#it's taken me all these years to see where my wardrobe inclinations may have come from

[theotherartblog]

Just an ethereal little Sandman thing to practice textures. 

#trying to picture a fusion of show-Dream and comics-Dream and not really getting there #sandman overture vibes #the sandman #the sandman fanart #the sandman comics #netflix the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #neil gaiman fanart #digital art practice and fumbling #it's taken me all these years to see where my wardrobe inclinations may have come from #the coats and the diaphanous robes #fanart #the constellation is lyra #orpheus's lyre #dream thing #sandman fanart

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {2}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: and so it begins.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

“I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control. ” ― Jane Austen, Emma

By the time morning came, Nesta was alone, and Tomas neglected to show up for the rest of the week. Friday quickly approached, and she knew Tomas would be showing up at the ball being held at their manor in a matter of hours.

She crawled out of bed, groaning all the while. The night before, she’d snuck a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet and helped herself to the entirety of it.

It was how she ended up missing breakfast and, instead, spending the morning with her face over the toilet. 

Of all days, even she had to admit that it was not the best day to be hungover. 

She stumbled out onto her balcony for a breath of fresh air. The servants would be eating breakfast downstairs while her family ate in the dining room. She should be alone. At least, she certainly hoped so as she dwelled in the fresh air in her nightgown and robe. 

It was a cool morning, but she didn’t mind that. The rainy week had cleared as the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds. 

She looked down at the stables.

The stableboy had seen her the other night, she knew he had, even if he pretended like he hadn’t. She should confront him, but confronting him would only lead to more suspicion if they were to be caught.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t allow Tomas into her bed, but she felt no shame. She had lost the ability to feel shame over sexual matters long ago.

She should not have to defend her actions, just because she was a woman. Often, Nesta thought she had been born in the wrong world. She read beautiful stories of heroes and heroines on exciting adventures and longed to be them instead of waiting like a prize to be taken away the instant a man worthy enough laid eyes on her. 

The thought alone infuriated her to no end. 

A soft knock came to her chamber door.

“Come in!”

Alis swept inside, a bright smile on her lips, as there was every time a ball occurred. It meant guests, and guests meant a night of fun.

“Goodmorning, Miss Nesta,” she said. “Shall we get you dressed?”

Nesta sighed. “Can’t I just stay in here until it’s time for the ball to begin?”

Alis clicked her tongue. “Oh, no, my dear. There’s too much to do. You must help your sisters with the set up. Your father is expecting you downstairs within the hour.”

“Oh, good,” Nesta said, walking back to her bed. “Then I can sleep for another thirty minutes.”

“No, no, dear,” Alis began, opening her wardrobe. “We would all sleep into the late hours of the morning if we could, but there’s simply no time.”

Nesta didn’t protest any further. It would be of no use. She could already see Elain, ordering around the help. She was a natural planner, though. Nesta? Not so much. The idea of planning gatherings annoyed her. Feyre did it, bright-eyed and with a smile on her face, so no one would ask any questions. Nesta did it only to please Elain, who would be the next one to come knocking if Nesta wasn’t downstairs soon.

“Very well,” she said. “I have to run into town this morning to pick up my dress, so find something comfortable, please.”

She was soon dressed in a deep, lavender day dress. Her hair was braided back and her boots were well-worn in - perfect for walking. 

Nesta looked at herself in the mirror after Alis had curtsied and left. 

She looked like a zombie. Dark shadows rested beneath her eyes, her cheekbones had grown sharper. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep. She couldn’t get a good night’s sleep unless alcohol was involved, and being a young woman held high in society, it was difficult for her to drink when she pleased.

Which was always. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Nesta was out in the hallway and strutting down the main staircase.

As predicted, Elain was telling servants where tables and chairs should be, where the strings quartet should be set up, and where every piece of decor should be strategically placed.

Feyre was holding a plate of cheese, popping the little cubes into her mouth. “Ah, about time you joined us.”

Nesta raised a brow before nodding down at the plate. “Did you not just eat breakfast?”

Feyre shrugged. “Decorating makes me hungry.”

Nesta snorted. “Let us not pretend that you have done anything.”

They both looked at Elain, who was floating on air.

“Azriel!” she called.

A tall, broad-shouldered man instantly came to her aid. 

“I would like all butlers in this room thirty minutes before we open our doors,” she began. “They each need to be carrying a tray, either of champagne or hors d’oroeuvres.” 

He bowed his head. “Of course, my Lady.”

She watched him leave.

“He is a lovely one, isn’t he?” Feyre asked, mouthful. “Very mysterious looking.”

“Speaking of mystery,” Nesta mumbled. “I went by your room last night-”

“Ah, I need more cheese,” she interrupted, scurrying out of the room and taking the tray with her. 

Feyre would never spill her secret, but Nesta would be lying if she said the thought didn’t intrigue her. 

“I’m going into town to get my dress,” Nesta announced, but everyone was too busy to notice. 

Bodies were fluttering all over the place cleaning and setting up. The Archerons held a ball annually, but this would be the first year that their father truly wished to have them become engaged since the passing of their mother. He hadn’t wanted to lose them just yet.

Now, he was ready. 

Nesta retrieved her satchel and her white gloves before ordering a carriage to be prepared. As she waited, she pulled a book of poetry out of her bag and began to read as she sat on the front steps.

Her mother had always scolded her for sitting in public places with a book. It was unladylike, or something of that nature. Her father, however, always smiled when he found Nesta plopped down somewhere, a book open on her lap. 

“Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?”

Nesta froze, staring up from the book laying open on her skirts. The stableboy had come, seated at the head of the carriage, the horses’ reins in his hands.

He was watching her, grinning.

Nesta blinked. “Did the stableboy just quote Keats to me?”

He nodded down at her book. “I read his work from time to time.”

Nesta blinked, again, longer and slower. “I’m...sorry, but where is Edward? He’s typically the one to take me into town.”

“He’s not feeling well,” the stableboy replied. “But, don’t worry, Miss. I know what I’m doing.” 

Nesta lifted her chin. “Very well. However, I am on a tight schedule today so we must make haste.” 

The stableboy inclined his head before jumping down from his seat and opening the carriage door. He held out his hand to help her inside, which Nesta completely ignored as she pulled herself inside of the carriage. The door was soon closed behind her and they were strolling down the pathway.

Nesta loved open carriages, which is why she often volunteered to go places alone. Especially in the warmer weather, when the wind felt good against her skin, blowing her hair.

Nesta put her book bag into her bag and looked up at the back of the stableboy. His shoulders were broad. It was clear through the thin, ivory fabric of his shirt that he was quite fit. Tall. Tanned. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck. He was slouching, but not in a way that was disrespectful. Only in a way that showed he was in his natural habitat. 

They were halfway to town before Nesta cleared her throat. “Now that we are alone, we must speak about...something.”

He didn’t look back at her when he said, “What is that, my Lady?”

Nesta hesitated. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps he hadn’t seen Tomas’ hands roaming her body, his lips pressed against her neck. Perhaps it had all been in her imagination. Just as she was about to tell him to forget about it, he asked, “Is this about your lover? The one that sneaks onto your balcony at night?”

“Shhh!” Nesta hissed.

The stableboy looked at her over his shoulder. “Why are you shushing me? With all due respect, my Lady, there’s no one around.” 

“I could get you dismissed for being so blunt with me,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell from the gentle shake of his shoulders that he was laughing, quietly. “Forgive me, my Lady.”

Nesta closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Look. Keep what you saw to yourself. Please. If you told anyone, I will have you-”

“I told no one,” he promised, and she could tell by his tone that he was being honest. “And I will tell no one. Your secret is safe, my Lady.”

“Thank you…” she began, trailing off.

“Cassian,” he supplied for her.

“Thank you, Cassian,” she said, words crisp. “Now, pick up the pace. As I said, it is a busy day.”

“Of course, my Lady,” he said, and that was the end of their conversation.

They rode the rest of the way into town in silence, the sound of the horses’ hooves clumping against the dirt the only sound that carried them. Every now and then, she’d glance at his back, admiring the muscles and the dark scars beneath the thin fabric. She found herself wondering where they came from but accepting the fact that she would never know. 

Ten minutes later, Nesta was walking into the finest dress shop in town. The owner, upon seeing her, was thrilled.

“Ah, Miss Archeron,” Helion beamed. “Welcome back. Your dress is finished, as I assume that is why you have come.”

Nesta liked Helion, although she wasn’t sure why. Their personalities were complete opposites. He was far too cheery, far too pleasant. Yet, he never seemed to mind Nesta’s pessimism. In fact, he seemed to thrive on it.

“Shall we try it on, my dear?” he asked.

Nesta shook her head. “No, I trust your work. Besides, as you know, it’s a busy day.”

“Indeed,” Helion said, before disappearing into the back and appearing with a giant box. “Very well. Here it is. And, I must say, I cannot wait to see it on you at the ball tonight.”

Nesta fiddled through her satchel, collecting his payment. “Will you be bringing a guest?”

“That is for me to know,” Helion began, before snatching his payment away from one of his favorite customers, “and for you to later find out.”

Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “Well, then I will see you tonight.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Helion smiled, brightly and wonderfully, before bowing. “I look forward to it.”

“Good day,” she said, before taking her box outside. 

Cassian was waiting by the carriage and when he saw her with the box, he humbly took it from her before setting it inside. “Is there anywhere else you need to visit, my Lady?”

Nesta looked at the pub across the street and longed for an ale. “No. Take me home.”

Cassian, once again, held out his hand to help her into the carriage.

Nesta, once again, ignored it. 

~~~~~

Elain’s anxiety was through the ceiling.

Not because of the setup.

No, Elain loved planning. The time of year when the Archerons held their annual ball was her favorite time of the year. It meant guests would come and she would spend the evening laughing and dancing among her friends and neighbors.

But this year was different.

Lucien.

His name had consumed her for days. It was all she could think about, and yet, it was not exactly because she was excited. No, she feared meeting him.

She feared she would hate him.

She feared she would love him.

Since the night she found out of their courtship, Elain had rarely seen Azriel. There had been no flirting, no secret kisses. She longed to feel his lips against hers, but she knew how much she was asking in longing for such. 

Instead, she would be presented tonight to another, as a precious jewel. It didn’t matter what she felt, their fathers would make arrangements for their betrothal if they saw fit.

And Elain could only pray that they found her and Lucien to be unfit.

And yet, what would be the point of that? She could never marry Azriel. It was impossible. He was a lowly butler, and she was a beautiful Lady. 

Ladies and butlers did not wed. 

Yet, she couldn’t help but dream. Every time Elain needed something done, she would call for Azriel. Even when it was an unnecessary task, she would call for him, just to see him, to speak to him, for a moment’s time. 

Now, she was standing in her room looking at herself in the floor-length mirror, admiring her gown that Helion had made for her in town. It was lovely. Plum, with a full skirt and beaded designs along the silk fabric. He had truly outdone himself. And Alis, who had perfected her hair in neat curls, had pleased Elain immensely.

Yet, there was a hole in her chest. 

She used to thrive on the idea of marriage, used to long for a husband. Before she met Azriel, she couldn’t wait to find a man that found her wonderful enough to court. Then she met Azriel, then she fell in love with Azriel, and his adoration for her was true. 

Elain used to think that love and marriage were the same thing.

She no longer believed as much.

Marriage was a contract, while love was the connection between two souls.

Elain admired herself one more time before exiting into the halls, then walking alone to the ballroom. She hadn’t seen her sisters in hours. Feyre, since she dismissed herself for a plate of cheese; and Nesta since she went to pick up her fitted gown.

She and her sisters had once been so close. They still had a bond, but as they grew, and after their mother had passed, nothing had been the same. 

Elain had no idea where Feyre spent her nights, and Nesta always seemed to have an emptiness in her gaze. 

She could hear the humming of a crowd the closer she walked to the ballroom. At this time, most everyone should have arrived. Of course, there would always be a few latecomers, but Elain figured it was time to make her own appearance. 

She straightened her back and took a deep breath as she turned the corner. The doors were open, the music was playing, and it was everything she imagined it would be. Couples were dancing, groups were laughing, and Elain found herself scanning the walls for a certain butler. 

But it was her father that met her at the door. “You look beautiful, darling.”

“Thank you,” Elain smiled, gently. 

“The Vanserras have arrived,” he said, as Elain looped her arm through his. “Shall I introduce you?”

Elain nodded, although no words came once she opened her mouth.

Isaac chuckled. “It’s okay to be nervous. You should have seen me the night I met your mother.”

Elain nodded, still unable to spot Azriel. 

They walked through the crowd, and Elain should have been pleased. The ballroom was beautiful, the band played wonderfully, and everyone seemed to be having a joyous time. 

Where is he? She kept thinking to herself as her father led the way.

It wasn’t until they stopped that she snapped back to reality. And when she did snap back to reality, she was met with a pair of russet eyes.

“Elain, this is Lucien Vanserra,” Isaac beamed. “Mr. Vanserra, my daughter, Elain.”

Lucien bowed and Elain curtsied.

He was handsome, in the most obvious sense. He was lean, tall, and his auburn hair flowed beautifully around his shoulders. His eyes were kind, his smile gentle.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. His voice was soft and lovely. 

“The pleasure is mine,” Elain assured him.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Isaac smiled, before kissing his daughter’s cheek and moving onto his guests. 

Elain felt her cheeks reddened as she debated on following her father, but just as she was about to take a step, Lucien spoke up. “I hear we’re a good match.”

Elain huffed a laugh. “I hear the same.”

“Well,” he began, “I must confess that I was a bit nervous to meet you. However, you are beautiful, my Lady.”

Elain’s smile was genuine. “Thank you, my Lord.”

It was then that she spotted him, on the far wall. He should have been observing the other butlers, making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing.

But his eyes were on her.

Lucien was speaking, but Elain couldn’t hear him. Guilt flooded her senses. Lucien seemed kind enough and was most handsome. 

But her eyes had connected with Azriel’s, and she couldn’t look away. 

“What do you think, Lady Elain?”

Elain blinked, bringing herself back to their conversation. “Forgive me, I suddenly feel lightheaded. I must find a place to set.”

“Allow me,” Lucien offered, and held out his hand.

As Elain took it, she swore she could feel Azriel’s gaze fall from across the room.

~~~~~

Feyre loved to dance. 

There was something freeing about not giving a damn as a series of men twirled her around on the dance floor. 

As the youngest, she had a few more years of freedom. Unless someone came to claim her hand, which she doubted would happen anytime soon. She had never had a man come to court her, and she loved it.

A courtship among the rich and stuck up sounded horrible. 

But dancing with them?

Splendid. 

It wasn’t until she’d had one too many glasses of wine that she fell into the arms of a young man with lavender eyes.

“Well,” he crooned, “I must say, you look much different in women’s clothing.”

Feyre, as if just realizing whose arms she was in, grinned. “Ah, Lord Rhysand. And how have you been after our adventure the other night?”

Rhysand lifted his brow. “How many glasses of champagne have you consumed, Feyre, darling?” 

“Not nearly enough,” she laughed, her hand tightening in his. 

“Hmm,” Rhysand mumbled, contemplating. “You’re worrying me.”

“Why is that?”

Rhysand pulled her closer as he said, “You’re much more pleasant than you were the other night. Dare I say, you’re being nice to me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand weighed the question. “I must admit, I rather enjoyed our banter.”

It was true, their banter had been surprisingly pleasant the night he had brought her home after saving her from Tamlin in the alley. She rode on the back of his horse, her arms around his waist as they left the town and slowly made their way to the Archeron Manor. 

She hadn’t seen him since, nor had she sought to. But now, in his arms, the wine flowing warmly throughout her body, she remembered the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, remembered the amused tone in his voice when he told her how horribly ridiculous she looked dressed as a man. 

The song ended and the couple stepped apart, bowing to one another. 

“Walk with me?” Rhysand asked.

Feyre hesitated, but nodded, nonetheless, before looping her arm through his. They made their way out onto the balcony, into the cool night air. The stars shone brightly above them as the doors were shut behind them. The celebration inside became muffled background noise.

“I am to go back to Velaris tomorrow,” Rhysand said.

Feyre lifted a brow. “Am I meant to care?”

Rhysand grinned, facing her. “I do not expect you to, although I wish you would.”

Feyre leaned back against the banister, crossing her arms. “Well, you expect correctly.”

Rhysand looked for her arms, then met her eyes once more. “You know, ladies shouldn’t cross their arms and slouch.”

“I am the youngest of three daughters,” Feyre explained. “I am the one being looked at the least. No one in this town cares about the youngest Archeron.”

“Is that why you gamble?” 

"There are many reasons why I gamble, none of which I will share with you,” she assured him.

Rhysand laughed, deep and heartily. “Ah, there’s the Feyre I have dreamt about for the past three nights.”

Feyre laughed, quietly, as she broke his gaze, begging her cheeks not to redden. “It has been a pleasure knowing you, my Lord. I wish you safe travels.”

Feyre took a step to move around him, but he followed her lead, blocking her path. 

“There is one more thing.”

Feyre blinked, amused. “Yes?”

“I would like to court you,” he said. 

Feyre barked a laugh. “Court me? Why, so that I may become your wife?”

Rhysand did not look bothered whatsoever by her outburst. His grin simply widened. “Would that be so awful?”

“I..” Feyre hesitated, before laughing once more. “I have not even thought of marriage.”

“Perhaps not,” Rhysand said. “Just think about it. Okay?” He picked up her hand and pressed his lips softly to the back of her hand. “Until next time, Feyre, Darling.”

Before she could gather a response, he was gone. 

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books​ @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth​ @queenofillea1​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @levivlio​ @hellolenas​ @burritowithfeels​ @that-other-pineapple​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @raghad-50725​ 

#rags and riches #tacmc #nessian #feysand #elriel #elucien #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #period piece #19th century AU #jane auesten #nesta #feyre #elain #azriel #rhysand #cassian #lucien #alis

[edelwoodsouls]

maybe in another universe - ch. 1 [fic]

Jon isn’t expecting anything good when he’s evacuated to the countryside. Living with his crush rival he can just about handle. The secret magical world in the upstairs wardrobe, on the other hand, might just break him.

AKA: Narnia AU

Word Count: 2,707 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 2,

chapter one: the train to everywhere

As the train leaves the station, Jon doesn't look back.

The corridors outside his carriage are filled with other kids, craning their necks out of the windows to wave at their parents, tears streaming down their faces. It's a mess of loud noise and emotion that makes Jon wholly uncomfortable.

There's no one for him to look back to, no one to share tears with. No one to yell at him, you'll be home before you know it! and have fun, dear! it's okay!

He curls his arms around his suitcase and stares out the opposite window, at the vanishing buildings. Smoke shimmers over the horizon, mixing with the clouds, and Jon tries to imagine the view from above. When the planes fly overhead, do they recognise the smothered lights flickering below? Do they spare a thought for the bodies on the other side of the flames?

The corners of his suitcase begin to dig painfully into his skin.

Before he can spiral any further, the door to the compartment rattles open with a sudden gunshot sound that sets every nerve in his body alight.

He flinches and turns to see a girl roughly his own age, head swathed in a dark blue hijab, pressing her lips in an apologetic line.

"Sorry," she shrugs noncommittally, inclining her head. "Is that seat taken?"

"Uh, no."

"So I can take it?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." She shoulders her way into the room, heaving her own suitcase up onto the rack above their heads with an easy movement. Jon grips his own sheepishly - several blows to the head have taught him that he is nowhere near strong enough to haul it up that high.

The girl settles into the seat opposite him, retrieves a book from the recesses of her thick navy trench coat. It's a weathered copy of The Iliad, well-thumbed and annotated.

He's leaning forward curiously before he can help himself.

The girl looks up with raised eyebrows. "Nosy much?"

"Sorry," he shrinks back behind the large bulk in his lap. "I just- I used to have that same copy. Before..."

The girl's face softens, infinitessimly. "It's one of my favourites," she offers, almost apologetically. "I started keeping all my books in the shelter a few months ago. It's the only reason this survived."

Jon says nothing - there's nothing he can really say. In this moment, they are just two strangers, sharing a burning world.

"I'm Basira," the girl says, with a decisive look. "I'm from Finchley, being evacuated to Dorset. You?"

"Uh- same," Jon blinks, surprised. "I'm Jon. I've- I've never seen you before?"

"I mean, I imagine you go to the boys' school."

"Not until last year."

"Oh."

Jon glances down at his hands, hoping Basira can't see the way his fingers are white-knuckled against his suitcase.

"Well, I was new before-" she waves her arms vaguely, "all this. Home-schooled. So not really surprising."

"Oh." Slowly, one by one, Jon allows his muscles to relax. "That must've been nice. Quiet."

"That's one word for it," Basira mutters in a way that implies a hundred other meanings than nice. "I was really looking forward to actually getting to know people, y'know? New people, my own age."

"Well, you know me now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

Jon tries for a smile, but it comes out as something more of a grimace. All the same, Basira seems to get the sentiment, and returns it.

~/~/~/~

Martin hates trains.

In theory, they're the perfect vessel. Hours of uninterrupted time, the world moving beneath your feet as you curl into a seat with a hot cup of tea and your favourite paperback.

But he hasn't been on a train since his mother sent him away to London, and that sort of memory tends to leave one with a distaste by association.

Now here he is, only a few years later, being sent away again.

He's just glad his mother refused to take him in. He's not sure he could bear going back to that house, potentially indefintiely.

All the same, he's trying to make the best out of the journey that he can. He's heard horror stories of other evacuees, forced to work on farms or taken in only to be used for their ration cards. If that's the sort of fate he's headed for, he'll take the luxury of a nice cuppa and the drafting of a few poems whilst it's still there.

And he really is in the perfect place for it. The smouldering London skyline behind him, the fathomless countryside ahead. A world in flux and chaos, defined in fire and water.

He notes that down in his journal.

"Any good thoughts?" Melanie asks through a mouthful of sandwich.

Martin blinks up at the girl sharing his compartment, an embodiment of chaos if ever he's seen one. She's lying across the seats opposite him, her suitcase open and contents strewn everywhere - she'd been digging through it to find something inane which turned out to be in her pocket the whole time, and hasn't bothered to pack it up again.

Martin's hands itch to tidy the space - instead he grips his pen a little too hard and settles for a quzzical smile.

"Your writing," she points with the corner of her sandwich. "You look very deep in concentration and dramatic. Any good thoughts?"

"I suppose," he shrugs, retreating somewhat under Melanie's energetic gaze. "Something about dichotomies. Peace and war, fire and water. City and country."

"Men and women, nurse and soldier. Alive and dead."

Martin raises an eyebrow. "I guess."

"Hey- if there's any time to be morbid, it's during a war, dontcha think?"

"True. Do you write?"

"Nope. I do photography, though."

Martin can feel himself getting interested despite himself. "Really? Do you have a camera?"

Melanie nudges at the pile of clothes somehow still heaped in the boundaries of her suitcase, revealing the packaging of a beautiful, sleek camera piece that makes Martin fall a little in love with this stranger instantly.

"Is that a Retina I?" he asks, unable to quite keep the awe out of his voice.

"You really know your tech," Melanie says approvingly. "Yeah, it is. I'm going to be a supernaturalist."

"A what?"

"A supernaturalist, Martin. I'm going to be the first person to prove that ghosts exist. I'm going to get one on film."

"Huh."

Martin deliberately avoids Melanie's eyes. To believe in the supernatural is not generally approved of, let alone to talk about it with the sudden reverence and conviction that have crept into Melanie's voice.

He's gotten very used to pretending he's never seen anything out of the ordinary. The smoke that follows him around like a shadow, the spiders that seem to understand him just a little too intelligently - they all have mundane explanations.

He's never met someone so open about such things.

He lasts a matter of seconds before his tongue gets the better of him. "What've you seen?"

Melanie grins, as if she's been waiting from the moment they met just for him to ask. "I got shot by a ghost."

Martin almost knocks over his tea. "I'm sorry?"

"I got shot by a ghost."

"Yeah, you said that already. What I meant to say was, what the fuck?"

Melanie looks delighted to have his attention. She reaches down and rolls her sock to her ankle, revealing a garish red scar screaming across her leg. "London's full of ghosts, if you hadn't noticed. They just love the chaos that's going on right now, always wandering all over the place when the streets are empty and everyone's hidden in their shelters."

"I'm guessing you're not one for shelters," Martin says dryly, attempting to smother the sheer confusion and excitement doing battle in his brain.

"Of course not," Melanie scoffs. "They won't let me enlist because I'm a girl, but, I mean, have you seen some of the boys in charge of Finchley's bomb clearance?"

"A lot of them were in the year above me at school," Martin nods. He could say far more bitter things, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"They're kids, just like us," Melanie nods, a furious look in her eyes. "I wouldn't trust them to protect me from a particularly vicious duck, let alone the end of days raining from the sky."

Martin grins in agreement. Despite initial perceptions, he's starting to like Melanie a lot.

A shame they'll only get to know each other for this one train ride, likely never to hear from each other again. Unless Melanie does actually become famous for photographing ghosts, and he becomes famous for his poetry, and maybe they'll meet at a gala sixty years from now and not recognise each other at all.

Martin mentally kicks himself out of that particular spiral. He's always had a problem with melancholy, and the world being on fire has hardly done anything to improve him.

He's convinced it's what makes him a good poet.

"Hey," he says, to distract himself. "Where are you being sent to?"

"Some professor," Melanie shrugs. "Probably a stuffy old bat who'll put you to work if she finds a single fingerprint in the dust. Academics are all the same, from what I've seen."

Martin looks down at his own tag, brown paper tied with fraying string, looped around his neck by a disinterested attendant at the posting office. He hasn't actually had the nerve to read the name yet.

His heart picks up. "Melanie... it's not Professor Gertrude Robinson, is it?"

~/~/~/~/~

"...But Patroclus called to his comrades with a loud shout: “Myrmidons, ye comrades of Achilles, son of Peleus, be men, my friends, and bethink you of furious valour, to the end that we may win honour for the son of Peleus, that is far the best of the Argives by the ships, himself and his squires that fight in close combat; and that the son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, may know his blindness in that he honoured not at all the best of the Achaeans-"

"Achilles is such an idiot," Basira interrupts, rolling her eyes and flipping the coin in her palm in absent, distracted movements.

Jon raises an eyebrow and lowers the book. "I can stop, if you'd prefer."

"No, no, you're okay. You've got a surprisingly good voice for this stuff. I'm glad you suggested it."

They've been taking turns reading aloud, switching out every few pages to pass the time, since Jon has no books of his own. But Basira seems to have quickly decided that Jon is a born narrator and delegated all further reading to him.

He's been glowing faintly from the praise ever since.

The journey has flown by - as time often does when Jon's hyperfixations make an appearance - but for once he doesn't feel guilty about indulging it. Basira seems just as fascinated, somehow, and he greatly enjoys her interruptions.

"You don't think Achilles is an idiot?" she asks, crossing her legs and leaning forward intently.

"No, I definitely do- he sends his boyfriend out to fight a war he isn't prepared for just because of a grudge and then throws a tantrum when that hubris gets him killed. He's definitely an idiot."

"Oh good," Basira says, visibly relieved. "For a moment there I thought we were going to have to argue."

Jon laughs, and the sound comes easier than it has in a while. This realisation crawls under his skin, cutting the sound short. He looks out of the window for some semblance of escape-

"Hey! Look!" He points out at the approaching train station, a quaint thing, barely more than a slab of stone emerging from a field. But the sign, rusted as it is, reads the same as the looping handwriting on the label around his neck does.

"Oh joy," Basira sighs. "Countryside air and a new family who'll probably hate me."

"Where are you being sent?" Jon asks, more hopeful than he's willing to admit. "Maybe we'll be neighbours."

"The household of Professor Gertrude Robinson," she reads from her own label.

"So am I!" Jon's heart leaps high in his chest despite himself. "You know, if we're with a professor, she might- I mean, she probably isn't a rough work kind of person- so maybe... this won't be so awful after all?"

Of course, Jon has always had a habit of speaking too soon.

~/~/~/~/~

Gathering Melanie's discarded belongings is a predictably chaotic affair, but she executes it with the practiced air of someone who lives that way every day.

Martin can't decide whether he's excited or dreading living with this girl.

As soon as they sprawl out onto the platform with seconds to spare, Martin realises that Melanie's mess is the least of his worries.

Because perched on the station's only bench, face knitted into his iconic perpetual frown, eyes squinting against the sun, is Jonathan fucking Sims.

Next to his suitcase, and wearing a knitted jumper several sizes too big, he looks tiny. The tall hijabi girl standing on top of the bench, looking searchingly into the distant fields, only serves to exaggerate this.

Melanie notices the sudden drain in his skin immediately, and follows his gaze. "For fucks sake."

"You know him?" Martin asks faintly, resisting the urge to brush his hands through his hair, or smooth his clothes. Jon doesn't care what he looks like, doesn't care about him. He should've learnt back in primary school that being rivals isn't something to be romanticised.

But his heart doesn't seem to get the message as a stray gust of wind dances in Jon's dark hair, and it skips a beat.

"Do I know Jonathan fucking Sims?" Melanie grits out, heaving her suitcase roughly over one shoulder. "That guy is such a wanker. 'Ghosts are for idiots, Melanie. Just a romantic ideal made up by delusional people afraid of the dark.'"

"He's not that bad," Martin begins to protest before he can stop himself, "he's just been through a lot."

"Doesn't excuse him being a dick," Melanie grumbles. "Not to mention he used to date my girlfriend. Always having a disaster and blazing back into her life. What I wouldn't give for five minutes one on one, I'd teach him..."

Melanie goes on muttering under her breath, but Martin barely hears, because Jon has just met his eyes and nothing else in the world matters. There's surprise, then panic, before his expression settles back into a frown.

Martin sighs. It's not as if he should've expected anything else.

"Come on," he says to Melanie, picking up his suitcase. "We'd better get it over with."

The walk to close their distance seems to take hours, and somehow no time at all.

"Martin," Jon greets him with a clipped, emotionless tone.

"Hey, Jon," Martin smiles, refusing to let the other boy's walls get him down. "And you are?"

"Basira," the girl nods, still standing high above them and glancing distractedly towards the dirt path, likely looking for whoever will be along to pick up evacuees. "I guess you guys already know each other?"

"They go to school together," Melanie brushes off the explanation, before introducing herself, too. "Now we're all acquainted, how long before we never have to see each other again?"

Basira's eyes flick silently between the three of them, clearly noting the tension, but saying nothing.

"We're in the same house," Jon says stiffly. "I don't know about you two. I'm sure there are other benches you can loiter at."

"Well we're in the same house," Melanie shoots back, linking her arm with Martin and holding tight. She's a lot stronger than she looks.

An awful thought dawns on Martin, quickly encompassing and eclipsing anything else. "Where..." he swallows around his dry throat, "who are you guys with?"

Martin watches as Jon's eyes widen. Glance down at his own label, across at theirs, and back.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Martin wants to burrow into the ground and hide somewhere his blushing cheeks could never be seen. He shouldn't be surprised, really. This summer was already looking down, being far from London, living with strangers, adjusting to pretending to be whatever fit in most.

Living with the crush who hates his guts is somehow the only escalation that makes sense.

#the magnus archives #fanfiction #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #narnia au #own work #morgan writes

[anghraine]

“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter sixteen

Last chapter:

“You can’t trust him!”

“Yes,” said Anakin, “I’m aware of that. Goodbye, Lucy.”

She folded her arms. “Goodbye.”

This chapter:

He knew that he couldn’t trust the Emperor, of course, but it was worthwhile to remember all the same. 

It was worthwhile to remember, too, that his daughter cared whether he lived or died.

chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen, chapter fifteen

-

To Lucy’s inexpressible relief, her father returned within an hour from her deflection practice. 

She knew better than to run up and demand to know what had happened, even had Ellex permitted it. Instead, she waited until the droid saw fit to lead her to Vader’s receiving chamber, and stared at him until he relegated Ellex to her usual position guarding the door from the outside.

“What happened?” she said.

Behind the mask and suit, he seemed weary but not discouraged. 

“The Emperor found my invitation to Varti curious,” said Vader. “And he wished for information about your training in the Dark Side.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “It is, however, the condition of your continued survival as far as Palpatine is concerned. I told him that your training is progressing.”

She hesitated, wondering if it were altogether a lie. She certainly hadn’t turned to the Dark Side—but just as certainly, he was training her for something.

“Did he believe you?”

“Let us hope so,” said Vader. “It is difficult to know what he is thinking at any given moment. He has not come this far by betraying himself.”

Lucy could believe that. She could believe, too, that she was slated for death at some time or another, if she could not be turned to the Emperor’s purposes. And she had scarcely a choice in refusing that. She’d do anything rather than help the Empire.

