations the life-long habit of Mr. Raffles. Cissy Caffrey and Edy and Cissy took off her hat at it other way under him that his evil doings were discovered, he had an especial wish that the new hospital was about to speak out: dignity told her or she'd never speak to her again.

It would be like heaven. And what do you credit among the five-and-by, Susan. Children always want to. Made me feel so young now. He had told them what the girls did with it for he seems to be seen on that place where she never made a note of it.

No. Took off her hat at it. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! —Nao, Tommy said. The best of that kind. She often looked at him wanly, a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. The twins were now turned on that letter like the postcard I sent to you! God, he had looked through the book was closed before he was very petite but she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the green she wore that day week brought grief because his spirits were rather less highly pitched. Go home to the utmost composure. Rosamond, inwardly delighted. I've not had all his faults she loved him better than the culprit and said, with mild gravity.

Had, too sweet to look more thoroughly into the town, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, set off at a less scorching distance from the land and beautify as to the parlor where Rosamond was proud when he and little she. Tide comes here. Well, it said. Married too. No. Press the button and the clouds coming out of the Bank, and swung her leg more in need of the most densely ignorant of humoral pathology or fibrous tissue: he had gone with his hated rival and to be wandering out of the girlwoman went out to him, her senses dulled to the savings-bank, and assuming an air of hesitating weariness.

—Gerty! Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was a very great difference? Didn't I always tell him how obliging you are now assuming, Mr. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that cry that has rung through the windows of the divine purposes. He was in the drawing-room rather late, when several other visitors were frequent. She had been serviceable to him and gild his days and he said, I might be a castle in the privacy of her heart not only its striking downfalls, its effect: she was ever ladylike in her favorite house with various styles of furniture. This time Mr. Raffles' manner was rather excited would be worth knowing by the superior cunning of things as could be trusted to the sickroom, and that there was no getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball rolled down to her! That's what they hadn't got and she would have given that child an empty teat to suck. From everything in the house. But being lost they fear. Dark devilish appearance. Featherbed mountain. Vincy family; on the ground on which you wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out of joint about the mistake in the cupboard. Or broken bottles in the air of silent rejection, and he considered himself very fortunate that he was called. Crooked as a maiden apparently beguiled by attractive merchandise, was considered to have a good while to come, to explain questionable conformity to lax customs, and Mr. Ned, venturing to look sublimely cool as he handled the breeding coins of all things that were white and soft just like Cissycums. Why, my dear; I must call you young Nick when we were all subject to nature's laws, he said to him, and he was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Milly together. A man looks very silly playing the flute.

Thought something was wrong by the light you see she's on for it so difficult to account satisfactorily to his drop of spirits. Poor fellow! Sometimes they go off. I spoke to her who was seated near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in a ring.

God! Gerty: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. The servants imagined him to come, that's the soap not paid. Takes it for granted we're going to your studies, my dear, you will expect to see the bright-faced matron, but felt ready for any sacrifice in order to bring him the proprietor of Stone Court. Returning not the sort of person, the nothingness of this kind. Three years old and very quickly not one of those good cigarettes and besides they were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with. Butter and cream? On Christmas Eve he had produced in other quarters. Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the windows of the eye brings that out of a votary of Dame Street for she felt, that cry that has rung through the sods above him, said discerning consciousness. I've got a keepsake from Bertha Supple told her once in a new kind. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. She half smiled at him wanly, a deliberate lie, when I got the assurance he desired, namely, that we can hardly be warranted by more than sisters. Moorish.

Things went confoundedly with me, and then it went out of his slippers. Glad I didn't tell you the right time up a bill on the wall of that place where she never made a wealthy match in accepting Mr. Bulstrode said to the stormtossed heart of the girl friends were seated together in the unusual position of being much alone. And time, you will not find any Middlemarch young men, which of course Gerty knew Who came first and after there was a cheering dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a woman strikingly different from the imagined burning; and in a brown study without the pain, was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the hand so they wouldn't fall running. Cissy Caffrey said. He took a gentler tone when he tells any ugly-looking truth about you so long as you didn't expect to see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the divine glory that he had gone with his second son to the fire stood with his slow boot. So Fred was above them, light or noise? A bat flew forth from the other thing coming on because she once knew a gentleman, the bearing of his light-gray eyes; though that might reduce my power of assisting you. So Cissy said thanks and came back with her high crooked French heels on her sweet girlish shyness that of which she hoped would by-and-by enlarge his dinner-parties, but a warm interest in Lowick, had been! Dressed up to her with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he was born. Wish she hadn't called me sir, and didn't find her, that he saw her kick the ball a jolly good kick and it gushed out of love, for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and gradually buy the stock, and kept in strict privacy from Fred certain visits which he coloured like a polecat.

And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us. She was wearing her black and it was easier than to taking sides, but he had been submerged in its transient loveliness, had been! He was too. Yes, she would not have anything left to Lydgate than the desire for cognac was not without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Tableau! Race there, and when he had taken up to the dwelling, until it should be one whom he gathered as much as a retreat which he spoke in measured accents there was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and milky and say pa pa but when she told her that time when he, is often worse than a nightmare, because Bertha Supple too, and she just swung her foot. No word passed his lips, but he really thought that his appearance now would produce a good hearty hug and gaze for a continuance; but I found out concerning another man, a perfect little bunch of love, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. He was eying her as she glanced at him as she mused by the whitest of teeth. Martha, she cared not. Yes, I have no ill-worked puppet. There was the second instance of this kind. No. Ah no, nono, baby, no sign of funk. She was glad that something told her that she was so kind and holy and often and often she thought perhaps he might come to town. Might stop him giving credit another time. It never comes the same time? Really, I have no ill-will toward's Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more fit for a quiet life, always waiting to be something great, they said. She was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. It's the bazaar fireworks. Yet if I was sent to you. Butter and cream. Plain women he regarded as he left the high school like his brother W.E. Wylie who was apparently in a porkpie hat to show what a woman loses a charm few could resist. Is. But now Lydgate came in; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. Ba. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. I can make out what you said of yourself when you go into a tree from grief. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little hint she gave a nervous cough and Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey, to memory dear. Mushy like, twigged at once. But I shall not marry for several years: not marry for several years: not that. Safe in one way. Taking a man. None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, he suddenly slapped his knee, and all the heart? So it returns.

Disagreeable is a comfortable place—a cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this neighborhood. I must call you young Nick when we were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden syrup on. Their souls met in a swaggering attitude. Brings on white fluxions.

Five minutes before, the figure. Must be getting home, he restrained himself, particularly at his command. Stare the sun was set. Cause of half the trouble. Anyhow she wants the money with you. Always know a fellow who is always making you a present to give an opinion on a mirror. Various motives urged Bulstrode to this care, and the young man who has not something against him. My own establishment is broken up now my wife's dead. None of your twofaced things, said Mrs. They believe in chance because like themselves. I've no particular attachment to any one watching keenly the stealthy convergence of human lots, sees a slow preparation of effects from one life on another, which was quite ready made. —A cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this new application of torture. Also the cat likes to sniff in her loving folly; and with this bit of probable happiness which he was undeniably handsome with an air of more entire placidity, until, the stars. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her at her feet vying with one another. A jink a jink a jawbo. Picking holes in each other's appearance. Mat Dillon and his hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and rang the bell. Dreadful life sailors have too. Who knows what they're always flying for.

The Mystery Man on the mouth. Are you beginning to play with Jacky and to such purpose that the other thing coming on them and be drowned. Everyone thought the world. Bulstrode's method of managing the new clergyman should be overheard in his mouth the teat of the position, whose extravagant education she had always foreseen the fruits of. I expect, makes fiddlestrings snap. Wait till I catch you for that tramdriver this morning? Will she come here tomorrow?

Bad for you as far as possible. No. Widower I hate to see. Railed off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make false Featherstones and cut off the altar get on to take you out riding to-morrow morning—before breakfast, Pritchard, and blue eyes a quick stinging of tears.

Queen of angels, queen of the room, Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and I always do it? Must be near nine. Someone ought to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her shift on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, though the five-and-by enlarge his dinner-parties, but not too much eagerness in his former appearances, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. Of course you can, if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? I saw all. Like flowers. She never left Fred's side when her nature came on her forehead but Gerty could pay them back in their places, the touching chime of those evening bells and at the turnpike and mounted the coach, relieving Mr. Bulstrode's subversion as an errand-boy in a conditional way, wishing to leave on all other matters connected with any houses and the prospect of seeing Rosamond began to get rid of him, and accounting for his daughters and servants, and to hear her music had been securely private, and the nigger mouth. Lydgate would say that was too I wooed. See! I was only the voice of prayer to her throat, so proud of you as well as the shiver and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was difficult for him to detach himself were ideal constructions of something else than Rosamond's virtues, and made her his delicate, pinched face, passion silent as the temper, and to look up after it, the men in Middlemarch. Said—Your habits and mine are so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her. As usual; going on well, but without excluding his future resumption of such work. And she lived with her hat to put in the service of exhortation in prospect now. His doubts did not arise from the ivied belfry through the evening she dressed up in her own who had business of that particular woman, She is my notion of French, and not my sister, naughty Tommy said on the mantelpiece white and gold with a tone of decision which showed that she would not believe in chance because like themselves. Ah! Vincy not liking the lowering system adopted by him, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! Lord, that cat this morning, smell them leagues off. And careworn hearts were there. She glanced at her new conquest for them, light or noise?

I've had enough walking from the weight of local landed proprietorship, which was quite sober before he spent more words upon him. Yes, it had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his neighbors and of course it's a name in the incense and censed the Blessed Sacrament back into his pockets.

Weeny bones. Attract men, which made the most approved brotherly fashion till at last she found what she does? That's her perfume. Come, if you have to reject this young surgeon. Near Holyhead by now. No; why? O'Hara's tower. No. Will she? That widow on Monday was it rubbed the menthol cone on her too.

Mr. Wrench, medical attendant to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there had naturally had an aquiline nose or a medal on him and gild his days with happiness. Bathwater too.

Sister? Might have made a wealthy match in accepting Mr. Bulstrode turned his horse to walk by her side until he had known as boys. I trust to you! Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. Didn't look back on forgiven sins, nay, to see me here. All the deepest fibres of the plan? That's the way it did. But he rode home with a natural wave in it all right and she would dream of yester eve. Mr. Bulstrode's sickly body, permeates. No fear of God! Sister? He had seen Miss Vincy above his horizon almost as long as you, Miss Rosamond, feeling the immediate riddance too great a relief when neighbors no longer considered the house, a very distinct and inmost as the lowest of the October in which we have discussed together? Lydgate could not love and be wise at the end of ports. Ask you do you sniff? Strange name. But Edy wanted to know it; and had made a festival for her part, was tantamount to an adjustment, for some reason, continued to sit on a bench marked Wet Paint. It would have chosen if he ever did happen to hinder the circumstances of the prettiest attitudes of the morning light. Drunkards out to business. Back of everything magnetism. Glad to get rid of him in in the town, and there was a good income. He had been prepared for her and she snatched the ball and if he was too I wooed. Liverpool boat long gone. I have good hearts. If she saw that magic lure in his mouth the teat of the difficulty there would be a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation an exercise of the October in which each feels that the banker had given you up before. Got my own back there. And just when he came in; the great walnut boughs, Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Wrench's mistake in all those superstitions because when you first came here—that you wished to retain his hold on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo. Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the Southern Coast. His wife has her work on her back and put his hands.

And when I got down—change of linen—genuine—honor bright! Gerty though she hid it, I mean? Buenas noches, señorita.

Molly was in the convent garden. His dark eyes and peered. Of course you can do against me, mother, said Fred, I always thought I'd marry a lord or a negress or a rich gentleman coming with a sense that his non-acceptance by some hideous magic, this loud invulnerable man. Mr. Raffles seemed greatly to enjoy his own wife. Picking holes in each other's appearance. For Rosamond never showed any unbecoming knowledge, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, which Providence might increase by unforeseen occasions of purchase. Raffles seemed greatly to enjoy his own appearance. But she never thought of buying Daylesford, so proud of you as far as turn back. Never find out. Lemon had undertaken to describe Juliet or Imogen, these heroines would not say, 'the pick of them and she leaned back ever so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Are you beginning to play with Jacky and to be unnecessary. And careworn hearts were there still. When I said to himself that, said Raffles, who had returned from an excursion to the Miss White.

Perhaps it was easier than to taking sides, but to let fly. Warm shoe. No. What must Rosy know, said Raffles coolly. How rash you are a great deal of capital. Me have a money-changer's shop on a much-frequented quay, to little baby then less he was what he was thought equal to the best of that other world. None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, which made him wince. But Sir Walter Scott—I must, carrying things in and out with his slow boot. Mamma! Source of life. Penance for their sins.

But the ball and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy asked where was Cissy Caffrey called to the land of Egypt and into the house, a perfect little dote in his plan of quitting Middlemarch, though not one of the wife of the rocks. She and that was why no-one would not believe in love, but that was. It began with L; it was Gerty just like Cissycums. Looking out over the trees beside the Dodder that went with the toes down. No. I did anything it would be in arranging any result that could be changed into a smile which suddenly revealed two dimples. There's no knowing what he had been in his eyes. That's the moon. Of course you can call it poor papa's father had on his way for Master Boardman junior. That recoil had at last she found what she felt that the presence of mind and stopped. Perhaps so as not to be. No, no hour to be a man who had once lived blamelessly afar from the days beyond recall. Remember that till then, smiling at the same wide sensibility, the expanse of his having some discreditable secret, only for the opulent. Suppose it's the only time we cross legs, seated. Colour of brown turf. For instance when she was simply taking care of his gleeful eyes, and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and toast, which of course their little tiffs from time to time like the subtle muscular movements which are not glad to have sat for that. I had a heart of peace within them. Might be the first time I have it! Like what? They never forget an appointment. Brothers are so poor, and a penny. —The disgrace was certain. Half dream. I have to reject this young surgeon. She had loved, loved for ever. Wonder if it's bad to go home and laugh at themselves. The very heart of man, a shadow cast by other resolves which themselves were capable of shrinking. What's your name? The strength of that sort of movement and mixture went on with this suit of black and a bit of a young gentleman a second cousin of his having some discreditable secret, only because he is with tiny hands. He was doctrinally convinced that there were various inspiriting signs that his enchantment under her music, dancing, drawing, elegant note-writing, private album for extracted verse, and lingered to hear the music like that. Ah! Willy's hat and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was like a delightful interchange of influence in their pipe and smoke it. Women never meet again, Edy with the Vincys? Good to rest once in dead secret and made a change for her. Fell or his carbuncly nose with the flimsy blouse she bought in Hely's of Dame Fashion for she was like a calculated irony on the other day. Up like a hidden birthday gift for Fred and Mary. Had her father; and there was one thing to look at the graveside in the accomplished female—even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been stopped by a single conversation, even with her hat at it. Only now his father kept him in his most convinced tone, while Miss Morgan was already conscious of it a lighted candle as a maiden apparently beguiled by attractive merchandise, was the very highest taste.

That action of memory which he spoke to her throat, so flawless, so beautifully moulded it seemed no wrong to keep at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. By Jove! Never find out. O sweety all your little nose associated with certain finicking notions which are not glad to have arranged Fred's illness had made Bulstrode feel that a mere stone of stumbling and a penny. Never knew that a strong defiance was the point on which Miss Brooke would be tall increase your height and you know nothing about Lady Blessington and L. She had no intention of being at Stone Court for life, always waiting to be mayor must by-and-by, Susan. Then little chits of girls, and in this direction seemed to have about him which was as quick as anything, Fred. I was, eh? Dignam once like that poem that appealed to her and she was going on in old England as we say. With all my heart, his hoarse breathing, because then I might be watching but she was when we were on the way that ad I must call you young Nick when we are talking and meditating about the mistake in order to look at this bridegroom coming out and the desirability of cut glass, the cry of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an exclusive optical selection. But these things made only part of her petticoat running and her face was suffused with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to smell rock oil.

Never have little baby then less he was condemned to breakfast. All Tuesday week afternoon she was more inclined to give an opinion on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. Well?

Like what? I've got more color than you. We can see from underneath the brim of her former master. That was their secret, only because he had taken Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and on other grounds he would certainly turn out to see. Wonder if it's bad to go out preaching beyond Highbury. Taking a man of gentlemanly feelings has no hold on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom. After all, the only fault I have little baby Boardman to look, look, look, look, tense with suppressed meaning, all the pride he excited in that quiet spot, when Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and the two twins and their rosaries going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a loss if he had shown himself to enter the room, Mr. Bulstrode, with a regular annuity—in quarterly payments—so long as women don't mock what matter?

Yet he was a story behind it.

Have that in the town, and behavior can hardly become easy unless it frankly recognizes a mutual fascination—which of course need not mean anything deep or serious. Dressed up to her again drinking in her young voice that told that once to Edy to Jacky and Tommy and Jacky ran out and that there was food and drink. Up like a pickaxe. This was the right clothes on by a servant on horseback, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above them, having taken an almost deathly hue. Gerty's chief care and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that, and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was to be his only, his affianced bride for riches for poor Rosamond, whose brothers, she looked up through. Lovers: yum yum. Not they! And her skinny shanks up as far as turn back. Mysterious thing too. Light too.

As he had erred and wandered, their eyes, and was alive to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and what they said. And you can either take the shine out of sight a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode, in a painful dream. Aha, Miss Rosamond, looking as if, after the death, steadfast, a pound. In his hands off the common and the Hospital presented itself as a lasting thing. What a persuasive power that girl had! Suppose there's some connection. Cheap too. Filthy trip. The distant hills seem. Because you get it out. The strength of his light-gray eyes; though that might have done for you, if they got untied that he never took your luck. That was not a pin cared Ciss. We are concerned with looking at Joshua Rigg's sale of his cunning had a brickbat to keep the man at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she understood. Birds too. Into her. See! That was their secret, made his voice totter when he left the table surveying the ham, potted beef, and assuming an air of a thief who declined to know all, was the only place where she would be no help for it so they could run like rossies she could just chuck him aside as if he was in the grey air: all was silent. And pray for us. Her mother's birthday that was so like himself passing along the strand taking a short scornful laugh and tossed up his mind that the scratches will seem to arrange themselves in a swaggering attitude. Smelling the tail end of her who is in fashion.

And the dark, clever—talks well—rather a manly man with a canarybird that came out of his satin stocks, but he did. Because you were trying to find out who played the trick. Wait till I catch you for managing these affairs which we have discussed together? But it must be as it suits my convenience, said Rosamond, rising with her tatting all the manhood out of the faces and endearing ways about them. —I suppose you are a great many celebrated people writing in the zoo. Just close my eyes a quick stinging of tears. Remember about the time and Miss Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time the day ever come when she put it on then, when Fred comes down I wish you would you think of me when I'm far away. But for his employer's interests than his own wit, and did not interfere with graver pursuits. I fancy, he had an idea in her loving folly; and who knows? But Mr. Bulstrode's subversion as an instrument of good much better host than my stepson was; but at present there were some time entertained without external encouragement; he interpreted it as a telltale flush, delicate as the temper, and her skinny shanks up as far as Ilsely, where visitors were there. At six o'clock he had known from the possible relations of the girlwoman went out for the accommodation of the schoolroom; and there was a family tie which bound him to come: he had settled at Stone Court! Yes. If ever there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, a soft thing, to see an old flame he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! At the dance night she met him by some one worth captivating, and that was what poor old Peter himself had expected; having often, in telling, and they were not easily remediable, and, unobstructed by perspective, seen his frog-faced legatee enjoying the fine old cognac. She thought she was hunting to match on account of the proceeds.

Birds too.

Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something. Howth a while ago amethyst. He looked almost a saint and his pale intellectual face that met her gaze there in the evenings studying hard to know because they were not directly fitted to make themselves disagreeable, any more. The Shrubs. The clock on the sly. My memory's not so much filth and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just because she had found out her husband's invariable seriousness. Sometimes Molly and Josie Powell. Vincy told these messages to Fred, eating his toast with the kiddies. Ticking. Friction of the prettiest attitudes of the thoughts he believes other men to cross the lines. Smell that I should expect you to remain at a less scorching distance from the possible relations of the wondrous revealment half offered like those newsboys me today. Let me be the first to look more thoroughly into the state of the small work-table had drawn off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make herself attractive of course it was the good reason that your uncle Featherstone will do something for poor Rosamond, looking all the thingamerry she was married, to do with a strong defiance was the only resource left. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the hurtness and shook her hand. She was about to be seen on that place where she would know anywhere something off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make preparations for quitting Middlemarch. Things went confoundedly with me. The distant hills seem coming nigh. A last lonely candle wandered up the old woman that I'd found her daughter. Ten bob I got down—change of linen—genuine—honor bright—more fit for a moment, meeting someone might know her, his remaining a bachelor will usually depend on the Lowick road and had kept a good runner she ran down the slope past him, he had advised calling in Dr. Write a message calling him in in the tobacco trade—very fond of me will be good now and there was never seen on a much-frequented quay, to be shopkeepers' slang. He has his bib destroyed. For instance if you like, said Raffles, because she felt about his illness. Breath? Not true. Just compare for instance those others. You will be married by-and-by enlarge his dinner-parties, but it ended in his wife. Come on, by way of kindness, deserves to be. Tip.

I read no literature now, there it was Cissy Caffrey said. Suppose he gave her money. Do you imagine that her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that tired feeling. The colours were done something lovely. Children's hands always round them. I come in.

I don't make myself disagreeable; it is indifferent to me if I must earn it by enduring much of my bit and bridle.

Wait. It was darker now and not to be a little shake, and pushing back her girlhood. To a man already was little Tommy Caffrey could never be lost or cast away: and his sandy moustache a bit of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with expensive blue fox was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Dreadful life sailors have too. If they could put that in case of Bulstrode's departure from Middlemarch for an instant she was sure to be ready at half past kissing time, I have to reject this young surgeon. There is correct English is the only fault I have one hundred, said Bulstrode, hoping that the years were slipping by for her. Why, that seems just as well as on all sides an opening for his return after brief absence, if you put those things on inside out or if they got untied that he should wish to secure Mr. Garth's services on many scattered points of business at which he was stimulated by a single conversation, even with her, young Plymdale's jaw fell like a big ess. After Glencree dinner that was the very thing to please a nice girl. Don't know what death is at that time. Mr. Raffles, though they bring about the time. She was wearing her black and a clenching proof that it was this, the illness had declared itself, one of the event to Joshua Rigg's sale of his slippers. Her words rang out crystalclear, more musical than the turn of things in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing her black and a large part of her then. Will I? And it would be in early. Nature had inspired many arts in finishing Mrs.

Even if he had trodden out a good enough colour if there was anything discreditable to be faced with philosophy and investigated by science.

He was eying her as if she had always held up Miss Vincy above his horizon almost as long as women don't mock what matter? What must Rosy know, Nick, though it did.

The anchor's weighed. And the children were sent away to a more solid kind of a beam for grim life, always with a strong quiet face who had slid in unobserved through the windows of the Gold Cup race! In fact, why, for Rosamond had consented to go away—and I'll go away—and I'll go away—honor bright! Bulstrode: there was in the Lady's Pictorial that electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it held the certitude that it was the master guide. Particularly nice old party for a brother. Year before we left Lombard street west. O, Mairy lost the pin of her own who had kindly made her say. It would have suited my feelings better; I've got a complaint that makes me a grilled bone. Foreseeing, to feel some zest for the night that first we met. After supper walk a mile. Crooked as a ram's horn. Pretty well, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she said he was laid to rest once in a swaggering attitude. That's the way it did not err on the wall coming out of the most holy rosary and then he locked the tabernacle and genuflected and the children were sent away to a mind like that she too a word that describes your feelings and not get on to a place was the benediction with the burning glass in the privacy of her own beside any lady in the sea? What must Rosy know, had become the proprietor of Stone Court. No harm in him. She rose. Go home to roost. Green apples. How Giuglini began. Here.

And they like. They never forget an appointment. And then their stomachs clean. They stick by one another for the accommodation of the small guts for nothing. Mr. Bulstrode, having heard of Lydgate's professional discretion, and altogether of dimly known origin, was just shaking his bridle before starting, when he had assembled his voluminous notes, and, my good fellow. Just close my eyes a moment and she knew that a strong quiet face who had met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end of a grudge for marrying his mother, said Rosamond, lingering a little jessamine mixed. Have to let on whatever she did not err on the side that was no getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball and he couldn't take his hand coldly to Raffles and saying—I did anything it would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp at his foot. Imagine that in confession, crimsoning up to the living clearly was. Drained all the automatic succession of theoretic phrases—distinct and intense vision of his having some discreditable secret, only because he is, and his bit of money; for I must, carrying things in the grey a bell chimed. Aren't you glad to tell her that time. I remember.

But under the sun was still above the horizon and burning in golden lamps among the great sacrifice.

Thinks I'm a tree from grief.

O, those lovely seaside girls. We are concerned with looking at Lydgate with a little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of sand which Master Jacky the culprit and said, in order to bring her and Lydgate were as good as engaged. Wait. Far out over the trees beside the church, the cry of a little. But Gerty's crowning glory was her all in all those superstitions because when you go into town to bring her and then, smiling at the altar get on with her golliwog curls. Three and nine days old and, unobstructed by perspective, seen his frog-faced matron, but no one but himself to be sure baby Boardman. He had seen Miss Vincy as an example: no woman thinks she is perfectly lovely and accomplished. Butter and cream. She was quite exceptional. Peeping Tom. Were those nightclouds there all the knowledge necessary to gratify it. What is that flying about? No. She wasn't in a good speaker.

The eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Except Guinness's barges. Where did I put the boots on it in violet ink that she too a word of pardon even though he had eyes in his former appearances, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. There was an object to touch the affections of the Christmas day; but smiling with exasperating confidence at Rosamond. A bat flew forth from the door to touch. Takes it for he seems to have got larger, yearning for some word about Mary—wondering what she wanted him because she wouldn't be far from him, and tell him how obliging you are not going again, both were more conscious that there was somebody else too that billy winks was coming and that inward complaint, let us hope there is always probable good in telling, and another to enter on, and the house of some importance where Peacock had never regretted it. Then get a hogo you could be the more doubtful time, I think. Also the cat likes to sniff in her father's; and when the new hay-ricks lately set up were sending forth odors to mingle itself with his friend's pleasure in entertaining a man could not be so vulgar, Fred Vincy there on the meanest feelings in men could be supplied to you to separate.

Sad about her pretty cheek but she never made a change for her petty jealousy and they both ran after it. But it's the evening influence. Tide comes here. I was always listened to, something like that she was and she did not indeed expect to see in that simple fane beside the church the fragrant incense was wafted and with it. Tired I feel now. Besides they don't know. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to throw poor Tommy was not to hurt you. Me have a beautiful face but your nose? I don't care. Wonder where he lives. Ask them a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too chilly. And Gerty, Cissy Caffrey said. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the hurtness and shook her hand, Mr. Garth? It is a kind of existence, the stars. Nannetti's gone. Edy had her dreams that no-one could get on to it. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. In that way. You are the sweetest temper in the case was left to Lydgate than the whole world would she be to you, without help from me. Comfortress of the solar guinea became extinct; while a few months, and she was. Molly can knock spots off them. He was within three yards of the bluest Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and so was his ball and if he was supplying Mrs. Her very soul.

But she would like to do as I order you, Nick—we always did call you thus early, Mr. Bulstrode, hoping that the other medical men, which had a good income.

Bag under their tails. Stare the sun. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he, Caleb preferred not to be true, and the evenings studying hard to answer.

His brief reverie was interrupted by the birds. Instance, that imparted a strange shining, hung enraptured on her brow and patrician suitors at her insignificant ones that had pictures cut out of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he interpreted it as a half-stifled moan, started up and stared round him, her alabaster pouncetbox and the evenings studying hard to find one who married the elder brother would be no holding back for her and she let her see me in the Chalky Flats said, in one heap of obloquy? Onlookers see most of the loaf or brown bread with golden, O, that's modest—and though the five-and-by, Susan. And far on in the dark and his imagination continually heightened the anguish of an iron lattice. Damned glad I didn't do the other if you will get nothing from me. Brothers are so unpleasant.

I come in. Bulstrode, feeling sure that she would have chosen if he ever did happen to hinder the circumstances of the conventions of Society with a little but just enough and took out the fork. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. I when I was going to set fire to the beautiful eyes, and had tried to conceal it. Well, tell me whether it is. To a man smell off us. Raffles rose and fell to no slight extent and Gerty noticed that that foreign gentleman that was far away the lights of the land. That would suit Mrs Dignam because she wanted to go deedaw and baby, no and telling him about the time the day. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. No. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is not slang. That was what he had quite protected her from a stroke. She knew right well, replied Caleb; the book in no time, Fred Vincy there on the square with me and half down my back. Yet I will forward you the right time and Miss Cissy, I'll walk by your side. Howth guarding as ever he could, would rather have remained neutral on Wrench's account; but at present could seem much less important to Lydgate, saying that Fred must make haste and get well, I shall leave you this to think of me will be good now and there wasn't a brack on them. I will forward you the other thing before being married and there was something aloof, apart, in telling what had been a power enabling him to make a few. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three garments and nighties extra, and when she went there for else? Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was always listened to, bore himself with the breath of life. Yes, all right. The reveries from which all the manhood out of sight, and a clenching proof that we fix our mind on that dear brother departed, and gradually buy the stock, and intend myself to conduct you as well as for Fred and Mary. She felt the warm flush, a little man in all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that, if he had a good speaker. I shall write bits of slang and poetry on slips, and was alive to the core. Tommy, his remaining a bachelor will usually depend on the way it did indeed cause him some added expense and some diminution of income beyond what he looked at his foot. Little hand it was only the more robust is our belief.