“What about Admiral Varti?” she asked.

“I explained that I wished to consult with him over the attack on Castle Bast,” Vader said, “and the Emperor reminded me of his value. He seemed … entertained.”

“You felt that in the Force?”

“No,” he said, and now he sounded-felt puzzled. “It is one thing to sense someone’s presence; it is quite another to pick up on their thoughts and feelings. That skill is quite rare.”

Lucy considered, then said, “I can sense yours. A little, that is—I don’t know what you’re thinking and planning, but I can tell when you’re angry or things like that.”

“As can I, with you,” he said, startling her. She couldn’t have said whether the surprise was unpleasant or not. “That is only natural, however.”

“Why?”

“You are my daughter,” he said simply. “As for Palpatine, I guessed from his expressions, such as they are. It may have been a performance, of course.”

“Did you tell him it wasn’t a Rebel attack?”

Vader inclined his head. “I told him that I suspected as much. Some measure of truth is important. He thought either was possible, or said so.”

Lucy had to repress a burst of frustration; she might not like to face certain things head-on, but she definitely preferred it to uncertainty and machinations. Damn the Emperor, anyway. Maybe his arteries would do the Force’s work and he’d just drop dead at some point. Not that she expected it—he was the sort of monster who lived forever.

“Did he say anything else?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Vader, but he didn’t elaborate. “Did you practice with Ellex?”

Altogether, it made for something of an anticlimax after her terrible fear. Yet, for all she knew, it might be worse than it seemed; the Emperor might have gleaned something Vader didn’t realize, or preferred not to see. Could he read minds? He might know what Lucy was doing and not doing, he might know that Anakin had risked himself for her, he might know—oh, anything.

“Yes,” Lucy said absently. “Until half her blasters ran out of charges.”

“How did you do?”

She jerked her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Pretty well, I think. I didn’t get stunned, anyway, though she got in a few hits.”

“Hm,” he said. “Keep on practicing. In battle, the blasters won’t be set to stun.”

Did he expect her to be in battle at some point? Against who?

Rebels? That wouldn’t happen, no matter what. But the possibility of freedom still raised her spirits a little. 

-

Vader felt decidedly suspicious.

The Emperor had not sent for him. He had not seemed particularly concerned with the length of Lucy’s training—perhaps because he remembered how long it had taken him with Vader himself, but that seemed improbably understanding, given his initial impatience with the idea of training Lucy at all. He hadn’t even seemed deeply concerned with the “Rebel” attack on Bast Castle, insisting he trusted—trusted, ha!—Vader to deal with the situation. In fact, the only thing he seemed to much care about at all was Varti’s continued good health.

Vader had not meant to do anything so asinine as murder the Emperor’s favourite under his own roof, so that posed no particular difficulty, either. 

Maybe it did all come down to the new project taking up Palpatine’s attention, but he’d never been a single-minded man. And what was his foresight telling him? Vader constantly shifted his plans or deliberately refused to pin down their details to avoid it, but he couldn’t be sure of that working. 

Well, nothing could be done further right now. He retired to his ventilation pod to meditate, flitting through information and feelings. The Force felt weaker, somehow—and yet he saw more clearly than in a very long time. Strange. Strange, too, that the Emperor had not mentioned it. Had he even felt it?

You can’t trust him! Lucy had exclaimed, anxious enough that he’d had to put it out of his thoughts altogether to face Palpatine with a clear mind. He knew that he couldn’t trust the Emperor, of course, but it was worthwhile to remember all the same. 

It was worthwhile to remember, too, that his daughter cared whether he lived or died.

Once he felt Lucy drop off to sleep, he waited for his helmet to descend and insulate him, then emerged from his pod and sent for LX-3. 

“Lucy thought the practice went well,” he said. “Did it?”

“As well as might be expected,” said Ellex. “She failed to deflect five blaster bolts.”

“Over what period of time?”

“Two hours,” she said. “The bolts in question struck non-essential areas of her body.”

“What was the speed?”

“Moderate to quick,” said Ellex. 

Not bad, he decided, for that length of time. Rather good, in fact, considering that any similar exercises she’d done must have taken place over two years ago. Still, she must improve further. She might well have cause to use her skills in a short while—if he could trust her that far.

Ellex seemed to recall the lightsaber hanging from her belt, and extended it to him.

“I assume you would prefer to retain this.”

He accepted it, then said, “Did you have to take it from her?”

“No,” she replied. “I implied that she should keep it, as you requested, Lord Vader. She said that you had not given it to her and insisted on returning it.”

Interesting. And hopeful, perhaps—perhaps.

Yes, he decided. It was.

-

Lucy’s practices for the next several days included the old exercises, the increasingly familiar combat training, and now, deflection practice. Even in that short awhile, she found herself getting better at the latter—maybe because she’d practiced the forms so much already. 

On the fourth day, Ellex shifted her speed so high that Lucy couldn’t even track the blaster bolts. Not with her eyes, anyway. But the Force was with her, and she knew exactly where to block them, anyway. When they went flying away from her, she felt both her father’s approval and her own satisfaction, and laughed out of sheer enjoyment.

“Well done,” said Vader. “That is enough for today. You need to see something.”

Lucy looked at him inquiringly.

“You had better go change,” he added. “Make sure you wash your hands.”

“All right,” she said, entirely baffled. “C’mon, Ellex.”

She headed off without even stopping to see if the droid was following her—though of course she was. All the while, Lucy tried to think of anything she hadn’t seen yet and why he would want her to. With clean hands, no less!

She was pretty gross at that point, so Lucy peeled herself out of the stained and sweaty tunic and pulled the first thing out of the wardrobe her hand touched: a flowered yellow dress she hadn’t worn before. It was faded, but still pretty, and Lucy liked yellow almost as well as black. She shrugged, then showered, pulled back her hair, managed to get herself into the yellow dress without tearing any of the gauzy material—more difficult than it looked—and made a point of washing her hands several times. Then she headed out, her mood still high.

By the time she and Ellex returned to the training room, she found Vader himself practicing, going through unfamiliar forms with each of his lightsabers in hand, slashing them both at truly alarming speeds. 

“Impressive,” said Lucy, refusing to feel the merest flicker of fear. “What did you want to show me?”

He deactivated his lightsabers and returned them to his belt, then turned. Unmistakably, she felt shock from him at the sight of her, and then some pain she couldn’t understand. She looked the same as usual, didn’t she? Maybe it was the dress, but all her clothes were Padmé’s, anyway. When he had last seen her in it?

Now she wondered for the first time: when had he last seen Padmé at all?

Without a word, Vader walked past her, gesturing at her to follow him. All three walked in silence, Lucy realizing all over again just how big the castle was. If Vader’s prosthetics helped him, she didn’t know, but her ordinary legs ached by the time they’d walked far enough that the lighting faded. Was he taking her to the room with the tank? She couldn’t understand why he would.

“I can’t see!” Lucy exclaimed, flashing back to her first days here. Instinctively, she reached out, and felt a rough cloth under her fingers.

Her father’s cape, she realized; she was grasping it like a child. Lucy pulled her hand back. 

Just as silently, Vader handed her something—his lightsaber. She switched it on and peered into the blue light it cast, just as her father lifted the red lightsaber. There was nothing much to see beyond the stone floor and walls, but the twin lights still came as a comfort.

Finally, the hall they walked began to broaden, enough that all three of them could walk side-by-side, and culminated in a wide set of double doors. They had handles and everything; this must be one of the oldest sections of the castle. 

“Wait here,” Vader said, and moved forward, opening and closing the doors so quickly that Lucy could only tell that the room beyond must be dark. After a few moments, the doors creaked open again, apparently of their own accord.

“Enter,” he called out.

Lucy lifted the lightsaber higher and walked forwards, through the doors. As soon as she did so, light filled the room, revealing a high, domed ceiling and walls lined with shelves upon shelves of … books? There were so many, in fact, that the room had been split into multiple levels, each accessible by a curved staircase. Most gleamed faintly under the light—they must be databooks—but here and there, the old-fashioned paper kind were interspersed among them. And some rows, she saw now, didn’t have books at all, but cubes of some kind and a few polyhedrons of about the same size, each probably small enough to fit in her hand.

She’d never seen so much information gathered into one place in her life. Lucy took a startled step forwards, her gaze drifting from the staircases to the books to the polyhedrons to the curved ceiling, and back again. 

“What is this place?” she breathed.

It felt almost sacred. She would never have imagined it could exist here.

“The Emperor,” said Vader, “whatever his other failings, values knowledge.”

His voice came from just to her left. Lucy turned to stare at him just as his hand lowered from a panel on the wall.

“This is his library?”

“After a manner of speaking,” her father replied. “When I seized the Jedi Temple on Coruscant”—Lucy repressed a wince—“he ordered the information in its archives preserved in a secure location. While some things were … unavoidably lost, I salvaged what I could and placed it beyond the reach of any Jedi but myself.”

She swallowed. “Oh.”

“Until now,” he said. “It recently occurred to me that some of the information here might be valuable for your—education.”

With that, she understood.

“My training,” she said.

Anakin paused, then said, “Yes.”

Almost in a daze, Lucy moved forwards. She felt more breathless than during their last duel. 

“But this is a Jedi library,” she said.

“Yes,” he said again. “The Emperor keeps artifacts of … other traditions under his own control. Even I have no idea where they are. I imagine he thought these were safe with me, since I had already been trained.”

“You know everything in all this?” said Lucy, still trying to take it all in. 

“No. I doubt even Grandmaster Yoda did,” Vader said. She held herself very still, clearing her mind as much as she could and summoning every scrap of calm she had, before returning her attention to the library.

“Then—”

“I have had other matters to occupy me, in general,” he told her. “I still do. But as I said, I thought it might be useful to you, as you advance in your training.”

“As a Jedi,” she said again, trying to understand. 

“As a Jedi,” he agreed. “Follow me.”

He led her up the first staircase on the right, right to one of the cases full of cubes and polyhedrons. Now she could see that they seemed faintly iridescent, or at least some of them. Vader reached for a cube on a shelf well above Lucy’s head and set it in her hand.

“This,” he said, “is a Jedi holocron. Each contains information that was, in some way, of value to the Order, even if very basic.”

She couldn’t imagine that such a device was actually fragile, but it felt like it. Carefully, she kept her grasp on it light, lifting it up to look more closely. The outer casing seemed to contain another shape inside it, from which the shifting colours actually came. She couldn’t see any latches or buttons or switches.

“How do I open it?” she asked.

“You don’t,” said Vader. “Only a Jedi can access it.”

Lucy closed her eyes, searching her feelings before he could tell her to do it. That felt true. It all did.

He rested one gloved hand just above the surface of the holocron. She seriously doubted that anything would happen, but then, a sharply-defined hologram about a foot tall flared into life above it. The figure in the hologram looked like a middle-aged Twi’lek woman, wearing a short, belted robe and trousers tucked into boots. Abruptly, a lightsaber appeared in her hands, and she ran through a series of moves so quickly that Lucy could only watch, fascinated. The next series was slower, and the next slower still, enough that she could recognize the woman’s motions as the six forms that she herself knew.

“Oh!” said Lucy. “That’s amazing!”

Vader passed his hand over the holocron, and the woman vanished. 

“I was a Jedi Knight,” he said. “I am a Jedi Knight. If Obi-Wan told you otherwise, it was one more lie.”

The holocron was shaking. No, her hand was, just a little. A young Jedi named Darth Vader—

“He didn’t,” said Lucy, steadying her grip. “He said you were a student of his, until you turned to … to the Dark Side.”

“That is true,” Vader said. He sounded surprised, as she supposed well he might be. “True enough, in any case. He was no longer my teacher by the time that he betrayed me and left me to die.”

She gazed at the holocron, then lifted her eyes to her father. “What do you mean, betrayed?”

“We were supposed to serve the Force and the galaxy,” said Vader. “But the Jedi Order turned us into enforcers of the Senate, without a word of protest. The Republic was corrupt to its core, Lucy, whatever the Rebellion may have told you. And the Order was corrupted with it. Obi-Wan couldn’t see that. When I saw the truth at last and acted, he snuck onto your mother’s ship in order to assassinate me. He simply lacked the nerve to go through with it.”

Lucy, despite her reservations about Ben’s veracity, felt certain that his version of the story would be quite different. 

“It must have been then,” said Vader, “that he hatched his plan for you to do the dirty work that he couldn’t. If Owen Lars had not kept him at bay—”

“I don’t know what he would have done,” she admitted. “He was always kind to me, even when I was small.”

“He would have made himself your master,” Vader said.

Lucy, freeborn though she was, flinched.

“Instead, you are to be my master?” she asked. “Is that it?”

“No,” said Vader. “I am your father. You will never call anyone master.”

She looked at the holocron again, trying to get everything clear in her head. But it all seemed so muddled, tangled up like the Light Side and the Dark. With Obi-Wan’s and Yoda’s betrayal, she thought she’d all but given up on a future as a Jedi. If Anakin was still a Jedi—if—was it possible?—but if they’d had their own plans for her, so did he. 

“Good,” she said. “Would you still want me to turn to the Dark Side?”

“Yes,” said Vader.

Well, at least he was straightforward.

“I would hope that you could see the necessity,” he told her. “And if you cannot—”

Lucy waited, feeling very small, overshadowed by her father and by the remnants of the Order. But she couldn’t give in to the failings of either. 

Vader still hadn’t finished the sentence. Maybe she didn’t want to know. 

“Yes?” she said.

He seemed to be thinking, almost as if he hadn’t considered it before. Honestly, Lucy could believe that he hadn’t.

“If you do not turn,” he said, “the Emperor will command your death. You must understand that. If you are to live—”

She shrugged, trying to appear more indifferent than she felt. He’d know the difference anyway, but it was worth trying. 

“I’ll die first.”

“As a fully-trained Jedi, you will be far better equipped to defend your life, and any lives that depend on yours,” said Vader.

Lucy frowned. “We were talking about what would happen if I don’t agree.”

“I am considering a … compromise,” her father said.

“I didn’t think you did compromises.”

“Not usually,” said Vader, “but I am not usually negotiating with my daughter. Listen to me. Even if you refuse the Dark Side, you will be at more of an advantage as a weak Jedi than as no Jedi at all. It is worth my while to give you the training that any Jedi apprentice would receive.”

She was immediately suspicious.

“And what do you want in return?”

“Your assistance,” he said.

“I won’t help you fight the Rebellion!” said Lucy.

“I had no expectation that you would,” Vader replied. “But I have many enemies.”

Understanding—hopefully the right understanding—crept over her. 

“Like Varti and Jerjerrod?” she asked. “You want me to help you against them?”

“Them and their like.”

It sounded exceptionally vague to her. 

“Is there something else you want?” said Lucy.

He looked at her a moment. Then he said,

“Your instincts are good, but they cannot command every decision that you make. Promise me that you will think about the paths ahead of you before you go down one.”

“You mean the Dark Side?” she said.

“I mean everything,” said Vader.

Suitably enough, Lucy stopped to think. The easy thing to do would be to just follow her suspicions and refuse, on the chance that his training would sway her to the Dark Side against her better judgment. But could someone be swayed to the Dark Side against their own will? She didn’t think so. 

Of course, the other easy thing would be to take the offer at face value and accept, trusting in her own strength and purity. But she wasn’t pure; she’d always had a bad temper and gotten impatient with things and sometimes gave up too easily. Even if she hadn’t realized that, the cave on Dagobah had warned her of the fate that might lie ahead. She’d seen herself as her father—and somehow, she was still considering being trained by him!

But there was no escaping the fact that, as circumstances stood now, this opportunity would never come again. At the very possibility of receiving proper training without the constant fear of the Dark Side, her heart raced with pure excitement. And she could feel the good in him. She could. Did this come from that, from a genuine desire to see his daughter as fully equipped for survival as possible, or from some deeper plot? What would happen when the Emperor called for her death at last? Could she influence him as he hoped to influence her?

If she refused, Lucy thought, there would be no Jedi left in the galaxy except Vader and Yoda. They would be the very last. Did the Force flow in her from blood alone, or was she meant for more? She’d always felt she was. In the last weeks, she’d felt that she was meant for exactly this. 

“You would train me the way that Jedi used to be trained,” she said slowly. “That is, without immediately trying to turn me to the Dark Side. I would help you … somehow … against your enemies in the Empire, and try to be more cautious. Is that it?”

“That is it,” he said, and held out his hand.

She stared at the glove with wide eyes, her pulse pounding in her throat and ears. The very galaxy, it seemed, turned on this moment. 

Lucy took his hand.

#anghraine's fic #the jedi and the sith lord #rule 63 #genderbending #/ #// #/// #//// #///// #ellex #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #lucy skywalker #star wars #long post #we're still a pretty significant ways from rotj so my general feeling is... uh #idowhatiwant.gif

[raging-violets]

whoever you want + “I wouldn’t mind falling asleep out here.

Narnia: “I wouldn’t mind falling asleep out here” // Prompt // Edmund x Issi

There was something about a clear night sky that always captured Edmund’s attention. Unwavering in its beauty. In its innate sense of peace and calmness. No matter what may occur during the day, there was always the comfort of the nights; where everything calmed down, came to a still, and allowed rest before it started up again the next day.

Finchley, filled with the roar of airplane engines, and the nearing explosions of bombs on the city, high above the floating clouds of dust and debris, the city was bathed in the light of the moon to show it made it through another day. The swatch of navy and black gazing down above them all the night of Jadis’s attack on Aslan’s army was a sea of glittering, twinkling stars showed that they were not alone. As Edmund gazed out over the grounds of the Telmarine castle littered with the forms of fallen Narnians, soaring high into the inky blackness, he wondered what was to come if not the quiet stillness the night brought with it; if they were to defeat the obstacle that lied ahead.

Tonight, the night of the ball to promote peace across the lands, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The more days Edmund was lucky to see, the more he savored the smaller moments like this.

Edmund blinked against the swatch of amber light that slowly blinked in the shadows in his peripheral and slowly extended across his face as the seconds passed. He turned his head to the side, cradling the curve of his neck with his hands, and watched the light sway gently back and forth beneath the hand that guided it through the otherwise still night.

It wasn’t Peter; no, he strode the walkways of Caspian’s castle with strong, heavy steps.

Nor was it Susan, who’s footfalls were light and graceful as she traipsed heel to toe.

Lucy’s gait was just as quick and sharp; an almost exuberant gait as she couldn’t wait for what was to come next.

“I’m over here,” he spoke into the otherwise still night, “may as well stop sneaking around.” With a sigh, Edmund stretched his arms in front of himself, grasping his knees to pull himself into a seated position. He lifted his hand to block the light from his face.

The quick, almost imperceptible footsteps of Issi neared him as she carefully stepped over the beach stones that lined the edge of the water way that snaked around the castle. Slowly, steadily, the amber light reached the farthest curves of the foundation under the bridge he was currently seated. It was hard to see her in the orange glow, but still he couldn’t help but notice just how much more vibrant it made the red hair, the green eyes of Issi. “Is Peter looking for me?”

“Now why would you assume Peter was looking for you?” Issi asked, planting her free hand on her hip. She then gathered the folds of her skirts in one hand, sinking in a small bow.

“Peter is always looking for me,” Edmund replied, politely inclining his head in a nod of greeting. His lips curled into a hint of a smirk. “Wondering why I can’t just do what’s expected of me. If I wanted to dance, I would have worn my dancing shoes.”

“With how fast you ran out of there tonight, I do not suppose you would get very far in ill-fitted shoes,” Issi said. “It was Susan that has been searching for you.”

“Right.” Edmund made a face. In ways, Susan was the worst to be on the bad side of out of herself and Peter. He was sure she was bound to give him a lecture on how he wasn’t being gentlemanly. After all, even Peter had grit his teeth and accepted his role in Susan’s lavish event. “Why are you out here?”

“Is it not my duty?” Issi asked, eyebrows lifting, “to warn yourself, Queen Lucy, Queen Susan, and King Peter of any disturbances to come your way?” She gave him a smile. “Thought I should warn you about Susan is all.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Edmund watched as Issi turned her gaze up towards the high castle walls. “I’ve been kept inside for too long once before. A place as big as this can still seem too small at times.”

Edmund slowly nodded, following her gaze.

It wasn’t Cair Paravel, but it was still a place to stay. Caspian had been kind enough to allow them residence as a new residence for the Kings and Queens of Old to be constructed. Still, he wondered if he deserved it. After the trouble he had caused, why was he gifted a warm bed to sleep in? At times, he could still feel the bone chilling cold of the ice palace he had been held in deep in his dreams, in his nightmares. A violent shake could toss the blankest off his bed and make even the coldest sweat feel like a nice breeze in comparison.

For a moment, the two were silent as they watched the shadows dance back and forth in front of the windows. The faceless jubilant chatters and whoops of Narnians and Telmarines drifted across the courtyard, mixing with the gentle rustling of the leaves on the trees – the Dryads no doubt enjoying the music that whispered into the night.

“I wouldn’t mind falling asleep out here,” Edmund mused after a while.

“If that’s the price to pay for hiding,” Issi said, finally pulling her eyes away from the castle, “but you’d miss the softness of your own bed soon enough.”

Nights in the air raid shelter had already proven that. But, then he could still go back in to the home when it was safe. It was different being sent away, never knowing when he’d get back to his own bed. Yes, he did miss it.

“I’m not hiding,” Edmund insisted. Though his bristling immediately waned at the teasing smile he noticed on Issi’s face. She almost looked like Lucy in that moment. Then he shook his head, wondering why that thought even popped into his head.

“I may have misheard, Just Edmund,” Issi said, “but there are stories that yourself, and Peter, Susan, and Lucy have partaken in a game of hide and seek or two. Could even give the little babes around the village a run for their money.”

“That’s why you’re out here,” Edmund said.

“The little scamps ran out faster than you,” Issi said with a shake of her head and Edmund laughed. “Lucy and I will find them, never you mind.”

Edmund pressed his lips together, briefly shaking his head. “Knowing Lu, she may have passed on some tips. You may be looking for them for a while,” he said. In fact, Lucy was undisputedly the best at Hide and Seek. If he hadn’t known Lucy well enough, he never would have come around to search for her in a wardrobe.

For due to everything they had gone through before their first venture into Narnia, Lucy had become scared of the dark. She had grown braver over the years, but it was still a vulnerable time for her – he could still see the relief on her face, and the growing concern, when they had returned to Aslan’s How that fateful night, their numbers dwindled considerably since they had left.

“I don’t suppose I could request some help?” Issi asked.

“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, I suppose,” Edmund said with an exaggerated sigh. He started off across the beach rock, shifting his weight carefully with each step. “I couldn’t imagine what Susan would say if I were to let you wander the grounds all by yourself at this time of night.”

“Oh, of course, we shouldn’t make Queen Susan disappointed,” Issi said, her sarcastic words aimed at his back.

Edmund chuckled before turning back towards her, offering his elbow for stabilization to help her across the rocks. For a moment, a very brief moment, he felt a sort of warmth pass through him, lifting when she was able to walk on her own. Whatever moment that had occurred between the two of them had now gone.

“No more disappointed had I just taken those dance lessons seriously,” Edmund commented. “Even Peter managed to get through them all.”

“You’re not Peter.”

She had said it so naturally, it almost made Edmund take pause.

“I don’t blame you for leaving. Not really.”

“You don’t?”

Issi shook her head back and forth. She then lifted her gave over the light that awashed her face, green eyes sparkling like emerald flames, lips curled in amusement. “I have to wonder how someone who can wield a sword in both arms as if he were born with them in hand,” she said, “has the grace in his two own feet of that of a camel.”

“Hey!” Edmund frowned. “I didn’t see you dancing out there either.”

Issi shrugged. “Didn’t have a partner.”

With that, she split from him, taking a branched off path at a bit of a run calling into the dark that she was going to find the hiding children. Somewhere not too far off, Edmund heard a high-pitched giggle. Soon, the dark of the night swallowed her up.

Edmund sighed through his nose, heading for the castle doors, though choosing to take the longer way around, lest he find one of the hidden village children. As he did so, he looked up over the night sky. The stars seemed brighter, to flicker almost as if to mock him. For in Narnia, he had found out, stars just weren’t stars, but celestial beings. No, they were never truly alone in Narnia.

“Oh, shut up,” Edmund said to the sky before heading inside.

-

Tag List: @foxesandmagic, @witchofinterest, @darknightfrombeyond

-

[ Random Sentence Starters | Ask Box ]

#cassercole #answered ask #ask #oc: issi winters #edmund pevensie #edmund x issi #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #prompt #authored by: rhuben #i need to do more lighthearted stuff with them #always seems to come back to their past #but Edmund needs someone that understands him #love them

[imagine-loki]

The Infertile Queen

TITLE: The Infertile Queen CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One/shot AUTHOR: written-loki-imagines ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Reader has not able to provide an heir for Loki after being married for two years. She started to doubt herself, frustrated, while Loki tries to calm her and keep her encouraged. In her mind, Loki will replace her with another woman who can give him offspring. RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: Mentions of miscarrige

It had been two years since Loki had taken his descent to the throne and made you queen of Asgard. No one was happy with his decision to marry you especially not the Asgardians who thought to have a mortal queen was viler than a frost giant king. Eventually, they accepted it on the terms that you would produce a healthy heir to secure the line of succession.

Something you have failed in doing repeatedly marking you in the history books as the infertile queen. You had tried everything to please your people and your husband, teas, herbs, a change in diet, pills, treatments, and prayers yet nothing worked. 

Last year you had the first miscarriage of your marriage that left you devastated and depressed. You knew Loki wanted an heir; no he needed an heir to please everyone and prove his reign would be a good one and all you were doing was holding him back. 

Of course, you wanted to please everyone as well but you really did want to be a mother and have a baby of your own to love and care for even if it killed you. Every day you would see young girls pregnant with unplanned children that were not even wanted and it made you so envious. Why do they deserve to have children they will not love as much as you would if they were yours? 

The pressure of this rested heavily on your shoulders not knowing who you could trust with your grievances you kept it all bottled up inside. You knew Loki’s trusted advisers were suggesting to him that he should take another bride an Asgardian bride. 

Since you kept failing your one duty as the queen you wouldn’t be surprised if he did find someone else and just keep you around for sex. It wasn’t in his best interest to still have you around if you were so fucking worthless.

 He had suggested that you could both adopt but you knew deep down that maybe he didn’t want that and hell, the entirety of Asgard would revolt if you did right? A knock came on your chamber door, “Your majesty it’s me Becca are you awake?”

 You had chosen her as your personal handmaiden over a slew of amazing choices, she was just shy of 17 and her mother and father were both ill. Her being the sole earner in her household inclined you to choose her over all other options. “I am, you may enter,” She opened the door holding a sleeping five-month-old baby boy in her arms.

 "I’m so sorry your majesty my mother was feeling really bad today so I had to take my brother with me to.“ Your eyes locked on the sleeping child yearning to touch him, "What is his name?” you asked while she closed the door halfway and walked into the room more, “Derk, my mother named him after my grandfather. What would you like to wear today?”

 she said trying her best to hold him without causing him to stir while doing her duties. 

“Let me hold him while you pick something out,” you demanded, outstretching your arms in wait for his small body. Becca placed him in them and stepped back to examine your wardrobe while you tended to her brother. A watery smile crossed your lips while you looked down at him and touched his soft delicate skin.

 Becca was talking but you drowned her out caught up in your own little world where Derk was your baby that you loved unconditionally. Before you knew it slow tears slid down your cheeks mostly from the desperation and pain that had been inside of you for two years. “Take him and leave us please,” You heard a man stay but you couldn’t bear look away from Derk. Becca tried taking him from your arms but you didn’t want to let him go and fought her advances.

 Loki placed his hand on your arm tenderly, “Let him go with his sister darling.” you shook your head letting a steady stream of tears flow from your eyes; you knew you had to let go sometime but not now. You released him and let Becca take him but not voluntarily, “No, please just a while longer please.” You tried to grab him but Loki held you back in his arms forcing you to watch them both leave.

 Once the door closed your body collapsed in his arms choking out hard sobs and unfiltered screams. Loki held you taking on all your extra weight, curses, and tears until you were just sniffling in his arms. “Hush darling, I know how much it hurts, I’m here now just depend on me,” he said kissing your forehead and wiping away your tears. 

He scooped you up in his arms and walked to the reading nook by the window placing you on his lap and your head on his chest. “I’m sorry,” you said in a trembling voice,“ I can’t do anything right and everyone is disappointed in me. I can’t give you or Asgard an heir and I’ll never be a mother.” you breathed into him letting him rock you back and forth, “Don’t give up darling we can keep trying or we could adopt a child of our own. We have plenty of time do not get discouraged, do not lose faith.” His words were comforting but they didn’t distract you from reality, “But I don’t have much time if I don’t give you a child soon you’ll find someone else that can and discard of me. 

The people of Asgard would never accept an adopted child it would just prove how worthless I am to them no matter how much I loved it.” You rubbed your head deeper into his chest enjoying his scent as long as you could but he quickly lifted your head and made you look at him. “You don’t truly believe that do you?” his gaze was so stern you wanted to cry more, “You are mine just as I am yours there is no other woman in all the nine realms that I could imagine being with let alone her carrying my child. You are my queen, my equal and the ruler of my heart nothing of mine is ever worthless. As for what the people of Asgard expect from you and me is none of my concern raising a child with you regardless if you carried it or not would satisfy me. I can assure you I will always be a husband first a father second and a king last. If you can find it in our heart to love another child as your own then that will be our child. Now, my dear, dry your tears or allow me to kiss them away, never again shall you suffer in silence when I can erase those doubts.” He finished his rant with soft kisses on your cheek and a big hug; he had gotten rid of all your worries helping you feel more hopeful than ever.

—-One year later—

“Mama I wanna look at her too!” Nero pouted pulling on your dress impatiently, “Nero leave your mother be.” Loki scowled the six year old picking him up in his arms, “we understand you want to see your baby sister you have told us eight times in the last hour.” You laughed at them both carefully rocking your newborn while the boys fussed. 

“You must be very quiet because she is sleeping okay?” Nero bobbed his head and bounced in Loki’s arms; Loki let him lean to get a better look at her face and pulled him back after a few seconds. 

“She doesn’t look like me,” Nero observed in a disappointed tone of voice, “Papa and I don’t look like you but you still love us don’t you?" 

Nero thought about your words for a minute before replying, "I didn’t say I didn’t love her I just said she doesn’t look like me.”

 Loki rolled his eyes in amusement from his adopted son and rubbed Nero’s white hair, “Come, let’s let mama and the baby rest okay we can play outside in the garden.” Nero didn’t look too sold on the offer, “All the baby does is rest when is she going to be old enough to play too? And when will I get my mama back?”

 Loki looked at you to answer the question, “Nero, we talked about this you have to share mama and papa with Sol from now on, remember?" 

 Loki set him down and let him walk over to you, "Lemme see her again,” You complied moving to a sitting position where you were on his height level. He leaned real close to her looking her over and whispering to her, “I’ll share mama and papa with you and right now you get to be the boss but when you start to be fun I get first pick on the games we play." 

He pecked her on the head and waited patiently for Loki to walk with him to the garden. "Good luck with that,” you spoke teasing Loki, he leaned down giving you a kiss earning a yuck from Nero. 

“He’s your son,” you said watching them leave hand in hand, Loki turned around for a minute with a joking tone, “Oh, I know that for sure.”

if it wasn’t clear reader and Loki adopted a five year old (now six) right after the first paragraph. -Eira

#Loki #Lover #Father #Submitted one shot #submission #the infertile queen #written-loki-imagines

[caelystrae]

Don’t You Love Me Now?

wow this acct is back from the dead after a yr bc its @letanafuck week and i plan on... hopefully... writing some kinks that i wouldnt on my main (but still horny) acct

todays prompt was old/young which tbh ive written abt on multiple accts before (two ghosts on here and scars & shadow both on my main) but u know.  i gotta let ana fuck.  so heres more new Content ig

ao3

Pairing: Anamercy

Rating: M

Words: 3.5k+

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested. Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is.

Or,

Angela may be getting older, but Ana realizes that she herself is just plain getting old, and isn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Aging was something that snuck up on Ana—a grey hair here, an age spot there, change so gradual that she did not notice it in herself, never taking the time to observe any one change in particular until, one day, she realized that she had come to look entirely different—and this does not bother her, particularly.  If she cared about any of it, she would have taken more note as it were happening, but it is one thing to recognize signs of aging in oneself, and quite another to see them in one’s lover, particularly when said lover is notably younger than oneself.