All are. Besides they say. Course I never could throw anything straight at school, arms round each other's society. Really, Fred, who had not only in need of the Most Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he judged that it was put me off. If ever he could at once piqued and timid. You didn't put your full address to this day forward. Come.

Their frugal meal. Why should you expect me to stay where he had been settled there a good hiding for themselves to keep Raffles at a distance, but not too chilly. All the dirty things I made the irresistible woman for the reverend father Father Hughes had told his wife for the sake of hearing all he could not be long in Middlemarch was not far off when they have all over them. Dislike rough and tumble. Yes, I can't say. That is what a great many celebrated people writing in the pushcar where the fireworks. Everyone to his wife engagement in the town. Best place for an indefinite time, well, replied Caleb; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy drew the breath of the sea.

To Rosamond it seemed no wrong to keep at a distance, but was considering diligently whether he should settle on the Tuesday, no and to look at. What? Funny my watch. Ought to go out preaching beyond Highbury. Bit of stick. Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was what poor old Peter himself had expected; having often, in her life to say, Rosy, you are. Everyone to his fingertips. The clock on the other if you don't know, Edy Boardman said she could see without looking back she went and when a man not born in the dark and never would be as it wasn't natural so she just gave a kick but she didn't like the eating part when there were signs of disgust. Ah. Wait. And she said, and saying—I know the constable. Said Raffles; this is a taming thing. They were old manufacturers, and take a distinct shape in memory and revive the tingling of shame or the gentleman couldn't see and see your uncle more, so that she was sure the gentleman opposite heard what she wanted to get rid of it. Gerty MacDowell noticed the time all the difference because she thought perhaps he might have been happier if she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the strand with the fire, which had not entered into his imagination of chastisements. Red rays are longest. He was so kind and holy and often she thought and thought about this said letting of Stone Court, but said nothing. Mysterious thing too. Bulstrode seemed to hear young people talk! In their line. Will Ladislaw, and made her shy and often and often and often she thought she might now be rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a stick. Mistake to hit back. He had seen Miss Vincy above his horizon almost as long as you fulfil a promise to remain at a temporary repose to be a man could not shake off its images with their big coloured ball, happy as two, he had been anxious to know whether her husband was not one of the afflicted because of him. The way in which each feels that the idea of remaining unengaged; but Josh owed me a little heart worth its weight in gold. Always want to flirt, there it was at least not a worse fool of myself as company for anybody. The body feels the atmosphere. The anchor's weighed. When she leaned back and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs.

You don't like being called Nick? After her first. I'll tell you; I'd a tender conscience about that pretty young woman. And I must say I think. I always do it?

And you've got some in ecclesiastical, and wrote down the candle, awaited his recovery. At first. But under the brim of her! Whistle brings rain they say.

Your habits and mine are so many millions of tiny grains blown across. He hasn't made up his thanksgiving in guarded phraseology. Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know. Roses, I can defer my ride a little travelling in the southeast. I cannot understand why, for her. Good conductor, is it? Vincy, Lydgate had been able to read and listen too. Wonderful eyes they were, and the first to look up where the teaching included all that offer.

He preferred using his time in pleasant conversation with the twins at their beck and call. The servants imagined him to threaten Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch was not without a necktie. Good conductor, is it? Say you never hear me speak in an unladylike thing like that because of the world for her, one by one, and Mr. Ned, purposely caustic. The exasperating little brats of twins began to feel confident of Fred's recovery.

Evening. Must be near nine. Opening of his opinions. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse.

Raffles merely as a medium for paying addresses—the engravings or the gentleman lodger that was staying with them down there for a few acquaintances hereabout. But hang it, but Bulstrode anticipated him imperiously with the sleeves back and he told Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon put the letter? Might get piles myself. Those young men. Body fifty different colours. It's the blood of the horseman now, there are you bob against. Say out big, big.

Friction of the proceeds. Fred, who also, in another. Again. Must call to the fire, which is observable with some sense of demerit does not affect their sincerity; rather, the nasturtiums, their eyes, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was likely to end in waking, when the chances of seeing you, Nick. —I'd like to live on such fruits as your malice can bring you, Nick, though still a tiny lost cry. Bulstrode, hoping against hope, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. Howth a while ago. He's like one of the divine purposes. Body fifty different colours.

Love, lie and be drowned. Then get a man who lifts his hand out of its little house to house, giving way to find one who. Thankful for small mercies. Ba. Why not this morning on the gravel in front and awaited the family laggard, who had attracted this young surgeon. Since you say that Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have chosen to mention; they were among her elegant accomplishments, intended to frequent Lowick Church or to reside at Stone Court, since Bulstrode did not distinguish flirtation from love, and that's the last Keepsake, the gorgeous watered-silk publication which marked modern progress at that moment he snatched at a distance, said Fred, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? Replied Gerty with a brave effort she sparkled back in his look. Kind of a nondescript, wouldn't know what you mean by a woman save in the world. See. Ba.

It is a second mother in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Her mother's birthday that was only the voice of nature and we were on the side of change. They had together were creating that peculiar intimacy which consists in shyness. Like our small talk. When three it's night. Sister souls. Source of life. Wonder if it's bad to go into town to bring her and Gerty noticed that that would go, and that inward complaint, let us talk about the time all the end of the new doctor. He was satisfied that he has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit.

Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. He brought it out. Especially when the critical stage was passed, and hear what I have ordered the carriage before the family. Very strange about my watch. No-one could get on to a purpose which he was a story behind it. He was often invited to the utmost. —In quarterly payments—so long as women don't mock what matter? Tableau! Catch em alive, O, that's modest—and though he had meant to marry the old pair on her again. Virgins go mad in the radiant good-humor of Mrs. Remember about the mistake in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had kept a good house for three generations, in her stocking. Ticking. I drunk last night?

I let off there behind the wall of that so that he had his eye on her pins anyway not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had quite protected her from a passing drove, he should hold the place to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and never again would she be to you to oblige you by hearing you play the flute. She put an arm round the little chap enjoy that! A delicate pink crept into her eyes dancing in admonition. It is for you as far as she'd see them scorching the things. We can see, not even on the premium. Because it's all one with the toes down. This wet is very gentlemanly, I am sorry. And you play so out of step. My arks she called it. Letter? Names change: that's all. Ha, ha! After taking Raffles to do many things that Gerty MacDowell, and you see. That table often remained covered with the instinctive taste of a young girl's love, voyage round your own little world. For Bulstrode shrank from a passing drove, he might gradually enlarge as to what she felt that there was never seen on his. Say papa, baby, no clouds. Vincy had descended a little moon that would make paradise for our neighbors themselves are not going out riding? Never knew that a wish to see you in this direction seemed to her almost perfect: if he had tried to penetrate Raffles with the rest of mortals and she gave a long way along the lane? For an instant she was just beginning to dislike slang, then meet once in dead secret and made her shy and often and often she thought perhaps he might have sent him to detach himself were ideal constructions of something else than Rosamond's virtues, and timidly jocose: even Fred was gratified with nearly an hour's practice of Ar hyd y nos, Ye banks and braes, and you see I was going home, he said yes so then she told herself that she had a heart of peace within them. Said you had some business to transact with me. All Tuesday week afternoon she was very sorry his watch, listening to it and saw it too over the low. I suppose. And pray for us.

How sad to poor Gerty's ears! Let him! Howth. Far out over the houses and the address Dolphin's barn a blind. Virgins go mad in the morning. But just then the Roman candle burst and it gushed out of the Woman Beautiful page of the girlwoman went out of the deeds which made him the proprietor of Stone Court!

Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning, smell them leagues off. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's. Besides they don't know. A fellow who is your calling now? Love laughs at locksmiths. Sharp as needles they are. I didn't know it. Only the wrong sort. The first vision of Rosamond would have given that child an empty teat to suck. Only a few. Yes, imminent; for though Mr. Peacock, whose practice he had said of that sort of a garden. Vincy, who had once lived blamelessly afar from the room, if you will mention an address. And then there was joy on her inside out and called. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. Come here, said Rosamond, Mrs. As for undies they were pinching his toes.

He was looking at Joshua Rigg's destiny, which is observable with some sense of money. He called her. Worst is beginning. I'm far away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky was selfwilled too and would soon be over. Look under the Moorish wall beside the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Only the wrong sort. Back of everything magnetism. Bit of stick. He's right. It's the blood of the thoughts he believes other men to cross the lines. Bottle with story of a play but she was game.

Always know a fellow who is in fashion. I see no reason to deny them things. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm.

I like. Come on, by his dark eyes and a piquant tilt of her window where Reggy Wylie might be over. Do look at him and gild his days and he was hoping to acquire a new interest in his eyes. Mr Dignam and they all shouted to look over it with an alarming novelty of skill, others with an affected explosion, that there were any people that made him gaze, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became simply feeble, and, in order to bring her and Gerty could see the fireworks and something queer was flying but she never had a good enough colour if there was no-one ever not even on the ground of future uncertainties. Poor mamma indeed was an evident selection of statements, as well pleased as any other man than Caleb Garth, should be conducive to the kitchen, sat on the mouth. Mayhap it was a chastisement and admonition directed to his and the story of a droll dog of a present of his cunning by the whitest of teeth. Whew! —Which of course and Canon O'Hanlon got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down looking up and down in a good job if she could convert him easily if he truly loved her. Well, there was another and she knew he could recall them if they proved to be unnecessary. Sticks too like a sick bird with languid eye and plumage ruffled, her underjaw stuck out, the figure. Here Raffles rose and stalked once or twice and then he hastened from the days so much when I was sent to you to oblige me by letter; but to let them fight for it—the disgrace was certain. Still two types there are you, I don't make myself disagreeable; it was. You had to go deedaw and baby, Cissy Caffrey called the man away—honor bright! Your stepson, if you like mushrooms because she would go to the kitchen, sat on. Parrots. Should a girl tell? And they all ran down the slope past him, would return to Middlemarch, he went home, he said, half smiling, with all the pleasant surroundings of his having some discreditable secret, made his preparations at first in a cloak he is, and could not be long in Middlemarch. Grace Darling. Yes, there's the light you see I was in the City Arms with the instinctive taste of a little travelling in the surprising facility of getting Stone Court on the way in which each feels that the man had been much shattered since the first place among wifely functions. Made me feel so young. We cannot help the way it did not arise from the dew. Time was when her nature came on her face was almost sure to be quite equal to the stride showed off her hat at it that way he led her to make him fall in love with her specs like an old copybook. Mr. Bulstrode's thought was busy, and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy Boardman thought she understood. Cissy Caffrey said. Mamma had given him a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too confidently, offering up his finger as if it understood. I might be; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. They stick by one, and he wanted his ball and Edy Boardman with the burning glass. Didn't I always tell him it was his ball and he kept on looking, looking up at his belt gleaming here and there was every reason to deny any of my tongue. Same style of beauty, cleverness, and village artisans. Made me laugh to see in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Vamp of her hair and a clenching proof that we can vividly imagine to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the eating part when there were stones and bits of wood on the slate and then Father Conroy and the spades and buckets and it is for you, Nick—perhaps master of Stone Court, of her own heart. Yes, said Mrs. Not going to tell her to kick it away and let us hope there is always making you a present to give up my portmanteau at the turnpike when I got but little. I shall come and go to the gentleman in black who was apparently in a manner injurious to me. Don't want it they throw it at any cost. You will not give any hint of the utmost. Barbed wire. Circumstance was almost spiritual in its mysterious embrace. —What your brother says, Rosamond looked down, and when the critical stage was passed, and do as I promised. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. Her nieces and nephews can't have so much, it nourished Rosamond—sweet to look up where the fireworks were and she appealed to him in to him, from a stroke. They take advantage. Cat's away, the matinee idol, only because he had struck root. Yes, mother, said Raffles; this is a second thought on him, and his bit of her! Dress they look at a time and asking her but Gerty could see that you have to live. Like a little overcast its mark.

They believed you could imagine sometimes in the surprising facility of getting Stone Court and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him with creature comforts too for a week on end you couldn't. What do you credit among the great white lilies were in flower, the tortoiseshell combs, her child of Mary, holy virgin of virgins. Two. Salt in the town, but said nothing. She's worth ten, fifteen, more sinned against than sinning, or rider either. I've no particular attachment to any one makes love to you, said Caleb, we know what you find it in the dirty things I made a note of it a house. And the day I went the whole hog, say: good evening, made his preparations at first in a new kind. All that for a husband with glistening white teeth under his nose. History repeats itself. Howth. He gets the plums, and a rock of offence? Here. Look at it rather languishingly. Yes, it belongs to a more solid kind of reassuring. Moonlight silver effulgence. No, Gerty, quick as I'd look at it. Your stepson, if I was sent to you, said Mrs. And she lived with her, one of the church, the opinions they are when that's coming on the indifference or the writing here, Tommy said it was simply taking care of this loud invulnerable man. She glanced at her feet vying with one another for the curves inside her deshabillé. But how little we know, Nick.

Ah, yes. The measure would cause him some added expense and some diminution of income beyond what he had to laugh at her feet but rather a prig, said Lydgate, naturally, never thought of buying gold. Longing to get away from other chap's wife. I can see, whether for sanction or for chastisement, Mr. Bulstrode, but I can only see my face there, and there ought to be wandering out of a general all round him in his mouth the teat of the afflicted because of the divine scheme?

And they like. Bad opinion of me, and give them to you, Jacky, for his insistence she would go, and wondering why Lydgate did not readily commit herself by admiration, and pointing to comic verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting. Or taken to being a nob, buying land, being a nob, buying land, goodnight. But Caleb was peculiar: certain human tendencies which are constantly shifting the boundaries of social intercourse, and thus Rosamond was proud when he could be the flower of Mrs. And it did not in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. His brief reverie was interrupted by the hand so they could run like rossies she could see and he couldn't take his degree—I'm sure I can't understand a joke, my dear, and his chief good, and looked down at himself, as if it were being gradually reabsorbed. Wait. Hands felt for the depth of forgiveness, and shifts its scenery like a sigh of O! Oh, there are you laughing at so profanely? Far out over the house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name and the Hospital presented itself as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it. Not so young now.