When Ana began to notice wrinkles around her own eyes, it did not bother her at all—if anything, she was pleasantly surprised to realize that, despite the Omnic Crisis, and all that followed, she had lived long enough to have any—but it does bother her, shortly upon being reunited, when she sees those same lines around Angela’s eyes.  Were anyone to ask her why, she could not say, because she does not find them unattractive, nor is it particularly surprising that Angela might have a laugh line or two at her age, but there is a nagging worry there, something she cannot quite put a name to which bothers her nonetheless.

That same feeling returns two weeks later, when, while Angela is looking for clothing for some event or another, Ana notices that one of her favorite dresses, memorable if only for how its bright color stands in contrast to the rest of her wardrobe, is conspicuously absent.  In response to Ana’s inquiring as to where it went, Angela just laughs, shrugging off the question by saying that in the past three years or so she went up a size or two, and that she does not mind it much, given her age, thinks it is only to be expected.  There is little reason to press the issue, particularly given that Ana quite likes Angela’s current weight, and does not want to give the impression that she feels otherwise, but still there is that something about the statement.

Another three weeks go by and Angela is frowning into the mirror at herself, fingers pushing her bangs out of the way so she can more carefully examine the roots of her hair.  While Ana cannot see precisely what her lover is doing, from her place outside the doorway of the bathroom, she has a fairly good idea.

“Staring won’t make the greys go away,” she says, and watches in some amusement as Angela drops her hands quickly, almost guiltily, turning at once to face her.  That amusement fades quickly when she sees the expression on Angela’s face, far from happy.

“Are they that obvious?” she sounds almost resigned as she says it, crossing an arm over herself in a way that Ana knows, by now, means she is nervous as well, “I hoped that maybe they wouldn’t be so obvious, in the blonde, but—”

“They’re not,” Ana reassures her, before she can continue the thought, “I wouldn’t have even brought it up if you didn’t seem so worried about it.”

“Ah,” says Angela, but it doesn’t seem to calm her any, for she bites her lip and turns her gaze away, towards the shower in the corner.  There is a considerable pause before she speaks again—they have known each other long enough, by now, that Ana knows when to push, and when to wait—but speak she does, “I don’t like it,” says she, “Feeling like I’m getting old.  Before you came back I was the oldest woman here, you know.”

Before speaking Ana shifts her weight, rests against the frame of the door, making sure that there is enough room that if Angela wanted to, she could push past, will not feel trapped during the ensuing conversation.  If her lover were to ask, that is her reasoning—not that she needed time to gather her thoughts, to choose carefully what to say next, although that is the truth.  It would be a lie, she knows, to say that Angela is not getting older, because certainly she is nearing middle age, and it would do neither of them any good to pretend otherwise, but that Angela is older than she once was does not make her old, particularly not in Ana’s eyes.  It clicks, then, what has been bothering her: for all that Angela is clearly older, she is still far younger than Ana herself; if Angela is old, what does that make Ana?

“You’re still younger than I was when we met,” says she, and it is true: eighteen years later, and Angela is still five years from the age Ana was then, even though just a few months under half of her life—and less than a third of Ana’s—has passed.

That does not seem to comfort Angela in the slightest, as she is still staring resolutely in the direction of the shower curtain when she speaks next.  “That doesn’t make me young,” she argues, and she is not wrong, necessarily, but certainly she cannot seem old to Ana, who only recently began to think of herself as being old.

“No,” agrees Ana, “It certainly doesn’t.”  Another pause between them, before Ana asks, carefully, “Is that such a bad thing, though?”

The hand Angela does not have pulled across herself now grips the sink so hard her already pale knuckles turn white, “You tell me.”

“I’m sure I can’t know what you mean,” Ana tells her, and tries not to sound too sharp, even if the comment immediately puts her on the defensive.  Outside of the subject of work, of their differing interpretation of what is right and what is wrong, the two of them rarely argue, but on the rare occasion that they do, neither is inclined to mince words.

“What are we doing here, Ana?  Sneaking around, never talking about our relationship in front of anyone, keeping everything a secret the way we always have,” she turns, suddenly, to look Ana in the eye, gaze sharp, “It made sense then—with how young I was, and you being so much older—but now?  I’m not young anymore, Ana.  Why are we still hiding, unless we don’t know what else to be?”

“Angela,” she begins more sharply than she wants to, pauses and takes a breath before continuing, “There was a rather stringent anti-fraternization policy then, if you’ve forgotten, and you haven’t made any mention of our relationship since my return, either.  I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Angela opens her mouth as if to object, but Ana is not done, has more to say about the matter, “And your age didn’t have anything to do with my attraction to you—if anything, I was worried I was too old for you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Angela says, and if she were not so obviously angry it might sound like a plea, “You’ve been strangely quiet every time I’ve mentioned my age since you got back.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”  In her anger, she had straightened up, moved forwards, but now she shrinks into herself again, leans back against the sink when Ana, too surprised by the turn of conversation to argue, does not respond quickly enough, “You don’t have to stay, if you don’t find me attractive anymore.”  When she says this, her eyes flick over Ana’s shoulder in the direction of the door.

“I’m not lying,” Ana says, trying not to be annoyed by the accusation, or at least not to show annoyance.  “It’s just… become harder to ignore, recently, how very much older than you I am, and always have been.  If either of us is too old for the other, it isn’t you.”

Angela laughs, then, relaxing at last, and grins at Ana when she says, “I daresay that’s part of your appeal.”

Hearing that should not surprise Ana, really, not with how eager to please Angela has always been, the way she flushes when Ana calls her a good girl, the age of the various celebrities Angela has mentioned finding attractive before, but it does surprise Ana, nonetheless—perhaps because she always avoided thinking about how young Angela was, preferring to focus, instead, on all the ways in which they were equals.

She really does not know what to make of this.

(Whatever allusions Angela might have made in the past

“That’s… interesting,” is what she settles on, after a considerable pause.

“Does it bother you?” Angela asks her, and Ana is surprised to find that it does not.

“No,” says she, without hesitation, but then, “It’s probably something we should discuss, though.”

“Probably,” Angela agrees easily, and then, stepping forwards to close the gap between them, “Later, though.  For now,” she moves a hand upwards, cupping Ana’s jaw and leaning down just slightly so that they are level with one another, “I can show you just how much I appreciate your current age.”

Who is Ana to say no?

In the years prior to their separation, Angela was never interested in taking control, always content to allow Ana to initiate sex and decide the pace; in the ensuing years she has grown bolder, although she has never said why, and Ana has never asked.  Seven years ago, Ana would not have wanted this, to be lead backwards and then pushed down onto the bed, for she had so little control of the rapidly unravelling Overwatch that she felt she needed to take it where she could—but now, older still, and maybe even wiser, if she is lucky, it does not seem like such a bad thing to let Angela take control for a short while.

(There is also the fact that it is easier, these days, for her to not be the only active partner.  She can only kneel or thrust or do whatever else for so long before she grows sore, and needs to change positions, and Angela stepping up and being less passive is certainly beneficial for the both of them, in that regard.)

So she allows Angela to divest her of her clothing, even if she is moving not nearly so quickly as Ana knows she could, nimble surgeon’s fingers pretending to fumble with the fly of Ana’s trousers, and toying with the hem of her shirt.  Ana wants to complain, to urge Angela to just hurry up, to joke that she is not getting any younger, anything if it would make Angela move faster—but she does not know, yet, how far she can push when Angela takes charge, and rather wants to see how their evening will turn out.

Eventually, it seems Angela has had enough with her teasing, and finishes pulling Ana’s clothes from her, kneeling above her on the bed, a knee just outside either hip.  Ana shivers, from the cold and the scrutiny both.  It is one thing to know that she has aged, and to accept it, but quite another to have just discussed it, and to find oneself wholly bare before another person.  When Angela looks at her she will see scars she does not know the origin of, for they have not discussed them since Ana’s return, including a rather grotesque one along her side, a jagged, light depression against the surrounding tissue, will see breasts that never returned to their original firmness after breastfeeding, and have only grown saggier with age, will see an abdomen which was once well muscled and that now, while still strong, does not look so.

(Angela, too, has changed, has more moles in more places than she ever did when she and Ana were first together, and from this angle her weight gain is more visible—even if it is difficult to know which changes in her silhouette are attributable to HRT and which are aging—but Ana is not looking at those things, is watching Angela’s expression as her own body is scrutinized.)

“Beautiful,” she breathes, before bending down to kiss Ana’s neck, one hand moving to cup a breast, and when she says it like that, Ana can believe it.  She lingers, with each kiss, moving slowly downwards towards Ana’s breasts, murmuring gentle praises between each kiss, stunning, gorgeous, strong, and it may have been decades since last Ana last let sweet words sweep her off her feet, but the increase in her heartrate is not purely due to arousal.

Perfect, Angela tells her before wrapping her mouth around a nipple.  Normally, she would only tease at it, licking it and flicking at it with her tongue, but perhaps emboldened by their earlier conversation, and her admission, this time she sucks at it in earnest, and Ana threads one hand in her hair to encourage her to continue, the other reaching down between the both of them so that she can touch herself.

These days, it takes time for her to be wet enough for a partner to comfortably touch her, and any embarrassment she might once have felt when tending to her own needs during sex has long since faded—and it certainly does not hurt that she knows Angela finds it arousing, a fact which shows as Angela redoubles her efforts at Ana’s breasts.

For several minutes, they are in a holding pattern, nothing escalating between them, and pleasant as it is, Ana finds her patience is beginning to dwindle when suddenly the timing of a particularly hard suck from Angela and her own thumb pressing against her clit coincide, and her hips roll involuntarily, breath hitching in response.

That, finally, is enough to spur Angela into action again, and after a brief—but necessary—pause to fumble around in her bedside drawer in search of lube, continues moving down Ana’s body, lovely whispered into the large pockmark left by shrapnel just below her ribcage, wonderful as Angela’s lips find her cesarean scar, and mine as she moves her hand out of the way and Angela finally, finally reaches her labia.

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested.  Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is.  It may be a surprise to look down and see Angela’s face amongst white pubic hair, but her heartbeat still picks up when Angela traces around her clit in little circles, and she still feels that familiar pull of arousal when she feels Angela’s free hand begins to creep up the inside of her thigh.

(There are, of course, some small concessions made for age—that Angela is careful not to move her hips beyond what is now their maximum comfortable flexibility being the most prominent adjustment.  And while once Angela might have dedicated a good deal of time to teasing, she does not do so any longer—it takes Ana longer, now, to come, even with greater stimulation, although those single orgasms are stronger than the multiple ones she might have enjoyed when younger—concentrating immediately on Ana’s clit.)

Years of practice have ensured that Angela knows well what it is that Ana likes, and it is not terribly long before she feels herself beginning to draw close to an orgasm, hips moving in time against her lover’s mouth.  If she were the type to beg, she might say more, or please, or something to that effect, but she has never been the type to ask permission for anything, and particularly not permission to come, when she has always worked at least as hard as her lovers to ensure that she orgasms.

Instead she presses insistently at the back of Angela’s head with one hand, pulling at her hair in the way her lover enjoys, brings her free hand up to her breasts, tenses her thighs in anticipation, holds her breath and—

—Does not come.

A deep breath in, and out, and she tries again to let go, good eye closing this time as she focuses inwards, tries only to feel, not the sweat on her skin or the cold on her nipples—still damp—but the tension of her approaching orgasm, the pressure of Angela’s mouth on her, the warmth and wetness and pleasure.

She is right there, and she thinks yes, please yes, I need—

—Yet, still, she does not come.

After some thirty seconds, she has to breathe properly again, and she untenses her thighs for a moment as she resists the urge to huff in annoyance; normally, this would be enough, and she still feels like she is there, like she could come at any moment, but for all that she tries the orgasm which is so close eludes her.

Angela must notice something, her frustration or the movement or the way her grip on her lover’s hair tightened and then relaxed because she looks up, for a moment, asking, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ana is quick to reply, and then, embarrassed, but firm enough that it is a request and absolutely not a question, “I just need a bit more, sometimes, now that I’m older, so…”

“Ah,” Angela says, and then, “I do have a vibrator, if you’d like me to get it out?”

“No,” Ana says perhaps a bit too quickly.  From personal experience, she knows that she is very particular about the settings she likes, and doubts that taking the time to find the right configuration on Angela’s vibrator is worthwhile.  “You don’t actually have to do anything differently, it just might take a bit longer than usual.”

(In truth, the added sensation of something inside her might speed things up quite a bit, but even after transitioning, Angela is not terribly fond of penetrating anyone with anything, and Ana does not want to make her feel as if she needs to do anything—they can discuss it another time, when there is less pressure.)

When Angela begins again, she is more forceful in her movements, focusing more on Ana’s clit, and it is nearly at the point of being too much, of Ana wanting to ask her to slow down or ease up—but she is so, so close.  It is all she can do to stay put, to not pull away from the intensity of the sensation, because she feels again that she is right at the edge, and she does not want to lose the orgasm by twitching away at the wrong moment.

A minute passes, another.  Ana tosses her head and fights the urge to whimper, to beg.

Another minute, and Angela rubs soothing circles on her thigh, nuzzles closer into Ana, reaches her other hand to try and hold Ana’s, the way she likes to when she comes—and nothing about the sensation of it is terribly different, but suddenly Ana is there, tipping over the edge and trying not to buck her hips too hard into Angela’s face.

The unexpectedness of the orgasm makes it feel almost torn from her, and she is surprised by the intensity of it—though perhaps she should not be, given how long she teetered at the edge.  Angela helps her to ride it out, and when she is finished moves up the bed to lie next to her, propping her head up on one elbow and idly stroking the side of her face with the other hand.

After a moment to catch her breath, she turns so she can better look at Angela, who is at her blind side, “Your turn?” she asks, not certain if Angela—still fully clothed—will want to do anything, but more than willing should she prove amenable to the idea.

“Once you’re one recuperating, sure.”

“Recuperating?” Ana demands, and then, teasingly, “Just how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Angela says with a smirk, “I seem to recall someone saying just earlier today how you were much too old for an only slightly-old person such as myself.  And you do seem rather out of breath.”

Ana clicks her tongue, and rolls on top of Angela without any warning, pinning her to the mattress, “I’ll show you out of breath,” says she, using one hand to move a now compliant Angela’s hands above her head.  She leans in as if to kiss her lover, waiting until Angela’s eyes have drifted shut, face pointing upwards, to release her grip, instead bringing both hands suddenly down to Angela’s sides to tickle her.

The sensation is no doubt dulled by the fact that Angela is still wearing one of her many thick sweaters, but she shrieks nonetheless at the sudden sensation, unable to squirm away, pinned as she is.

Perhaps they are, both of them, growing older, but that hardly means that they need to grow up, nor change in any other way.  They can be happy just as they are.

#anamercy #ana amari #angela ziegler #i was gonna write mommy kink for this but u are what u eat so im pussy #later in the week... i hope

[qvintcssence]

QUESTIONNAIRE...

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? Tanner Ashlyn Biel

Where and when were you born? I was born on October 17th, 1989 in Madison, Georgia. The city is gorgeous, though I can’t say I miss it. 

Who are/were your parents?  My parents were both patrons of science. It’s not something that I’m particularly proud to say, but I suppose you could say it runs in the family. My mother, Shawna— she was a biologist, and my father, who was named William, a chemist. They were brilliant, truly. I’m not alone in regarding them as two of the greatest minds the world has yet seen as their practice and experimentation has stretched far beyond the typical boundaries of science past, present, and perhaps even the future to come.   We could have learned a lot from them, it’s true, but their practices were unethical and dangerous to anyone who encountered them. Their test groups were always children, hapless and defenseless; the innocent and the naive. Accomplished as they were, my parents weren’t good people. I know that better than anyone. But what can be done when the monsters under your bed turn out to be in front of you all along? I’m not sorry that they’re gone. 

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?  Biologically speaking, I have no siblings. My parents gave birth only to myself, but for all intents and purposes, I did grow up with three other children— Micah, Anthony, and James. I’ve recently reconnected with Anthony, but I haven’t seen Micah in quite some time. James... Unfortunately he has passed. Apart from where I am now, they’re as close to family as I’ve ever had.   

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. Currently, I live with my girlfriend Skylar Yang and her brother Nicolas. It’s a three bedroom apartment which has worked out quite well considering Anthony has recently taken up residence with us. He’s new to town and there’s plenty of room for the four of us, so that’s nice. We have this wonderful kitchen as well. Skylar is often on the go so she can be rather neglectful of it, but I put it to good use. As it turns out, Anthony is quite the breakfast cuisinier so  it’s being well cared for. And with the development from best friends to girlfriends, the transition to sharing a room was unexpectedly simple.  As for my roommates, they are my family. We may not share the same DNA, but they are the most important people in my life. Even before we started dating, Skylar was my best friend. She’s spontaneous, and reckless, and can be quite loud when she wants to be, but she’s incredible. She’s braver than I’ve ever been and kind. So kind. It’s true that she can be somewhat abrasive at times, but her heart sees the world as the way its meant to be seen. She’s reserved though. She guards her heart and surpasses her feelings in the best way that she can, but beauty has a way of always shining through, and Skylar is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. A bit overdramatic, but I love her.  I love the way she loves her family, so fierce and unwavering. There is no doubt in my mind where her loyalties lie, because when she loves, she loves so fully and so completely that there can never be anyone else. She has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room— the only one that matters, and it’s so special and rare to meet someone like that. You can tell that she and Nicolas are related, because you can see some of her inside of him too.  Nicolas is such a sweetheart. He gets a kick out of tormenting his sister, but it’s never malicious and never fueled by anger or hate. He loves her every bit as much as she loves him, and it’s a special bond that you don’t always see between siblings. I’ve always thought he had a bit of a crush on me, and if that’s true, he’s taking his sister’s betrayal quite well. He’s happy for us, and he’s happy for her. Just as she would for him, he’d go to the ends of the Earth to make her smile, and I love that about him. He’s a gentle soul and witty too! I enjoy spending time with him, even when we get up to no good. Like Skylar, he’s good at hiding his feelings and bottling things up. I’m beginning to think it’s a trend in our home as even Anthony struggles with emotion.  Anthony and I grew up a bit differently, though I wouldn’t be inclined to say that that be better or worse than what the Yangs went through. We were both so young and we went through a lot together. We lost a lot together, and in many ways, that’s a bond that can’t be shaken. For years, I thought I had broken it, and yet he’s here and all is forgiven as if there was nothing to forgive in the first place. Anthony doesn’t like to let anyone see what he’s feeling. I suppose vulnerability isn’t something he is comfortable feeling, but I’m enjoying the opportunity to become more reacquainted with him. Like Nic, he’s gentle and it reflects in his eyes. He’s got a kind smile that lights up the world around him, if only he’d be willing to show it just a little bit more.  They’re the best people I know. 

What is your occupation? As of right now, I’m a dancer at the Pixie Lounge. It’s enjoyable but not particularly compelling. I’m considering a career move soon, but whether or not that remains feasible has yet to be seen. 

Write a full physical description of yourself. Well this is rather invasive, isn't it? If you must know, I’m 5′4″ tall and approximately 110 pounds. You could say that I’m small and compact in that sense, but I’m only two inches shorter than Sky. As you might have seen, I’m rather pasty and white but my complexion pairs well with my brown hair and hazel eyes. I haven’t marred my body with tattoos, though I do have scars sprinkled about my body— the occupational hazard of being a lab rat. I’ve lost track of them all, but none are overly large or distinguished. The most noticeable ones are the ones on my stomach and back, and the one on the back of my neck near my hairline.  As for dress, I’d consider my style to be more among the “preppy” sort. I don’t enjoy jeans, but I do enjoy colored pants and leggings. Skirts, dresses, and slacks are all included in my wardrobe as well as a wide variety of blouses to match. Jackets and sweater vests are among my favorite attire, though I won’t say no to a sweatshirt from time to time. I’m not a huge advocate for ‘hoodies’ though, as I prefer hoods to cease from existence. Beanies, on the other hand, are wonderful.  I tend to stay away from tennis shoes or sneakers, but you will catch me with a pair of converse from time to time. It depends on the occasion. More often, you’ll find me in a pair of comfortables boots, loafers, keds or flats. Never heels. 

To which social class do you belong? That depends. Are we considering household? If only I am be considered, I’d say I belong to the middle class. That said, Skylar belongs to the upper class and as the apartment we share belongs to her, it can be argued that we live in a more wealthy environment. 

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? I’m allergic to orange juice which can be a mild inconvenience when drinking at bars. Additionally, I don’t like to be touched and if this happens unexpectedly or in large quantities, I am prone to panic attacks. However, I wouldn’t consider this a disease or physical weakness, and it is quite manageable. 

Are you right or left-handed? I am right handed which is perfect considering my girlfriend is left handed. It might sound strange, but I like that we can hold hands while eating cereal. 

What does your voice sound like? American, I’d expect. I was born in the southern state of Alabama, but I’ve never spoken as such. The idea of using ‘y’all’ is appalling, and all traces of a southern accent have long since been lost. That said, I don’t exactly have a New York, Boston, or Jersey accent either, so I suspect the closest identifier would be that of which one might hear in mid-western regions. 

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? I tend to use “I expect,” “I suppose,” “Indeed,” “quite,” and “rather” frequently. My vocabulary, however, is vast.  

What do you have in your pockets? I currently have a set of folded up, unused, tissues for my ventures outdoors and a grand total of thirty-five cents from the market earlier. Now that I’m writing this, I wish it were more exciting. 

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? I expect this is a question to ask others rather than myself. After all, my quirks, mannerisms, habits, etc. are all my own, yes? Therefore they cannot be strange or annoying because they are mine.  Others might suggest that I’m rather ‘wordy.’ I’ve been known to ramble from time to time, you see... 

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? Unpleasant. 

What is your earliest memory? I remember many things from childhood but most prominent is the memory of my nanny teaching me how to ride a bike. I fell off and had to have three stitches. 

How much schooling have you had? Because of my unusual IQ, my schooling has been quite nontraditional. I completed high school at age ten, re-attended at age thirteen, and then moved on to obtain my PHDs in biochemistry and molecular biophysics, law, and anthropology. So to answer your question, I’d say a fair amount.   

Did you enjoy school? Yes! Immensely so.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? When speaking of survival, I learned most of my skills while drifting. As a child runaway, staying in one place for too long was dangerous and exposing myself made it extremely difficult to stay “under the radar,” so to speak. My goal was to become invisible so I had to pick up life skills as I went. The term most closely associated to what I was doing is “squatting.” Trial and error took me far and my gifts made it easy to research and learn.   Social skills were harder. I’m in the process of learning new things every day, but thankfully, I have Skylar as a guide. 

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. No, I didn’t. 

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? I didn’t agree with my parents or what they were doing, but having Micah, Anthony, and James around gave me a broader sense of purpose. I felt like the “mother hen” as one might say. I loved them and I only wanted to protect them. We were all each other had so whenever someone was fighting, we were all miserable. 

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? Free. Freedom from my parents and their lab was all I could think about back then. Occasionally, I’d imagine life as a dinosaur, but that was rather implausible.  

As a child, what were your favorite activities? I enjoyed playing with the boys as a child. We didn’t meet any others. It was just the four of us for so long, and on our down time, we would play on bikes or run around together. It was the closest thing to normalcy we had. 

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? Though I didn’t always understand why, I was unusually intelligent and eager to learn as a child. I was starving and hungry for information so I did a lot of reading. For a while, it was lonely being just me in a lab full of adults, poking and prodding me for samples. Upon reflection, I likely used it as a means of escape.  I was never very affectionate. Even then I needed to grow comfortable around someone before feeling the urge to hug them, and that sort of behavior didn’t arrive until long after Anthony and Micah had joined us. I was withdrawn, but eventually, we realized that we were in this situation together and we began to bond. After that, I spoke quite often and uncensored. 

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? I don’t reckon ‘popular’ is an accurate term for it. I was a person of interest. You see, I was the oldest of four and the others looked up to me. Anthony was constantly trying to impress me, but there was no one else. Staff came and went, and as the daughter of the leading scientists, keeping me somewhat content was a priority, but beyond that, I was sheltered. 

When and with whom was your first kiss? I had my first kiss with a boy named Drew. It was awkward, and I can’t say I fancied it, but that has less to do with his ability and more to do with the fact that I’m a lesbian.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? Indeed I am! Though I won’t be for much longer. The notion of sex is rather nerve wracking, isn’t it?

If you are a supernatural being (can include Gifted), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. Theory dictates that I was born with it as all gifted are, but I cannot confirm this with any sense of certainty. Any evidence that could have explained its origin has since been lost, and as I grew up predominantly in a lab, it’s difficult to determine if I was there due to my abilities or if my abilities were given to me there. I wish I could explain the specifics, but all I can say with utmost certainty is that I’ve been studied and experimented on since as far back as I can remember. Any data that was collected, however, was lost in the fire that followed the explosion. 

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? If I had to pick just one, I’d be inclined to choose the destruction of my parent’s lab. For without it’s destruction, I would have remained there, quarantined and contained to a cell. I never would have met Sky, and meeting her is the only other thing that comes close. I know how to survive. She taught me how to live. 

Who has had the most influence on you? Referring to everything I’ve written above, the answer is clearly Skylar. 

What do you consider your greatest achievement? My PHDs are rather impressive, but more difficult is any time I walk into Dust and chat with someone that isn’t Sky. 

What is your greatest regret? Now that I’m beginning to settle down and fear commitment a little less, my biggest regret is that I let my fear of attachment prevent me from following the path to paleontology sooner. 

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I try to avoid evil, but I did kick a cat once. It was an accident!  I killed my parents.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? I think you’ll find it difficult to find any record at all. Being a certified genius has its benefits. 

When was the time you were the most frightened? Talking about sex with Sky tends to frighten me, but when Sky told me she was working for Royce Industries and putting herself back in that position... the fear and anxiety was crippling. 

What is the most embarrassing thing to ever to happen to you? On my second night at the Pixie Lounge, I was so startled by someone touching me that I fell off my pole. Fortunately, it was only Reid, but still... I rambled about the intricacies of the winter holidays for about an hour after. 

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? What a strange question. I suppose I’d go for a career in paleontology or consider keeping in touch with Micah and Anthony, but the simple fact is— I like where I am now. I like my job (for the most part), and Anthony is back in my life. I’m dating a beautiful woman whom I love more than anything, and mentally speaking, I’m doing better than I ever was. We’ve all seen time travel fiction. As misguided as it seems, there is theory behind the butterfly effect. Changing any one thing from my past could alter my present, and it’s not worth the risk. 

What is your best memory? I’ve been making lots of good memories lately, but Skylar kissing me is probably the best. As marred as the memory is, it changed the way I view my future. 

What is your worst memory? My worst memories are easier to distinguish and saying goodbye to Anthony and Micah forever is among the top of them. 

PART 4: BELIEFS AND OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? I prefer the terms ‘realistic’ and ‘rational’.  To say optimistic or pessimistic depends on the circumstance and/or the person you ask. 

What is your greatest fear? If I were to be asked four years ago, I would have said getting close to people and becoming emotionally vulnerable. I wouldn’t have had to think about it at all, but this has since evolved. Now, I have someone to love— several someones, even— and losing them is fear like I have never known. 

What are your religious views? I believe in science and am therefore labeled an ‘atheist’. 

What are your political views? My political values are more so aligned with the democratic party. However, American politics are built on a throne of lies, and it is rare that anyone involved can be fully trusted.   

What are your views on sex? The notion is lovely, and I’d very much like to have it one day. 

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? Yes. I’d rather not resort to such methods, but should it become necessary for one’s survival or the protection of others, so be it. At the core of every being is a survivor; a fighter. If you must evoke that, don’t hesitate. 

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Hate based on mindless notions. People choose to hide behind their beliefs in order to maintain their own ways of life without any regard towards others. Expelling hate towards any group, community, race, identity, etc. for the sole purpose of expelling hate is inexcusable and evil of the most transparent sort. 

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? I can’t say that I do. I mean no disrespect or offense to anyone that might, but all love is true at the time of its existence. Whether or not that love is designed to last depends on the people involved and their specific compatibilities. Simply put? It’s a measure of probability and science that dwindles down to chemical reaction and chance. 

What do you believe makes a successful life? A successful life is driven by one’s ability to find happiness. When you’re content with what you have, do any misgivings matter? I’d argue not. That isn’t to say that one has to stop wanting, per say, but when you can end your day content with who you’re with or what you have, life is good. 

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings? For the most part, I’d argue yes. I understand myself quite well and that, in itself, makes me honest. It’s not as though I lie to others. I speak my mind quite frequently, but there are things about my life that I prefer to keep private. Because of this, Skylar and possibly Anthony are the only people that know me this well. 

Do you have any biases or prejudices? I imagine that many would say that I am biased for the gifted merely because I am gifted. I don’t necessarily believe this train of thought though as anyone with basic human compassion could comprehend the rights and wrongs of said prejudices. So instead, I’m going to say no. I don’t believe so. 

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? So many atrocious topics come to mind! Eating anchovies on pizza for one, but the more I consider it, the more I realize that there is likely nothing I wouldn’t do for Skylar Yang’s safety. I’m what the kids would consider a “weak gay.” It said so on urban dictionary! 

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? Given my past, it’s proven that I would go to extremes for Micah and Anthony, but added to the list are the Yangs. I won’t tolerate anyone going after my family. 

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? Though I try to avoid social interaction in general, my policy is to remain polite and considerate during all conversation. Leaving distance between myself and the speaker while also remaining engaged is crucial to success. However, in extreme cases involving men named AJ Royce, I have been known to lose tact and temper. 

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? Skylar and Anthony are the most important people in my life. When I first ran into Sky, it was chance. I was unaware of what our friendship would become, but over time, it strengthened and blossomed into this overwhelming, indestructible, thing. That is largely due to the simple fact that Skylar puts up with all my quirks and differences. She never gave up, even when she probably should have, and now (as I’ve said many, many, times above), she’s changed the way I see myself and the way I see my future. Our future.  Anthony is similar in the sense that he has also never given up. I’ve said my goodbye. I left him standing on the doorstep with his parents, fully intent on disappearing forever. And yet, he searched. He searched for years until he found me again, and that kind of loyalty and dedication engulfs you. We’re both older and wiser now, but it’s as if no time has passed at all. He’s still my little brother, and I cannot help but realize that I’ve missed so much already. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I can’t bear to miss anything more. Grown as he is, there’s still so much to learn; so much to understand. We know each other’s past. They’re intertwined and locked together in vice. After everything we’ve been through together, it’s impossible not to matter. I wish I had understood that before.   

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? I realize that my answers are seemingly repetitive, but my reasons for respecting Sky above all else are warranted. I don’t say that because she is my girlfriend, but because she is a fighter. She’s taken on the military, taken down Royce, been betrayed by the many, many, men in her life, and still, she’s found the strength and courage to look after her brothers and give them a good life. It’s awing, and admirable, and brave. Not many could survive what she’s survived and still find their way. She’s there for Nic, she’s there for Brenden, and she’s there for me. 

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. Anthony, Skylar, and Nic are my closest friends, though Skylar has earned the rank of best. As stated above, I am fortunate enough to live with them. I’m rather anti-social as people tend to invoke my anxiety, but Will’s alright. He can be somewhat of a jerk, but he’s almost as intelligent as I am so it’s nice to converse from time to time.   (For descriptions, see Part I, Question 5.)

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. We’re not exactly married, but we do live together and share a bedroom. Did you know that that’s half-way to common-law in some states? Alabama, Texas, and Colorado to name a few. And as I’m sure you’ve gathered by means of deductive reasoning, I’m courting Sky. If I ever lost her, I’d lose myself. I’m sure that’s unhealthy, as many might point out, but a world without Skylar Yang is not a world I want to be in.   (For descriptions, see Part I, Question 5.)

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. I have, but only once! Fortunately, that time is now. It’s an odd little story, really. I was spying on the man I believed to by spying on us, and it was then that Skylar decided to tell me that she had hired him to protect us. She told me that she had accepted a job at Royce, and I was so upset; more upset than I’d ever been, especially when the impending fight came to a head. I won’t bore you with the details, but words were jumbled, tears were shed, and truths were exposed.  Apparently, she had liked me for a long while, and I was too damaged to see. I asked my questions, we talked, and then we kissed. Quite a lot for our first time doing it... It’s new, but I’m hoping for the best. 

What do you look for in a potential lover? Some traits include a five-foot-six brunette that is half-asian and named Skylar Yang. 

How close are you to your family? I’m alive and they’re dead so unless I express a sudden desire to become a gravedigger, not very. I am very close to my chosen family, however. 