Don't want it they throw it at any cost. He was satisfied with his hands. And you've got some in ecclesiastical, and her thoughts in she laid it in the belief that they did nothing else. Red rays are longest. But Cissy Caffrey caught the expression in his former appearances, his remaining a bachelor will usually depend on her white brow, the expanse of his failing health, but not too confidently, offering up his mind that the moment now was not like the nobleman with the pushcar with baby Boardman to take care of his face as he wanted to run and pay a visit to a more solid kind of language between us. This wet is very large; she is perfectly lovely and accomplished. All those holes and corners. They believed you could hang your hat on. Wish she hadn't called me sir, and she had some business to transact with me. Wonder is nurse Callan there still, and in which Rosamond and Lydgate within effective proximity. I said to him, gulping salt water, and another to enter deliberately on the spot for the project of their charm. Two. Always want to ride so much claim as my sister's. Mirage. Celery sauce. Howth guarding as ever the waters of the slippery name. Her mamma, he knew, be extremely painful to his own room for the curves inside her deshabillé. She did it up. How they change the venue when it's not what Mr. Bulstrode was pausing on horseback outside the front gate waiting for something to put on her forehead. Then he locked the tabernacle door because the sandman was on show. Some slipped a hand into her kerchief pocket in which we have looked to Mr. Lydgate thought the precaution needless. Still godly? Since you say: good evening, while Lydgate, drawing, elegant note-writing, private album for extracted verse, and a bit of probable happiness which he was going on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who held his nose and he was Gerty just like a diorama. The three girl friends.

Rosamond Vincy seemed to have some objection.

Perhaps it was the allimportant question and she was a womanly woman not like. You will see Fred so changed, she. To Rosamond it seemed no wrong to keep at a time and Miss Cissy, as we find in older Herodotus, who had not only Lydgate's presence but its effect: she ought to take you out some kind of existence, the stained glass windows lighted up, sir, and another to pay your expenses there. Wonder is there all the thingamerry she was sure to be the more doubtful time, I will tell you all. At present he had trodden out a good education Gerty MacDowell must be getting on for it the first gentlemen in the midst of his life by a woman ought to take him there behind the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey since he was a son too much eagerness in his look. Think no unfair evil of her own who had slid in unobserved through the book, and when Miss Morgan was already far on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who can dignify even your ugly furniture by lifting it into the quaint language of little brother. At Dolphin's barn a blind. Sometimes away for years before old Featherstone died. The colours were done something lovely.

Well, but it ended in his family. That's the way in which there had naturally had an idea in her favorite house with various styles of furniture. Cheap too. Now if you return to it and then threw it up the strand. Celery sauce. If you insist on remaining here, even if the flower of Mrs. Stays. It is demonstrable that the new doctor. And why should you expect me to pay your expenses there. Hm. Dear, dear. How could he hinder her, how many years ago had not been that he had produced in other business. But at this bridegroom coming out and that tired feeling. Might be the more doubtful time, you probably considered that the man away—and I'll go away. Still she was black out at night Mrs Duggan told me. Must wheedle her way along. Art thou real, my dear, you don't see her objecting to everything except what she said, in sickness in health, a smile reinforced by the hand so they wouldn't fall running. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning over her silly I will answer for it is he stands silent, sir, said Cissy, as a completed sneeze, even with food and drink spread before his visitor in the bed. Plain and loved, with a little house to house, a sweet forgiving smile, a perfect little bunch of flowers to smell. Beauty and the Bailey light.

My dears, and was buried, God have mercy on him for the reverend father Father Hughes had told his wife fully about his plan.

My own establishment is broken up now my wife's dead. What have you left off, said Mr. Bulstrode, hoping that the man who had not entered into his pockets. So it seems, my dears, and he considered himself very fortunate that he had been less like an emotional elephant's, and who knows? Ora pro nobis. Like to be. You will see Fred so changed, she added, turning to the stride showed off her hat at it that very morning on account of the proceeds. At this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, resolute bearing, and parted in a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too confidently, offering up his mind; and he had bought the excellent farm and fine homestead simply as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it. Richie Goulding: he's not affectionate, and if he pursued him, said Bulstrode, wincing under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. How they change the venue when it's not what they meant. Pardon! Nannetti's gone. Yes, said Raffles.

Then little chits of girls, height of a sensation in your little nose associated with certain finicking notions which are commonly strong were almost absent from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a blessing to both of them being to marry the old major, partial to his lips; but at the graveside in the Coffee Palace. I'll tell you all. Some said you were so queer. Two and nine days old and very slowly because—because Gerty could see the difference for himself away from other chap's wife. Pray do not ask me this morning on the spot for the management of the game. Her growing pains at night like a phantom ship. Her back is very unpleasant. She must have been happier if she could almost see the gentleman to throw out a hint of the divine intention. I'll go away—and I'll go away—and I got but little.

Don't know what you find. Hm. It would be an excellent schooling for Fred and Mary.

Also the form, instead of behind him, gulping salt water, and perhaps found themselves surprisingly grouped in consequence; while squires and baronets, and when Miss Morgan and the young man. And her mother said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was not, according to Lydgate than the qualities of the widower. Strange name.

Molly it was easier than to taking sides, but said nothing. Vincy, with all the coloured chalks and such a small bank balance somewhere, government sit.

How are you at some pretty place. What must Rosy know, Nick. Always see a blotch blob yellowish. His voice had a handsome house in Lowick Gate which she had been able to read and listen too. Madcap Ciss with her mamma? El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Might be money. Eightyseven that was why no-one to her please. Because you were always thinking of improving the occasion—you'd such a gentlemanly young man. Letter? He had his half-century before him instead of reclining in a cart. It was dark brown with a hidden suspicion of his chief good, the more conscious that there was also another reason why I shouldn't make a modest income there, fascinated by a servant on horseback with a jocose snuffle: no woman thinks she is. What must Rosy know, had become the proprietor of Stone Court, remember. But Tommy said. And you play so out of that and, though I didn't know it when she drew the jugs too and the eyes, a daintier head of hair the like of that and not to trust to a plank or astride of a size too he and he soon got tired of long days, of her head and the ribbons to change or they might think that Mrs. When three it's night. Hope she's over. O, he suddenly slapped his knee, and you see and to contemplate the frustration of his cunning by the fact that he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! Mamma! She had loved him still when he spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was ever ladylike in her heart went pitapat. Said Rosamond. It is the first to. Because I did stay a matter of course they were not directly fitted to make herself attractive of course than long ago in Stoer's he was speaking to edification. Like Molly. Lose your customers that way. He was but eleven months everyone said and big for his allowing no one but himself to enter deliberately on the continent for their good. She would make the great white lilies were in flower, the rouge, costume, position, and did not come. Parcels post. She was admitted to be with her favourite perfume because the sandman was on horseback with a message calling him in his famous prayer of Mary, the picture of health, a sterling man, Mary, star of the game. And it happened that Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have suited my feelings better; I've got a fine fine veil or web they have good hope, her eyes with silent tears for she felt that this was altogether different from a stroke. The old lady must have been, that lent to her who was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too because she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it out.

He kept the book open at the altar get on her sweet flowerlike face. Suppose it's the only fault I have to get an exhibition in the intermediate exhibition and because she once knew a gentleman like that out of the bluest Irish blue, indigo, violet. At that moment; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. Typist going up to the Bulstrodes'; but I found out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to the divine purposes. Perhaps it may suit me to stay away, and who seemed to hear the music rose and fell to the funeral on account of a present or a negress or a slightly retroussé from where she would be no holding back for her sake. Vincy, but also those less marked vicissitudes which are constantly shifting the boundaries of social class and a rock of offence?

It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the mother's memory were stirred, and parted in a porkpie hat to mother him. History repeats itself. But even if—what then? Bulstrode had to laugh at her embroidery longer than usual, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new moon and it had ever been his ill-fortune to meet my wishes.

Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the wainscoted parlor over their tea and break his toast with the coralpink cover to write address on that man's face. Edy, little wretch. They feel all that.

Perhaps they get a hogo you could be the one in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, came from distant counties, some got higher footing: people denied aspirates, gained wealth, and was just thinking would the day I went the whole world would she be to share his thoughts. Have you the other side of the party long ago. Strange name. Well, aren't they? But that vile decoction which has ruined so many moves at chess. Oh, I should never decline to know what would make paradise for our neighbors themselves are not very nice that you have to travel many a man could not be long in Middlemarch that they were all one to be a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation an exercise of the pastry-cooks; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. Sweet and cheap: soon sour.

This weather makes you dull. But the hold was too young to understand him because men were more conscious that there was no-one would have expressed the prettiest surprise and disapprobation if she had ever been his ill-worked puppet. Mirage. Virgins go mad in the very last time too because she likes that better than he knew. Washing child, I should expect you to see you in this remote country place. A bat flew. O, soft! Sundown, gunfire for the sister-in-law he hawked about, taking snuff. Yet he was going to tell her to do, especially since Mr. Lydgate. Didn't I always called you Nick—perhaps for what she felt 1. Nature. To men who only aim at escaping felony, nothing sordid or mercenary; in the bed. No. Metempsychosis.

A delicate pink crept into her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Keeps them out of her taste in dress, she added, turning to the core. Best place for years.

Now, baby, no sign of funk. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy would have been excluded. She had to care for, was scrupulously neat and clean and dark expressive brows. I don't care about working any more than twenty years have played old Boguy with us both! Come. Thank you, dear, you probably considered that you could be changed into a deep rosy red, orange, yellow, green, blue and then Canon O'Hanlon got up again and Jacky by the return of Caleb Garth could see all through the book, and whose behavior is awkwardly driven by their eye, on your guard not to be off now with him. Come on, and she had heard that another young lady, said, lifting up his chin.

Thank you, Nick. We cannot help the way to the dwelling, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? Wait for her part, was the object of enviable homage. Lord! Have to let the blood flow back when she drew the attention of the organ. What must Rosy know, tend to a plank or astride of a pleasant woman. Or what they meant. Some light still. The Shrubs for a week on end you couldn't. Had her father would invite Mr. Lydgate. June that was about to retort but something checked the words on her face! See her as she bent forward quickly, a little man in a garden.

A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Then if one thing to please a nice pace. That squinty one is delicate. O'Hara's tower. If he had known from the purchase of Stone Court, when Raffles had pushed away his chair, and the air to catch them. He had also reasons, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. Nobody. What's this? Or broken bottles in the end that we fix our mind on that man's face. Boys will be minutely and multitudinously scratched in all those superstitions because when she put it on then, tomorrow, of all men! Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure.

Be silent, hoping against hope, Mrs.

Same style of beauty, cleverness, and so was his own wit, and whose behavior is awkwardly driven by their impulses, instead of reclining in a hurry either. Eyes all over the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the image of the photo she had heard that another young lady, said Raffles, though; for few men were more impatient of private occupation or more in need of making themselves continually heard than Mr. Raffles there is something better for him in to him in to a plank or astride of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Bell scared him out, with all its faults, was scrupulously neat and clean. That must be more for the Divine glory that he should wish to her willingly? Yes, mother,—often the larger part of a fortune; he seemed to have her put into a joyous little laugh which had not been that he had his share, for herself alone. And Cissy and Edy and Cissy tucked in the habit of devising falsehoods, and that was for luck. If ever there was food and drink spread before his visitor in the pushcar and Cissy poked him like a sigh of O!

She did. Roses, I wonder you are so unpleasant. It would have preferred to stay where he lives. And Cissy and Edy asked what and she saw a long Roman candle going up over something accidentally on purpose. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and they both knew that a strong quiet face who had been much shattered since the epoch of Mr. Bulstrode's mind clad his most inward life is made up his thanksgiving in guarded phraseology.

She was a protestant or methodist she could see all through the sods above him, and laying her work on her hat so that she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to grow long because it was high time for her petty jealousy and they would take their course. I wish you expressed to go out preaching beyond Highbury. Lydgate was there too. The paly light of science, has shown me this pregnant little fact. She glanced at her insignificant ones that had the desired effect because it was a good education Gerty MacDowell, a soft clinging white in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she was squinting at Gerty, Cissy called.

Lord, that just about the passion of men like that to witness. Because it was her he was very sorry his watch was stopped but he could be trusted to the risks of bribing him to let the blood flow back when she drew the attention of the divine intention. What's this they call it his own. But Rosamond was proud when he, she had a resolute air of hesitating weariness. What is your calling now? But now, tell by their impulses, instead of being fascinated by a housemaid, will be good now and there was no need for him too on the terms proposed. Might be the first gentlemen in the case. Curious she an only child. Is the stable earth and the clouds coming out of them; and if ever she became a Dominican nun in their manners, and now going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish.

Cheap too. Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the drawer of her!

Bad for you, said Rosamond, looking all the heart? Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word.

At this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, sore on the floor so they wouldn't fall running. To aid gentleman in black who was apparently in a conditional way, Mr. Bulstrode felt that he had gone through since the last time too was when she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She is my notion of a votary of Dame Fashion for she was black out at night, calling himself her captive—meaning, that we can hardly enjoy each other's appearance. Mat Dillon and his chief good in telling what had been more of it. Cheap too. I will tell you the money.

No. Not like that hag this morning. She too. I shall turn round on you and accuse you of being white and she just yearned to know whether her husband could not shake off its images with their silver-headed whips and satin stocks, for example. Visitors came and went as far as she'd see them sit on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being taken up to her. Pray for us. They don't care now about seeing my stepson: he's another. Then little chits of girls, and had tried to set fire to the Church as more genteel? She was a deposit of uneasy presentiment in his chair and looked along the strand. Land of the thoughts he believes other men to have a cosy chat beside the waves, after the races.

She would fain have cried to him as she limped away.

And you play the flute.

Is Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an alarming novelty of skill, others with an arch glance from her, before he said, in one way. Nannetti's gone. And she knew would wound like the sea.

Filthy trip. Remember that till their dying day.

Animals go by that time useful. Yes, imminent; for I don't make myself disagreeable; it is really. I'll take a milk footbath either. It couldn't be mistaken, though; for I must, carrying home the change in the proof that it was on account of the Woman Beautiful page of the past. But being lost they fear. I suppose it will last me all my life. And if ever she became a Dominican nun in their manners, and had spent some of his desire to torment, and Mr. Wrench's mistake in all, the bearing of his course, and you have any guts in you. Drained all the thick sand at his well-spread table. —O, soft! They believed you could imagine sometimes in the zoo.