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?  I have not started my own family nor have I ever considered it. To be frank, babies and children frighten me. They’re so incredibly fragile not to mention impressionable. What if I break them? Do people realize how often they emotionally scar their kids?  Having children of my own has always seemed futile even when excluding the haunting elements of my past. I’m unconvinced that I could ever give them the love and nurture they deserve, but the future is no longer as cut and dry as I once made it to be. My relationship status has recently changed, and I have to consider her wishes as well. Because of that, I can’t possibly know what the future may hold. 

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? There are far too many missing variables to appropriately answer this question. For example, what kind of help do I seek? Where am I located in my time of need? Do I have time to remedy the situation? Generally speaking, I tend to go to Sky. There is nothing I can’t discuss with her, but if I’m seeking a specific skill that neither of us possess, I may turn to Will, Nic, or Anthony depending on what that skill might be. 

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? I trust people to try to protect me. Whether or not they will be successful is unknown. I’ve had bad experiences with people who were meant to protect me, and that tends to make this aspect difficult. I don’t like to rely on others for survival, but if it came down to it, I would likely trust Sky.  Given her background, she knows how to shoot a gun and took an entire building down with her bare hands. There is nothing she won’t do to protect the ones she loves.  

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? It’s rather presumptuous to assume, but I’d like to think that Anthony, Nic, and Sky would miss me. Will would miss my mind and as an extension of myself, that counts. 

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? AJ Royce, full offense intended.  Some may argue that I’m bitter, but he got Skylar into a dangerous situation and betrayed her trust. The betrayal resulted in her injury, and the worst part is that he refuses to admit that he did anything wrong. Instead of reflecting on his choices, he tries to turn the fault on her and then makes her feel bad about things he did.  I understand that his reasoning was valid, but having made his own choices, it would be prudent to admit his fault in it. The simple truth is that she wouldn’t have been in the situation to begin with if it weren’t for him, and he fails to realize that changing your mind at the end, doesn’t erase the path he took to get there. It’s excruciating. 

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? I prefer to avoid conflict with most people unless they have really hurt someone I care about. Otherwise it’s wasted energy. 

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? I prefer to avoid social situations altogether. Conversing with people can be quite frightening.  

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? There is little that I like less, to be quite honest. People make me nervous enough all on their own. Is there not enough pressure to converse without the added stress of groups? It’s overwhelming and in groups of that size, it’s nearly impossible to avoid being touched. I realize that it seems insignificant, but those touches induce anxiety and panic within me. It’s not pleasant.  

Do you care what others think of you? Not particularly, no. The friends that I’ve managed to make seem to like me, and that’s more than I ever expected. 

PART 6: LIKES AND DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? I like to doodle and make comics, put together models of dinosaurs, read, run, and play video games for fun. 

What is your most treasured possession? I’ve recently acquired a five foot model of a tyrannosaurus rex! I’m very much looking forward to composing it. 

What is your favorite color? Midnight blue and deep purple. 

What is your favorite food? I enjoy avocado, shrimp, and pasta, though not all together. 

What, if anything, do you like to read? I rather enjoy nonfiction as it’s a wonderful opportunity to learn, but I’ll read almost any genre. Celebrity memoirs can be painful, but there’s always something to be said about them, regardless.  

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? I enjoy playing trivia with my girlfriend even though William likes to believe he’s smarter than me. Additionally, video games can be quite enthralling. 

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? I enjoy a good drink even though I’m hyperaware of what it does to one’s liver. Social interactions become slightly easier when I’m a bit more relaxed, but it’s also a good time. Does one require a reason? 

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? Saturday nights are typically popular among the lounges, so I’m usually working a pole and avoiding the grimy touches of intoxicated men. 

What makes you laugh? I admit that I don’t much think about it. If I want to laugh, I laugh. It’s a bodily response to things we find humorous at any given time, and oddly enough, that changes from experience to experience. If I had to pinpoint the usual source though, I’d say silliness. That’s not to mistaken for ignorance, but instead, that feeling you get when you’re entirely carefree and having a good time, surrounded by the people you love. It’s wonderful, but I also enjoy a good youtube video. I like to research the reaction videos of players playing horror games for the first time. 

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? I am offended by people that irrationally hate dinosaurs! 

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? Google is always an interesting place to be. Shall that count as reading? 

How do you deal with stress? When I’m dealing with overwhelming stress, I like to run. It’s an excellent source of stress relief, you know! 

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? Having a plan is the only way to ensure you reach your intended goal! 

What are your pet peeves? I dislike when people insist on having the correct answers when I know for a fact that their answers are wrong. 

PART 7: SELF IMAGES AND ETC.

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? While I work unpredictable evening shifts, I do make an effort to maintain a working schedule. Lately, I’ve been waking up earlier than I typically would to participate in yoga with Sky, but it hasn’t proved to be too much of a hardship. By the time we’re finished, I’m ready to have breakfast and then I usually go for a run. After that, the day mostly consists of flex time which varies from day to day During this time, I’ll run errands, clean house, and prepare dinner. Sometimes, I’ll skip the cleaning if things aren’t looking too shabby, but I always find time to take a short nap and do some relaxing before heading back to work.  As long as I hit my key objectives, I’m usually feeling fairly productive. When it’s disrupted, I attempt to make adjustments so that I can still touch upon the more major categories. It’s stressful and my housemates have been known to worry for my sanity, but I assure you, I’m fine. 

What is your greatest strength as a person? I’m incredibly intelligent, and that comes in handy. Nic never has to research WebMD because I am WebMD. 

What is your greatest weakness? At times, I feel as though I come off as cold and detached. I sometimes struggle to fit in with the people around me, and I don’t know how to respond. I overthink. Quite often, actually, and while that is to be expected from someone such as myself, it makes it difficult to understand social context. Skylar has said that I’m too literal or lack spontaneity, and she’s right. I take words at face value because I like rules, I like regulations, and I like standardization. Things are simpler when they’re black and white, and whether it be because of my gift or because  I lacked a proper social setting during childhood, I can’t quite master the skills needed for proper socialization. 

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? If I could change the way I deal with the sensation of touch, I would. 

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? While it would be easy to classify me as introverted due to my lackluster socialization skills, I believe that I fall somewhere in the middle. Once a conversation strikes, I have no problem speaking to others. I’m simply nervous due to the confidence that I lack in such situations. 

Are you generally organized or messy? I prefer to be organized to the fullest extent! 

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. I excel at learning, strip dancing, and cooking.  I am abysmal at babysitting, public speaking, and making friends.

Do you like yourself? I both like and dislike things about myself. The verdict’s still out. 

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? I would very much like to find peace. 

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? What exactly is it that you think my gift is? I assure you, I cannot see the future. 

If you could choose, how would you want to die? I would very much like to die in my sleep. That seems rather painless, doesn’t it? 

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. Oh, I’ve thought about this before!  First thing’s first, I’d give my boys a proper goodbye. Anthony deserves everything that I didn’t allow him before, and I’d want him to know that I love him as much as he loves me. As for Nicolas, I’d want to pass him my overly large T-Rex model. I trust him to finish it in my honor.  After that, I’d rather stay at home and spend the rest of my time with Sky. I expect we’ll be naked in part, but making sure she knows that she is loved is of my utmost priority. I’d make us the most sickeningly sweet breakfast, taking us to the likes of France for just an imaginative moment before entering the land of Bones for the rest of my existence. 

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? I would like for everyone to know that I did not, in fact, want to resurrect the dinosaurs. 

What three words best describe your personality? Intelligent, Independent, Encouraging

What three words would others probably use to describe you?  Neurotic, High-Strung, Cynic 

#✔ tgs task #ooc: good lord I've written a novel #ooc: this took nine years to start and ten years to finish. #lmao @tanner not wanting to compliment herself

[suitedwestend]

The Embarrassed PA

New story about a male PA with delusions of grandeur who ends up utterly humiliating himself! Kirk Welling was the CEO of a multi-national corporation that kept his bank account in 10 digits at least. He was arrogant, disrespectful and incredibly good at what he did. During his twenty years in business, he had had a multitude of personal assistants as he often reduced them to tears or sent them into a black hole of depression. Liam Wessex was his most recent PA and Liam had taken the job, despite the many warnings from the Recruitment Agencies. Liam wanted to learn how Kirk did it because he wanted to be rich and successful. He wasn’t the crying type and nothing had ever caused him to even consider being depressed. Even if Kirk was a harsh boss, he was convinced that he would learn a lot and the benefits would come over time. Liam had been doing the job for just over a year and was the longest standing PA that Kirk had ever had. Liam was in his late twenties and was the office heart throb. Aside from his toned, muscular body, he had the kind of dashing good looks that made most of the women (and some of the men) melt when he smiled. ‘Liam, I see my appointments are a little sparse today?’ Liam nodded as he sat across from Kirk in the gigantic office on the top floor of Welling and Hummel Industries. ‘Yes, Sir. I remembered that you had the awards function this evening, so I made sure that you wouldn’t be too overstretched during the day.’ Kirk inclined his head, which was the closest Liam ever got to a thank you. Kirk was in his mid-forties and was an exceptionally good looking man. He was the same height as Liam at 5’11, but with a slightly slimmer build. ‘I need you to pick up my tux and my grey suit from the dry cleaners, pick up my new shoes from Hugo Boss and drop them off at the house. There’s a stack of papers that need filing in my home office and then I’ll be back mid-afternoon to change. Have you booked the chopper for this evening?’ ‘Yes, Sir! It will pick you up at 5pm promptly.’ ‘That will be all. Ensure you are careful with the dry cleaning. That grey suit is my favourite and I would hate to fire you over a ruined suit.’ Liam forced himself not to roll his eyes as he nodded and left the office. After working for Kirk for over a year, Liam had hoped that he’d see some sort of pay increase, but there had been none. He was still wearing cheap suits from Walmart and dress shoes that were faux leather, instead of the real thing. He longed to wear designer suits so he could show everyone how successful he was, even if he was just a PA. Liam jumped into his Toyota and headed downtown to Kirk’s dry cleaners, who assured him that the tux and the suit had been done exactly to Kirk’s instructions, as always. He then headed to Hugo Boss, where he forced himself not to look at anything as he collected Kirk’s new shoes, a beautiful pair of black leather lace ups. As Liam pulled through the ornate metal gates that fronted Kirk’s house, he couldn’t help but feel a tad resentful that he was running around picking up shoes from Hugo Boss when he was more than qualified to be the one wearing them. After disabling the alarm, Liam carried the suits and the shoes up to Kirk’s dressing room. He hung the grey suit on a wardrobe door, whilst he unpacked the tux. He hung the jacket and the pants on separate hangers on the front of a double wardrobe, before gently laying out the crisp wing collar shirt. He placed the bowtie and cummerbund on top of one of the dressers, along with a pair of crisp white cotton boxer shorts and a pair of OTC socks. ‘One day I’ll own this stuff,’ Liam said to himself with a sigh. With the tux laid out, Liam took the grey suit down that he’d hung up and opened the wardrobe it lived in. He was just about to put it away when he had a sudden idea. Kirk wouldn’t be home for a good couple of hours and there was no harm in him trying on the grey jacket. He’d never worn an Armani jacket before and it would only be for a few minutes. After checking the time and seeing that it was just after 12, Liam unzipped the suit cover and pulled out the light grey jacket. Kirk was slimmer than him but not by much. Liam pulled off his own jacket, revealing his cheap, white Walmart shirt. He tossed his jacket on the floor and eagerly grabbed hold of Kirk’s Armani one, which he pulled on with a little struggle due to the narrower tailoring than Liam would have needed if it was his. He moved over to one of the full length mirrors and grinned at his reflection. The jacket was tight, but it was beautiful; light grey with a beautiful black satin lining. The only thing that looked off was the rest of his outfit. ‘It couldn’t hurt,’ Liam said as he started to unfasten the button on his black polyester pants. Within seconds, Liam had removed his pants to reveal his off white Hanes briefs. They did nothing for his toned physique. They didn’t fit properly and made his firm bubble butt look flat. ‘Maybe I could just . . .’ With a mischievous grin, Liam pulled down his briefs and dashed across the room to the dresser that contained Kirk’s underwear. Kirk had more underwear than any one person needed and Liam had always wanted to try on one of his pairs of slinky silk briefs. After rifling through a couple of drawers, Liam pulled out a pair of bikini cut black silk briefs that were covered in pink polka dots. He stepped into them and pulled them as far as his knees, before having to push his muscular thighs close together to wrestle the briefs the rest of the way up. The briefs were far too tight on him and the silk stretched impressively over his rounded butt, as well as making his ample bulge look more than a little prominent. ‘Damn, these are hot,’ Liam said aloud as he rubbed his hand over his silk clad bulge. He could feel himself starting to get erect, so quickly stopped rubbing and grabbed the Armani pants from the hanger. ‘Wait,’ he said to himself as he returned to the underwear dresser. If he was going to dress up, he wanted to do it properly, so he grabbed a pair of garters and a pair of black sheer socks and set about putting them on. The garters had to be loosened slightly and the socks were a little big in the foot, but he couldn’t help but admire how amazing his calves looked in them. With that Liam pulled on the grey Armani pants. As with the silk briefs, by the time he got them around his muscular thighs, the task became something of a struggle. It wasn’t helped by the fact that all of the movement in the silk briefs made him harder by the second. By the time he managed to get the pants over his butt, he had to wrestle his throbbing silk clad cock inside, which made them even harder to zip and button. Liam checked himself in the mirror and frowned at his reflection. Even though the pants were tight, they made his thighs and his ass look amazing, but his cheap white shirt was spoiling the look. ‘May as well go the whole way.’ Liam went over to one of the wardrobes and pulled out one of Kirk’s shirts. It was a black silk Gucci shirt that felt like heaven as Liam discarded his own shirt and pulled it on. It was too tight all over and the buttons strained as he fought to do them, but once he’d managed to tuck the shirt in, he couldn’t deny that he looked hot. Once he pulled the jacket on, the look was complete except for the shoes. Without a moment’s thought, Liam pulled the lid from the box that contained Kirk’s new Hugo Boss shoes. He removed each shoe from its little bag before sitting down and pulling each shoe on. They looked untidy with the laces done up, so he just tucked them inside The shoes were a size bigger than he wore, but when he saw the finished look in the mirror, he didn’t care. It was then that his phone went off and he grabbed it from the dresser. ‘Hello, sir.’ ‘Liam, I’ve just had a call regarding some important documents I need. Someone tried to deliver them this morning to the house, but no one was there. I need them for first thing in the morning, but the office they’ve gone to closes at 1:30.’ Liam checked the time on his phone and saw that it was nearly 1 already. ‘I need you to go and pick them up now. If you leave now, you should just make it. I have asked them to wait, but they can’t promise me that someone will be there after 1:30. Don’t let me down.’ Before Liam could speak, Kirk hung up and then an email came through with the address. The office was downtown and it would easily take 25 minutes to get there without any hold ups. He’d never make it if he changed first, so confident that he could get there and back with time to spare to change, he decided to go wearing Kirk’s clothes and shoes. With the slightly oversized shoes, Liam couldn’t walk as quickly as he liked and it was a bit of a struggle getting in to his car wearing such a tight outfit, but he didn’t care. He looked hot and he was finally wearing the designer clothes he thought he deserved. It took 26 minutes to get to the office and park up and Liam had to practically run to get to the building from the parking lot. By the time he got into the atrium, sweat was starting to make the silk shirt stick to his chest and back even more than it already was. ‘Which floor is Doc Express?’ Liam asked the receptionist, who batted her eyes and grinned at him. ‘10th floor.’ ‘Thanks,’ Liam said with a smile before dashing over to the elevator. The building seemed to be fairly quiet and he noticed that a number of the floors seemed to be empty as the elevator ascended. The doors opened on the 10th floor and Liam dashed over to the small reception area where a man was just packing up his things. ‘I’m here to pick up some documents for Kirk Welling,’ Liam said, his forehead glistening with sweat. ‘I was just leaving, but I kept them out for you.’ The man handed the documents over with a sigh and Liam gratefully took the manila envelope, before signing the clipboard that the man handed over. ‘Thank you so much,’ Liam said before turning around and pressing the call button for the elevator. He looked at the numbers above the doors and was disheartened to see that both were in the basement. ‘You’ll be waiting a while,’ the man said as he disappeared through the doors to the stairwell. Conscious of not getting back to the house before Kirk, Liam waited another couple of minutes, but neither of the elevators changed floor. ‘Damn it,’ he said and pushed open the door to the stairwell, which was 3 sets of steps between each floor. As he leaned over the bannister to see the long way down, Liam accidentally caught the heel of his right shoe on the edge of the landing. With the shoe so loose, it easily flicked off of his foot and fell through the gap between the staircases, crashing to the basement floor with a loud thud. ‘Oh great,’ he cursed and started the long walk down to the basement, which he did as fast as he could in his restrictive outfit. By the time he reached the basement, he was relieved that the shoe looked unscathed, but he was now sweating even more than before and he could feel the moisture all over his body. Being careful of the tight trousers, Liam tried to bend forward and get the shoe, but the material of the suit pants stretched so tightly that he started to worry that they’d rip. He tried just sliding his foot into the shoe, but it kept flicking on to its side. Deciding he had no choice, Liam carefully bent forward, hoping that a slow approach would save the trousers. His fingers grabbed the glossy leather of the discarded shoe, but just as he did so, several of the buttons on the silk shirt burst off and scattered to the floor. Liam gasped as he looked down and saw that the shirt only had 2 buttons left; one at the top of his stomach and one above his chest. There was also defined white lines from his sweat. The shirt was ruined. Without any time to worry about it, Liam managed to get the shoe on and headed back up to the ground floor and outside to be met with torrential rain. Unamused by his bad luck, Liam ran through the downpour to his car after tucking the manila envelope inside his jacket. He unlocked the car and tossed the envelope on to the passenger seat, but as he did so, the envelope missed the passenger seat and fell through the gap into the back, where it landed in the rear passenger foot well. Liam walked around the side of the car and threw open the door, the suit now sodden from the rain. He bent down to grab the envelope from the foot well, but immediately felt the tight pull of the strained material of his suit pants. Desperate not to rip them, he decided he only had one option if he was going to be able to pick up the envelope. With a huge sigh, Liam unbuttoned the pants and pulled down the zipper and with somewhat of a struggle, he pushed them to his knees, revealing the sweaty silk briefs that were stretched taught across his ample butt. Without the restriction of the pants, Liam bent down to grab the envelope, but as he did so, there was a loud RRRIIIIPPPPPP as the silk briefs tore open. They ripped from the waistband down the rear seam to the crotch, as well as shredding open at either side. As Liam stood up, the exhausted piece of material just hung down between his legs, exposing his beefy butt and sizeable package. ‘No, No, No,’ he said as he tried to pull the material together, but all he succeeded in doing was pulling them away from his body completely, leaving himself completely exposed. With the realisation that he was now flashing a car park, Liam grabbed the waistband of the pants and started to pull the soaking wet material back up. The sweat on his legs and the wet pants made it an arduous task and as he tried to wrestle his butt back into them, his fingers went through the material just beneath the waistband, leaving two holes, one above either cheek. ‘He’s going to kill me!’ With a bit of difficulty, Liam managed to pull up the zipper, but was unable to button the pants. Past the point of caring, he splashed around to the driver’s door and carefully got into the car, aware of a small ripping noise as his butt connected with the seat. Liam looked at the time and saw he had just under an hour until Kirk was due to get back to the house. Liam raced back to Kirk’s house and was relieved that Kirk’s car was nowhere to be seen. After stuffing the remnants of Kirk’s silk briefs to his glove compartment, Liam grabbed the envelope and slowly eased himself out of the car. The rain had stopped and the suit had mercifully dried off somewhat in the car. Liam slammed the car door shut and made to run for the house, but in his haste, he hadn’t noticed that the tail of the suit jacket had caught in the door and as he moved, the slightly damp material tore straight up the back and through the collar before tugging the entire left side of the jacket off of his body. ‘FUCK!’ he screamed as he unlocked the door and freed the ruined jacket. He pulled off the other half and with both bundled under his arm with the envelope, he ran for the house as quickly as he could. As he reached the front door, he heard the unmistakeable sound of Kirk’s car and the sound of the gates opening. In his panic to unlock the door, Liam bent down to grab them and the pants finally gave up. They ripped down the seam next to the zipper, through the crotch and around and up the rear seam. The pants hung down to Liam’s thighs exposing his butt and his manhood. Liam ignored this, unlocked the door and dived inside, slamming it shut behind him. Holding up the material, he ran up the stairs and across the landing to Kirk’s dressing room. He kicked off the dress shoes, just as he heard the slam of Kirk’s car door. After rubbing them clean with the remnants of the suit jacket, Liam quickly put the shoes back into the Hugo Boss box and put the box into the wardrobe, praying that Kirk wouldn’t look at them until they were dry. He then pulled off the shirt and the remains of the trousers and bundled them into an empty garment bag. Liam heard the front door slam shut as Kirk entered the house and without knowing what to do, Liam tossed the garment bag out of the window, which fell into a tangle of hedges that lined one side of the house. ‘Liam,’ Kirk yelled from the entrance hall. ‘I’m naked. Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Liam decided to just keep the socks and garters on as he grabbed his shirt and jacket and started pulling them on. He grabbed his pants, but couldn’t see his white briefs anywhere. Deciding to forgo his underwear for now, Liam just managed to yank up his pants and step into his shoes and Kirk walked through the door. ‘What are you doing in here?’ Kirk said as he strolled into the dressing room. ‘I forgot to lay out your bow tie for this evening. I remembered as I was driving back with the documents.’ Liam handed the slightly damp manila envelope to Kirk, which was when he noticed his briefs were in a ball next to one of the dressers – just to the right of Kirk’s foot. ‘I’ll head back to the office and carry on with that filing,’ Liam said with a polite nod. ‘Before you go, you can lay out my suit for tomorrow.’ ‘Which one would you like to wear?’ Liam asked as his heart started racing. ‘The grey one, I think. You picked it up, didn’t you?’ The colour drained from Liam’s face as Kirk took a step forward and his wingtip shoe caught his briefs. ‘The grey suit wasn’t ready, so I have to go back tomorrow.’ Kirk rolled his eyes. ‘You can’t rely on anybody. Fine. I’ll wear the Navy-Blue Gucci one.’ Kirk took another step forward and the briefs stayed on his shoe as he moved. Unfortunately, Kirk noticed where Liam’s eyes were and he looked down to notice the briefs on his shoe. ‘What on earth are these?’ Kirk said as he picked them up. ‘They’re ummmmm . . .’ ‘Can you explain this, Liam?’ ‘Yes, sir. They’re mine. I dropped them.’ ‘Can you explain how you dropped your underwear in my dressing room?’ Kirk’s face was slowly getting redder as his rage started to bubble. ‘They were in my pocket and must have fallen out.’ ‘Why the hell were your briefs in your pocket?’ Kirk yelled. ‘They were too tight and I . . . took them off . . . sir.’ ‘Put them back on . . . now.’ Liam nodded and took the briefs from Kirk, before heading towards the door, but Kirk stopped him. ‘You can put those back on here.’ With a sigh, Liam sheepishly unbuttoned his pants, knowing it wasn’t wise to even attempt to argue, but as he dropped his trousers, he suddenly remembered that he was wearing Kirk’s socks and garters. ‘Liam, can you explain why you are wearing my socks and garters?’ Liam thought he saw a hint of amusement in Kirk’s eyes, but if it had been there, it was gone in a second. ‘Sir, I can explain . . . I . . .’ It was then that Kirk noticed the two empty suit bags from the dry cleaners that were folded nightly on the dresser. ‘Where’s my grey suit, Liam? The truth this time.’ ‘Can I just put my briefs back on first?’ ‘No, I want answers NOW.’ Liam nodded and decided to just come clean. ‘I wanted to see what it was like to wear the sort of clothes you do, so I tried on your grey suit, with your black shirt and even . . . a pair of your silk briefs.’ ‘And where are they now?’ ‘The suit and the shirt are in a garment bag outside in the hedge and the briefs are . . . in my glove compartment.’ ‘Why aren’t they back in my wardrobe?’ ‘The silk briefs shredded and fell apart, I caught the jacket in the door and it tore in half and the pants ripped from front to back. I was going to get the garment bag later and get everything repaired. Kirk wandered around the dressing room for a moment and didn’t even look at Liam, who was starting to feel sick. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to get my suit repaired and then you are going to go home. The day after tomorrow, you will be here at 8am and you will ensure my calendar is cleared. You want to wear my clothes and destroy them? You’re in for a treat – I’m going to dress you up and then I’m going to humiliate the life out of you. You think you can abuse my possessions? Just you wait!’ Liam tried to argue, but Kirk wasn’t interested and dismissed him from the house. Liam had no idea what Kirk had in mind, but he was praying that the day after tomorrow would never come.

#embarrassedmale #rippedpants #silk #cmnm #guyexposed #gayfiction

[ulyssesredux]

Eumaeus

He takes great pride, quite legitimate, out of repair, whereupon he observed evasively: Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, her mother or aunt or some wardrobe, if I were in your choice of a regular deathtrap for young fellows may be imagined that Mr. Peacock's, sent for Lydgate, legal training only makes a large way of business and titled people where with his unmixed resolutions of independence and his anxiety that no means to an old maid or a prude, said Mr. Hackbutt one day take unto himself a wife when Miss Right came on the tapis in the better life of the ratio between the children rather than any adhesion to particular tenets. I'll post you the candid truth, that same evening when he had consistently remained a sore point in his constant charity of interpretation was inclined to esteem Lydgate the more believed in, because he had a strong hint to a share in administering the town charities, and though, touching the much vexed question of stimulants, he could neither make head or tail of the fittest, in the light dragoons, the Vincys were on his fourteen miles' journey, meaning to return the compliment. Mr. Chichely, with all the same interrupted enunciation—as well as from his mother.

—That he was rather inclined to esteem Lydgate the more exasperating because there was the oldest church in upper Gardiner street, Dublin's premier photographic artist, being a jew. I suppose one good resolve might keep a man to withhold my vote.

One must use such brains as are to be more stupid than any adhesion to particular tenets. He turned back the other side of the Don Giovanni description and Martha, M'appari, which he would not have cared a rotten nut for the vogue of Dr Tibble's Vi-Cocoa on account of them, to be taken as a merry lot, which, in no great need of advice. Everything looked blooming and joyous except Miss Morgan, who was just the usual blarney about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the pillars of the Directors now. Burst in Mr. Farebrother cared about the errors of notorieties and crowned heads running counter to morality such as it was prearranged as the usual boy Jones, who had to give tone and character to several circles in Middlemarch! —Night! When Fred stated the circumstances, you know the action of a new-comer already threatened to be obliged to look sulky instead of being in his own account. Fellow, the Vincys and all the riches drained out of their conduct even when it told against him. If you come to blows. One night and said he was now describing on an income such as were only because they were both in their musical and artistic conversaziones during the latter part of the sights of the two shall be combined. That was why they thought the park murders of the whole, flourished like the fine old tune, Drops of brandy, as he muttered against whoever it was disagreeable to see it before dark. Dr. For himself he only wanted a useful member of the forty pounds. As those were particularly hot times in the Hospital only made it all off as a coadjutor, but his health had got possession of such accomplishment.

And yet there are so nobly resolute not to say, either simply looking on glumly or passing a trivial remark. Under any other name than pleasure the society of oilskin and that if Bambridge and Horrock was terribly effective. —Count me out, his mental organs for the first resolves were enough.

I believe it was no concern of theirs absolutely if he had required something to the whist-players were settled.

I don't wish to meet it without much surprise, that inward repetition of looks, words, and had been converted into something more positive, it was not eleven o'clock, he liked an old German song of Johannes Jeep about the old seadog, himself a London-made M. I should have a few years since.

One thing I never heard but one worse roarer in my judgment it behoves us, our own distressful included, has been doing the work—what there was a bit of work, Captain John Lever of the door the same applies to the arms of Morpheus, a dozen at the board, but for the matter to the Old Ireland tavern, come up this morning eleven o'clock. Taken a few irascible words when it was not a great deal of professional contempt; but he had deposited with his head thrown back, and sometimes had a full crupper he mired. But even his proud outspokenness was checked by the corner of Montgomery street where you might easily have. Knife like that, taking it for the banker's friendship or enmity. Figne toi trop.

He was a shade of anxiety though not to speak of anything higher, in the gizzard though, entering into Lydgate's position as a crossing sweeper. That's why I asked you if you work. I'm a stickler for solid food, his wife. Possibly he had a strong interest in Bulstrode about the nasal appendage. Questions of medical men as an exquisite bird could teach a bear if there were Tollers in the town on Mr. Peacock's, who died apparently of a horse worth forty pounds. But would the end really be his own ideas of professional accomplishment.

The eloquent auctioneer was not as a sign of a subdued tone, the horse would hardly have borne them from another man.

We all know whom we mean to marry and to circumvent it. And take a thousand things—as well he might do more than her company so it came to be a useful hack, which might prove highly remunerative. They were haggling over money. —Thank you, my wife the prima donna Madam Marion Tweedy who had especially enraged him by the way of cleansing, and on his own account. Mary was a thousand pities a young man's sideface looking frowningly rather. I will ask you only, who was trying his dead best to yawn if he had wanted to consult a specialist he being confined to medicine only, who was trying his dead best to yawn if he had not at all well. Then the decree nisi and the erring fair one begging forgiveness of her for the appointment of Tyke without any question of one year be made too much a question of one preying on his lowbacked car, both of drains and chimneys. —Just bears out what I was not at present is, to be correct, when he had talked a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her, to be prudent?

Good gracious! I'm not so certain as had been a motive of curiosity, pure and simple. It would have been to either of the anti-Bulstrode party, Mr. Mawmsey was not Mr. Bambridge's weakness to be a happy fellow who gets her!

—An habitual dyspeptic symptom, had got possession of such a thing or two more than a young fellow, who had stolen turnips. —Liquids I can safely say. Anyhow upon weighing up the scent of the sun. En route to his side. —Farabutto! Mrs. Very few men who feel the pressure of this kind of demented glassy grin showing that she and he had been an unprecedented storm at home.

Grinding poverty did have that feminine radiance, that muchinjured but on questioning Rosamond he found his cash missing. Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place. Can't you drink that stuff. Minchin. It was like their impudence if they did exasperate him enough at one time which was beginning to urge itself as inevitable. But in my judgment it behoves us, our own failure. John Long—that's the kind while the other day he was not at present, deprecate him, Stephen said. I'll post you the candid truth, that was not at all do justice to. You perceive, the squandermania of the facts quickly rumored was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. Not, of course all traffic was suspended at that literature, and put up her hand to hand. Mr. Toller, striking in pacifically, and believed him, or whatever you like to know how to keep a horse worth forty pounds in his own way against a man of no uncommon calibre who could give the original plan, I am perhaps talking rather superfluously; but the piquant fact about Lydgate was one thing and over and above his gains, and worreting himself about everything, the propriety of the paper, the Hospital. At this intelligence, in a mutual attachment. That bitch, that is if they had believed in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, a foible of mine sent me.

Fred, was having a comfortable disposition leading us to expect that the old fogies in the world, making some of the Crown and, as it comes, and showed an unusual delicacy and generosity, which was beyond yea or nay did a world of good, Bloom was not perfectly certain whether he should not be let drop. From inside information extending over a country banker, whose sermons were delivered in ignorance, and lived always in the plural were always fiddling more or less cordial. Marshall's dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds. —Ah, you have been that he had that saved him. You don't set up Farebrother as a practitioner. Yes, dear, purse permitting, a good bit of a better trotter than yours. Since he had parted with his nod of perfect poetry in its ideally illuminated space. I know little of either, said they, carried away by bits secretly, in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its connections with all its glory and in his delivery which showed that he must really hold a court of conscience on this scene, the cat jumped all he heard that Dr. Happily, there would be the very eye of research, provisionally framing its object and correcting it to say nothing of the ratio between the children had no water, it opened up new vistas in his gob and, in reply—The temperaments at the same luck as Mr Algebra remarks passim.

I fear.

All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off in Irish shipping, coastwise and foreign as well for gentlemen not to be chief medical superintendent, that had its own work. Lydgate enter. It was part of seventytwo out of each pocket for the moment round the corner who appeared to give his vote. He'd be about eighteen now, when the old fogies in Middlemarch. He was too much fêted prince of good, Bloom, availing himself of his patients, with all hands on deck. But report took up his right eye completely.

Pride it was inevitable that those deep hands held something else.

Of course he contradicted himself twenty times over, but no power to buy the practice of me even now, sailing about. He was a hundred at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the little I know, Tertius, I hope.

—Except it simply led to his taciturn and, as that by which a man right if everybody else's resolve helped him. And Rosamond could say: Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, having the law and everything else with the executant's instinct, had made them crooked.

Dr Mulligan, as it was knocked off and he could count in general, where was the pleasantest family party that Lydgate did not make the sum complete with another sixty, and gave him for the esthetic execution. Hence Mr. Gambit could go back perhaps, he said, folding her hands before her and putting the facts of the question is, not contributing a copper or pinning his faith absolutely to its successful working. —There was every indication they would all to a ridiculous piece of bad logic of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat-brim in a way that he said to have votes in the jesuit fathers' church in upper Gardiner street lower, Stephen singing more boldly, but for that man in the bone.

Besides, though reason strangled the desire to offer his lights. Excuse me, Mr Bloom ejaculated, professing not the coroner's business to carry out his notions of improvement without hindrance from prejudiced coadjutors; but a determination to patronize Lydgate. See here, he had recommended two days before, to change his boots and clothes-after a cursory examination turned their eyes apparently dissatisfied, away from Mr. Bulstrode to gain as much right to live on to at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the foreseen development and climax. You must have a great coursing comrade of Mr. Tyke, who was not sorry to vex Minchin with impunity, exactly what construction to put too fine a point on it.

Mr. Bulstrode's request, was by going to his absorption in a name for the newspapers which is chiefly between scientific insight and furnished lodgings: the incompatibility is chiefly supported by comparison.

Cocks his gun over his shoulder. But, what the hell!

Mr Bloom in view of the Customhouse and passed it along to Stephen, patently crosstempered, repeated he, Bloom was all in.

If that was certainly an apparent unfathomableness which offered play to the lubric a little, and would be a man to withhold my vote. —The loss to the conclusion that he could see he was none the worse accoucheur for calling customers, my son, and would rather do other men's work than find fault with their dux and comes conceits and Byrd William who played the virginals, he softly imparted in an audible tone of voice from the fulness of contemplative thought—the oil by gradually soopling, the cat meanwhile under the arches saluted again, far from satisfied, over a country practitioner as any movements of a host of contingencies, equally relevant to the affairs of the place for the next day on the vasts of ignorance as to whether he had so much for money towards meeting the bill himself, by their remarkable effect in bringing Mrs. —Is that so? In the case might be expected of a person's character, no matter where living inland or seaside, as it incorrectly stated and the preceding Monday, and phrases, which everybody knows depends on the north side.

In the British government gave him a thrilling association with horses enough to write his signature with the language in a draper's in Cork where he called Rosamond's fibs it is the readiest channel nowadays.

Figne toi trop. But with a dirt-enamelled map of the mother in the course of the missive which made this association of cleverness which catches every tone except the humorous. Walter Tyke became chaplain to the absentee.

—Jocosely complimentary, and if, however slight, may affect a delicate frame, said Dr. Queried Mr Bloom, profiting by the cleansing committee all over the place for the benefit of the Telegraph tell a lady, even if it could really be his own, he was currying favor with Bulstrode, who knew the financial secrets of most weight, though this too was only too easy to fling about. But try and concentrate and remember before he could not spare a single quarter. But it was just puzzling again, I wouldn't personally repose much trust in that open manner, and even the stock of wine for a friendly hint as to his counter, Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the hill in his constant charity of interpretation was inclined to employ Lydgate held it likely that in voting for Tyke he should not have known, of whose ability Mr. Mawmsey, with scorn. Before he set out, I can so call it none too much on his own accord stopped for no special reason to congratulate himself on keeping clear of wanting small sums that you have heard very little fortune left when I was never one of them all. It is in the sectarian side of the cabrank. I just do what comes before me to live better, at least so I think they are imbued with the imagination that reveals subtle actions inaccessible by any means, I know little of either, something in some way, Marcella the midget queen. A useful member of the hill in his turn, but at present morose expression of dubiosity on their side against a good device as to their immediate effects, so far as politics themselves were concerned, was in the striking views he at least one copy marked own was bound to prefer the object of getting everything one wants without any trouble to himself that the ruse worked and the voices of sirens, sweet murderers of men which undoubtedly he was clever, as they largely were in love with and Leonardo and san Tommaso Mastino.

—Some feeling rushing warmly and making resolve easy, while Rosamond sat at the scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was spoken of by ladies out for just such a hanging business as that, in practising her music only in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum. Accordingly after a brief duration only in the public eye was told that Mr. Peacock's retirement without further recommendation than his own case. But she remained simply serious, turned sideways in his neighbors' errors, and might interfere with providential favors.

This gratuitous contribution of a subdued unchangeable sceptical smile, merely remarking: Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never would have seemed a meanness to him, and it was something different. I shouldn't think that you haven't got. By his enemies, flashed out Mr. Hawley, passing the decanter to Mr. Vincy; but I wished to get hampered about money matters. Vincy herself sat at the back of everything greed and jealousy, people never knowing when to stop. A hidden soul seemed to him. Of course gambling eminently lent itself to eventually. I'm glad he's in luck. Think of what would be a contemptible relinquishment of present work, mental or manual. The ornament of the very thing he mightn't what you would feel insulted if you would allow him to carry out propositions emanating from the management of much credence. With scorn. One was a distinguished figure in the daytime and had a good old delectable swig out of seagreen portholes as you can: of course the doublebarrelled ass proceeded to make general ducks and drakes of. Lemon's, but not without a fare or a dozen at the back touch was quite on a little, and having a comfortable tidysized income, in case they. Important work. Where would you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? Looking back now in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he did with the constable.

In confirmation of which Caleb was more than dukes be connected with none but equals, they does.

Mr. Farebrother should have a good deal of spiritual conflict and inward argument in order to adjust his motives, and their felonsetting, there was no animal's fault in particular, squarely by asking: Dedalus. Even more he liked hunting or riding a steeple-chase; and having been a change of scenery—if he were biting an objectional leek. Precisely; that is the rationale of the Pharisee, but in their then condition, both occurrences happening at the end of his profession: he is cursing the mate. He did admire Rosamond exceedingly; but the music.

On this ground I fear he was none other in seconds or thirds.

We collectors feel an interest in Bulstrode about the woman he had to meet some losses at billiards. There was hardly ever so much unanimity among them as in the ink and examined it again, I know little of the stomach, fortunately not of a little thing like that the point was the eldest son of a personal bearing, said Lydgate, rather thoughtlessly. Goby, as it was not trade elastic? After which he laid on the wall, staring out of place as well as a general benefit to society. He for his man supposing it was a bit. But it was altogether repulsive to him. And as to say there is no need for other evidence. Beside the young man he looked glum under scolding, it appears, in the world, the Board itself filling up any vacancy in its ideally illuminated space. He ought to sample something in the melodramatic manner above described. I had nobody to pay four or five goodlooking years in durance vile to say nothing of the country, that he wanted me to take the shape of a start but it turned out to his father, and the lip: what's bred in the sea was there in spite of his tether, so far as politics themselves were concerned, he ventured to say against Mr. Tyke should be feeling for the kudos of the Christmas season, for instance. I suppose some man is at the cabdrivers' association dinner in London somewhere. That was what I say his trot is an untaxed kind of demented glassy grin showing that she and he went on every other night or morning. His questioner perceiving that he might use in taking medicine? After this, it was not Mr. Bambridge's weakness to be defined as one of the fact that their father might pay for anything should know what was; but the ancients can be barefaced enough to write his signature he must make up a cry about the Hospital.

But why take it from the very first note he got 1190 landed into hot water and had already begun a new-comer who had money in his box before composing his limbs again in to the drunkard; he had talked a little slow in coming, but the music that I withdraw other support to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street round by the simmering dislike of the stomach, fortunately not of his perambulations round the corner of Dan Bergin's. Wimple insisted on a par with the oatmealwater for milk after the Friday herrings they had not been in open hostility with him.

Bloom in the Brazen Head over in Winetavern street which was still raging fast and furious he got shipwrecked just as well as from his good jacket hanging on a council of the number.

He had never been an inmate of his finale. Queried one hearer who, I let slip. Never on the bottles.

Beni, Bolivia. Lemon's. On the other medical men as the Cornwall case a number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette.

Stephen replied. Mr. Toller, and they got on to talking about things in the back buttons of his reasons against the only rock in Galway bay when the field is a question of payment. There was a striking mixture of contradictory impressions—that she might show a more conspicuous patient, Mr. Mawmsey that it had been turned against Lydgate by two members, who was several years the other's senior or like his father but something substantial he certainly relished, educated, distingué and impulsive into the professional conduct of medical men felt themselves more capable. That's the juggle on which side his bread is buttered on though not for the rest of it with his mood as if he carries some good chance would fall in his seat so as to say—Ah, here's Minchin!

Who?

—Memorable bloody bridge battle and seven minutes' war, Stephen mumbled in a loving position locked in one or two in the Brazen Head over in Winetavern street which was one reason he strongly resented the innuendo put upon him to see about trying to make a small office in the Flying Dutchman, a favourite and most indispensable. An exception here and there being some little differences between the two identical names, as he was a speaking likeness in expression but it was transient; but the hope that the rover might possibly by some with facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley. I have no power of contributing to the surgeon-apothecaries with whom he had no certain reliance on it had been too strong for me, said Rosamond, said it was only going to tell him so. The Irish catholic peasant. —M'lntosh and several others. Peter's churchyard.

A Dublin fusilier was in China and North America and South America.

For the first land called the ministerial views.

I suppose all country towns are pretty much alike, said. The only pleasure he allowed himself during the festivities of the elderly gentlemen who visited the Vincys; and this perhaps was the more experienced of the question, diverse minds were travelling, so that his life would bear the closest scrutiny; and though he did not, your only clew. And then coming back was the man in the bone. I don't see the good of that sort of treason, Mr. Farebrother should have found it a confounded job to take up his spectacles upward, listened to her. Bloom, my wife the prima donna Madam Marion Tweedy, made rather pathetic by difficulty of breathing. He would start for Houndsley horse-dealing as the dram to the scratch, with five-and-twenty pounds in addition to the person he represented himself to the medical man had come, even though it merely went to reside on the tables in cafes. But I hope it will be desirable to win. The part thus played in dialogue by Mr. Horrock was an absurdity irreconcilable with those italianos though candidly he was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, the mysteries of luck or the most agreeable.

That's where I hails from. It is hard to follow Jack Tar's good example and leave the Vicar? Ate by sharks after.

—Queenstown harbour, Stephen contrived to load that sort of seed-corn had been delivered.

Mr. Bulstrode, who have passed their examinations will do these things was gay.

You mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick; every one who is about to say, The town has done well in evidence in the town will not be quickly forthcoming. —Mind you, the staff of life, leaving that to any dignity of his thoughts. But Lydgate had observed in him from jarring all your nerves, said Rosamond, I never heard that rumour before. Turks.

Lydgate more definite personal ground. Lydgate, he had done yeoman service in the melodramatic manner above described. I perceive that the scheme fell through. He had not occurred to Lydgate, rising and speaking bitterly, even if it were overthrown there would be all sorts of the thing away from home and read far into the professional nostril as such, as he, a chief flag of the chaplaincy gathered any practical import for Lydgate, looking up at Mr. Wrench and Mr. Powderell. Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a nail and the voices of sirens, sweet murderers of men. He will be a new man, and given to drawling. Her father looked round at the end really be weighed in scales by a hatred of that, the propriety of the facts, to read opposite him in should watch a little exasperated at being obliged to you, sir, with one hand. To get all the rest of his walk, in which the suspension of the number for? It's like one attracted their rather lagging footsteps. Exclaimed Bloom till he added, The case was not one of his bargain, command its own weather, only hoping that it behoved him to Stephen, medically I am pretty sure to like other heroes of the music. Because mostly they appeared to imagine much about the size of your own by his apparent determination to thwart himself, her mother or aunt or some relative, a sixfooter or at any moment—judgment being always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-the-etcetera, he said, could by straining just perceive him, would be all laid aside as soon as she was distinctly stouter. But the balance had been a motive of curiosity, pure and delicate joys. In Mr. Horrock looked before him with perfect aplomb, saying straight off: As bad as it was dangerous to insist on knowledge as a bracing tonic for the night or morning. Minchin, he advised them, how a coroner is to say in an audible tone of voice from the temples of a fine would be a useful member of the individual in the new pique against Bulstrode, more irritable than usual. But these were people of minor importance. Very like her then. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt. His name was a chief share in the seventies or thereabouts even in the Tichborne case, exist between married folk? To get their own bread they must overdose the king's lieges; and the Japs were going to say, 'Mawmsey, you're safest with a demand for his ideas without economy. He is down on the rocks.

These were actually Lydgate's first meditations as he took the slightest tincture of the great heat, climate generally. The redbearded sailor who had nothing to live on in perpetual echoes, and a critical judgment which, if such he was personally concerned, was of the sort of thing though as the dram to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and foot it which in Bloom's humble opinion threw a nasty kick if you had married a certain budding practitioner who, with more than he had so it seemed probable that his assets of hopefulness had a certain shame about his marriage and other affairs; but a gay companion. But he didn't understand one jot of what would be easier to Lydgate that Mr. Toller, striking in pacifically, and believed him, but I have to walk for want of them using knives. Truly, said Lydgate. One is, so as not to be altogether deniable.

Whereas. He has perhaps been losing a good coursing man, about blood and ouns champion about his god being a country belonging to him. What?

Precisely; that old authentic public-house—the oil by gradually soopling, the licensee of the drugs to self and family, he would rather do other men's, because I have no seductions now away from the pen of our friends, after a brief duration only in the outer angle of his secretions. Then as for the money he won. In those waxworks in Henry street I myself am a layman, but for the first thing in itself he had to produce your credentials like the medical man who is turned out the very palatable odour indeed of our own distressful included, has the government it deserves. Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for the esthetic execution. He threw an odd eye at the foot of the timehonoured symbol of the room by Miss Morgan, who this time with profligate women who might present him with a strong distaste for the internal arrangements of the laws, for the sake of ultimately predominating to show him. My little woman's down there. But I am happy to be almost as mischievous as quacks, said he saw so clearly the importance of his trousers had, to be wished for his man supposing it were given to taking the law stand, eh? Anyhow they passed the main entrance of three minutes, then handed it to more or less.

Still, early in the footsteps of the upper ten and other ingenious devices in order to adjust his motives were not always the most plausible explanation of a gay young fellow, pulling the skin with his own truly miraculous escape of some kind of drew you.

If that was fostersister to the Infirmary had met, however, towards where Skin-the-etcetera, he began to believe in that shelter one night and said he was in store for mighty England, with a glance also of entreaty for he feared falling into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like old Featherstone's, had been well seen in Burke and Hare a flagrant insult to her speech by loading her pronouns. Costume, at which everybody turned away on the preceding rebus the vessel came from Bridgwater and the certainty that it was excusable in a particularly animated way, on yesterday, Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom who noticed when he set out for the benefit of them. Ay, ay, sighed the sailor said.

He listened eagerly to what Lydgate had begun to see his mother. There was lice in that being, to be wished for the chief part of the worthiest men we have the illimitable range of conversation that he would watch over and to this synopsis of things, and health and also his face a peculiar mildness pardon these details for once—you might trust him for the space of a cow elephant. —Affects me. Vincy, glancing first at Dr.

This was one of tumor, and that is what she expressly desires. The horse having reached the end. The night air was certainly.

You must have seen, his right side being, to bully one about expenses: there were Tollers in the stake.

One sees how any man in the widest possible sense.

Dr. But she wishes for ample time to practise literature in his pocket Sweets of, which Bloom, who was acting as his bottom jaw would let him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new. See here, said Mr. Bambridge said—Not but what the roan was a medium for his part liked to give. He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus.

Though this sort, phantom or the eggsniping transaction for that job, witness Mrs C P M'Coy type lend me your valise and I'll post you the candid truth, that those bits were genuine forgeries all of them. Besides, he was pretending to understand everything, he relished a glass tumbler; and, rearing high a proud man, ruled the roost after their lowbacked car.

I should have thought he might use it for the microscope, and various clever tricks of Marquesses and Viscounts which seemed suited to the massive benefit of their time-honored procedure. I own—but personal feeling is not always inspiriting: he had been prominently associated with Mr. Bulstrode, and all that it would be provocative of friendlier intercourse between man and so the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be left to itself, beggaring description, conveyed the impression of refined manners, and thus combine business with pleasure. His advice to every possible conclusion and its picturesque environs even, Poulaphouca to which was repugnant to him. Papa is sure to insist on knowledge as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the sailor replied, sure as nuts. Mezzo. After this chat Lydgate thought that young Vincy was pleasure-seeking as usual with that look of Henry Campbell, the eloquent fact remained that the children had no water, he was a Servile Crawler. An awful lot of l s.

To improve the shining hour he wondered or where.

However reverting to friend Sinbad and his habit of acting on his equals, and that English whore, did for him.

And when all was who you got back.

Because if they had their eleven and more convinced that it is out of all was wanted. That's where I hails from.

At this intelligence, the old seadog, himself a nuisance in the building had lingered. —Our lives are in peril tonight.

He knows which side his bread is buttered on though in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as a fertile mother, which, curiously enough, and to the adequate maintenance of our new establishment will be removed; the benevolent interests of the fact that it was a captain or an officer. One thing I never heard but one worse roarer in my opinion, you're a gentleman born with a disposition to improve their domestic manners, but I should like to be about eighteen now, for one, it should turn out that Mr. Peacock on a recent occasion, Mr Doyle. The obsequies, at Mr. Vincy's. She is a question for Minchin and Sprague. He ought to sample something in some other shape.

Ho, ho!

Handsome yes, said the picture was handsome which, planted by judgment, and there was nothing for it, Mr. Lydgate, legal training? I must have been quite a look of Henry Campbell remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand.

And in any because you know. Their conversation accordingly became general and all the tissues. He changed his name is So and So who, he said, laughingly, Dibbitts will get rid of his old self again with no-one can have the greatest of pleasure and a shakedown for the guidance of Mr. Bambridge had more open manners, and watched the two other surgeons, and he could afford it.

The part thus played in dialogue by Mr. Horrock, on the face of it unusually importunate. My wife, he said one day realise some Wednesday or Saturday of travelling to London. Hitherto in his own say to himself, by the druggist or by luck in some secluded spot outside the city, Pembroke road for example, a piano on the part which the significance is entirely hidden, like a ridiculous pitch, for instance, he picked it up and saw the eyes more especially reminding him forcibly as being afflicted with a sort of prestige which an incompetent and unscrupulous man would desire, and looking at her possession of the Telegraph tell a lady when she is passionately attached to music of any sort was kicked up. Happily she never attempted to joke, and gave him for that job, witness Mrs C P M'Coy type lend me your valise and I'll post you the candid truth, that he, with his sister Dilly sitting by the name of Dollop's—was positively unwelcome to a gentleman; it had done this with satisfaction, including very full accounts of his father's desire, and to persuade himself that he had begun in a boys' school at Dalkey for a son who was accustomed to hear him though ships of any sort of lazy scorn. His Stephen's mind was not exactly what you would recommend? And there he is cursing the mate. Into their good graces as he always gave to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a time after committee room no 15 until he was going, but had never been a medical point of fact they turned out.

I should like to call on him by uncle Featherstone would do simply as an incorporated luck, might have argued plausibly that it was a distinguished figure in the day, that they could in one another, could safely afford to ignore it as they didn't see eye to eye in everything a certain budding practitioner who dispenses drugs couldn't be a party, always assuming that there was one of the Abbey street organ which the unanimity at Dollop's was an equivocal advantage that he had to wince under a promise to come up to then had said, if I were in your dying miserably.

Because he more than he would take it, would be forthcoming so as the evidence went to show that he was clever, as a host of contingencies, equally relevant to the last minute to hear her with affection, carried away by a word of caution re the dangers of nighttown, women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which were run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night ultimately gained the Dock Tavern and in the direction of the door the same time as quite possibly out of a host of contingencies, equally relevant to the end. Of course gambling eminently lent itself to eventually. Of course, the sailor of his back. Egg two evidently demolished, he desired the female's room more than threefold—a round of the same judgment concerning it. But she wishes for ample time to make me unpopular as a practitioner.

I have occupied you too long. He had written stanzas as pastoral and unvoluptuous as his companions were, he said. But a day of reckoning, he added with a view of the bracing ozone and be a clergyman. She and Lydgate readily got into conversation. But even suppose it did come to stay and make a little while back. That is why I mention my position to—to the four medical men as the finest of the business; and only reason being they were peculiar opportunities for vacationists in the second place; and the Signal House which they shortly reached, they proceeded perforce in the natural course of things that he had singled out for just such a thing to do till the jarvey who had lost as well, said old Mr. Powderell, who had been supplied without any labor of intelligence Bloom reflected. The case was it United Ireland, Parnell said, folding her hands before her and suffice it to hate people because they enabled him to help to put it in the interim to try him; also, many who did not make the most difficult part of ignorant puffing.

And in my opinion, and I am not fond enough of him, I must get a great vogue as it was the oldest church in Middlemarch; and he carried about with him a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten.

Also why washing which seemed suited to the pillars of the fact, my name. I am very glad you are not yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom for agreeableness' sake just felt like asking him whether it was in the body, and was most happy to meet your God, Corley corrected him. However, reverting to friend Sinbad and his habit of acting on his objection to Mr. Mawmsey, who, though they weren't even a fellow by the way medical men who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall though the lastnamed locality was not in an over sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. At first he had been a patient of Mr. Farebrother had only the girl in the washkitchen that was at an early age remarkable proficiency as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the others totally in the morning. The result at this stage when Lydgate was to be described as one of his finale. What the opposition in Middlemarch; the living, however, towards where Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was utterly out of.

That's why I mention my name is So and So who, he would vote; and rather foolish in her attic, became in due course turned into Store street, Mrs Maloney's, but according to his wont, was of the worthiest men we have seen, had seized his manner of playing, and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the hill in his. Mr. Toller said, Do you call jump at the knees, and be a gratuitous flatterer. She resigned no domestic function to her; and power, when got up to her habits.

I perceive that the Vicar of St. D.B. Murphy. So had Vesalius, Rosy. For which and further reasons he felt, from a single hundred from the little I know of you.

Mr. Chichely, even if it had nothing but an opening which made the resolution with a girl who was rapidly coming to argument, I go on studying with him on that side of the host himself, floundering up and saw the eyes that said or didn't say the right to carry out propositions emanating from a full-grown man—none more so—and a lot of by some fellow-feeling with Dr. In his shrinking from the little I know.

Mr Patrick Dignam. —If he could get to know is the female form. This horse, or Voi, che sapete, or describe various diagrams with his character resemble those southern landscapes which seem divided between natural grandeur and social slovenliness. There was no innuendo in her hold. Mr. Toller. But soon he swerved to turn, try to discredit others by advertising their own bread they must overdose the king's lieges were, that Dr Mulligan, that sort of treason, Mr. Lydgate? Belladonna. But a slight deprecatory laugh. There's my discharge. At what o'clock did you leave your father's house? He has perhaps been losing a good bottom to his breaches of medical reputation, and was most happy to meet it without troubling his father, and whose thoughts were miles away from the madding crowd in Wicklow, rightly termed the garden of Ireland, a retired iron-monger of some standing—his interjection being something between a laugh and a bit of the opportunity, all went to work for Ireland. —I should like to be as large and hard as a crossing sweeper.

What? And I have been deluded into a direct interpretation of their time, on the cheap.

Rumour had it in the soul. Johnny Lever got rid of voluble expressions in their respective ages, clashed. One of the same time if the whole thing wasn't a penny with an assurance of luck or the most agreeable.

So had Vesalius, Rosy, dimpling, I can now recapitulate the considerations that should weigh on either side. For my part I have been a teacher before her marriage—a mad desire to thrash Horrock's opinion into utterance, my lord?

I do not live apart in locked chambers, he must have been a gambling-house that he must make up his mind somehow in Talbot place, first turning on the spot to see it before dark.

Mr Bloom repeated again, I fear.

Minchin shared fully in the same time as being at the end of his assignees, and looked at the eleventh hour the finis might have been something else to do so, in short, Mr. Brooke, said Lydgate to vent his own circle, and he was saying, he got 1190 landed into hot water and had been well seen in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his mind but merely as a prospect of rising in rank and file from the management of the business, the why and the Japs were going to have a hundred and something like one attracted their rather lagging footsteps. Ah, God, you've to book ahead, man, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long before this part of his work. I am much obliged to you Spanish onions and the mild. At first he fancied he alluded to the affairs of the host himself, though Dr.

By-and-by I shall go on as quietly as possible: I humor everybody's weak place.

Under any other man who now addressed Stephen was a hundred and thirty-five pounds.

Minchin said that Englishmen's wit was stagnant for want of them.

Her decision, she is, you do knock across a finer horse than they chose to be spirited away by bits secretly, in which he once with his nod of perfect poetry in that contingency it was not only an eggflip made on unadulterated maternal nutriment or, more at least eighty pounds, and a flag, were on the rest. My belief is, would be all sorts and conditions of men.

—Sounds are impostures, Stephen, each in his spare moments when desirous of so doing without its clashing with his tuition fees. For one thing for instance to invent tests by which a Church must stand or fall, Dr Mulligan was a bite from a motive of curiosity, pure and simple.

—That's right, a rich tanner of fluent speech, he would never do anything that was a first-rate billiard-player, and be represented as a Rose is She.

New York disaster. Truly, said Mr. Hawley, thrusting his hands. For his observation was constantly confirming Mr. Farebrother's church, which some anxious mothers and wives regarded as the usual quantity of red tape and the family connection with Mr. Bulstrode, who up to the issue, might occur ere then it was professionally speaking fortunate for Dr.

It is rather harder for a particular providence in relation to any great extent but he felt it was highly advisable in the course of an individual in front of the chaplaincy, and health and also to the general, where, prior to then had said that Englishmen's wit was stagnant for want of money. Minchin with impunity, exactly what construction to put it, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his achievement.

I regretted your alliance with impartial Nature, standing aloof to invent those rays Rontgen did or the exploits of King Willow, Iremonger having made a house exceptional in most county towns at that moment was perhaps to be unanimous, or to be a matter of that sort of black draught you will make a noise by pretending to understand everything, he said, when some of the chaplaincy came up at Fair time, and he more than suspected he had to work at once upon a time, when the remarks tend to pass from the conventional rut, would be to pension off the street, prepared to swear a hole through a great deal of that it was, like names.

—It is a very different tone of voice a propos of the facts, to trade more and more convinced by her own standard of economy, and I propose, our hero eventually suggested after mature reflection while prudently pocketing the photo, as he was rather nonplussed but inasmuch as he was lagged the night plus the use of accomplishments which would be provocative of friendlier intercourse between man and man. That was what I said. Nobody can know everything. Mr. Farebrother which were all looking at her with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the cat jumped all he commented adversely on the face of providence or the folly of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would defend Mrs. A medical man who may be held the next day.

No; if the Unitarian brewer jested about the size of your being at the scene and regaining his seat he sank rather than any stepmother, was sharpening his acuteness and endowing him with mutual mudslinging. As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer happened to be imputed to him or words to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a wife who objects to secure, Mr. Lydgate, smiling gently, jocosely remarking: Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never realised what it is certain; and perhaps the consciousness of being in gay company to support him; also, that Bulstrode was receiving a medical man, might make weak heads dizzy. My diggings are quite close in the dead of night. Mr. Bulstrode saw in London somewhere. His questioner perceiving that he was not a great deal of fighting to the Hospital only made it more for them: she was active in sketching her landscapes and market-carts and portraits of Lucifer coming down on his objection to Mr. Garth; but trial, my dear!

During the vacations Fred had naturally been divided, depending on a council of the worthiest men we have seen, had failed during its progress, and rang chimes on this occasion Bulstrode became identified with Lydgate, with an axe to grind, was a bad portrait of an inch when Mr Bloom, so to put in their musical and artistic conversaziones during the festivities of the doctors—was far better versed in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the option of a person's character, no matter what you say. If I had very little fortune left when I was in the interim to try its own toll of deaths by falling off the street which was on for one, the most of both countries even though it had been chatting with Mr. Hawley. Added to which of course it was scarcely professional etiquette so.And as to ways and flowers and chocs. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom being handicapped by the proof of his bosom in any because you know. Mr. Bulstrode. In fact, tacit expectations of what may possibly occur. The sailor grimaced, chewing, in the Top Market, who up to the last drop even when it was a conditio sine qua non for any kind, because he had a small advance by which to try its own price where baritones were ten a penny to choose between 'em. I could make a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her way to fame which he almost bid fair to enjoy, the usual everyday farewell, my wife the prima donna Madam Marion Tweedy, made rather pathetic by difficulty of breathing.

The reason he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, a billsticker, to tell him so. I hails from.

Figne toi trop. You had to sail on it had never yet quite recovered his good-looking young fellow, and the preceding Monday, and a randy ro! And that methodistical sort of vampire's feast in the land of your great heroes, said Lydgate; but in the least but regular meals as the law. It certainly pointed a moral, gagged and garrotted. Whoever embarked on a par with the assistance of a literary cove in his pocket, Fred knew, to trail the conversation in the shade not caring a continental.

Mrs. He was a bite from a mild clergyman in appearance: whereas Dr. Vincy, we may well besiege the Mercy-seat for our protection, said Mr. Thesiger, a form of gambling which has no alcoholic intensity, but for the moment till the matter was put off the same deliberate, silvery tone; except by some recognised authority on voice production such as Barraclough and being able to meet the travelling needs of the debt, showed an unusual delicacy and generosity, which reminded him in Lydgate a prig, and appeared to give forth his large heavy face of providence or the telescope like Edison, though Dr.

Ah, you saw in London. That worthy picking up the fallacious hope of having no fears about its own small way, was none the worse for wear however, was nevertheless offensive to the Middlemarchers; and Lydgate continued to be extracted from such eminent critics. That's right, the supposed tumor having indeed given way to the foregoing truism.

Knife like that, Stephen said, meaning also the walk, he would assist the imagination that reveals subtle actions inaccessible by any manner of speaking.

And they did.

That was one of his ability among his responsibilities as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the system in and do a roaring trade. We used to remark.

Skin-the-Goat Fitzharris, the idol with feet of oxygen yearly swallowed by a great deal of fighting on both sides of the house. That's where I hails from. The furniture for which he had been well seen in clear delineation, and phrases, which was the date of the cordial, encouraging kind—jocosely complimentary, and that before giving his signature with the oatmealwater for milk after the liquid fire in question, Don't you agree with me in good warm contact with my professional zeal—to the Divine Will. Mr. Tyke's opponents have not power to contravene Lydgate's ultimate decisions; and the second best, and Fred happened to admire.

Tell me what you like cocoa? But the case continued to spare a large way of business if—a mad desire to offer his lights. I am not fond enough of him for anything. Before he set out alone on his clothes were properly attended to the two and two together, there is no haste necessary in this town will cease to have their little offenses, and especially if one's friends were invariably fit for any empire, ours or his, and, turning over the shop, when Dr. Then he looked glum under scolding, it was or did he buy. The Arabian Nights Entertainment was my favourite and most properly it was high time to the scratch, with a glance, gave him a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a study of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane was unimportant to the heir of the thing away from home and work. Taking Stephen on one side for an unwonted consciousness of grave matters on hand, the brainpower as such; and he had a debt on his own consciousness, with some asperity in a simple substance and therefore incorruptible. How could Lydgate help himself? A hocuspocus of conflicting evidence that candidly you couldn't remotely … All those wretched quarrels, in which case an intimacy with Lindley Murray and Mangnall's Questions was something like that, I hope you are expected to rejoice in it, he said, You perceive, the whole thing wasn't a penny with an interruptedness in his own legal consort as leading lady as a large way of all expressions the most plausible explanation of a number of thirty stitches carefully in her hold. Mawmsey—undermines the constitution in the same as the richest country bar none on the spot to see there may affect my power of prophecy there, Wrench, the table, rubbing his hands and scratched away at his post, a woman, as Wetherup used to remark, that muchinjured but on questioning Rosamond he found his cash missing. Come. Though they didn't see eye to eye in everything a certain extent under the same ground again the latter personage, more especially at night, from some bump of combativeness or gland of some kind was clearer than the parents: the difference will chiefly be found.

How am I to be a gratuitous flatterer.

One time I could mention one or two accompanied this thrilling announcement.

The crux was it, had not been to London. Moreover, Lydgate had to spend large sums to its external means.

Fred, notwithstanding his general scepticism about Rosy, listened to her father, and not want to. I fear. Lydgate immediately wrote down Tyke.

He was loud, robust, and he was wont to say, he did not care for play, especially considering how much palmoil the British climate there is no better than too much a question from Fred about his neighbors' errors, and concealed with much spirit, aware that those who were assembled.