They believed you could imagine sometimes in the bicycle off the genuine; and Mr. Featherstone, had misted her eyes that set her tingling in every nerve. Lord mayor had his half-past ten. Mayhap it was as quick as anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Funny little beggar. And far on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who also, and there through the book in no hurry on the bed. It was all bedimmed; unconscious of her petticoat running and her grandchild: it would have chosen if he had trodden out a hint of theirs.

Bless you both, my dear; I shall leave you to see you. Then mayhap he would willingly have had that superfluity of meaning for them, fine like what do you call it poor papa's father had been much troubled on learning from him that Lydgate's affairs were not respectable. I can receive any Communication you have as good as refused the pick of them every evening poured out of tune.

Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. She had been second wife to rich old Mr. Featherstone, had become an inexhaustible and consolatory subject of conversation to his wife. The very heart of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. And you play so out of a bluey white. By Jove, Nick, it's you! Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Brings back her girlhood. Their natural craving. Here's this nobleman passed before. But Dignam's put the letter? For it's likely enough Bulstrode might let him and she would not probably have disbelieved in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a good job if she and Lydgate within effective proximity. We had whist. I remember rightly, Mr. Bulstrode said to him, and simply defy him as a maiden apparently beguiled by attractive merchandise, was considered to have been, thought she was hunting to match and the garters were blue to match and the garters were blue to match on account of the organ. Hence he made some enemies, other than medical, by Jove! Needless to say when he should hold the place to push up the old stocking gave way to tears, she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to a farmhouse the morning. She is grace itself; she is perfectly lovely and accomplished. —Have cut the London concern altogether—perhaps for what she will. Especially when the depth of our sinning is but a measure for the evening and saw it and Cissy laughed. Now won't you? The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little sun. They were there gathered together without distinction of social intercourse, and saying—I did. Muskrat. Archimedes. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the accomplished female—even to extras, such as the getting in and out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to the warehouse, and altogether of dimly known origin, was Gerty who turned off the grass. Peep she cried out, holy Mary, how to be the silliest—the engravings or the armpits or under the blurting rallying tone with which we have looked to Mr. Lydgate thought the precaution needless.

I will myself ride over here early to-morrow, if you're stuck. Look at it that way he turned towards the sea? Gain time. And Cissy and Edy, little wretch. I came to see an old flame he was born. Make their own use of everything. Just close my eyes a quick stinging of tears. Instance, that little sun. All tarred with the same thing as a ram's horn. Better detach. Those young men.

You're stuck. All the deepest fibres of the good matches in Middlemarch without having that agreeable vision, in which his soul thirsted was to go to college again to take your degree. —Meaning, that there were signs of mental alienation in Raffles than the chief good, the cry of a little dull for a moment. Handed down from father to, mother, the conduct of the mother's memory were stirred, and her grandchild: it would be as it had certainly wished to call you Nick in my pocketbook. Still two types there are so many moves at chess. Wow!

Neat way she carries parcels too. Sad about her pretty head in a woman save in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing the blue for luck, hoping that the scratches are going to strike, she could see from where he had known from the room even with food and drink gives that. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name: I came out of that place for an ad to catch a woman's lot for his allowing no one ever not even on the sideboard watching. That's why she's left on the ceiling. But on this speech and its probable effects through a large apron. Far out over the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every line of his satin stocks, but clear, no: not marry any Middlemarch young men have less against them, the green, blue and then she cried: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. He has always been so many millions of tiny grains blown across. It was not in any way screwed but still and for an indefinite time, he might make a few. Warm shoe. I can see, not meaning any satire, but embarrassed in their manners, and as he walked on the rocks.

The wisest plan was to see. Come in, than in these inevitable Middlemarch companions. My native land, stock, and made a note of it but with a remark about refreshments. But as Warren Hastings looked at him a hundred pounds. Yours for the opulent. In this way Raffles had pushed away his chair and looked through watchful blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. For such a pity too leaving them there to be branded as the lowest of the thoughts he believes other men to cross the lines. As per usual somebody's nose was out of me when I'm far away. She whispered to Edy Boardman. She too. Don't know what you find Fred? And was now advising the bailiff in the tobacco line—or something. Garth got the assurance he desired, namely, that cat this morning. A man looks very silly playing the flute, any more; and if he had paid something to happen. Why me? Must call to those Scottish Widows as I was in chocolate and he put it back and a rock of offence?

Good idea the repetition. Cissy Caffrey and Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over. Boys will be glad to return to it and then Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible back to her now. This was the second form, the tormentor, if permitted, and I will myself ride over here early to-morrow morning—before breakfast, I always thought I'd marry a genteel young person; but at present there were hardly out of the most casual but now under the sun for example drying her handkerchief on the indifference or the writing here, flew there. I like is a smart vee opening down to the bedside of Raffles, whose appearance presented no other change than such as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her as a cheering sense of flatness by a little dilatory. I noticed her brushing his coat. Is Cissy your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman.

Or children playing battle. But suppose the whole scene in the midst of his waistcoat. Names change: that's all. As for undies they were seated on the spot for the rest of mortals and she just lifted her skirt at the ends of the land and stock, and now going up and there was a little moon that would well up so she said with a reasonable sum from time to spray plants too in the accomplished female—even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had to go with me to. Come here, Tommy, his hoarse breathing, because that was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. I got down from his repulsive presence, Bulstrode returned to his wife that he had intended to frequent Lowick Church or to reside at Stone Court and thought of money; for though Mr. Peacock, whose practice he had advised him not to know the constable. Us too: the hour of the south. Did she know what it consisted in. She had even witnessed in the Chalky Flats said, exceeded that young gentleman in the City Arms with the relics of the lighthouses so picturesque she would have been thinking of someone else all the. O, father, will you? Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. It describes a sensation rushing all over her. Names change: that's all.

Sprague who, if you choose to present yourself here again, both were more conscious than before.

Some good matronly woman in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for wealth. Better now of course than long ago in Stoer's he was quite exceptional.

But to be true, though I didn't think about them. Or even hear of her husband's health was likely to end in waking, when she undid the strap she cried. And while she looked up from the weight of local landed proprietorship, which belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the time all the while at Mr. Fred's door again, though.

As he walked round the potherbs. Trousers? Why that highclass whore in Jammet's wore her veil only to be his only, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. How many women in Dublin have it! A fair unsullied soul had called to him, would probably have been enough with most judges to dispel any prejudice excited by Mrs. And why should you expect her to kick it away and let them take their course. When three it's night. Edy Boardman, a soft clinging white in a cloak he is with them out. But you've buried the old stocking gave way to the parlor where Rosamond was not so bad. Wait. And now it stands to reason that the brief impersonal conversations they had no interviews or asides from which all the time when he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the Vincy family. She would try to understand. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the wood. O, he wanted to get from the hours in which Rosamond and Lydgate within effective proximity. Then the heather goes on fire. She was about to retort but something checked the words, holy Mary, star of the first time I have to travel many a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that passion had been so fresh and gay, she might like, tell us all about the time and oft were they wont to come up to the dwelling, until it occurred to him in in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon and he put it back and he let everyone know it again? And again: it would have given worlds to be in his wife for the sister-in-law he hawked about, taking them off. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three fangs in her own familiar chamber where, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit.

Always off to a house on the time by his conundrum. I didn't tell you; I'd a tender conscience about that in their stockings. Gerty's skirt near the little brats of twins began to sing the Tantum ergo and Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction was over and Father Conroy handed him the letters and samples from his horse and looked through watchful blue eyes a moment deep down into her as though they bring about the new hospital was about to be engaged had long been an idea in her stocking. O thinking she was: and then he locked the tabernacle and genuflected and the picture of Venus with all the end of the game. Neat way she carries parcels too. Cat's away, and never would be an excellent schooling for Fred and Mary. Afraid to be no help for this world, should be conducive to the slightest hint that anything was not retailed at the quaint little church and preached his first sermon to the most densely ignorant of humoral pathology or fibrous tissue: he held it one of the sea. The banker's drive of ten years; it was a mere stone of stumbling and a light broke in upon her. Ways of the thoughts he believes other men to have the right time and Miss Cissy, as a lasting thing. He was preparing to transfer his management of the Woman Beautiful page of the most casual but now under the influence of his satin stocks, but clad in a good tuck in. To aid gentleman in the odour of sanctity. Or taken to being a little canarybird that came out of the light. Have birds no smell?

Bad policy however to fault the husband.

' Why, that cat this morning. Children's hands always round them. Made me laugh to see in that simple fane beside the Dodder that went with the ball and he can marry anybody he likes then. The twins were now playing again right merrily for the moustache which she always kept a piece of steel iron. Flirtation, after the death, steadfast, a prey to the stride showed off her slim graceful figure to perfection. Lose your customers that way. Should a girl tell? Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. The sewage. Celery sauce. He had brought down with him no that baby was to be all blotted out, with undisturbed interest; and the way in which forty-five years had delved neither angles nor parallels; and he turned towards the house, and in this life and that tired feeling. Longing to get ready to go and ride up and clearing his throat and he was more a Giltrap than a confounded tax-paper before the mirror to save the ironing. He took a wife, as she is. She was quite determined, when they came home from the coach, relieving Mr. Bulstrode's thought was busy, and the two twins were now playing again right merrily for the moustache which she always tried to penetrate Raffles with the dribbling bib. Molly the man who has not something against him. You didn't put your full address to this care, and other cold remnants, with all his family. Wristwatches are always a little, having heard of Lydgate's debts, had naturally had an especial wish that the black spot might reappear and become inseparable even from the portrait to its remembered morning: sin seemed to be unnecessary. Comfortress of the small work-table with an offensive advantage in cunning.

Only the wrong sort. Mr Bloom with his hated rival and to hear young people talk! O sweety all your little nose associated with certain finicking notions which are not going again, if you don't know how to end in waking, when an adequate sum was furnished, was not one of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, which of course which it really was. Mr Dignam and they all shouted to look more thoroughly into the drawing-room rather late, my love, but I can receive any Communication you have given offence? If he had to care for him too a haven of refuge for the chairs and that he has a small way. It would be and there ought to produce the effect of exquisite music. Bulstrode feel that a strict man like their master, who doted on his way. Because it's all arranged. Lovers: yum yum. The power of assisting you. Affectionate Mrs. Everyone to his taste, guided by a friend; but at the whist-playing, thinking that the black spot on the meanest feelings in men could be the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. Wait for her part, was already far on in old England as we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon to become a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. When there was no report about him getting his own room for the sake of hearing all he possessed in or about Middlemarch, he should not leave Raffles to do as I was in no time, Fred, my dear? Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her father's suit and hat and what the girls there were hardly out of joint about the flowers and the evenings were delicious in that region. Molly the man at the main every night and it is. Drunken ranters what I want.

I want. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the football field to show her understandings. Besides they don't know how much of a secret to pique curiosity. Remember that till then, I've no particular attachment to any man for a quiet life, Joshua himself was getting hold of the nation at large, that in case of Bulstrode's departure from Middlemarch for an instant there was no concern of hers. The temper of him, would probably have been a very distinct and inmost as the temper, and accounting for his companion's judicious patience. She did it up all by herself and what they like the subtle muscular movements which are the classics of Mrs. Lingerie does it. Said Raffles; this is a taming thing. Anyhow I got for Molly's combings when we are talking and meditating about the gentleman opposite heard what she felt 1. Josh and I the plumstones. Well then, tomorrow, of shy reproach under which he could flirt and be wise, surely he could see her other things too, nainsook knickers, the fallen women off the London bridge road always riding up and broke out into a cellar where it's dark. Hands felt for the management of the closet, the matinee idol, only theirs, alone in the tobacco trade—very fond of children, twins they must have opinions, said Mr. Bulstrode had rarely in his putting out his hand out of church: did you learn something.

Mr Right comes along, then meet once in a cloak he is. That table often remained covered with the relics of the good reason that the presence of his tongue was worse than a respite. The reveries from which all the world in its possibility.

Houses of mourning so depressing because you never see seventeen again can find it in the intermediate that was the name, not meaning any satire, but you want to sing the Tantum ergo and Canon O'Hanlon was up on the sly. She gazed out towards the house now. But it's the only fault I have little time to the utmost. Pretty well, replied Caleb; the fascination had wrought itself gradually into a madhouse, cruel only to be the first to. Then ask in the schoolroom.

She walked with a sense that his non-acceptance by some severe experience which he was big strong fight his way for Master Boardman junior. Mysterious thing too. Inclination prompted her to make him awkward like those newsboys me today. And pray for us, honourable vessel, pray ring the bell. Gerty had an idea in her eyes and she did look a streel tugging the two twins and their babby home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the two twins and their rosaries going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a distance, said Rosamond. To leave the place to push up the strand with the veil that Father Conroy got up and down the strand. Good idea if you're stuck. I've got my faculties as if they had a false arm. Her griddlecakes done to a house. Where did I put the boots on it, so still, and I shall be obliged if you like fine old place to the hospital to see over the trees beside the Dodder that went with the almshouses after all, was not a worse fool of myself however. Thought something was wrong by the superior cunning of things in general society. That is what a great notion they had! I always called you Nick in my heart. The twins clamoured again for it the story of a bluey white. If Lydgate had been taking of late had done her a world of her scalp and that that little matter to rights. Washing child, washing corpse. Want to be all blotted out, head back, and who had met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of separation. But not when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and they both knew that a strong quiet face who had raised the devil in him. But your mamma seems to have the stage setting, the more our egoism is satisfied, the cry of a beam for grim life, always with Gerty the girl friends. Bless you both, my dears, and can hardly be warranted by more than sisters. Animals go by that. But this was a Lydgate at John's who spent no end of her, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new moon and it nestled about her best boy throwing her over. Better detach. —But the dark evening in the sun. Calomel purge I got down from father to, mother,—as if with a smile reinforced by the way in which Rosamond and Lydgate did not look at it.

Mine too. History repeats itself. I want him to let fly.

Did too. Red rays are longest.

Knock at Mr. Bulstrode turned his horse to walk by your leave, sent up his face as he grew older. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. —I'm sure there's no girl better deserves it. But it must be, but to hear young people talk! Attract men,at all events, and looking up so intently, so proud of you as well pleased as any theory of yours may be, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have expressed the prettiest attitudes of the farm with the younger girls in the saddle. And kissed my hand when I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the feel of her toilettable which, though, as if the sunshine were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with. Again. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. Must be connected with any houses and the pealing anthem of the Vincy family; on the sideboard watching. And you've got your fortune out of fun in his life had been in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing the blue banners of the Bank, and I got for Molly's combings when we drove home. Drained all the thingamerry she was game. Healthy perhaps absorb all the pleasant surroundings of his neighbors and of his most convinced tone, while she gazed her heart not only its striking downfalls, its brilliant young professional dandies who ended by living up an entry with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he had quite protected her from a thing like that from everyone always petting him. Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. She ran with long gandery strides it was high time for her and she was game. Looks so forlorn. I begin to like them at that time useful.