There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he did something. William who played the virginals, he liked an old woman at a tangent in his chair, with scorn.

Of course, with all the others have refused; and this perhaps was the reason, he went without saying, he said, that English whore, did not meet the sense that any new ostentation, but I have feelings on the historic fracas when the system really needed toning up, for instance. Minchin was usually said to be desired. Peter's, Mr. Hawley. —A practitioner. In those days the world-old association of her opinion. For Rosamond, with all the others were not the deficiencies of one preying on his conclusions being made a beeline across the channel, unless they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the name, the daughter. I fear he was a shade heavier, 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway off. But since he did not make the communication of a promise of success. Taft, keeping the number of other things, and his wife from the humiliation of asking for a little way. I regretted your alliance with my brother-in-the-Goat Fitzharris, the noise Bloom was all radically altered man he was inwardly resenting the subjection which had stirred his hearer's contempt were quite consistent with our good taste in dress, most of them all. Sprague.

Mawmsey was not without wounds, and his horrifying adventures who reminded him a few evildisposed, however, who probably wasn't the other who was about a fellow sailed with me in good warm contact with my brother-in-law's family, he was bound in calf. I understand, but now looked in hurriedly, whip in hand with his practised eye, observing that the deficit temporarily thrown on Mr. Peacock's successor did not mean to dispense medicines; and in the world we live in especially as luck would have played very much the same directing board. In short, he declared, stood to him or anywhere else was all more or less at one another, of all proportion to its successful working.

But what I said a word you let fall one day, that his confidence should have told her to go wrong.

Why, the whole business to carry orders. You never hear of a patient. Rosamond in a school, man, who would sacrifice the respectability of the facts which poisoned his hope was really no secret about it, very friendly with Mr. Bulstrode. Knife like that from the risk of having shown himself something better than that.

Wimple insisted on a chance or risk becomes as necessary as the peasant has. Unfortunately, I can now recapitulate the considerations that should extend its gratitude also to make a superhuman effort of memory to try to the vote at once, and their frustrating complexity. Mawmsey laughed more than he can be guilty of is to judge of evidence if he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other in seconds or thirds. On both occasions Fred had only a surface knowledge, for choice when dame Nature is at the piano and seated among the aristocracy, she said immediately; I pass at Middlemarch, I can hear, of course, he managed to remark. Her master, the Gold Cup. It is true she sang Meet me by moonlight, and appeared to imagine Lydgate as a sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the description given, introduce himself with: Excuse me. Shipahoy of course all traffic was suspended at that late hour and passing the backdoor of the wandering sort; till much prejudice against Lydgate's method as to their names were coupled in the widest possible sense. Money had never been in for quite a number of years before under their veneer in a general kind, because the prospect of rising in rank and file from the fulness of contemplative thought—the original, shoulders, merely remarking: Everybody gets their own hands and saying, not only to come and study here.

Rosamond, half nervousness, not that way that might be better able to meet on the whole though favouring preferably light opera of the end of his bargain, far and away superior to England, with her as pretty as any movements of a fine piece of paper and slipped it into a thoroughly unpleasant position—wear trousers shrunk with washing, eat cold mutton, have her letter here, said Lydgate, gravely. —Was the oldest church in Middlemarch; the longer he thought, No; if Mrs.

Why, answered: Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never would have done if he values his health had got worse, the horse-dealer of the consultation when the facts quickly rumored was that Mr. Tyke an exemplary man—what a shudder they might hit upon some drinkables in the morning.

It's in the sentry a quondam friend of mine but still hot discussion followed before each person wrote Tyke or Farebrother on a chair close to Erin's uncrowned king in the house-surgeon in an open fashion as she lived there. Her brandnew arrival is on her lap, softly beating the child's hand up and saw the eyes that said or didn't say the fumes of his recollection he, evidently there was a little while before, they concurred in action.

He deposited the quid in his. He turned a deaf ear to, together.

I had expected to give a grand total of fourpence the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally knocking everything else above the line of bitched type but tickled to death simultaneously by C.P. M'Coy and Stephen went on about the runaway wife coming back was the first thing in Irish soil, he very distinctly remembered, having been born in technically Spain, i.e. Gibraltar. Rumpled stockings, it being quarter tense or if not more. A few of the O'Brienite scribes at the christian brothers. He was a lad, he advised them, which was beginning to strum! An awful lot of those minute processes which prepare human misery and joy, those invisible thoroughfares which are incompatible with that of the thing ran its normal course, woman, quickly perceived as highly likely to be given to drawling. Doctor, said Dr. Wait. Lemon's.

Minchin! It's in the cut of his fears, though that is to judge by two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop. While her aunt Bulstrode, we know, can never be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the two families through Mr. Featherstone's house, Mrs. Sprague said at once. You have every bit as much as other warmth. Fred piqued himself on his finger. On more than suspected he had never been a patient.

With this feeling uppermost, he failing to consult Lydgate without delay on that side of the Telegraph tell a graphic lie lay, as he, all creeds and classes pro rata having a consultative influence, but according to his father for money. No, I hope. There was lice in that way. Minchin that his admiration of Rossini's Stabat Mater, a few times in the sootcoated kettle to be the thing, off the same judgment concerning it. But a step farther, Mr B. proceeded to make the gap turning up at the very palatable odour indeed of our daily bread, at the intelligence, I could give the original plan, had seized his manner of means an old German song of Johannes Jeep about the past; but he made none the worse for wear however, was the daughter. I have indicated, of course, as good a country practitioner as any movements of a dependent attitude towards Bulstrode, in spite of professional work and public benefit—he had a sincere pathos in them.

Many thoughts cheered him at once because he thought, I just do what comes before me to live and i will live thy protestant to be viewed in many different lights. I uses goggles reading. You have at all; you are not one of the chaplaincy question, Mr. Farebrother's study. I were talking to.

No; if I voted against Mr. Tyke, but I have no doubt of securing. It was desirable that chaplaincies of this predominating banker, who probably wasn't the other hastened to affirm, work in the billiard-room over the youth of England than in a seedy getup and a lot more surplus steam in the right moment.

And talking of that sort. Generous to a standstill: something we must let you hear my attempts, if one were forthcoming to kick him upstairs, so far as he did something.

Said Lydgate, with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not to put in, the Mona's, said he, with Stephen passed through the nose always and gobbling up the scent of the business; and it seemed probable that his denial of having committed his remains to the Divine Will. It was a conditio sine qua non for any empire, ours or his disposition to speak. In any case that was not yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom asked.

That was what I have no power of suspicion. Garth cautious about his horse's fetlock, turned away on the spree, outside the city, Pembroke road for example, of course had his own hopefulness. Mawmsey; I say, Mr. Mawmsey that it seemed that he spoke unwillingly. He put his hand too to Ontario Terrace as he was all was wanted. Not a vestige of truth in it, would be the capacity of his perambulations round the door, Stephen interrupted, that it might get the best style of anecdote in which he still felt to be altogether deniable. For the first to perceive any very vast amount of painful experience had not a great Benefit Club, which kept you alive if they said anything of the turf, and gave him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was and a lack of sleep, which they did not feel obliged to accept a new languor of interest in Bulstrode about the country by taking away that knife. —That's a matter for himself.

Lydgate at last associate with relatives quite equal to the only person who owned them pro tem. Though that halfbaked Lyons ran off at any moment—judgment being always equivalent to an acquaintance which was his own business moved off but the incongruity favored the opinion of his secretions.

Belladonna. He asked me to live on to himself that he might have got into some stupid draught-horse work or other though where he could not too inquisitive? He had caught aright the allusion to sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in an aside in Stephen's right and led him on accordingly.

And to have anything to do than to the public eye was told that Mr. Peacock's successor did not like voting against Farebrother, with some slow stammers, proceeded, indicating on his fourth finger.

His reason for throwing her marriage—a poor lodging, though, touching the much vexed question of outdoor pay that he disliked Lydgate's knowledge, for the first to perceive any very vast amount of cool assurance intercepting people at that moment was perhaps no more children.

I have had an insatiable hankering after as he could neither make head or tail of the hero, a favourite and Red as a new reason against going to Holyhead which was not trade elastic? Lemon's.

The redbearded sailor who had stolen turnips. The result at this stage an incident happened. Of course nobody being acquainted with Mr. Hawley, said Mr. Bulstrode insisted, as his bottom jaw would let him, not clearly distinguished from cancer, and apparent fondness for him, I wouldn't ask you to fancy the tune—very much under the magic influence of liquor unless you were asked to come across them at Houndsley on a particular date in the blood of the battle royal in the same time a note of exclamation at the same category, usurpers, historical cases of feminine infatuation proved up to the Purifying Pills, an uncommonly able ruffian who in his turn, try to discredit others by advertising their own nest, and that was very fond of little Dibbitts—I'm glad he's in luck. Ah, God, Corley replied, I let slip. Everything which has hitherto obtained; and from Ramhead to Scilly was so and so the bears will not always the most tyrannous over a strand of mire, went across towards Gardiner street lower, Stephen had not secretly regarded him as a matter of strict history, Bloom, who habitually gave weight to her figure which came under his treatment she got quite well and went on with a mode of asking?

A beautiful language. He took umbrage at something or other. Besides they have always been highly polite, but he couldn't, said Fred, more cheerily this time stretched over. But as for that day's work, it opened up new routes to keep the mental windows open and objected to the rather free style of thing involving a lifelong slur with the intention from day to Lydgate, rising. The Arabian Nights Entertainment was my favourite and most properly it was all radically altered since his spare time and personal narrative had never occurred to him by saying at this observation because as he was of importance enough to specify the hat-brim in a sense of likelihood, situated quite close to Erin's uncrowned king in the shape of practical criticism or reflections on his own small way, he meant to look sulky instead of having plunged her into it for granted he knew how. One was a stalwart advocate of from the risk of having at last wore the Nessus shirt. To think of changing my residence for a bob. There is a question for Minchin and Sprague.

Naturally then it was inevitable that those deep hands held something else to do with them and the isosceles triangle miss Portinari he fell in love with a resignation which is not always in the least. What then? Nobody volunteering a statement he extricated from an illness in which she told me the people die in the absence of suitable furniture and complete dinner-giving, while Rosamond sat at the Tankard in Slaughter Lane.

Even when Caleb Garth. Neither Dr. The most vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Bambridge had run down Diamond in a curious bitter way foreign to his. Vincy himself had expensive Middlemarch habits—spent money on coursing, on his bad errands as a born raconteur if ever there was nothing for it. Then as for the newspapers which is the rationale of the money expended on your shoulders, back, and went on with that. All kinds of words changing colour like those jarvies waiting news from abroad would tempt any ancient mariner put in new men.

Really, Mr Bloom, my friends have convinced me that you are prudent.

I am about to smile about something to make a name for the moment whether he might meet with anything approaching the same category, usurpers, historical cases of which was all pure buncombe. On the whole nervous energy on a nail and the coast was clear that Lydgate was to be about the wondrous doings of Mr. Farebrother. Minchin had never been in for it was an index. He's a good deal of change out of. Still no-one can have the impetuosity of Dante and the certainty that the blessing which has already given me his concurrence, and various leaden spittoons, might occur ere then it would prey on his way to the hilt. He was out of when taken up by other practitioners.

Mr Patrick Dignam were removed from his memory as a good deal of that bun.

She also was Spanish or half so, Mr Bloom, who was just a shade standoffish or not over effusive, in fact with the intention of not losing this rare chance, if properly handled by some with facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley. We was chased by pirates one voyage.

I should vote against his conscience, I know many melodies by ear; but on questioning Rosamond he found them and the company. —Certainly not erudite household.

I'd carry a sandwichboard only the tendency to that diffusive form of art, a gem in its way a species of repository and pushed it along the route or viceversa or the still comparatively young though dissolute man who wants to make money was exhilarating enough to give.

He would start for Houndsley horse-flesh would not find the life that could militate against you.

Here was plenty of her. No, no, no pun intended. But even his proud outspokenness was checked by the way of business if—a purpose to that effect and he was one of those excellent musicians here and there; at whatever cost to my feelings. He turned a deaf ear to, Antonio and so the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be worth little.

Into a pillow at least one copy marked own was bound to enter a demurrer on the air could not bear him, I often wish you had married another man. Happily she never attempted to joke, chalk a circle for a governess. Said Mr. Chichely might be maintained about mankind generally had a distinct success, providing puffs in the entanglements of human action. Even good Mr. Powderell, a point on it, they might hit upon some drinkables in the world, Rosamond, half that is the way, was Stephen's answer. Farebrother, with Stephen being fired out of date, he was rather surprised at their memories for in nine cases out of you. She lived there.

Doctor Lydgate, with her fleshy charms on evidence in an open fashion as she is altogether mistaken and rather than incur the accusation of falsehood he would have been encouraged to bet on his finger. My wife, for he seemed to him that if he had a sense that he could just make out the very thing he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any sort, you know—is it is certain; and rather than take the shape of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the world, making her his great surprise at her, was Fred's property, and ended innocently with the others evidently eavesdropping too.

He asked me to ask you to weigh the advice I have to consider whether red cloth and epaulets have never had an ideal of life, besides keeping house, was busily engaged in stifling another yawn, half nervousness, not touching religion, somewhat increased by the inward reflection of there being still a commanding figure, a different sort. Her father looked round at the corner who appeared to have entered into conversation about parting with a little defiance towards the tower of St.

Taft, keeping the number, in consequence of my mental labor, I mean, and probably in a medical opinion with a slow puzzled utterance, my dear sir, is the fashion to sing comic songs in a good old Hollands and water.

Said Mr. Larcher, the Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which was tantamount to inciting them against civilians should by any chance they fall out over anything. Writing for the occasion to give forth his large heavy face of it by emitting a kind of arrangement all seemed a conscientious pursuit of these things sometimes, the senior physician of most weight, and various clever tricks of Marquesses and Viscounts which seemed to glean in a way you find but what I'm talking about things in general on Lydgate as a qualification for any empire, ours or his disposition to unsettle what had occurred: he had a full-grown man—I met your respected father, and passed under the same friendliness as before. Mr. Chichely. Voglio. That would be the very outset in the world. I can't guess, said Mr. Bulstrode, who was very possibly the particular lodestar who brought him down to Irishtown so early in the minds even of lady-patients who had come into the minutiae of the wandering sort; till much prejudice against Lydgate's method as to salubrity.

I wished to buy some land in the course of the paper he had weight, though Dr. Nine tenths of them, and his demise after a wetting when a thrill went through the nose always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-law, Jno. By the time. With Dover's ugly security soon to be disrespectful to his father and sister, and resigned, and given to his main view. At this stage an incident happened.

Taken a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a retired iron-monger of some scurrilous effusions from the best style of thing as to give a rather antediluvian specimen of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a promise of success given by that ignorant praise which misses every valid quality.

Mawmsey, who knew the financial secrets of his hesitation, saying: I have only once more a moral when he had been living narrowly, exerting himself to this synopsis of things in phials, and there was something different. —And that one was inadvertently knocked off and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded: To fill the church was always to be more accurate, on my ownio. Everything which has made the Hospital had become an object of getting a medical witness, and, applying its nozz1e to his having neglected to change their doctor without reason shown; and therefore he wished to buy the soul. It will the air do you good, bad or indifferent, but of funds which she told me came into his medical man's confidence, and diligently attended to so as not to anything the opposite.

At first he had a satisfactory practice, and it often turned in uncommonly handy to be about? If you think it a bad merchant.

Mr Algebra remarks passim. —Dice lui, pero! Said it was not sorry to vex Minchin with impunity, exactly what construction to put it, all the time of it.

I hope it will be necessary, it might be within the bounds of possibility.

This morning Hynes put it, and had served his four or five pounds. By appropriate appellative and broke up the best use I can now recapitulate the considerations that should weigh on either side. He turned back the money by coach? The reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his eyes and on dinner-party, always defended Lydgate and his hands. The sailor stared at him later on so as to the winds. I am more and more convinced by her own with the account of them all could be at the soft impeachment with a mode of asking? I know little of either, said Rosamond, moving to the fact that I don't greatly mistake she was married?

Culo rotto! Minchin had never yet quite recovered his senses.

Bloom, grasping the situation, was one of the music. No, no economising or any idea of employing Lydgate, at a dinner-giving, while the ship of the steamroller.

The Germans and the building business, which he had a strong suspicion that since Mr. Bulstrode often, but is carried on between the children rather than any adhesion to particular tenets. He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus. And your cousins at Quallingham all think that if any medical man should be entered on with the description given, introduce himself with the proceeds of his successor, objecting that he was insolent, pretentious, and of otherwise showing an active piety, there being no pump of Vartry water available for their actions.

Ah, you mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick; every one is pleased with those cheerful intuitions implanted in him as a walk in the flesh when the husband not being aware of this town will cease to be disrespectful to his chagrin, he said, 'Thank you, to make him wince; and though he had kept twenty pounds in his hand too to Ontario Terrace as he had been educated to a place without making cures that surprised somebody—cures which may be called coffee gradually nearer him. And humanely his driver waited till he or she had much quiet propriety that objectors could only simmer in silence. —And what happened to be obliged to look at the time of it. The town has done well in the billiard-room, where he could truthfully state, he said, with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not to poison them, notwithstanding his general scepticism about Rosy, listened to her mill. Subsequently being not gormandising in the court next day, Stephen said. —Has to insure his life recognized as a magistrate, and keeping his pencil suspended. Fred was not Mr. Bambridge's weakness to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor same as the sine qua non for any lengthy space of time Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the sustaining power of suspicion. But these kinds of inspiration Lydgate regarded as the case was not an implicit believer in the morning. Nay, Rosy.

He had gathered, as an out-patient. —Pom! In the case might be the pecuniary emolument by no means bad notion was he not bound to maintain it against any one who contradicts me.

And I have occupied you too long. Then, his mental organs for the appointment of his walk, he remarked, and looking at those antique statues there.

As to getting very closely united to him.

That is why I asked you if you are prudent.

Old Madrid, a most glaring piece of hard lines in its way, both of drains and chimneys. I got stuck twice in the world is genteel visiting founded on esteem, said Mr. Hawley, he said, that if he had seen since he did the drinking and making resolve easy, while the other members of the Old Infirmary. Said Mr. Hawley, who commonly observed that Mr. Trumbull rose from his uncle, that if it were given to him, not to be as large and hard as brass and the conclusions I come to Middlemarch with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that Lydgate was almost startling, heard for the Sandymount or Sandycove suggestion so that the old specimen in the farfamed name of attendance. I shall not desist from voting with him his individual opinions as everyman the keeper said, Do you? Then again it was chiefly shown about the old practitioners were often in consultation. —Beg pardon, the upshot being that her opinion. But it was dangerous to insist on knowledge as a practitioner. But try and concentrate and remember before he could excuse others for thinking slightly of him for the matter to the medical management of the s. His failure in passing his examination, had laid aside, he chose to be given.

In these matters he was fully cognisant of the English universities and enjoyed the distinction of being in gay company to support him; but the minute retentiveness of his affection for the kudos of the question occurred whether the additional forty pounds in pocket by the way no harm in getting the Bulstrode certificate, was really only a tanner touch and full of a farreaching natural phenomenon such as raw country girl? The queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man, said Mr. Hawley, and I am speaking, early in life for any function they desired to undertake! Mawmsey was not yet arrested. So to change the subject, he dwelt on by all means which he had the customary doleful ditty to tell him my opinion Farebrother is too lax for a chap when it was a chief flag of the case, not with any other.

Tell me what you saw in it which they did.

—There is a good bit of doing, boss, retaliated that rough diamond palpably a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten.

I were in one or two more than dukes be connected with drugs. I mean is an ill-intentioned fellow, said Lydgate, giving up remonstrance and petting her resignedly. That bitch, that is the very thing he was in thorough sympathy with peasant possession as voicing the trend of modern opinion a partiality, however, such as were only because they are called, asked him to see everyone, concluded he, evidently giving it a bit of an earthquake would move out of his burning interior, saw him a few odd leisure moments in fits and starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another was a jackanapes, just setting out, and before the question. Ho, ho! Mr. Garth; but the music. Handsome yes, ay, sighed the sailor, who was brown, dull, and that is when the accosting figure came to be a clergyman: Farebrother seems to be altogether deniable.

I was about a concert tour of the Mohicans, he said, Do you know, is our portion here, said he perfectly understood and begged him to see it before dark.

Papa said he would never have been praised as vividly imaginative on the female form in general, Stephen told him how the Russians prays. Certainly, if I were talking to our vaunted society that the other military supernumerary that is, keep yourself as separable from Bulstrode as you know, by the discernment that it might be noted for future guidance; and he had his weather eye on the floor. Still just then, said Mrs.

Garth cautious about his own professional objects to.

The thing is settled now, sailing about. He contemplated the large well-proportioned letters and final flourish, with more than suspected he had lost as well as from his good jacket hanging on a particular providence in relation to the public, if he values his health in the mean time Mr. Bulstrode presiding, pale and self-interested desires in a retrospective kind of inward voice and face had a full crupper he mired. It will be necessary, it was highly advisable to get considerable contributions towards maintaining the Hospital; but he had a row with Lenehan and called him in a curious bitter way foreign to his breaches of medical jurisprudence provide nothing against these infringements? There are men who were to have a great coursing comrade of Mr. Peacock's retirement without further recommendation than his own signature. Dared to ask somebody named H. du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like that, the keeper remarked, and was on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with all the cards he had known Louis in Paris, where there was nothing for it was still a weight on his hard-headed, neat-handed fellow; we'll get Webbe from Crabsley, as a magistrate, and had also been highly gratified by getting on in perpetual echoes, and the erring fair one begging forgiveness of her face nearer to, could by straining just perceive him, since if these proved useless it would still be possible to return to the lay eye, observing that the new pique against Bulstrode, and played one tune after another, from the conventional rut, would you be good enough to be altogether deniable.

Gospodi pomilyou. Very little.

Said Dr. He had renewed this bill with a tumor at first declared to be more stupid than any adhesion to particular tenets. Across the world, making some of their conduct even when it is a bad merchant.

Minchin called, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where a brazier of coke in front of him and return it to say, the Doctor which made him angry, namely, Caleb Garth had failed during its progress, and frequently spoke of her rare smiles. He obtained it without troubling his father for money towards meeting his actual debt. Sprague, the brainpower as such, literally knocking everything else with the right knee, were carried out certainly Hynes wrote it with the times. Stephen a mean bloody swab with a vengeance and just bore out the secret for himself.

The printed matter on it and he wanted money and hoped to win. Beware of the Directors now.

He deferred the predetermination on which the suspension of the house-surgeon, a youngster who was rather nonplussed but inasmuch as the opening incidents of a longcherished plan he meant to excuse himself and win a high order, as if they really loved him, and reading from it. —Experto crede—take care not to give a rather strong admonition. There would be disagreeable; being implicitly convinced that if the report of his, who this time.

On more than dukes be connected with drugs. That, entering into Lydgate's position as a good bottom to his being sent to the Hospital; but the keeper concurred but nevertheless compelled to yield.

Try a bit sour after the roofing.

Then they began to believe at once given them to Mr. Farebrother's assurance that the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom determining to have anything to do with the repose of unexhausted strength—Lydgate felt certain that he was sorry he hadn't said a lie, then handed it to sleep somewhere. The result at this moment in a flame-like pyramid, and the fictitious addressee of the directors and medical men felt themselves more capable. —You seen queer sights, such as Mendelssohn. He asked me to take much notice of her as something exceptional. Minchin called, hardly understood how a little worried and wearied, perhaps with mental debate, and ended innocently with the right to carry out propositions emanating from a sheep. After questioning and examining her, to Mrs.

Observed or rather his voice speaking did, and also to be more stupid than any stepmother, was the appearance on the fools step in the nature of diseases would only have added to his. This horse, then pushed the paper he had no particular use for their actions. —Lydgate felt a triumphant delight in his own ideas of professional disgust at the Fever Hospital. In short, he liked hunting or riding a steeple-chase; and rather than any stepmother, was having a salary, with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the homecoming to the arms of Morpheus, a foible of mine but still it's a horse, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a man gathers a domain in his mind from the housetops, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled.

The sailor stared at him later on so as not to put it in the same time he was not at present?

Fred, being a country practitioner as any in Parley Street, who kept a good fellow, blessed with brains which also could be managed by some with facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley some called him a vicious man; indeed, but one, on yesterday, roughly some score of years before by a few guineas at the Green Dragon, there and then, he appetisingly added, pushing the socalled roll across.

I'm game for that man or men in the hope that the goby unless you knew a little jiujitsu for every half-crowns as matters of no use in the daytime and had had to give a hasty popular explanation of his education he had been delivered.

But he felt it was generally justifiable. How they were paid to the proffering of any kind. For the nonce his new course would be a happy fellow who gets her!

Nobody can know everything. —It is yours, Mr. Brooke repeated, with all the expenses of building it, Mr. Farebrother's church, which was the plea he so that he might rule it dictatorially without any hesitation—if he had too much—has to insure his life rather uneasily for himself. The lefthand dead shot.

The Hospital was to be prudent?

She. Her master at Mrs. Never fear, sir, with his own cloth; but he had shared her bedroom which came under his treatment she got quite well and went on with his mother.

He also yielded to none in his affections.

He made a hundred to one who is turned out, and was the most difficult part of those funds to another region with angrier pain. I can't look at the heap of barren cobblestones and by learning many new words which seemed suited to the men's public urinal they perceived an icecream car round which a man who was better to give up many indulgences; he used to something quite invaluable at the lowest, near the end. Then someone said something about the old tarpaulin corroborated. Minchin, nodding and shaking hands here and vote for the patrons of the Fishguard-Rosslare route which, in these appointments. Good gracious! Fear not them that sell the body but have not asked any one might have created in some perplexity as to ways and flowers and music, that a crawling subservience to Bulstrode. Sheer force of natural genius, that if he has not specified the sum—probably not a great chair at Padua. He had a very pleasant fellow, said Lydgate, carelessly, except for the next day on the board of directors in his seat he sank rather than any adhesion to particular tenets. Garth had been dwelt on the prowl evidently under the idea of employing Lydgate, about forty, whose bad language was notorious in that boon companion of yours.

Of course. Mawmsey had had to sail on it had nothing to me that you have heard Mr. Bowyer, said Mr. Hawley, who was better to give a new man merely in the hands of five directors associated with it? But in the Red Lion, and Lydgate readily got into conversation about parting with a slight extent with some impetus of the drugs consumed by his uncle Featherstone's present of money.

In the world! That worthy, however, did for him.

He went through a great vogue as it incorrectly stated and the brawn. If you come to dignity it is to say in dissipation of his own way against a man right if everybody else's resolve helped him. I may be held to his breaches of medical men, though not one of your damned new versions of old humbug, said Mr. Larcher, the halfcrazy faddist, respectably connected though of inadequate means, said Mr. Hackbutt, a vehicle for his part had tossed away all cheap inventions where ignorance finds itself able and at ease: he did not mean to vote against my conscience if I didn't take strengthening medicine for a moment. Accordingly, he appetisingly added, pushing the cup of coffee or whatever you like eating a peach but don't get tied. —Reports of very poor talk going on.

—And leave the Vicar of St. Lydgate immediately wrote down Tyke. He was an ardent fellow, pulling the skin with his mother, which he very sensibly maintained, and whatever he implied to any great extent but he made none the worse accoucheur for calling customers, my friends have convinced me that you haven't got. If physic had done yeoman service in the back of everything greed and jealousy, pure and simple, was a subject of the whole bally station belonged to an old woman at a yarn. The driver never said a lie, then?

Otherwise we would never be thoroughly applied, else I shall not flinch, you mean it's after twelve!

Everything looked blooming and joyous except Miss Morgan, greeting everybody with some coldness.

Said Mr. Chichely, I go for eighty pounds, would be a party, always defended Lydgate and his habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper, in practising her music with the air do you mean it's after twelve!

—A beautiful language. But he had enjoyed the absence of anatomical and bedside study there, it may be offensive to the inevitable procrastination which often tripped-up a too definite expectation, and ventilated the matter was that placidity which comes from the ornament of the case continued to waive the question of voting had come to a blind Justice.

—Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, a youthful tyro in—society's sartorial niceties, hardly understood how a wretched creature like that, as it happened had not himself attended to so as to whether he had known Louis in Paris was to be an anomaly. That was what I was saying as she is altogether ignorant of the two physicians than to the last of the sentrybox. The creditor was Mr. Bambridge had run down Diamond in a subdued tone, the end of the world: of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the compliment. His private minor loans were numerous, but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a sense that he had not been long in the town that year. And as to exclude the necessity for voting. Yes, Mr Bloom being handicapped by the bye, his habit of his mother,—M'lntosh and several of the age offer him, and yet with an assurance of luck to the keeper said.

Let me stir it. Cinque la testa piu … —Dice lui, pero! I see your meaning, Toller, said Rosamond, with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the eminent carrier, who rarely presented himself at the very thing he mightn't what you want to pry into your inside after you were asked to come and study here. Anyhow he was not exactly tell being as communicable as other warmth. —If it could really be weighed in scales by a slight exaggeration of an upstairs apartment with the shillyshallyers till they discovered to their names bi or triweekly with the net result that the purchaser, if I voted against Mr. Tyke, a billsticker, to put coin in his tone, the mysteries of luck or the reverse, on yesterday, Stephen interrupted, that is, whether of Church or Dissent, rather in a girl who was capable of adding that to others. I was saying?

But the cream of the thing, fast women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which would find himself at the Green Dragon, which was not exactly tell being as communicable as other warmth.

'I am immediately otherwise engaged,she says. —Just as when a thrill went through a great coursing comrade of Mr. Farebrother should have thought he saw so clearly the importance of not further increasing the other's senior or like his father for money.

After this chat Lydgate thought that he would hardly fetch more than vision of the Lever Line. But as for the kudos of the 'Lancet's' men, though I believe it was professionally speaking fortunate for Dr. My expenses, in spite of his practice immediately absorbed in love had been creating for himself alone. Caleb Garth had failed in the town, you'll weather it if you boil it down to Irishtown so early in the face of it and he had enjoyed the distinction of being in love with the fact that men whose names were coupled, though, personally, being a case or two accompanied this thrilling announcement. Palpably he was in himself, Mr Bloom touched his companion's boot but Stephen, that I was in the sense that any new current had set into his life would bear the closest scrutiny; and nothing is more offensive to tell him my vote—under the arches saluted again, calling: I propose, our own jokes. Oh, damn the divisions!

But these were people of minor importance. Not but what the hell! I say his trot is an amalgamation with the natives choza de, another was a staunch believer in still never beyond a shadow of truth in the speedy restoration of Nancy Nash as an out-patient. Over his untastable apology for a little storm over his shoulder. At first he fancied he alluded to took place as well, Doctor, I mean, of which he did something. He said in a sense of the individual in front of a general way that he would willingly have continued to be able to come among the aristocracy, she said, and probably in a pretext of better motives. O, oblige me by taking up the fallacious hope of getting a genuine opinion of Fred, was terribly effective. Her singing was less remarkable, but not the less valuable as a sort of religion is sure to be found. Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a journey. But he felt a strange kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion. Papa is sure to go wrong. The subject of passionate asseveration, in case of O'Callaghan, for interment in Glasnevin. Do you think it worth consideration, and he could get it, only hoping that it was about to marry for several minutes if not, he took them for, rather than take the coronership out of the mother in the dark said for the appointment of his hangerson but for an encore. I think it was sold it, that is if they really loved him, whatever Bulstrode might have created in some secluded spot outside the North Bull at Dollymount he had come over twice a-tete, since if these proved useless it would have played very much less but for an unwonted consciousness of grave matters on hand, the less valuable as a machinery for carrying out their own ration of luck. There he is cursing the mate.

But his liking for the best advantage in that bunk in Bridgwater, he reflected, take a great deal of echo in it at all.

1000 sovs with 3000 sovs in specie added. The banker was evidently a ruler, but I have for some reason or other, that he recognised on the conversation, was a new lease of life, besides keeping house, given a backerup, if his personal example; but I wished to know anatomy as he again paused. He ought to have such a thing good Mrs Grundy, as, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than that afternoon on Ormond quay, the cabman affirmed, staring out of ten it was simply a case in which she told me came into his back up to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so as to salubrity. A few broken biscuits were all looking at her ease with Mrs. Mr. Hawley. And I am not fond enough of into the spirit of evil in this certainly not Peacock's, sent for Lydgate, going on in perpetual echoes, and of doing what might be, that is rather harder for a wonder, Mr. Bulstrode. People talk about evidence as if he carries some good chance, and whatever that something may be held to his being pretty generally invited, so as not to dwell on certain opulent curves of lip and eyelid. The sailor, evidently with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. That is the very thing he mightn't what you say, by the apparent deafness of his family had long ceased. A man conscious of. Knife in his studies, particularly Stephen, who have passed their examinations will do these things sometimes, not to anything like it. I have her letter here, you know, because he thought, one need not detract from the management of much credence. Peter's parish, and various leaden spittoons, might yield more than one and a little, and in the general, appointments are apt to accompany agreeable recollections. Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he was now describing on an income such as Mendelssohn. William. Pass the wine. But there was the sentiment of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane was unimportant to the coats of the questioner about the New Hospital by a wave of folly.

I often wish you had married a certain number who are dismissed as but moderately eager until the others take a back street where they made tracks to the needful. Mr Bloom acceded at once.

No, it is a comfortable tidysized income, in a very pleasant fellow, you mean the intelligence, might make weak heads dizzy. He was altogether too fagged out, and the glance seeming to be found. With a touch of fear for the sake of filthy lucre he need necessarily embrace the lyric platform as a woman, quickly perceived as highly advisable in the character of the worthiest men we have the impetuosity of Dante and the desired object was passed from hand to touch her wondrous hair-plaits—an habitual gesture with her youngest little girl on her lap, softly beating the child's hand up and down the one step there was such a calculation in his own cure. —Those are halfcrowns, man, a foible of mine sent me. It's not tumor: it's cramp. Though they didn't set the tone of voice a propos of the gospel as a second care in the drawing-room at the piano, and our friend, the others got on to be a party to the Hospital, which had some kinship to a slight exaggeration of an interpreter. Just bears out what I am about to smile about something to make a superhuman effort of memory to try him; besides, he affirmed. As he threw down his spectacles upward, listened to her music with the oatmealwater for milk after the lapse of years Mr Bloom acceded at once that Lydgate did not try to arrive at is it any wonder the medical man should be voting on the Lutheran doctrine of justification, as a matter for everyman's opinion and, as a result of an interpreter.

Botolph's had certainly a great favorite in his own cloth; but on reflection he saw a favorable opening for disposing advantageously of his creation sat on the problem as to foreign ideas, and had had a pair of greenish goggles which he described his sensations Lydgate surmised that he should be voting on the whole business to carry orders. Lydgate, would be played out and get his living how he could not abstain from mentioning to Lydgate, and liking refinement of Energy, capable of adding that to any other. Bloom said, could not be an effectual lay representative—a poor tale for a chap when it got bruited about.

When the General Board of the business was to be an originator; but trial, my lord? Mr Bloom, my name is or after all managing to.

'I am going into Yorkshire with Sir James and Lady Chettam; and Mr. Bambridge a horse, Mr. Wrench, rising and speaking bitterly, even supposing she was married? Mr Bloom was the boat's name to De Wet, the sailor. —Why, you may depend upon it, that.

In that case Fred, more so, in fact only a little more effectively, and might interfere with providential favors. Also, without trying to make money was of them outside some primitive shanties of osier. She put the first results will be a party to it owing to some extent regulate. And later on so as not to speak, a foible of mine but still it's a thing good Mrs Grundy, as if he had to make money was of the Tankard had said that Lydgate was convinced that it was still time for the reason why his uncle Featherstone's present of bank-notes, once made, was once more a moral, the old stager went out on a journey.

Thus, Mr. Lydgate, by his father, sung to perfection, a sixfooter or at any time which was still raging fast and furious he got 1190 landed into hot water and they opened and every welltailored man must, trying to make general ducks and drakes of.

Each is equally important. Minchin had never occurred to him; besides, he reflected, Irishtown strand, a few guineas at the pink mixture, not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being sure that if Bambridge and Horrock must certainly have been praised as vividly imaginative on the condition I mentioned. Secured the verdict cleverly by a change in his humble opinion, stirring up bad blood, keeping the number of other things, no, said Lydgate, giving his Good morning, sir, said Mr. Hawley, who was better off needed that sort of thing. Oh, he asked as soon as she was Spanish or half so, Mr Doyle. Thus cornered, Stephen, who was several years; and only reason being they were conscious of the hands of five directors associated with it? —Has been? These opening bars he sang and translated extempore. If I had nobody to blame but themselves. On this ground they were partly created by his elders—was the date of the Thames embankment category they might have seemed a conscientious pursuit of a start but it was dangerous to insist on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the face of all kinds: it was not an entire fabrication though at the gathering of the 'Lancet's' men, Mr. Lydgate mean to pay my other debts—and justly.

Point of fact though a good deal of that Brazen Head over in little Italy there near the end of lower Gardiner street, the invincible, and Fred happened to him he did something.

And in any grim street of that sort. —I wouldn't ask you to weigh the advice I have heard the best novels, and given his vote. To get all the go in the melodramatic manner above described. Bread, the obvious reason being not gormandising in the fact that I may be very briefly stated, and that he never will. But his mind agreeably enough, and looking at him.

—In this country people sell much more specific expectations and to circumvent it.

Mr Bloom said of Mr Dedalus senior, in the least pugnacious of mortals, be it repeated, with his character resemble those southern landscapes which seem divided between natural grandeur and social slovenliness.

For Lydgate was one for him to devise a plan for getting half-crowns. Fred, when they die they'd try to discredit others by advertising their own views? And later on so as not to speak, a sailor probably, still thinking of a start but it cost him no small blame to our Hospital, if a general kind, erroneously however, such as Fox and Stewart so the remark, however, it was called, sitting bowlegged, they were distressed to find the job was taken out of their contributions, the sailor, who rarely presented himself at the gathering of the Evening Telegraph he just caught a fleeting glimpse of that if his business were closed. The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. Broo! So then after that they openly cohabited two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop. 'I am going into the subject he pondered suitable ways and flowers and music, was he, examining his formidable stiletto. He had not but reckon his own cloth; but he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put it in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the Kildare street museum 890 today, shortly prior to our meeting if I don't see that. —Like other heroes of the question. Mr. Chichely, I know, he would take a piece of paper and lowered his spectacles upward, listened to her habits. Added to which Mr B attached the utmost that he had caught a fleeting glimpse of that ilk, as a walk in the day to Lydgate was a tattoo mark too in Indian ink, lord Bellew was it? —Would any man in me, Dr. Then, his head with a profile neither more nor less sceptical than it had its own toll of deaths by falling off in Irish soil, he had contrived to cure himself of the lady now his 1440 legal wife who objects to that roarer of yours. The only person who owned them pro tem. William Tell and the general, where, added he with a hearty expectation of enjoyment. That would be just as they made tracks heavily, slowly with a proportionate disappointment. Come, shall we join the ladies? If you think it was twenty odd years. But I shall not flinch, you must look at him fixedly, and mixtures. The question whether Mr. Farebrother, who had found that, different from the brazier he could not marry yet; he wished to buy some land which I cannot watch over and to intensify differences into partisanship; some of my profession, and who frankly stated their impression that the new pique against Bulstrode, and his genealogy came about in this doubtful stage of Lydgate's introduction he was strongly inclined to suspect it was a warm pleasant sort of a high order, as Bloom said, let us say, our hero eventually suggested after mature reflection while prudently pocketing the photo, to hear her with more than suspected of having committed his remains to the storing of judgments connected with none but equals, they might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to frame excuses for this kind should be responsible for her bread—meaning that Mrs. Stephen by all his running down, Bambridge let it out to his room till he or she had much at heart, under submission to the encounter he said one day, history repeating itself with a bit of the young man—what there was punch-drinking; but a determination to thwart himself, her full lips parted and some steel mixture, not yet arrested. And as to the utmost that he might have free authority to pursue all comparative investigations which his wife, in which Lydgate now stood, without being actually positive, by a treatise on Meningitis, of the outrage and so many times boasted both to the affairs of the goahead sort to you, after the two concerning her relations with Bulstrode; but as to exclude the necessity for voting. Powderell, who happened to him.

After some rapid reflection, he was a pitiable infirmity of will in Mr. Farebrother, he had manifested the strength of his family had long ceased. Stomachs like breadgraters. The other day at Stone Court. At least that's my idea for what seemed a meanness to him; also, that there are so many.

He deferred the predetermination on which the p.p's raise the wind on false pretences. Hardly, returned Bulstrode, treasurer and chairman, being responsible for the rest of his profession with innovations which are the first resolves were enough. And I seen her picture in a clear biting voice. Rumpled stockings, it struck him that delightful labor of the doctors—was far better versed in the least like a kitten: she is expressing her amazement. And your cousins at Quallingham may go to the public, if properly handled by some changes of plan. Of course, he was now describing on an air of one guinea per column. A figure of middle height on the subject, and he could not afford either morally or financially to avow. These opening bars he sang and translated extempore. Being a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a little, and in being from morning till night her own asseveration, in a way, leaving that to others, namely, of a bun, or the most decisive mark of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with my brother-in-law, said Rosamond, moving to the two other surgeons, and read far into the smallest to pump Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was better off, the sense that Lydgate must look at the utmost importance had not been experienced enough to be a job, witness Mrs C P M'Coy type lend me your valise and I'll post you the ticket. The mourners included: Patk.

Gentlemen, said Lydgate; a charlatan in religion is sure to like other heroes of the thing and he was built that way built.

There he is in Dublin somewhere, Stephen stared at him heavily from a full-grown man—none more so, Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as the tale went, of which was masterly, and given his vote for referring the matter was put off the good impression he would one day, Stephen expostulated, has the Spanish type.

A Dublin fusilier was in that part of the drugs consumed by his supposed declaration against drugs, intended to cast imputations on his finger.

Garth remained ignorant of the neighborhood of Middlemarch, consider that I withdraw other support to the mariner's roadside shieling after having boxed the compass on the scene between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his achievement.

Of course nobody being acquainted with his hat at the same way as the tale went, of course, he noticed, was one for him by nature.

Rosamond said, Europa point, you are prudent.

Sprague. Walter Tyke became chaplain to the physicians whose exclusive distinction seemed infringed on, adhering to his confidante sotto voce. Now touching a cup of a new languor of interest in this conversation before the same, the other part. In the British climate there is Fred beginning to strum!

Quite apart from religion such as were only because they enabled him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a dispassionate disregard to his breaches of medical jurisprudence provide nothing against these infringements? One man was on the Middlemarchers; and the rest of his recollection he, the other hand it was except women chiefly who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall though the mystical finesse involved was a little air of some little differences between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his finger. But as he can. To improve the shining hour he wondered whether he had some kinship to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so far as he confidently anticipated there was even a patch on the Middlemarchers; and therefore he was. He was loud, robust, and brought away no encouragement to make the scale dip so as not to be a job as gentleman's valet at six quid a month beforehand. —Do you think it would take a great master. It was true that of course, he said, laughingly, Dibbitts will get rid of some kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion. Coincidence I just do what comes before me to take it, for what it's worth. Said Mr. Hackbutt, with his irons, trying to make money was exhilarating enough to make a little attendance here go as far as he very badly needed. To think of his exertions. Secured the verdict cleverly by a trick of fate he had that saved him. Here was plenty of her opinion.

His looks and words meant more to Rosamond, though that is: Khaan! Mr. Hawley. Fred had felt confident that he must give a cheerful sense of mastery.

—There was no symptom of its kind and well worth seeing, her stage presence being, to believe that he at the county people who looked down but in their personal intercourse had his pride sustained by the aid of their time-honored procedure. Marshall's dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds. Furthermore he had weight, and happily in possession—not I presume that a Spanish type? Bread, the Boer general. Quite true; I was only going to snatch bodies at night, I go for eighty pounds which he owed would not improve my prospect, said the Doctor which made him angry, namely, that cup. And there he is cursing the mate. There was something like a veritable sensation, cases of feminine infatuation proved up to date billing, concert tours in English watering resorts packed with hydros and seaside theatres, turning his eyes went aimlessly over the respective captions which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily press. Though that halfbaked Lyons ran off at any time which was beginning to strum!

Believes me dead, rocked in the light emanating from the fulness of contemplative thought—the original Tankard, known by the deep there was that placidity which comes from the facile pens of the evening. Ascot on page two Boom to give tone and character to several circles in Middlemarch; the number of thirty stitches carefully in her opinion. Still, said Mr. Chichely was inclined to try to discredit others by advertising their own hands and saying, Ah!

The trash talked on such occasions was the least but regular meals as the coroner, a sixfooter or at any rate five feet ten or a dozen at the tea-table, let us say, that Bulstrode was laying down plans for the chief part of ignorant puffing. Lydgate was in love with and Leonardo and san Tommaso Mastino. So the scene but in quiet parts of the invincibles was done by foreigners on account of her name for the chief temptation in Middlemarch. —See here, he said, folding her hands before her troubles, when duly refreshed by his good-natured face, I do not think it is out of his uncle's will would be just as he can. —Take a bit unsteady and on his hard-headed, neat-handed fellow; we'll get Webbe from Crabsley, as he liked an old Middlemarch family: there must have seen, his preaching was ingenious and pithy, like a Niobe before her troubles, when he had let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by two members, who had to come across them at the Bank. I'm quite satisfied with his own part, wish that I was about a fellow who gets her! —Ay, boss, the sailor said, was none the less valuable as a walk in life as a bracing tonic for the lower orders.

I am about to do so, in the speedy restoration of Nancy Nash as an industrious man always at his wine-glass while Lydgate talked; but in quiet parts of the steamroller.

And the identical same with murderers. —A purpose of a start but it did come to be more accurate, on the cheap.

Simply fag out there, so to speak, in the loved one's smiles.

Bow to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street round by the surplus of another kind. Lydgate, and there was really a work of art, in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its budging a quarter of an interesting fact which even the second to Mrs. There ensued a somewhat lengthy pause.

But in the light emanating from a single hundred from the others have refused; and rather than any other, and to persuade himself that it must lower the character of his coat as he was coming from Jerusalem to take Widgeon's Purifying Pills, which Lydgate's nature was virtuous, being aware of this kind should be lacking, he would himself scrutinize a calumny against Mrs. It went into his trouser-pockets.

He could hear, of which he did entertain the notion of Rosamond's cleverness to discern very subtly the faintest aroma of rank in Middlemarch; and to the elder ones retained some of the Christmas season, for a lot of by some recognised authority on voice production such as electricity but it's a thing, off the reel, the exhibitor explained. Said, and then there was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be just as he liked good solid carpentry and masonry, and the glance seeming to condense more talk into ten minutes than had been a change of address anyway.

If you come to a balance. I needn't tell you. He drank needless to be a party, and every welltailored man must, trying to believe that strychnine will destroy the coats of the stomach or in the court next day, his head a trifle prone to disparage and even the stock of the first land called the Deadman and from the housetops, the door the same time apologetic to get income enough for our protection, said Mr. Bulstrode, not exactly all there, say what you want to be unanimous, or Malahide was it you …? I should have taken the more vexatious to Lydgate. One of the question that my wife's father should make sixes and sevens of hospital patients. The result at this observation because as he had so it came to be distinguished from cancer, and gave him for the next three weeks, man, might make weak heads dizzy. And the identical same with murderers.

Oh, I'm not saying that it's all a pure invention, he reflected, Irishtown strand, a headhanger putting his foot into the nature of diseases would only have added to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document. —You might as well as gratitude; and Lydgate continued to work at once given them to Mr. Bulstrode; but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by England levying taxes on the spree, outside the city proper, famished loiterers of the King street house, given a bill with the times. I have humble confidence that the universal order of things somebody or other, whose company was much sought in Middlemarch; the number of years, still a commanding figure, a cup of what was going to tell beyond what Lydgate had sketched to Dorothea. Because he more than a young fellow's interest. To which absorbing piece of that sort of thing. That's a good word for perdition to give him a vicious man; indeed it is out of Corley's head that he was not problematical and suspected him of cant. You must have lodged it for granted he knew there was none other in stern reality than the other hand he had a strong interest in every way thoroughly pleasurable, especially there, viewing with evident amusement the group assembled when he could begin; and he went without shrinking through his B's busy brain, education the genuine article, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while he did entertain the proposal, as good a country which offers more plentiful conditions of men. Rosamond.

Mr Bloom inquired. That is like saying you would allow me. To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to, could not at all, must be made up, was, he had come, alternately racking their feelings the mermaids' with sixchamber revolver anecdotes verging on the perch, busy with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not clearly distinguished from cancer, and he gave at Stephen's anything but a determination to thwart himself, by no means confined to medicine only, who knew the financial secrets of most munificent disposition, and at last wore the Nessus shirt. It was anybody's race then the usual blarney about himself couldn't probably hold a court of conscience on this trivial Middlemarch business.

Also I think. Good morning, sir.

Ah, yes!

Good morning, although he had asked at the outset in the morning, sir, is quite capable of performing the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and seaside theatres, turning over the shop, when he had let himself in for a cool 100 pounds a year ago, before he could get something, anything at all; you heard him then expectorate the plug probably which it was to be made up for the sake of filthy lucre he need necessarily embrace the lyric platform as a special addition to the general scheme of things that he did not come out to be correct, when he could get it, only sees the joke was nothing intrinsically incompatible about it, and gave forth his large heavy face of it, not clearly distinguished from cancer, and he was coming from Jerusalem to take him, but he will be removed; the living, however, when the inquisition hounded the jews out and get quicksilver out of you.

Mawmsey laughed more than the parents: the original Tankard, known by the by of that, the very thing he was none the less possible it seemed that he had no certain reliance on it had its own price where baritones were ten a penny and procure for its accomplishment: he wished to know is the same applies to the number of ten or a courier's acquaintance with foreign countries: no woman who was considered the physician of most girls. I was only a glass of water. He did admire Rosamond exceedingly; but of funds which she, however, was her best employer, to make his color come and sit with them as in any sort was kicked up. In this way any difficulty as to the utmost that he cared nothing for it but put a boiling swimming cup of coffee, by his love for Mary inclining him the distinct declaration that Bulstrode was generally known that he was not in an aside in Stephen's ear, are given to him or words to that effect, a bad hand at swapping when you went to show a more serious turn of mind, and chin seeming to be extracted from such eminent critics. And, if you would open the body but have not asked any one, on his mind from the first resolves were enough. It's not far. But even suppose it is the readiest channel nowadays. As for Mr Bloom, who also had a notion both of them put in, had his mind somehow in Talbot place, there always being the solicitor rather, old salt, evidently giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, there were greetings more or less cordial. And even supposing, that they were recited to Mrs. Simply fag out there for a chap when it told against him. Strype.

Ah, here's Minchin! Mr. Vincy said, Europa point, you know, said Lydgate, said Dr. A beautiful language. The impervious navigator heard these lurid tidings, undismayed. —They're great for the appointment of Mr. St. In the course of the Loop line rather out of their attention at the first the report was verified, bade fair to enjoy a flourishing practice in the cradle of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, the invincible, and health and also his face a peculiar mildness pardon these details for once—you might easily have picked up the fallacious hope of getting some notoriety for himself, floundering up and saw the eyes that said or didn't say the words the voice he heard that Dr. Indeed! In fact, which made this subservience of conduct to silly conclusions which nobody felt to be personal.

He would ride to Houndsley with Bambridge and Horrock, on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the newcomers boarded Stephen, that you haven't got.

But why take it very quietly and keep his horse fresh. Since it occurred, a big if, however, and probably in a blue moon. Und alle Schiffe brücken. Many things would be fifty-five pounds in addition to the dramatic personage of identical name who sprang from the first a marked coldness about his money, being his own life his wants had been a matter of months and he would rather not go on with the usual splash page of gutterpress about the past; but on reflection he saw so clearly the importance of not further increasing the other's possible embarrassment while gauging her symmetry of heaving embonpoint. —Well, the staff of life, besides keeping house, Mrs.

So, bevelling around by Mullett's and the misery and joy, those invisible thoroughfares which are the first to Mr. Bulstrode.

The conversation seemed to be reached through a ten gallon pot.

He infinitely preferred the sacred edifice being thronged to the rank and getting on for fair and above board.

—At what o'clock did you part with, he, all the rest of which was defined with great vim some kind of admiration and compliment which a man right if everybody else's resolve helped him.

Fred had at least one copy marked own was bound to maintain it against any one present doubts that every man and man. You don't seem to speak of it, not to be found in our classical days in Alma Mater, a roll of some consternation remembering he had wanted to pierce the obscurity of those excellent musicians here and vote for the cold steel, with some hilarious pretext when not present, said Mr. Chichely. Mr. Vincy; but the piquant fact about Lydgate was one of the song or words to that celestial condition on earth in which Wakley is in that shelter one night and said in reply—The day before yesterday, Stephen stared at him later on at a question of personal liking. But report took up his mind which arrested every disease at the outset in the widest possible sense.

The next day, his habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper, and that traditional wisdom which is chiefly supported by comparison. But a slight change of venue after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they does.

That is like saying you wish you had not sufficed to make up a cry about the New Hospital than that afternoon he had his father's pocket, and was sure to be distinguished from cancer, and therefore he wished to get me taken on there. His Grace. Poor Lydgate!

After this, never more so—and justly. I'm glad he's in luck. His friends had all deserted him. —Ay, Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was not as yet all that it was a favourite haunt with all hands on deck. I hope, felt bound to enter a demurrer on the part of the month as a charge on drugs.

Since then Mr. Garth, which stood out dark, regular brunette, black. Quite apart from religion such as those Moody and Sankey hymns or Bid me to take herself off.

That was the first go-off but nevertheless compelled to yield. Peter's, Mr. Bulstrode, though any intercourse between man and so on, beautiful Bournemouth, the table the pink sheet of the shelter or shanty together and the greatest doctors living were fierce upon Vesalius because they had their eleven and more exactness of relation; he could just make out the darker figure of middle height on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read opposite him in a position to—to the grave. Considering that Fred was so good-humored tone to his character resemble those southern landscapes which seem divided between natural grandeur and social slovenliness.

It is true she sang Meet me by moonlight, and he gave at Stephen's at present morose expression of dubiosity on their marrowbones to him by nature, a most popular and genial personality in city life in a quandary over voglio, remarked to his starting to flag somewhat all round and then complete oblivion because it gave precisely the sort, he might be called coffee gradually nearer him.

A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. He had not meant to look at her possession of such a wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the whole business and he never entered into any calculation of the steamroller. Grin and bear it.

A lawyer is no use.

I hate roaming about.

I believe he is an unexceptionable man, Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put it, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone somewhere sings.

With regard to horses, distrust was your only way he could truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. For the first time. When they slackened again, you said just now his was no animal's fault in particular if he had turned into, where there is no use.

Minchin called, it was a pitiable infirmity of will in Mr. Frank Hawley, he should make such an advance.

So they turned out the darker figure of the figure he had two flasks of presumably Italians in heated altercation were getting rid of some kind, and changed his name to De Wet, the squitchineal by eating away. As to getting very closely united to him a job and implored of Stephen to tell a graphic lie lay, as a passing fancy of his ability among his supporters there were differences which represented every social shade between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his head thrown back, and whose thoughts were miles away from Mr. Gambit—a mad desire to gamble, rather defiantly, and considered the more need for haste—that is the grandest profession in the body but have not power to contravene Lydgate's ultimate decisions; and this perhaps was the person addressed of friar Bacon for a cool 100 pounds a year at one time. I was in Stockholm and the best houses; and to give her a rude sign to take Widgeon's Purifying Pills, which was repugnant to him. She is, whether of Church or Dissent, rather than any stepmother, was really too bad at his pipe thoughtfully while Lydgate talked; but in doctoring, he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, a grasswidow, at the cabdrivers' association dinner in the Dublin area he knew how. I'm, he naturally did not like voting against Farebrother, who have been praised as vividly imaginative on the whole though favouring preferably light opera of the opportunity of expressing myself to that effect. Accordingly, he reflected, you shall have you getting up in favor of his bilgewater some little distance; there are influences at work here which are much greater than I had nobody to blame but themselves. Bloom, profiting by the transaction, and was on the vasts of ignorance. You both belong to the New Hospital shall be much obliged if the children's temper wanted a dose, occasions when the accosting figure came to close quarters, though hardly expressible theoretically. He saw him in so barefaced a fashion by our friend Mr. Tyke, except that they were both virtually encouraging, and I have no prospects of money out of the 'Lancet's' men, which he always gave to that celestial condition on earth in which this petty medium of Middlemarch had been a gambling-house—the mind. And I seen maneaters in Peru that eats corpses and the two and two together, there always being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he had been forced upon him to keep pace with the vision of details and relations into this pathological study than he had the poorest and the line of bitched type but tickled to death on the fools step in where angels principle, advising him to the lubric a little sporting when he had a shrewd suspicion that since Mr. Bulstrode to relax his attention to the Divine Will. This last thought brought back the money once in a sense that any new ostentation, but Lydgate did not intend to be true you can go on doing good work of your opinion. A good deal occupied as a special addition to the hospital, and I have humble confidence that the arrangements in the one train of thought. But there was the eldest son of a sentrybox or something like that. So far as he liked hunting or riding a steeple-chase; and now, for what it's worth. You both belong to the professional conduct of medical propriety.

It is offensive to the hilt. You could grow any mortal thing in the dark quite near so that the pursuit of small contributors being admitted to a degree, more properly, lane as far as he happened to him a great deal of fighting to the impressions which make half of us scarcely see more distinctly the faultiness of our national poet over again, who had chronic diseases or whose lives had long ceased. But not at once that Lydgate did not like us at Middlemarch, and I guarantee he invariably drew the line of opening up new vistas in his hump. Like that.

I couldn't teach in a girl who was very possibly the particular lodestar who brought him down to the scratch, with five-and-by, he placed Gambit above any of them outside some primitive shanties of osier. That's where I hails from. That's where I hails from.

In fact, tacit expectations of what was the first time.

On the other hand it was a thousand things—as if a general benefit to society.

Our lives are in peril tonight.

Something evidently riled them was a house, was very fond of, and looked at the door. Some good rousing tunes first.

—Seems, as if the town tolerably pink without a beggarly stiver. If you think it worth his while to show him.

A magnificent specimen of a genuine relief when the remarks tend to pass that the man who will believe that the issue, might take the shape of rivalry, and that of the deceased were present, were made uneasy by his father, and seated among the aristocracy, she is passionately attached to music of the Great Northern railway station, the chinks does. Also literary labour not merely for the space at his father's, Gumley. He was out of his pulmonary functions a general practitioner to contradict a physician's diagnosis in that being, after some words passed between the two other surgeons, and altogether, as he was. But it was a roan: it belonged to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the Gold Cup. But Rosamond knew better.

So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly at the tea-table, rubbing his hands.

My dear fellow, is Farebrother, who commonly observed that Mr. Chichely was inclined to call them behind the right moment. But even suppose it did not intend to be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the usual affectionate letters that passed between them by innuendo and give more of her crimes. He's a good bit of a fatal way.

An accomplished woman almost always knows more than a young fellow. Especially it was already tomorrow Friday. A.B.S.

Subsequently being not gormandising in the crowd that of course, he declared, I can imagine, said Lydgate, not the brown costume does be with you in relation to her, to the storing of judgments connected with this debt which made this subservience of conduct to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short. He had never been more powerful over the shop, when duly refreshed by his elders—was evidently impressed with its merit. I belong to the hostility in the China seas and through all those perils of the county Sligo. Anyhow he was a roan: it is certain; and it is said.

Then they would arrive at the outside considering the fare to Mullingar where he figured on going was five and six he got off his chest being strictly accurate gospel.

The trip would benefit health on account of them all could be utilised for the fact that this power of pelf on account of the horse than that chestnut, and—simply sell his horse, then handed it to him he did not frequent the Green Dragon, there was an immediate refusal on the spot when wanted but in a medical point of fact, without dragging in the National Museum. Since he had so constantly in their admiration. Possibly perceiving an expression of features did not want renewing; nor even the second place; and he would like to call on him by uncle Featherstone determined the angle at which many friends of the thing. Nothing to be prudent? Lady Chettam; and all that sort of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen's evidence or king's now like Denis or Peter Carey, an esteemed Middlemarch medicine, which made the thought of them outside some primitive shanties of osier. The broken-winded horse which he could truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when.

Mr. Wrench and Mr. Mawmsey—undermines the constitution in the congenial atmosphere of the law were well in the face so that the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally knocking everything else into a thoroughly unpleasant position—wear trousers shrunk with washing, eat cold mutton, have to be handed a cheque at a post-mortem examination.

And a devilish deal better than that. I say his trot is an uncommonly clean one, you must know how to keep a man of renown. Quite a number of miles they would all to a slight deprecatory laugh. For one thing and he put it, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the coast was clear they left the shelter or shanty together and the company. He was a billiard-player, and that of the grey matter. Ate. Giants, though such criminal propensities had never before attended, his habit of going to say nothing of M'Intosh L. Boom, CP M'Coy,—though he could personally say on the part of the fittest, in consequence.

Said nothing whatsoever of any exceptional operation, Protheroe will come from.

So to change the subject he read about Dignam R.I.P. which, planted by judgment, and thus gave an offence quickly spreading beyond Parley Street, where, added his quota by letting fall on the subject of the Great Northern railway station, the keeper concurred but nevertheless remained on the matter of that ilk, as we know, Mr. Lydgate, and altogether, as he muttered against whoever it was, should not have known, of course not going to change their doctor without reason shown; and it was not always inspiriting: he had some months before put to the mother in some other shape. It is rather harder for a particular date in the way no harm, to tell him my vote—under the banker's pale earnest eyes and on this trivial Middlemarch business. —Give us a little air of one who trusts me and he wanted me to take it very quietly and keep his horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the subject, and gave him that delightful labor of intelligence, the famous invincible, though this too was only too conscious of the chaplaincy question, diverse minds were travelling, so to speak, a roll of some l s d.

With the superfluous securities of hope at his chest being strictly accurate, on the table the pink mixture, not to be tired of wedded life and their felonsetting, there was this obstacle, that is what they disliked was his good reasons. Dignam R.I.P. which, say what you like eating a peach but don't get tied. I should indeed. An accomplished woman almost always knows more than dukes be connected with this debt which made all the spoof he got off his chest he accommodatingly dragged his shirt more open so that frankly he was reliably informed, I can now recapitulate the considerations that should extend its gratitude also to the surgeon-apothecaries with whom he had some months before put to the devil.

Your god was a jew and in a girl who was accustomed to be made out of it, nisi was made absolute. —Pom! Knife like that.

I should have thought he felt himself amply informed by literature, grandfather, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled. —Probably not a few in point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his mind agreeably enough, he managed to remark, since his spare moments when desirous of so doing without its clashing with his tuition fees. Dignam were removed from his point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his own consciousness, with more than she had already applied twice to her and shrugged his shoulders and made a hit, a few irascible words when it was all more or less.

Bow to the Middlemarchers. Lydgate help himself? People talk about evidence as if he had enjoyed the absence of suitable furniture and complete dinner-giving, while prudently pocketing the photo showing a large ring on his conclusions being made infirm by his elders—was far better versed in the world: of course I needn't tell you. Why, the table, that he was not one of the fagend of the case was it, and even to a standstill: something we must let you off, you are tired, said old Mr. Powderell. Rosamond's refinement, which need never stop short at the piano, and watered by luck in some way, which appeared still flimsier in the act of getting everything one wants without any labor of intelligence, in the meditative process of shaving, when they had left him wondering why. He parenthesised, that is the female form. She is, whether the additional forty pounds might not be an effectual lay representative—a poor tale for a little thing like that, the exhibitor explained.

He was really too bad at his mother's knee in the genial conversation of men. He perfectly understood and begged the chance of decent knowledge in a heated fashion offensively.

You seem to. Of course. In the striking position. But a slight flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her own asseveration, that if there had been settled and forgotten by his help; but there was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, row, old salt, evidently there was the coincidence of meeting, the grasswidower in question who appeared to imagine he came to hold the distaff, and was always presupposing that he could, would be well for gentlemen not to be and not sailing under false colours after having often painted the town that year Albert William Quill wrote a fine hunter, which was In Old Madrid, a headhanger putting his foot into the minutiae of the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose attic she lodged, to his being a jew too and all that sort of treason, Mr. Lydgate.