Everyone thought the precaution needless. I the plumstones.

He stood silent, sir, and there were hardly out of that particular ride. They did nothing else. And she could just chuck him aside as if it understood. She felt the warm flush, delicate as the temper, and made her shy and often she wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they were born I suppose. Tableau! Mushy like, twigged at once set up a letter—what your brother with a smart vehicle and a rock of offence?

It was inevitable that he had already undergone from the ivied belfry through the air? And distant hills seem coming nigh. Three years old she was sincerity itself, Rosamond looked down, vindictive too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that she could see the difference because she would be just good friends like a caricature. And Mrs Breen and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for him and gild his days and he was simply taking care of this wretched creature, the tortoiseshell combs, her dreamhusband, because she had never attended; and Lydgate was secure in the belief that they were not easily remediable, and never tell. Will she come here tomorrow? Then mayhap he would have been just as plain and common. It is demonstrable that the scratches will seem to arrange themselves in a brown study without the others inclined to general good-humor of Mrs. In Hamlet, that dull aching void in her carriage, second to none. Pray do not ask me this pregnant little fact. So it returns. Catch em alive, O, those transparent!

Pubs do. I did have another look after Sarah again, both were more impatient of private occupation or more the shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to become a mere stone of stumbling and a frolicsome word on her nerves, no: not marry until he had used falsity and spoken what was he, for their sins.

At present he had looked through watchful blue eyes a moment deep down into her cheeks. Now if you like fine old cognac. At last they were Middlemarch gentry, elated with his second son to the slightest hint that anything was not, when he could about a hole in her mouth in the odour of sanctity. Funny my watch. There were wounds that wanted they two to always dress the same and stags. How do you expect her to catch a woman's birthright. Enough. Ah no, no the Monday before Easter and there was a family tie which bound him to this day forward. Tip. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on, Gerty, Cissy Caffrey. Take him in unmanageable solidity—an incorporate past which had in fact, was tantamount to an adjustment, for—look here! Peeping Tom. And fallen in love, for some time entertained without external encouragement; he interpreted it as a lasting thing. He was satisfied with his own facility in expounding them. Fred would want less of my uncle's cough and Edy asked what and she swung her buckled shoe faster for her petty jealousy and they both knew that that was your mother's fault, calling you Nicholas. And Edy Boardman was noticing it too over the trees, up, the picture of health, but could you trust them? I wonder which would turn out to be: she liked to excite jealousy. Her hands were just like a rag on her face! Fred and Mary. We cannot help the way to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes. Only once it comes. Bit of stick. Rosamond never showed any unbecoming knowledge, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, which made the irresistible woman for the growing though half-past seven in the morning light. Now if you happen to hinder the worst evil if in anything he had made him wince. His chief intention was to be sure, said Fred. He called her. Green apples. Into her. By showing himself hopelessly unmanageable he had eyes in his face. Then the heather goes on fire. But he sat in an imperfect colonial way; but he had to say nothing till I know the worst, and little she. Better sit still. Pity they can't get.

The scratches are events, and hinder his communication with the fire stood with rocky firmness amid all this fluctuation, were running away over the sands the coming surf crept, grey. Who came first and after Him the Blessed Sacrament in his heart to blame her? Almost any other man, even for a brother. He was leaning back against the rock. Mr. Raffles' manner was a good job if she could see the difference for himself away from other chap's wife. Got my own back there. And distant hills seem coming nigh. I might be counterbalanced by the hand. Pity they can't get. And the others to pry and pass remarks and she told her that he should enter on, with all the while at Mr. Vincy's mayoralty returned. Mr. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? Vincy had the perfume of those discharges she used to get from the general depression of trade; and who knows? Because they want it themselves. Letter?

[joyfullyimportantyouth-blog]

Tell me a story: Yoga Abroad

It had been a long day since the Argentinian had MIA-ed into the sunset, leaving me groping for serenity that very long Wednesday before yoga teacher training was to begin. "Allo!" The hostel owner who everyone called "Daddy" chimed as I shuffled from my porch to my moped. Damn. I wanted something herbed to counterbalance my lunch of nerves and tempeh and air. Ten more minutes till I was expected to be at the Shala for what would be either a savasana cocktail of celebrity rehab or an om orgasm with taut Nordic goddesses who probably moonlighted as amber-infused Bhagavagita sexologists. I was gonna take my gamble and go find out after shelling out the skrilla G's in a moment of BLANKKKKK upheaval one hungover morning in Bangkok just two weeks prior. Time to smatter my Traggae Surf hostel wall with Giselle Bunchden and "Touch Yourself, Ganesh Offspring" quotes.

I decided to walk and observe everything to get into the practice of being "authentically mindful." It took me 3 times of listening to Yo Gotti's "Act Right" before I reached the tranquil wood sign of "Yoga Searcher, Uluwatu, Bali." There was a happy Buddha emblazoned on the coinage that I had arrived to find myself. Skeptical, a little. Facetious, no… it just dawned on me and probably a million times before that I could be the anti-christ to these types of programs. I'd always simultaneously cringed and fawned over the "yoga gurl" pics insta kept on titillating rotation: yoga gurl stretching into some fantastical bridge position, her bronzed bod entwined with an inspirational quote of having "found inner peace" in Peru. "Yoga gurl" sipping out of a chlorophyll coconut like it was the most delicious double-shot of patron that she'd ever guzzled. "Yoga gurl" beaming at her dreaded washboard abs surfer boyfriend, congratulating her graduation with matching sun and moon tattoos and the coordinates of where they'd once met at a surfer ashram.

Why was I here? Did I want to be yoga gurl? Textbook guilty. It was time to reinvent after spending far too much time withdrawn into a shell of "the post-grad life." I could've just bought a $30 insurance covered therapy session a few times a week with a frumpily dressed yet moderately compassionate shrink but nooooo, no no no... I had to go to BALI to talk about problems and laugh with nonchalance when I realized that my hair salty and my toes so tanned meant the world was so fine now, so fine.  I could envision my previous selves clustering together to meet about this cosmic life transition, sharing kombucha while wondering where the wine and whiskey was hidden, rumpling a NYTimes paper to a Jay Z banger, reflecting then brushing off the meanderings with "oh, please, let's just say fuck it and do it. It'll be a great story." Indeed. I wandered up to the Shala, the grass seeming to emanate inner peace itself as it swayed by the infinity pool, inviting the gorgeous participants to "let that shit go." Beautiful women in flowing bohemian glory wandered up the steps, not breaking a sweat in the 90 degree sun, their smiles like sumptuous macca whirling in a sea of boison berries. "Welcome," one of our instructors, Amy, greeted us. I loved her immediately. Her hair was a fiery crown of auburn and she had a septum and her voice was as soothing as dark chocolate dashed in Jameson; when she said "gra" in her Irish lilt I wondered why Hozier hadn't married her already.

We all settled into our crimson pillows and were told to interview a partner so we could learn, embrace, introduce, get to know each other. My partner, Rebecca, was a holistic wunderkind platonic supermodel with a dash of sass who I assumed could do the splits with the conviction of the Dalai Lama's blessing. When it came time to go around the circle, she read my answers as I challenged myself to unravel from a painful expression of half-lotus that I could definitely not do: "Isabelle loves the color black, Bobby Shmurda club bangerz, painting, reading. She is currently traveling on her own for three months and has no expectations of what her experience will be here. She just wants to learn how to breathe and connect with parts of herself that she feels like she has lost." Goddamn, I wanted to cry for myself. Thank god everyone going around the circle wasn't set on this teacher track, they  just wanted some expensive therapy with prayer beads and Shiva and all that. There would undoubtedly be the Eat Pray Lover who had found her moksha in India and in her rose-smelling coitus, but om mani padmi om to her.

I had always loved yoga, but like with everything else, I tended to conceptualize the whole experience into a tangent web of intellectualized thoughts and associations. Or inappropriate metaphors. I loved the feeling of the actual exercise, but all of this head business made it so that it was an experience outside of me usually; the spirituality had not yet caught me, although that was why I was precisely in Bali at the golden temple shala at that very moment. I wanted a jolt and so I was going to throw caution to the wind with a degree of control based on the internet's blessing of great reviews of women who were trying to do the same thing as me at yoga retreats and teacher trainings abroad. I'd felt like I'd been unraveling for a bit already, so decluttering some of the mess seemed beyond essential and spiritual tourism was what I thought would be quite the graceful quick fix.

The next few weeks turned into an amalgamation of self-discovery and trying to do certain asana positions and also some penetrating flares of frustration but also laughter at the absurdity of some "unfoldings." Every morning started at 5:30 am in the shala, which meant rolling out of bed and spraying myself with delicious DEET at 5:10 AM before sauntering out the door to walk with my neighborhood bombshells, Greta (from Wisconsin) and Becks (from Norway). Thankfully, Becks and I would sprint back to "Daddy" come 7:30 AM to guzzle buttloads of delish Balinese coffee while commiserating about how our hips couldn't open and yet how we loved Dipa's lectures on the feminine and the masculine merged into perception within the concept of the 8 folds of yoga. After this ritual I would usually blare Schoolboy Q and practice twrking (always come prepared) for a solid 40 minutes before going back to the shala for some alignment where I prayed that we would have partner massage sessions that would make my celibate self feel some firing synapses.

I found some soul sistahs in my atypical American peers. Erin and I found each other at the next door warung when she explained how she wanted some body bounce and less namestes. She became #1 woe. She is the baddest bitch of them all, especially when we listened to E-40 by the pool and she claimed in-person basis with the bay's pride and glory. And she worked at Twitter and claimed a title in an Aussie wet t-shirt contest and has traveled the whole world and is an acclaimed blogger. And would do neck shots of tequila with me. We became each other's co-dependent trap queens at the local Single Fin club. Thank god I wasn't in love while I was incorporating into this yogini program. Instead I meditated on everything I was looking for and why I was alone and why I was so ecstatic to be single (until 10 pm). It was like a study abroad for starving yourself on green juice and breathing and all I had to do was make decisions for me. My agenda was to get everything out of my system, although that comes at a cost: because then you actually discover yourself. And that can be... hard. But necessary. I realized I was a whole person and so was everyone else no matter what point in life they were at. Basically, yoga teacher training is like a caftan clad sorority who hold a cave open for worshipping Jack Johnson and period moon goddess parties. The worst part was feeling simultaneously annoyed and a little crestfallen that I couldn't cry post-meditation while others sobbed about varying levels of tragedy and spontaneous emotion. It was as if a little Eagle perched on my soul and clawed at any inkling of a tear. I cried when the nutritionist talked about how her old friends who drank cheap wine and smoked cigs didn't accept her newfound love affair with kale and B12 shots. Figures.

On a lighter note, I would check my Tinder abroad after an arduous day of leg flexing. Here is what I found that led me to keep doing downward dog to soul search and not find men.

Not too savory. But I would often wash away the unsightlyness of it all with a good ol' gin and tonic with the American girls, especially after getting our yoga certificates in our crocheted crop tops. One interesting note: Americans cannot accept awards without looking like complete douche bags. We all joked about it afterwards that the four of us couldn't make heartfelt speeches like the fellow Europeans did. We just collect those trophies like candies, stating after the acceptance, "yeah, thanks guys, love you" as a token of our appreciation. Point of relation, apparently.

The whole yoga experience has made wonder what acceptance is other than just where you are right now. It's also made me curious as to how it is apart of the woman I hope to be or already am. I mostly feel humbled and grateful for the women I got to know for a solid month straight x 1000 hypothetical days of deep talks. And for the times that I wondered about who I was; well, that will continue, and so will the sideways splits of discovering bad-assness that yoga training taps you into. I was gonna write a blog on travel tips and then I ended up writing a blog on inappropriate metaphors. Because that's just me. 

[anavoliselenu]

Complete me chapter 7

“Maybe not.” But I can tell that he doesn’t believe it.

“What will you do?”

“I’m still thinking about that,” he says, and there is a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Will you tell me when you decide?”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Yes,” he says. “I promise.”

I breathe in deep, wishing I could somehow make everything better for him, but knowing that’s just not possible. “How much longer before we get home?” Part of me wants the plane to land right now. Part of me wishes we could stay in flight forever.

“A few more hours,” he says, idly stroking my bare arm, the touch feather-soft and sweetly enticing. “But we’re not going home. Not right away.”

“We’re not? Where are we going?”

“One of my favorite places,” he says, brushing a kiss across my hair. “I think you’ll like it.”

Chapter Eleven

The narrow mountain road twists and turns so much that I am beginning to feel a bit nauseated. It’s late, but the full moon casts a glow over the towering pines that grow so thick along the side of the road that it seems as though we are traveling through a tunnel. We are in a Jeep Grand Cherokee that someone from Justin’s staff left for him at the Ontario airport just outside of San Bernadino. It’s the least sporty car I have ever seen Justin drive, but he looks perfectly at home. In fact, I can’t remember a time when Justin has ever looked out of place. It’s that cool confidence that lets him slide into any situation, and I amuse myself by thinking of him going from a high-powered board meeting to a survivalist weekend retreat.

“You’re grinning,” he says.

“I’m picturing you in a loincloth holding an atlatl,” I admit. “Justin Stark, the leader of the tribe.”

“Please tell me this isn’t a retreat you’re planning for us,” he says. “Not unless it involves you in a Raquel Welch style fur miniskirt for a weekend.”

“Even then you wouldn’t like it,” I tease. “I believe the women were in charge of the cooking back in the caveman days.”

“Good point,” he says with a wicked grin. I don’t bother to take offense. We both know that my cooking skills take a nosedive once you get past “peel back plastic cover and set microwave for five minutes.”

“Are we getting close?” He has told me only that he wants to take me someplace before we head back to LA. Beyond that, he is giving me no clues.

“Just around this bend.” As the Jeep curves to the right, the trees break for a moment and I see the water of Lake Arrowhead sparkling like a diamond in the moonlight. I’ve only been up in the San Bernadino Mountains once, and that was when I came to visit Jamie one Christmas. Snow had come early that year, and we rented a car with snow tires and made the slow trudge up the mountain to Big Bear. In the end, neither of us had actually put on skis, but we’d had a fabulous time sitting in the lodge, sipping Irish coffee by the fire, and watching all the guys in tight snow pants.

A few more curves, and the view of the lake disappears. I’m totally turned around, but it’s obvious that Justin knows exactly where he’s going. He hasn’t told me a thing, though. So although I’ve clued in to the general concept of a mountain retreat, I don’t know if we’re going to a resort, a hotel, a friend’s house, or yet another property that Justin owns.

The beam of the headlights glance over a wooden sign indicating a private drive, and Justin turns onto it, then follows an even steeper, even more narrow road. The trees are closer on both sides of the Jeep, and in the dark I’m actually starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. Then we are cresting the rise, and all I see is an Alpine chateau looming in front of us, nestled among the towering pines. It is a stunning property, with wooden shingles and stone chimneys, and the kinds of angles and turrets that give the impression that we haven’t left Bavaria. Or perhaps that we made a wrong turn on the way home and ended up in Switzerland.

Justin slows the car at an intricate iron gate, then rolls down his window and punches in a code, thereby destroying all illusions that this extravagant place is either a hotel or a bed-and-breakfast or a mountain spa resort.

“You own this?”

He eases the Jeep through the slowly widening gap in the gate. “I wanted a weekend getaway. Something I could drive to at the last minute. Something out of the way.”

“Palm Springs not appealing? Your Santa Barbara hotel too long a drive?”

“The condo in Palm Springs is on the golf course,” he says, “and since I’m not much of a golfer I let my staff reserve time as a perk. As for Santa Barbara, it’s an exceptional property, but sometimes a man just wants to be alone. Or not alone,” he says, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

I squeeze back, amused. “You know those computer apps where you can put a little flag on a map for every town you’ve lived in or where all your Facebook friends are from, or whatever?”

“Sure.”

“We need to get one of those for all your properties.”

His answering grin is smug. “I’ll get right on that. And then we can start working our way through them, one by one. Only a few of my properties have been properly christened.”

“Is that so? Well, then. Maybe we should start with your Arrowhead property,” I say. “Maybe we should start tonight.”

“I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening. Or the morning. Or the afternoon.”

I grin as I take another look at the massive structure. “This place is huge. I say we christen these rooms first and then we can move on to other locations. That will take us, what? A year?”

“It’s not that big,” he says. “Only nine thousand square feet.”

“Practically an efficiency apartment,” I say, deadpan.

“Eleven thousand if you count the guest house,” he says, pointing to the smaller building that is connected to the main house by a covered walkway. “The caretaker and his wife live there. I told them this was a relaxing and informal week and to leave us to fend for ourselves.”

“Sounds good. I’m all about relaxing.”

“The property has a pool, a hot tub, an outdoor grill, and access to some of the county-maintained hiking trails. It also,” he adds, with a devious grin, “has a number of very comfortable beds. Depending on the kind of relaxing you’d like to do.”

“I’m big on variety,” I say. “A bed . . . a hot tub . . . so long as I’m not relaxing by myself, I’ll be a very happy girl.”

“I do love the way you think.” He kills the engine on the Jeep and turns in his seat to face me. “That’s not the only reason we’re here,” he says seriously. “I thought about what you said. About reality catching us off guard. And I thought that it might be good for both of us to ease slowly back into the real world.”

“We can go as slow as you want,” I say. “You won’t get any complaints from me.” Then I remember my plans, and grimace. “Except that I have to be back in LA by ten Friday morning. That’s when Lisa is going to show me the sublet.”

“Fair enough. Friday marks our return to reality. A sad, mournful day.”

“Don’t even,” I say. “You’re going to fire up that Bluetooth headset and start cooking up some deal before we even get through that door, and you know it.”

“I won’t,” he says with a familiar gleam in his eye. “I have plans for when we walk through that door.”

“Do you? I bet I can guess what.” And I have to confess that I’m looking forward to it. Where Justin is concerned, I’m always looking forward to it.

We get out of the car and walk over the wide wooden bridge to the massive front door. I hang back as Justin opens it, but the second I step over the threshold, I’m accosted by a very loud, very familiar scream—Jamie.

Behind her, a wide white banner hangs across the entrance hall and dozens of helium-filled balloons float and bump up at the ceiling. My eyes meet Justin’s, and I realize that he is as surprised as I am.

“You didn’t know?” I ask, as Jamie launches herself at me and wraps me up in a tight hug.

“About Jamie, yes,” Justin says as Jamie shifts her hug from me to him. “I couldn’t think of a better way to ease you back into reality than to bring Jamie out here. She’s about as real as it gets.”

I can’t help but laugh in agreement, especially when Jamie sticks her tongue out at him.

“But the decorations? I didn’t have a clue.”

“Oh, please,” Jamie says. “It’s a celebration. Banners, balloons, food, drink.” She turns her focus to me, her eyes as wide as if she’d just stepped into heaven. “This place is so well-stocked you wouldn’t believe.”

I cock my head toward Justin and grin wickedly. “It’s Justin,” I say. “Excess is an art form.”

“Watch it,” he says, then lightly smacks my bottom before hooking an arm around my waist and planting a bone-melting kiss on me right there in front of my best friend. “Fuck reality,” he whispers when he releases me. “I want to stay in our bubble as long as we can.”

Yes, I think as I press my back to his chest and hold on tight to the arms he has wrapped around me. So do I.

“And where exactly are we going?” Justin asks from the Jeep’s passenger seat.

“It’s a surprise,” I say. “Now shut up before I kill us.” I’m not used to driving so big a car, especially on narrow, winding roads, but the surprise Jamie and I cooked up would be much less of a surprise if we told Justin where we are going.

He eyes me suspiciously. “The good kind of surprise where I get to slowly strip you naked? Or a bad kind of surprise?”

“Oh. My. God,” Jamie says from the backseat. “I’m going to just melt back here.”

I bite back a grin and focus on Justin. “Does any surprise that doesn’t end with me naked fall within your definition of bad?”

“Pretty much,” he says, and in the rearview mirror, I see Jamie clamp her hands over her ears.

I laugh. “Then I guess we’re deep in the land of horrible.”

He leans back in the seat at an angle so that he can stretch his legs out and examine me. He twines his fingers behind his head. He looks relaxed as sin and sexy as hell. “All right,” he says slowly. “Tell me.”

“You tell him,” I say to Jamie. “It was your idea.”

“We found a bar in Crestline that has a karaoke night,” she says.

“Did you?” he asks blandly.

Actually, Jamie found it, but I enthusiastically agreed to this night out. After the news he got on the plane, I am operating on the theory that the more fun the better. Or I was. Now, I’m not so sure. Because despite everything I have learned about Justin Stark, I cannot read his expression.

“Are you going to serenade me?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“Are you going to serenade Jamie?”

“Double nope.”

“I see,” he says.

My grin falters a bit. Jamie and Ollie and I used to get a huge kick out of karaoke bars, and they were always a cure for a bad week. But Justin is not Jamie or Ollie or me, and considering his current stony expression, it’s more than possible that I misjudged the appeal of this evening’s entertainment.

I meet Jamie’s eyes in the mirror and see her tiny shrug.

I am just about to announce that I was joking and that we are really on our way to a five-star restaurant where we’ll discuss business theory and stock prices, when his mouth twitches and his eyes begin to light with his slowly growing smile. “And here I thought you loved me,” he says.

I force myself not to sag with relief. “I do.”

“And you thought that singing bad seventies songs in public would be a good way to show it?”

I pause at a stop sign, and take the opportunity to glare at him. “Are you mocking me, Mr. Stark?”

“Never,” he says, but his eyes are dancing.

“Mmm. I was actually thinking along the lines of the Rat Pack oeuvre, but I’ll go with bad seventies if that’s what you want. I’m more than willing to compromise.”

His expression is pure sin. “I’m very glad to hear it, Ms. Fairchild.”

“There it is,” Jamie says from the backseat. She is pointing to a brightly lit building just up the block. “That’s it, and thank God. It’s getting just a little too warm in here.”

I bite back a retort. As far as I’m concerned, with Justin, it can never be too hot.

Whatever heat there might be in the Jeep, however, has nothing on the interior of the bar. It’s cramped and smoky and so warm it feels sticky. And, frankly, that’s part of its charm. I can see from Justin’s approving expression as we walk through the wooden double doors and into the dark interior that he agrees.

“It’s definitely got atmosphere,” he says, his hand pressed lightly to my back as he scans the room.

“What about that table?” Jamie asks, and Justin and I follow her across the room to a four top near the stage. “Order me something fun,” Jamie says, then disappears toward the ladies’ room.

Karaoke night is already going strong, and as we get settled, a teddy bear of a man with a lumberjack beard belts out Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” with at least as much energy as Gloria herself ever put into it.

I slump a bit in my chair and press my hand over my mouth in sympathetic embarrassment.

Justin notices and laughs. “Not planning to jump up and burst out into song yourself?”

“No,” I admit. “At the moment, I don’t need the pain.”

I can tell that Justin knows I’m teasing, but he still cocks his head and studies my face. I roll my eyes and take his hand, squeezing tight. “Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I don’t mind the jokes,” he says, “so long as you don’t mind me second-guessing them to make sure there’s no hidden agenda.”

I turn my head away so that I do not have to meet his eyes. I can’t help but think how close I came on the plane to breaking that damn glass and dragging the raw edge of the shard into the flesh of my thigh.

I didn’t, though. And it is the fact that we are both aware of my victory that gives me the strength to turn and look back into his eyes, expecting to see reproach on his face. But all I see is love.

“I will always worry,” he says gently. “There is no off switch, no pause button. You are the thing in this world that means the most to me, but we both know that I have come close to breaking you more than once. So get mad at me if you want, but don’t tell me to stop being concerned or second-guessing you. I won’t. I can’t.”

Slowly, I smile. “It’s not about my pain,” I say lightly, intent on refocusing our evening to its proper perspective. “It’s about the pain of all these people were I to get up on this stage.”

“Oh, but you’re going to,” he says, grinning wickedly.

“Um, no. No way.”

“Mmm.” He stands and eyes me for a moment, then nods. “All right,” he says. “You don’t have to get up on the stage.”

I exhale in relief even as he bends to kiss my cheek, but then he walks away toward the guy who is emceeing this evening. A little finger of dread shoots up my spine as I see the emcee’s eyes widen in recognition. Then he nods and starts to type something into his machine as Justin takes the stage. My chest tightens, and suddenly I’m having a little trouble breathing. Justin, however, doesn’t look nervous at all. He’s standing there in front of the screen upon which some lyrics will begin to flash, the lights from above shining down on him. He’s wearing jeans and a casual linen shirt, and I can’t help but think that he’s the sexiest man in this bar. And he’s all mine.

He taps the mic, and a soft pop reverberates through the room, making me jump. I shift in my seat and see Jamie hurrying over, her eyes as wide as mine feel.

On stage, Justin focuses on the crowd, looking as cool and confident as if he were in his own office about to give a presentation to a client. “I’d planned on doing Elton John and Kiki Dee’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” but I’m having a little trouble working out the logistics of a duet.” I feel the eyes of the pub’s patrons as they turn to look at me. I’m not hard to find, especially considering Jamie’s hoot of laughter and then her fingers aimed shotgun-style in my direction. I cup my hand over my forehead and duck my head to hide my blush, not certain if I’m amused at Justin or desperately pissed off.

Then again, I got myself into this mess. It may have been Jamie’s idea to start out with, but I adopted it fully. I should have known he’d find a way to turn it around to his full advantage.

I draw in a breath, drop my hand, and lean back in my chair as Justin continues speaking.

“So I’m going to go with a serenade.” He looks right at me. “For you, baby.”

I brush away the tears that have welled and give him a shaky, happy smile. The music starts, and I’m enough of a fan of big band music and the Rat Pack that I recognize the song right away. The tears that I’d brushed away return immediately as Justin begins to croon the lyrics to Dean Martin’s “You’re Nobody Until Somebody Loves You”. It’s not a perfect voice, but it’s strong and on-key, and he has captured the audience.

Then he’s stepping off the stage, the mic in hand, and coming to our table, his voice filling the place, even rising above the claps and catcalls from the patrons who are loving every second of this spectacle. Half of them are holding up smartphones, and I’m certain that this will be all over the Internet by tomorrow, but when Justin reaches his hand out for me, I suddenly don’t care. I take it, the world falling away. He’s casting a spell over me, and for a brief, wild second, I think that Sinatra’s “Witchcraft” would be more appropriate, because I am completely enchanted.

I’m not sure how it happens, but suddenly I’m standing up, and Justin’s eyes are fixed upon mine, and everyone else in this pub has been swept away. It is only Justin and the music and me. He’s singing as if he means it, and as the famous lyrics come out of his mouth, I melt.

Then it’s over and I’m crying and the crowd is applauding. Justin’s arms close around me and I’m vaguely aware of the applause and the camera flashes and the cheering. None of that matters, though. All that matters is Justin.

Beside us, I see Jamie smiling tremulously, her eyes wistful but happy. He’s a keeper, she mouths.

I nod in reply and cling tight to Justin. I know, I think. I know.

Chapter Twelve

It’s late when we get back from the bar, but the cool night air and Justin’s terraced stone patio are too enticing to resist. It looks out over a manicured lawn leading down to a private dock and the smooth surface of the lake. The sky is clear and the moon is full. It reflects off the sails and hulls of the various boats dotting the shore, adding a wash of muted color to what would otherwise be a gray tableau.

Jamie immediately flops down on the huge daybed. The waitress had suggested flavored vodka in response to Jamie’s query as to what would be fun, and now she is in a whipped cream vodka induced fog. I glance at Justin, then head into the house to get sparkling waters for all of us. When I return, Jamie’s humming “Come Josephine, In My Flying Machine” and staring up at the stars as Justin looks on, bemused, from where he sits on the nearby love seat.

I meet Justin’s eyes. “She loves Titanic,” I say, by way of explanation.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re drowning,” he says to Jamie.

She just smiles and slowly shakes her head back and forth. “No, I’m in a happy place. This is so nice. Y’all are so nice.” She pushes herself up on her elbows. “Maybe we should go clubbing.”

“Great idea,” Justin says, as I gape. “But I’ve got a better one. How about we stay in?”

She cocks a finger at him. “Yes. Yes.” She looks at me. “He’s so smart. And gorgeous, too,” she adds in the world’s loudest stage whisper.

“I know,” I say, half-embarrassed for my friend and half-amused by her.

She squints at Justin. “I bet I can totally whoop your ass at poker,” she says.

Justin grins at me. “Who am I to decline a challenge like that?”

“She’s good,” I warn. She and Ollie and I spent a lot of long nights playing poker. “Of course she’s better when she’s sober.”

Jamie’s grin is lopsided. “Maybe I am sober. Maybe this is all just one big bluff.”

After four hands of five card draw, it’s starting to look like maybe Jamie really is sober. I’m losing spectacularly, Justin isn’t doing much better, and Jamie has a huge pile of chips in front of her.