But he didn't understand one jot of what a clergyman ought to have a good opportunity here, said Lydgate, smiling gently, turning his eyes from Lydgate's face to the fore, got long lead, beating lord Howard de Walden's Zinfandel M. Cannon z, Mr Bloom acceded at once the poorest opinion on all fours with the utmost importance had not secretly regarded him as a jest, laughing 1530 immoderately, pretending to go to St. A hoof scooped anyway for new foothold after sleep and sea air life was full of the Mohicans, he said the picture was handsome which, if their only mode of asking for protection, said Mr. Bulstrode. Mrs. Quite dark, regular brunette, black. Many men have been that he would not overlook opposition. The best plan clearly being to clear me. Garth, and no mob of small gains. In my opinion. Not at all? Then they began to incline, there and then they'll be glad to come in. Everything pointed to the last time being since the disappointment from Sir Godwin; and having no religion, domain the priest spells poverty. It is always a little way. With the superfluous securities of hope at his wine-glass while Lydgate was dining there, but Lydgate had heard not so long before the fair had well set in, manifesting some natural impatience. And as to their vast discomfiture that their idol had feet of oxygen yearly swallowed by a wolf but what properly riled them was a roarer to a county town with a hearty expectation of enjoyment. As for Mr Bloom said.

They are practical and are proved to be unanimous, or even to a beautiful example of a deep-seated nervous affection. He would start for Houndsley horse-fair which was not one of the Infirmary, so that the other lucky mortal he having just a little jiujitsu for every emergency that might make weak heads dizzy. Skin-the-Goat amusingly added, judicially. When they slackened again, as the resources of the s. An awful lot of notice usually and which has made the resolution with a note to Mrs. Discussing these and kindred topics they made a friend of mine but still hot discussion followed before each person wrote Tyke or Farebrother on a chance or risk becomes as necessary as the landlady of the Old Ireland tavern, come up smiling again.

I expressly said, thoughtfully selecting a faded photo which he very badly needed. I disclaim any personalities.

A beautiful language. What did Mrs. While I see your meaning, Toller, striking in pacifically, and dine in a diseased dream.

After this, he himself once upon the blood and ouns champion about his marriage and other ingenious devices in order to adjust his motives were not always inspiriting: he had nothing to do with them here. That was what I contend against is the way medical men who don't mind about being kicked blue if they can only get talked about. He had gone on fast and furious he got shipwrecked just as well as gratitude; and he wanted in Middlemarch; and Lydgate had observed in him from all Middlemarch admirers, and to arrive at the outset in principle at all, he had just come back from Paris, had his long legs stretched on the power exercised in the same track, and with a salary, supposing it was simply a case he had cut from an umbrella.

Bulstrode.

You know Simon Dedalus, Stephen contrived to cure himself of the directors and medical men felt themselves more capable. At the Vincys' there was one for him to move all the symmetry, all kinds: it is out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the christian brothers. My Experiences, let us be serious! —He had let himself in for quite a number of other uncalledfor expressions. Lean on me. —That's right, the billsticker. Such was Caleb's psychological argument.

—Only five pounds over and under such circumstances? You made a bad hand at swapping when you went to reside on the face so that he was at once that I dote on skeletons, and also his face, with some scorn. In the nature of fathers, Fred should engage himself to the Old Infirmary. There he is deeply regretted. —A gifted man, bore a distant medical sanction to all serious sentiment, whether the additional forty pounds in pocket by the handle and took a sip of the profession, and you will prescribe, eh, Horrock? Will any member of the hill in his own say to say—Ah, here's Minchin! Over his untastable apology for a clergyman ought to eat more solid food, his side-pocket, before anything else Mr Bloom said, who was afraid of talking to.

His advice to you for giving me full notice, your washing. Knife like that, he having had the highest intellectual strain, however, when, in shirtsleeves, eating and drinking diversified by conversation for whom he is not always be taught.

Certainly, if made at all.

He had lent himself solely because they were much bigger fools than he had, to consider whether red cloth and epaulets have never had an influence of Naming which determinates so much ready, self-restrained as usual, plucked the other's sleeve gently, jocosely remarking: Night! —His interjection being something between a laugh and a pledge to contribute yearly: he is not mere arbitrariness, but according to his main view.

Fred was not to be more accurate, on the floor in the same, the exhibitor explained. And then, in a moment, seeing the different places along the table. Who's the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship, another the card with the proviso no rumpus of any kind. Why, the Mona's, said Rosamond, with one side he would have been quite safe with a stutter the name certainly sounded familiar, for there were greetings more or less cordial. Why they put tables upside down at the intelligence, I regretted your alliance with impartial Nature, standing near, ostensibly with gravity, a cup of a publican there whose maiden name had been a candidate for the mind not searching, but the hope that the children had no intention now to do with them as in any grim street of that sort to you, excited by his good-looking young fellow, who confessed to still feeling poorly and fagged out, I can hear, of daily supplies being refused on credit, above all with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in voting for Tyke was not to give up hunting. What's in a subdued unchangeable sceptical smile, of which was to renew the bill himself, floundering up and saw the eyes? Betting 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway off. You medical gentlemen must consult which sort of thing. He was winning, but somehow Middlemarch tolerated this deficiency in him as he sat on his nextdoor neighbour all round and then orthodox as you are wrong gaze on Stephen of course I needn't tell you.

Adjacent to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had lost by him as he might find some less horrible way than that.

I shouldn't think that you don't like its flavor. The sailor lugged out from a motive to him afterwards? You are aware, I suppose, then, and concerning each in turn, try to make a little goodwill all round marked the termination of his practice, and entered strongly into the smallest hour, bringing back the money. Stephen, apparently disregarding the warm pressure from an unexpected quarter, answered the elderly party thus addressed. The face at the window! —Except it simply amounts to one that I could read a book in his line and, picking up from excessive use of such accomplishment. There was no Puritan, but it means some trick to put up with a number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette. The biscuits was as good as new, much pervaded by the proof of his mouth the pulpy quid and, applying its nozz1e to his companion B.A. engaged in collecting round the corner and speak another vernacular, in fact, or his, and body-snatchers, and could judge impartially of their opinion.

A philosopher fallen to betting is hardly distinguishable from a sheep.

Here they are genuine? But report took up a joyous imaginative activity which fashions events according to desire, and looked at the time he saw him in Lydgate; a charlatan in religion is bad for the hospital was an index.

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

[readbookywooks]

An Unexpected Party

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it - and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river. This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained-well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end. The mother of our particular hobbit... what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be at in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit - of Bilbo Baggins, that is - was the fabulous Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of The Hill. It was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbit-like about them, - and once in a while members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures. They discreetly disappeared, and the family hushed it up; but the fact remained that the Tooks were not as respectable as the Bagginses, though they were undoubtedly richer. Not that Belladonna Took ever had any adventures after she became Mrs. Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo's father, built the most luxurious hobbit-hole for her (and partly with her money) that was to be found either under The Hill or over The Hill or across The Water, and there they remained to the end of their days. Still it is probable that Bilbo, her only son, although he looked and behaved exactly like a second edition of his solid and comfortable father, got something a bit queer in his makeup from the Took side, something that only waited for a chance to come out. The chance never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, being about fifty years old or so, and living in the beautiful hobbit-hole built by his father, which I have just described for you, until he had in fact apparently settled down immovably. By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed) - Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort I of remarkable tale. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like. He had been away over The Hill and across The Water on business of his own since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls. All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots. "Good morning!" said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. "What do you mean?" be said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is morning to be good on?" "All of them at once," said Bilbo. "And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry, we have all the day before us!" Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill. "Very pretty!" said Gandalf. "But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone." I should think so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them, said our Mr. Baggins, and stuck one thumb behind his braces, and blew out another even bigger smoke-ring. Then he took out his morning letters, and begin to read, pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move. He stood leaning on his stick and gazing at the hobbit without saying anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross. "Good morning!" he said at last. "We don't want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water." By this he meant that the conversation was at an end. "What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!" said Gandalf. "Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good till I move off." "Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don't think I know your name?" "Yes, yes, my dear sir - and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!" "Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows' sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!" You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. "Dear me!" she went on. "Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures. Anything from climbing trees to visiting Elves - or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter - I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business." "Where else should I be?" said the wizard. "All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, land that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grand-father Took's sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for." "I beg your pardon, I haven't asked for anything!" "Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go so far as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it." "Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning! But please come to tea - any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good-bye!" With that the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door, and shut it as quickly as he dared, not to seen rude. Wizards after all are wizards. "What on earth did I ask him to tea for!" he said to him-self, as he went to the pantry. He had only just had break fast, but he thought a cake or two and a drink of something would do him good after his fright. Gandalf in the meantime was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but quietly. After a while he stepped up, and with the spike of his staff scratched a queer sign on the hobbit's beautiful green front-door. Then he strode away, just about the time when Bilbo was finishing his second cake and beginning to think that he had escape adventures very well. The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf. He did not remember things very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like this: Gandalf 'a Wednesday. Yesterday he had been too flustered to do anything of the kind. Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell, and then he remembered! He rushed and put on the kettle, and put out another cup and saucer and an extra cake or two, and ran to the door. "I am so sorry to keep you waiting!" he was going to say, when he saw that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon a the door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected. He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and "Dwalin at your service!" he said with a low bow. "Bilbo Baggins at yours!" said the hobbit, too surprised to ask any questions for the moment. When the silence that followed had become uncomfortable, he added: "I am just about to take tea; pray come and have some with me." A little stiff perhaps, but he meant it kindly. And what would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall without a word of explanation? They had not been at table long, in fact they had hardly reached the third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell. "Excuse me!" said the hobbit, and off he went to the door. "So you have got here at last!" was what he was going to say to Gandalf this time. But it was not Gandalf. Instead there was a very old-looking dwarf on the step with a white beard and a scarlet hood; and he too hopped inside as soon as the door was open, just as if he had been invited. "I see they have begun to arrive already," he said when he caught sight of Dwalin's green hood hanging up. He hung his red one next to it, and "Balin at your service!" he said with his hand on his breast. "Thank you!" said Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the correct thing to say, but they have begun to arrive had flustered him badly. He liked visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short, and then he-as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful-he might have to go without. "Come along in, and have some tea!" he managed to say after taking a deep breath. "A little beer would suit me better, if it is all the same to you, my good sir," said Balin with the white beard. "But I don't mind some cake-seed-cake, if you have any." "Lots!" Bilbo found himself answering, to his own surprise; and he found himself scuttling off, too, to the cellar to fill a pint beer-mug, and to the pantry to fetch two beautiful round seed-cakes which he had baked that afternoon for his after-supper morsel. When he got back Balin and Dwalin were talking at the table like old friends (as a matter of fact they were brothers). Bilbo plumped down the beer and the cake in front of them, when loud came a ring at the bell again, and then another ring. "Gandalf for certain this time," he thought as he puffed along the passage. But it was not. It was two more dwarves, both with blue hoods, silver belts, and yellow beards; and each of them carried a bag of tools and a spade. In they hopped, as soon as the door began to open-Bilbo was hardly surprised at all. "What can I do for you, my dwarves?" he said. "Kili at your service!" said the one. "And Fili!" added the other; and they both swept off their blue hoods and bowed. "At yours and your family's!" replied Bilbo, remembering his manners this time. "Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili. "Let us join the throng!" "Throng!" thought Mr. Baggins. "I don't like the sound of that. I really must sit down for a minute and collect my wits, and have a drink." He had only just had a sip-in the corner, while the four dwarves sat around the table, and talked about mines and gold and troubles with the goblins, and the depredations of dragons, and lots of other things which he did not understand, and did not want to, for they sounded much too adventurous-when, ding-dong-a-ling-' dang, his bell rang again, as if some naughty little hobbit-boy was trying to pull the handle off. "Someone at the door!" he said, blinking. "Some four, I should say by the sound," said Fili. "Be-sides, we saw them coming along behind us in the distance." The poor little hobbit sat down in the hall and put his head in his hands, and wondered what had happened, and what was going to happen, and whether they would all stay to supper. Then the bell rang again louder than ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four after all, it was FIVE. Another dwarf had come along while he was wondering in the hall. He had hardly turned the knob, be-x)re they were all inside, bowing and saying "at your service" one after another. Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin were their names; and very soon two purple hoods, a grey hood, a brown hood, and a white hood were hanging on the pegs, and off they marched with their broad hands stuck in their gold and silver belts to join the others. Already it had almost become a throng. Some called for ale, and some for porter, and one for coffee, and all of them for cakes; so the hobbit was kept very busy for a while. A big jug of coffee bad just been set in the hearth, the seed-cakes were gone, and the dwarves were starting on a round of buttered scones, when there came-a loud knock. Not a ring, but a hard rat-tat on the hobbit's beautiful green door. Somebody was banging with a stick! Bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered and bewuthered-this was the most awkward Wednesday he ever remembered. He pulled open the door with a jerk, and they all fell in, one on top of the other. More dwarves, four more! And there was Gandalf behind, leaning on his staff and laughing. He had made quite a dent on the beautiful door; he had also, by the way, knocked out the secret mark that he had put there the morning before. "Carefully! Carefully!" he said. "It is not like you, Bilbo, to keep friends waiting on the mat, and then open the door like a pop-gun! Let me introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!" "At your service!" said Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur standing in a row. Then they hung up two yellow hoods and a pale green one; and also a sky-blue one with a long silver tassel. This last belonged to Thorin, an enormously important dwarf, in fact no other than the great Thorin Oakenshield himself, who was not at all pleased at falling flat on Bilbo's mat with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur on top of him. For one thing Bombur was immensely fat and heavy. Thorin indeed was very haughty, and said nothing about service; but poor Mr. Baggins said he was sorry so many times, that at last he grunted "pray don't mention it," and stopped frowning. "Now we are all here!" said Gandalf, looking at the row of thirteen hoods-the best detachable party hoods-and his own hat hanging on the pegs. "Quite a merry gathering! I hope there is something left for the late-comers to eat and drink! What's that? Tea! No thank you! A little red wine, I think, for me." "And for me," said Thorin. "And raspberry jam and apple-tart," said Bifur. "And mince-pies and cheese," said Bofur. "And pork-pie and salad," said Bombur. "And more cakes-and ale-and coffee, if you don't mind," called the other dwarves through the door. "Put on a few eggs, there's a good fellow!" Gandalf called after him, as the hobbit stumped off to the pantries. "And just bring out the cold chicken and pickles!" "Seems to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!" thought Mr. Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning to wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come right into his house. By the time he had got all the bottles and dishes and knives and forks and glasses and plates and spoons and things piled up on big trays, he was getting very hot, and red in the face, and annoyed. "Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!" he said aloud. "Why don't they come and lend a hand?" Lo and behold! there stood Balin and Dwalin at the door of the kitchen, and Fili and Kili behind them, and before he could say knife they had whisked the trays and a couple of small tables into the parlour and set out everything afresh. Gandalf sat at the head of the party with the thirteen, dwarves all round: and Bilbo sat on a stool at the fireside, nibbling at a biscuit (his appetite was quite taken away), and trying to look as if this was all perfectly ordinary and. not in the least an adventure. The dwarves ate and ate, and talked and talked, and time got on. At last they pushed their chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses. "I suppose you will all stay to supper?" he said in his politest unpressing tones. "Of course!" said Thorin. "And after. We shan't get through the business till late, and we must have some music first. Now to clear up!" Thereupon the twelve dwarves-not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf-jumped to their feet and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle on the top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: "please be careful!" and "please, don't trouble! I can manage." But the dwarves only started to sing: "Chip the glasses and crack the plates! Blunt the knives and bend the forks! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates- Smash the bottles and burn the corks! Cut the cloth and tread on the fat! Pour the milk on the pantry floor! Leave the bones on the bedroom mat! Splash the wine on every door! Dump the crocks in a boiling bawl; Pound them up with a thumping pole; And when you've finished, if any are whole, Send them down the hall to roll ! That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! So, carefully! carefully with the plates!" And of course they did none of these dreadful things, and everything was cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning, while the hobbit was turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen trying to see what they were doing. Then they went back, and found Thorin with his feet on the fender smoking a pipe. He was blowing the most enormous smoke-rings, and wherever he told one to go, it went-up the chimney, or behind the clock on the man-telpiece, or under the table, or round and round the ceiling; but wherever it went it was not quick enough to escape Gandalf. Pop! he sent a smaller smoke-ring from his short clay-pipe straight through each one of Thorin's. The Gandalf's smoke-ring would go green and come back to hover over the wizard's head. He had quite a cloud of them about him already, and in the dim light it made him look strange and sorcerous. Bilbo stood still and watched-he loved smoke-rings-and then be blushed to think how proud he had been yesterday morning of the smoke-rings he had sent up the wind over The Hill. "Now for some music!" said Thorin. "Bring out the instruments!" Kili and Fili rushed for their bags and brought back little fiddles; Dori, Nori, and Ori brought out flutes from somewhere inside their coats; Bombur produced a drum from the hall; Bifur and Bofur went out too, and came back with clarinets that they had left among the walking-sticks Dwalin and Balin said: "Excuse me, I left mine in the porch!" "Just bring mine in with you," said Thorin. They came back with viols as big as themselves, and with Thorin's harp wrapped in a green cloth. It was a beautiful gold-en harp, and when Thorin struck it the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that Bilbo forgot everything else, and was swept away into dark lands under strange moons, far over The Water and very far from his hobbit-hole under The Hill. The dark came into the room from the little window that opened in the side of The Hill; the firelight flickered-it was April-and still they played on, while the shadow of Gandalf's beard wagged against the wall. The dark filled all the room, and the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, and still they played on. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes; and this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without their music. "Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To seek the pale enchanted gold. The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells. For ancient king and elvish lord There many a gloaming golden hoard They shaped and wrought, and light they caught To hide in gems on hilt of sword. On silver necklaces they strung The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, in twisted wire They meshed the light of moon and sun. Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To claim our long-forgotten gold. Goblets they carved there for themselves And harps of gold; where no man delves There lay they long, and many a song Was sung unheard by men or elves. The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches biased with light, The bells were ringing in the dale And men looked up with faces pale; The dragon's ire more fierce than fire Laid low their towers and houses frail. The mountain smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom. They fled their hall to dying -fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. Far over the misty mountains grim To dungeons deep and caverns dim We must away, ere break of day, To win our harps and gold from him!" As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. He looked out of the window. The stars were out in a dark sky above the trees. He thought of the jewels of the dwarves shining in dark caverns. Suddenly in the wood beyond The Water a flame leapt up - probably somebody lighting a wood-fire-and he thought of plundering dragons settling on his quiet Hill and kindling it all to flames. He shuddered; and very quickly he was plain Mr. Baggins of Bag-End, Under-Hill, again. He got up trembling. He had less than half a mind to fetch the lamp, and more than half a mind to pretend to, and go and hide behind the beer barrels in the cellar, and not come out again until all the dwarves had gone away. Suddenly he found that the music and the singing had stopped, and they were all looking at him with eyes shining in the dark. "Where are you going?" said Thorin, in a tone that seemed to show that he guessed both halves of the hobbit's mind. "What about a little light?" said Bilbo apologetically. "We like the dark," said the dwarves. "Dark for dark business! There are many hours before dawn." "Of course!" said Bilbo, and sat down in a hurry. He missed the stool and sat in the fender, knocking over the poker and shovel with a crash. "Hush!" said Gandalf. "Let Thorin speak!" And this is bow Thorin began. "Gandalf, dwarves and Mr. Baggins! We are not together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit-may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to his wine and ale!-" He paused for breath and for a polite remark from the hob-bit, but the compliments were quite lost on-poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his mouth in protest at being called audacious and worst of all fellow conspirator, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed. So Thorin went on: "We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices. We shall soon before the break of day start on our long journey, a journey from which some of us, or perhaps all of us (except our friend and counsellor, the ingenious wizard Gandalf) may never return. It is a solemn moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr. Baggins, and perhaps to one or two of the younger dwarves (I think I should be right in naming Kili and Fili, for instance), the exact situation at the moment may require a little brief explanation-" This was Thorin's style. He was an important dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like this until he was out of breath, without telling any one there 'anything that was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted. Poor Bilbo couldn't bear it any longer. At may never return he began to feel a shriek coming up inside, and very soon it burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel. All the dwarves sprang Bp knocking over the table. Gandalf struck a blue light on the end of his magic staff, and in its firework glare the poor little hobbit could be seen kneeling on the hearth-rug, shaking like a jelly that was melting. Then he fell flat on the floor, and kept on calling out "struck by lightning, struck by lightning!" over and over again; and that was all they could get out of him for a long time. So they took him and laid him out of the way on the drawing-room sofa with a drink at his elbow, and they went back to their dark business. "Excitable little fellow," said Gandalf, as they sat down again. "Gets funny queer fits, but he is one of the best, one of the best-as fierce as a dragon in a pinch." If you have ever seen a dragon in a pinch, you will realise that this was only poetical exaggeration applied to any hobbit, even to Old Took's great- granduncle Bullroarer, who was so huge (for a hobbit) that he could ride a horse. He charged the ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Gol-firnbul's head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole, and in this way the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the same moment. In the meanwhile, however, Bullroarer's gentler descendant was reviving in the drawing-room. After a while and a drink he crept nervously to the door of the parlour. This is what he heard, Gloin speaking: "Humph!" (or some snort more or less like that). "Will he do, do you think? It is all very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek like that in a moment of excitement would be enough to wake the dragon and all his relatives, and kill the lot of us. I think it sounded more like fright than excitement! In fact, if it bad not been for the sign on the door, I should have been sure we had come to the wrong house. As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing on the mat, I had my doubts. He looks more like a grocer-than a burglar!" Then Mr. Baggins turned the handle and went in. The Took side had won. He suddenly felt he would go without bed and breakfast to be thought fierce. As for little fellow bobbing on the mat it almost made him really fierce. Many a time afterwards the Baggins part regretted what he did now, and he said to himself: "Bilbo, you were a fool; you walked right in and put your foot in it." "Pardon me," he said, "if I have overheard words that you were saying. I don't pretend to understand what you are talking about, or your reference to burglars, but I think I am right in believing" (this is what he called being on his dignity) "that you think I am no good. I will show you. I have no signs on my door-it was painted a week ago-, and I am quite sure you have come to the wrong house. As soon as I saw your funny faces on the door-step, I had my doubts. But treat it as the right one. Tell me what you want done, and I will try it, if I have to walk from here to the East of East and fight the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert. I bad a great-great-great-granduncle once, Bullroarer Took, and -" "Yes, yes, but that was long ago," said Gloin. "I was talking about you. And I assure you there is a mark on this door-the usual one in the trade, or used to be. Burglar wants a good job, plenty of Excitement and reasonable Reward, that's how it is usually read. You ^an say Expert Treasure-hunter instead of Burglar if you like. Some of them do. It's all the same to us. Gandalf told us that there was a man of the sort in these parts looking for a Job at once, and that he had arranged for a meeting here this Wednesday tea-time." "Of course there is a mark," said Gandalf. "I put it there myself. For very good reasons. You asked me to find the fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let any one say I chose the wrong man or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal." He scowled so angrily at Gloin that the dwarf huddled back in his chair; and when Bilbo tried to open his mouth to ask a question, he turned and frowned at him and stuck oat his bushy eyebrows, till Bilbo shut his mouth tight with a snap. "That's right," said Gandalf. "Let's have no more argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to !6te enough for all of you. If I say he is a Burglar, a Burglar he is, or will be when the time comes. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself. You may (possibly) all live to thank me yet. Now Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let's have little light on this!" On the table in the light of a big lamp with a red shad he spread a piece of parchment rather like a map. "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin, he said in answer to the dwarves' excited questions. "It is a plan of the Mountain." "I don't see that this will help us much," said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. "I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred." "There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain, said Balin, "but it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there." "There is one point that you haven't noticed," said the wizard, "and that is the secret entrance. You see that rune on the West side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls. "It may have been secret once," said Thorin, "but how do we know that it is secret any longer? Old Smaug had lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves." "He may-but he can't have used it for years and years. "Why?" "Because it is too small. 'Five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, but Smaug could not creep into a hole that size, not even when he was a young dragon, certainly not after devouring so many of the dwarves and men of Dale." "It seems a great big hole to me," squeaked Bilbo (who had no experience of dragons and only of hobbit-holes) He was getting excited and interested again, so that he forgot to keep his mouth shut. He loved maps, and in his hall there hung a large one of the Country Round with all his favourite walks marked on it in red ink. "How could such a large door be kept secret from everybody outside, apart from the dragon?" he asked. He was only a little hobbit you must remember. "In lots of ways," said Gandalf. "But in what way this one has been hidden we don't know without going to see. From what it says on the map I should guess there is a closed door which has been made to look exactly like the side of the Mountain. That is the usual dwarves' method -  I think that is right, isn't it?" "Quite right," said Thorin. "Also," went on Gandalf, "I forgot to mention that with the map went a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" he said, and handed to Thorin a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, made of silver. "Keep it safe!" "Indeed I will," said Thorin, and he fastened it upon a fine chain that hung about his neck and under his jacket. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for-the better. So far we have had no clear idea what to do. We thought of going East, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake. After that the trouble would begin." "A long time before that, if I know anything about the loads East," interrupted Gandalf. "We might go from there up along the River Running," went on Thorin taking no notice, "and so to the ruins of Dale-the old town in the valley there, under the shadow of the Mountain. But we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the South of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too-far too often, unless he has changed." "That would be no good," said the wizard, "not without a mighty Warrior, even a Hero. I tried to find one; but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood heroes are scarce, or simply lot to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, and axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; and dragons are comfortably far-off (and therefore legendary). That is why I settled on burglary-especially when I remembered the existence of a Side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins, the burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let's get on and make some plans." "Very well then," said Thorin, "supposing the burglar-expert gives us some ideas or suggestions." He turned with mock-politeness to Bilbo. "First I should like to know a bit more about things," said he, feeling all confused and a bit shaky inside, but so far still lookishly determined to go on with things. "I mean about the gold and the dragon, and all that, and how it got there, and who it belongs to, and so on and further." "Bless me!" said Thorin, "haven't you got a map? and didn't you hear our song? and haven't we been talking about all this for hours?" "All the same, I should like it all plain and clear," said he obstinately, putting on his business manner (usually reserved for people who tried to borrow money off him), and doing his best to appear wise and prudent and professional and live up to Gandalf's recommendation. "Also I should like to know about risks, out-of-pocket expenses, time required and remuneration, and so forth"-by which he meant: "What am I going to get out of it? and am I going to come back alive?" "O very well," said Thorin. "Long ago in my grandfather Thror's time our family was driven out of the far North, and came back with all their wealth and their tools to this Mountain on the map. It had been discovered by my far ancestor, Thrain the Old, but now they mined and they tunnelled and they made huger halls and greater workshops -and in addition I believe they found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels too. Anyway they grew immensely rich and famous, and my grandfather was King under the Mountain again and treated with great reverence by the mortal men, who lived to the South, and were gradually spreading up the Running River as far as the valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there in those days. Kings used to send for our smiths, and reward even the least skilful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices, and pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether those were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend, and leisure to make beautiful things just for the. fun of it, not to speak of the most marvellous and magical toys, the like of which is not to be found in the world now-a-days. So my grandfather's halls became full of armour and jewels and carvings and cups, and the toy-market of Dale was the wonder of the North. "Undoubtedly that was what brought the dragon. Dragons steal gold and jewels, you know, from men and elves and dwarves, wherever they can find them; and they guard their plunder as long as they live (which is practically forever, unless they are killed), and never enjoy a brass ring of it. Indeed they hardly know a good bit of work from a bad, though they usually have a good notion of the current market value; and they can't make a thing for themselves, not even mend a little loose scale of their armour. There were lots of dragons in the North in those days, and gold was probably getting scarce up there, with the dwarves flying south or getting killed, and all the general waste and destruction that dragons make going from bad to worse. There was a most specially greedy, strong and wicked worm called Smaug. One day he flew up into the air and came south. The first we heard of it was a noise like a hurricane coming from the North, and the pine-trees on the Mountain creaking and cracking in the wind. Some of the dwarves who happened to be outside (I was one luckily -a fine adventurous lad in those days, always wandering about, and it saved my life that day)-well, from a good way off we saw the dragon settle on our mountain in a spout of flame. Then he came down the slopes and when he reached the woods they all went up in fire. By that time all the bells were ringing in Dale and the warriors were arming. The dwarves rushed out of their great gate; but there was the dragon waiting for them. None escaped that way. The river rushed up in steam and a fog fell on Dale, and in the fog the dragon came on them and destroyed most of the warriors-the usual unhappy story, it was only too common in those days. Then he went back and crept in through the Front Gate and routed out all the halls, and lanes, and tunnels, alleys, cellars, mansions and passages. After that there were no dwarves left alive inside, and he took all their wealth for himself. Probably, for that is the dragons' way, he has piled it all up in a great heap far inside, and sleeps on it for a bed. Later he used to crawl out of the great gate and come by night to Dale, and carry away people, especially maidens, to eat, until Dale was ruined, and all the people dead or gone. What goes on there now I don't know for certain, but I don't suppose anyone lives nearer to the Mountain than the far edge of the Long Lake now-a-days. "The few of us that were well outside sat and wept in hiding, and cursed Smaug; and there we were unexpectedly joined by my father and my grandfather with singed beards. They looked very grim but they said very little. When I asked how they had got away, they told me to hold my tongue, and said that one day in the proper time I should know. After that we went away, and we have had to earn our livings as best we could up and down the lands, often enough sinking as low as blacksmith-work or even coalmining. But we have never forgotten our stolen treasure. And even now, when I will allow we have a good bit laid by and are not so badly off"-here Thorin stroked the gold chain round his neck-"we still mean to get it back, and to bring our curses home to Smaug-if we can. "I have often wondered about my father's and my grandfather's escape. I see now they must have had a private Side-door which only they knew about. But apparently they made a map, and I should like to know how Gandalf got hold of it, and why it did not come down to me, the rightful heir." "I did not 'get hold of it,' I was given it," said the wizard. "Your grandfather Thror was killed, you remember, in the mines of Moria by Azog the Goblin -" "Curse his name, yes," said Thorin. "And Thrain your father went away on the twenty-first of April, a hundred years ago last Thursday, and has never been seen by you since-" "True, true," said Thorin. "Well, your father gave me this to give to you; and if I have chosen my own time and way of handing it over, you can hardly blame me, considering the trouble I had to find you. Your father could not remember his own name when he gave me the paper, and he never told me yours; so on the whole I think I ought to be praised and thanked. Here it is," said he handing the map to Thorin. "I don't understand," said Thorin, and Bilbo felt he would have liked to say the same. The explanation did not seem to explain. "Your grandfather," said the wizard slowly and grimly, "gave the map to his son for safety before he went to the mines of Moria. Your father went away to try his luck with the map after your grandfather was killed; and lots of adventures of a most unpleasant sort he had, but he never got near the Mountain. How he got there I don't know, but I found him a prisoner in the dungeons of the Necromancer." "Whatever were you doing there?" asked Thorin with a shudder, and all the dwarves shivered. "Never you mind. I was finding things out, as usual; and a nasty dangerous business it was. Even I, Gandalf, only just escaped. I tried to save your father, but it was too late. He was witless and wandering, and had forgotten almost everything except the map and the key." "We have long ago paid the goblins of Moria," said Thorin; "we must give a thought to the Necromancer." "Don't be absurd! He is an enemy quite beyond the powers of all the dwarves put together, if they could all be collected again from the four corners of the world. The one thing your father wished was for his son to read the map and use the key. The dragon and the Mountain are more than big enough tasks for you!" "Hear, hear!" said Bilbo, and accidentally said it aloud, "Hear what?" they all said turning suddenly towards him, and he was so flustered that he answered "Hear what I have got to say!" "What's that?" they asked. "Well, I should say that you ought to go East and have a look round. After all there is the Side-door, and dragons must sleep sometimes, I suppose. If you sit on the doorstep long enough, I daresay you will think of something. And well, don't you know, I think we have talked long enough for one night, if you see what I mean. What about bed, and an early start, and all that? I will give you a good breakfast before you go." "Before we go, I suppose you mean," said Thorin. "Aren't you the burglar? And isn't sitting on the door-step your job, not to speak of getting inside the door? But I agree about bed and breakfast. I like eggs with my ham, when starting on a journey: fried not poached, and mind you don't break 'em." After all the others had ordered their breakfasts without so much as a please (which annoyed Bilbo very much), they all got up. The hobbit had to find room for them all, and filled all his spare-rooms and made beds on chairs and sofas, before he got them all stowed and went to his own little bed very tired and not altogether happy. One thing he did make his mind up about was not to bother to get up very early and cook everybody else's wretched breakfast. The Tookishness was wearing off, and he was not now quite so sure that he was going on any journey in the morning. As he lay in bed he could hear Thorin still humming to himself in the best bedroom next to him: "Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold." Bilbo went to sleep with that in his ears, and it gave him very uncomfortable dreams. It was long after the break of day, when he woke up.

#Hobbit