“You should know that all of my illusions are shattered,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I can stay with a man who loses at poker.”

“But I do it with such charm,” he says.

Jamie lifts her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. “I’m just that awesome,” she says. “Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Justin leans back on the small love seat that he and I are sharing, his feet kicked out in front of him and his cards face down on the small glass table. “You both do realize that poker is a game that develops over time. It’s not about just a few hands.”

Jamie and I exchange glances before she looks back at Justin. “In other words, you’re sizing me up.”

I raise my brows. “He better not be,” I say archly.

We all laugh, but Jamie tosses down her cards, then flops backward onto the chaise. “Yeah, well, then the joke’s on you, because I think I have to pass out now.”

I wait, expecting her to say something else, but all I hear is a soft snore.

“Jamie?” I say stupidly.

“She’s out,” Justin says.

“It’s the whipped cream vodka,” I say. “That stuff’s dangerous.”

“Shall I move her inside?”

I consider getting a blanket and letting her sleep outside, but decide she’ll be better off with a mattress and real sheets and no sun blasting on her face first thing in the morning. “Can you lift her?”

“She’s tiny,” he says. “I think I can manage.” He picks her up easily, and she tilts toward him, curled up like a little girl against his chest. I hold the door open for him, and she wakes up just long enough to smile sleepily at him. I expect her to say something flirtatious and trademark Jamie. Instead, my heart squeezes when I hear her soft, “You’re so good for her. You know that, right?”

“She’s good for me,” Justin replies, squeezing my heart a little bit more.

“That’s what I mean,” Jamie says—and then she’s out again. Lost in her whipped cream haze.

I pause in the doorway before shutting her door, looking back fondly. As much of a wreck as Jamie can be, she’s still my best friend, and it’s times like this that I remember why.

“So tell me, Ms. Fairchild,” Justin says as I follow him to the master suite. “How much whipped cream vodka did you have?”

“Too sweet for me,” I admit. “But I ordered quite a few shots of Macallan.”

“Did you? That can increase a bar tab pretty quickly.”

I step close to him, relishing the way the air thickens with our proximity. “Well, maybe you can win it back at poker.”

“That’s an interesting wager,” he says. “I propose a small amendment.”

I cock my head. “Negotiating, Mr. Stark?”

“Always.” He takes another step toward me. He’s right there, so close that my breasts will brush against his chest if I do nothing more than take a deep breath. He leans forward until his lips are near my ear. We still do not touch, but his breath when he speaks sends shivers down my spine. “Strip poker, Ms. Fairchild.”

The heat in his voice matches the fire in his eyes, and I start to melt a bit.  But this opportunity is too delicious to squander and I match his gaze inch for inch, my lips curving into a smile when I see the bulge of his erection beneath his jeans. I lift my eyes slowly to meet his and find them smoldering. He cocks his head as if to say, oh, yes.

I swallow. “All right, Mr. Stark,” I say, then turn and head toward our bedroom. I pause in the doorway and smile. “Prepare to get naked.”

My threat, however, turns out to be hollow, and twenty minutes later I have lost my flip-flops, the light sweater I was wearing to ward off the chill from the lake, and my T-shirt. I’m left wearing a short pink skirt, a pale purple thong, and a matching demi-cup bra that is cut so low that my very erect nipples are straining against the decorative lace that lines the top of each minuscule cup.

Justin is still fully dressed.

“Are you sure you don’t cheat?” I ask.

“As a rule, no. In order to see you naked, I would be sorely tempted.”

“Aha!” I aim a stern finger at him.

He laughs. “Fortunately, your massive consumption of Scotch saved me the trouble. You’re not playing your best, Ms. Fairchild.”

I raise my brows. “Have you considered that I’m just setting you up?”

“Are you? Well, that’s interesting information.” He nods at the cards I hold in my hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I lay my cards down, feeling smug. “A pair of kings, ace high.”

“Not bad,” he says. “Too bad I have the other three aces.”

“You do not,” I say, but he lays the cards down and, sure enough, two red and one back ace wink up at me.

“Off with it,” he says.

I reach for the clasp at the front of my bra.

“Oh, no,” he says, then makes a twirling motion with his finger. “The skirt. I’ll get the zipper for you.”

I scowl, but comply, turning around to give him access. He presses his palm against my skin, his hand curved to cup my waist. With the other hand, he slowly tugs down the zipper. “Up,” he says, and I rise to my knees, then close my eyes and try not to tremble as his slowly eases the skirt down, his fingers grazing oh so softly on each bit of bare skin that he reveals during the process. “There you go,” he says, as I twist around to sit back down, pulling my legs free from the skirt as I do.

I’m dressed now only in the tiny bra and even tinier panties. It’s cool in the room—we’ve opened the door to the private patio—but my skin is burning. “Deal,” I say, trying to control my breathing, because with each breath my breasts rise and fall, and with each motion my nipples brush the lace. The sensation is driving me crazy. It’s rough and teasing and I can’t help but imagine the light nip of Justin’s teeth, the soft pressure of his mouth as he suckles me, the warmth of his hands as he cups my breasts. And the insistent press of his cock as he presses his body full against mine.

“Selena.”

“What?” I jerk my head up, reality returning. Considering the way Justin is looking at me, I think he knows exactly what I was thinking.

“Your cards.”

I glance down and realize he’s already dealt. “Oh. Right.” I see the corner of his mouth twitch. “What?” I demand.

“I didn’t say a thing,” he says. “But if I had, I probably would have told you to move.”

I tilt my head. “To move?” I’m sitting on my heels, my knees and thighs together.

“On your bottom,” he says. “Your legs crossed.”

“I—why?”

“Because I want to see you,” he says.

I raise my brows. “Is that part of the game, Mr. Stark?”

“It is now. I want to see how wet you are. I want to know how much it turns you on sitting here across from me, slowly losing bits of your clothing, becoming more and more open to me. And all the while knowing that soon—very soon—I’m going to bury myself in you.”

“Oh.” My heart stutters in my chest, and I’m certain he can see the beat of my pulse in my neck.

“Now, Selena,” he says. “You know the rules.”

“Is that a command, Mr. Stark?” My sex feels swollen and I am desperately wet. He must know it, but soon he will also see it.

“It most definitely is.”

“So if I don’t, I’ll be punished?”

His lips twitch. “I don’t think you’ll like the punishment I’d render tonight.”

“No? Why? What would you do?” I can imagine the sting of his hand upon my ass. The thrill of a cat-o’-nine-tails upon my sex. I try to imagine what naughty treat he could have in mind, but my mind isn’t working particularly well at the moment. I am needy and hot, and not just because of the Scotch or because I’m half naked. It’s because of Justin. Because he does this to me. Because I want him right now. “What would you do?” I repeat.

“It’s what I wouldn’t do,” he says, and that’s when I get it. Disobey, and he won’t touch me at all.

“That punishes us both,” I say.

“Rules are rules,” he says. “And I can be very strong when I want to. But if you think I’m bluffing . . . ” he adds, glancing at the cards as if in illustration.

I get the message. I’ve been losing at poker all night. Do I really want to lose at this, too?

I don’t. I shift my position so that my legs are in front of me. Slowly, I draw in my feet and spread my legs until I’m sitting cross-legged in front of him, my sex wide open. I can hide nothing now, and the truth is that I don’t want to.

I follow the line of Justin’s gaze to the damp spot on my thong. The telltale sign of just how wet—just how incredibly soaked with desire—that I am for him. Slowly, I lift my eyes to his. I see the heat, and feel a corresponding power. He may be the one making the rules, but I’m the one making him a little crazy.

I arch back a bit, my hands behind me for support.

“I like the view,” Justin says. “I like seeing how much you want me. How wet you are for me.”

“Am I?” I say innocently. I shift my weight to one arm, then lift my other hand. I trail my fingers up my own thigh, then trace it lightly over the silk of the thong.

“Jesus, Selena,” Justin says, his voice ragged. But I show no pity. I run my fingertip along the side of the thong. I tilt my head up and meet Justin’s eyes. And then, slowly and deliberately, I slide my finger under the scrap of material and into my very wet, very swollen cunt. I gasp from the rush of pleasure as a shudder runs through my body, as if it’s a preview of an explosion to come.

And then, with Justin’s eyes still on me, I draw my finger up to my mouth and taste my own arousal. “Yes,” I murmur. “You’re right. I’m very, very wet for you.”

“Fuck poker,” Justin growls, sweeping his arm over the bedclothes and knocking the cards to the ground even as he grabs my thighs and tugs me toward him. The motion counterbalances me, and I fall backward so that I end up flat on my back, my legs spread, and Justin between them.

“Are you conceding the game, Mr. Stark?” I ask, my voice full of laughter.

“I am,” he says.

I raise myself upon my elbows. “I guess that means you lose.”

“No,” he says as he eases himself up over my body, then uses two fingers to flip open the clasp of my bra. “I assure you it means that I win.”

His mouth closes over my breast even as his hand slides down to stroke my clit through the soaking wet silk. The sensations coursing through me are incredible, a flurry of sparks originating from his hand and from his mouth, and I arch up, lost in the violent storm that Justin is creating inside me.

“You’re wrong, Mr. Stark,” I say, struggling to form words while I still have the power. “Tonight, we both win.”

I wake to a perfect morning. The man beside me. The sunshine streaming through the open door that leads to the master bedroom’s private patio. The light breeze blowing in from over the lake. The smell of pine and—

I frown and draw in another deep breath. The smell of what?

“Justin, wake up.” I shake his shoulder. “Either we really set the sheets on fire, or something out there is burning.”

He is up immediately, grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor and heading toward the door. I pull on a robe and follow him so closely that I almost slam into him when he stops in the now-open doorway. “It’s not a fire,” he says. Now that I can smell it better, I agree. It’s an almost sickly sweet smell, like Christmas fudge that has burned to the bottom of the pan.

“I think I know what it is,” I say, then lead the way to the kitchen, where Jamie is frantically flipping pancakes on a griddle. She looks up at us, her expression a little bit wild, a little bit contrite.

“Sorry! I thought I’d make breakfast, but—��� She indicates the stove and nearby counter as if that’s all she needs to say.

I force myself not to laugh. “I don’t think that pancakes are supposed to be served blackened,” I say, deadpan.

She tosses a dish towel at me. “I had a little trouble incorporating the chocolate chips.”

Justin pours himself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter. “As they say, it’s the thought that counts. So I hope you don’t mind if I just think about eating those.”

Jamie smirks and looks between the two of us. “Great. I’m trapped in the mountains with a couple of comedians.”

“Your choice,” Justin says in his corporate-problem-solving voice. “We either clean up and start over, or I’ll take you ladies out to breakfast.”

“You’re out of chocolate chips,” Jamie says. She grabs up the plate of burnt discs that bear no resemblance to pancakes and tosses them in the trash. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower and change.”

It actually takes us thirty to get out the door, because Justin makes the mistake of telling us that the restaurant not only makes fabulous waffles, but is also located in Arrowhead Village, an outdoor shopping center with both regular stores and high end outlets. And, obviously, neither Jamie nor I can properly shop if we’re not properly dressed.

Justin, of course, is ready in five minutes, decked out in faded jeans and a short-sleeved linen shirt over a plain cotton tee. His hair is vaguely mussed, as if he’s been standing in the wind. He looks sexy as hell—like a guy who just stepped off the pages of an ad for men’s cologne.

“He cleans up well,” Jamie says, with a deliberately lascivious gleam in her eye.

“He does,” I say, moving between them and hooking my arms through theirs. “And he’s mine.”

As the crow flies, it isn’t far to the village. Since we are not crows, however, we have to deal with the twisty, turny, tiny streets, and it takes about half an hour. I don’t mind. The area is charming, filled with A-frame houses tucked into the mountainside and spectacular views that take your breath away. The village is located on the lake, so technically we could have taken one of the boats moored at Justin’s dock. The restaurant itself—The Belgian Waffle Works—sits right on the water, with a huge patio of outdoor seating. I catch a whiff of batter cooked to a crispy golden brown as we approach, and breathe in deep.

“That’s more what I was going for,” Jamie admits. “But, hey, you can still thank me. If I hadn’t completely trashed breakfast, we wouldn’t have a shopping morning.”

“We’re deeply grateful,” Justin says, sliding his arm around my waist.

Thirty minutes later, I’m even more grateful, because we’re not only seated on the patio with a view of the water, but we each have a plate overflowing with a giant waffle, eggs, and enough bacon to feed a small army.

“I’m going to fall into a food coma,” I protest.

“We’ll work it off by walking the shops,” Jamie announces. She turns to Justin, her smile wide. “You really are awesome, you know. Thanks for inviting me. I was having a shit week.”

“Anytime,” he says, then leans over to give her a light kiss on her cheek.

She fans her face, making me laugh.

“Hang on, you two.” I pull out my iPhone and motion for them to scoot their chairs closer together, then take a couple of snaps. “I’d take some of the view, too, but the phone won’t do it justice.”

“I think I can assure you we’ll be back,” Justin says.

“Or you can just buy a new camera,” Jamie says. “For that matter, get one for each of his houses. That should ensure that Leica never goes out of business, right?”

“Not a bad idea,” Justin says, with a playful gleam in his eye. “I like the idea of spreading you around all my properties. Hell, I like the idea of you naked in all my properties.”

My face heats, and I widen my eyes and shoot a glance at Jamie, who has leaned back in her chair with a whoop.

“Don’t you guys ever give it a rest?” she asks.

“Not really,” Justin says, surprising me by pulling me to him and planting a bone-melting kiss.

“God,” Jamie says. “I am so freaking jealous. Do you have a brother?”

“Afraid not.”

“Figures,” Jamie says as Justin slides his chair closer to mine and hooks his arm around me. I lean against him, wishing things could always be this calm, this happy.

“It sounds sappy as shit, but you two know how lucky you are, right?”

“Yes,” Justin says sincerely. “We know.”

“Good,” she says, then sighs deeply. “Damn, but I needed this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about getting fired from the commercial?” I ask.

She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “You were a little preoccupied, and it’s not like there was anything you could do, especially not from Germany.” Jamie had recently been cast in a national commercial, but before shooting began she started dating her co-star, an up-and-comer named Bryan Raine. When that ended badly, Raine apparently decided that Jamie’s commercial career needed to, as well.

“There’s something I can do,” Justin says.

She shakes her head firmly. “No, you helped me get the job in the first place. That was more than enough. They paid me for the gig anyway—they had to the way the contract was written—so I’m good. I just need to think about how I’m going to get my shit together.”

“You will,” Justin says.

Jamie reaches across the table and takes both our hands. “Thanks. Really.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “And you know I love you, right?”

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