#its always morally correct to give characters tails

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saw a post about pomni with a tail and im Snatching that idea and Running with it!!!!!!!!

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killshot anon! YEAH i totally agree w/ your view on kaeya. it's so weird to me that people will blame him for his role in a situation he was forced into as a child through no choice of his own. that itself had to be traumatic, not to mention everything that happened later. i hate when people say he's untrustworthy - like yeah, he's lied, so has everyone? it's clear he does it mostly to protect himself. not to mention that (& sadism) can be symptoms of trauma. kaeya deserves nothing but happiness

take a seat folks it’s time for a “brynn should’ve been an english major” lesson! today we’re gonna learn some literary theory; specifically, we’re gonna apply psychoanalytical trauma theory to kaeya’s backstory and current character. killshot anon i bet you never thought this would result in a whole ass essay.

disclaimer one! you are allowed to dislike kaeya! i am not saying you need to like him or his character, you’re entitled to your opinion and i’m not here to change your mind.

disclaimer two! i am in no way an expert and this is all for fun! this is just my silly little analysis of one of my favorite characters as someone who’s studied literary theory and rhetoric and can also apply personal experience. seriously analysis is like a hobby to me and this is just an excuse for me to ramble about kaeya.

disclaimer three! this contains lots of spoilers! basically for everything we know in-game, general knowledge as well as stuff from his voicelines and character story. don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers.

since this is going to be filled with spoilers and is about to get really long, everything will be under a cut. for those who wanna read my dumb super informal essay: enjoy!

final note: yeah this is over 2000 words long can you tell i like analysis

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let’s start by getting a quick rundown of trauma theory out of the way. to begin, what is “trauma?” in this case, trauma is going to refer to an experience that greatly affects and changes one’s life; attitudes, memories, behaviors, mental state, etc. while not all changes may be bad, per se, the overall effect of trauma is generally a negative one, which is why it’s so significant. literary trauma theory, then, explores these changes and the impact of trauma in literature. it analyzes the psychological and social effects of trauma, explaining what those effects are and why they happen. in the context of a specific character, trauma theory breaks down said character’s behaviors, feelings, and general mentality in relation to their past experiences; trauma theory hopes to explain to others the reasons for why a character may act or feel the way they do, all based upon the character’s experiences, particularly traumatic ones. our character today is the lovely kaeya alberich, with the “literature” being genshin impact. i’ll be referencing kaeya’s wiki page to ensure i get all details correct for his character story and voicelines.

it would be good to review kaeya’s backstory before delving into the actual analysis. though we don’t know much about his life before living in mondstadt, we’re told he was sent as an agent of khaenri’ah. and by “sent,” i mean his biological father abandoned him in a completely unfamiliar land to serve khaenri’ah’s interests and fullfil his mission—what this entirely entails hasn’t been revealed. mondstadt, however, welcomed kaeya “with open arms when they found him.” crepus ragnvindr took him in as his adopted son, with diluc as his adopted brother. kaeya and diluc were “almost like twins,” so close they “[knew] each other’s thoughts and intentions without a word.” he’d began a new life in mondstadt, one surrounded by friends and family that loved him; one that was completely shattered by crepus’s death. kaeya arrived at the scene of the disaster, and was led to believe diluc was the one who killed their father to “set his father free” from the effects of his delusion. there’d always been one big question in kaeya’s life: if it came down to it, who would he support? the nation that abandoned him, but he still felt loyal to, or the nation and family that took him in and really loved him? overrun with guilt, kaeya confessed his purpose to diluc, sparking a fight between the two brothers. in this fight, kaeya receives his cryo vision. though both brothers stepped away alive, they’ve never been able to make peace with one another. now, kaeya is the eccentric and charming cavalry captain of the knights of favonius; a man who gets his way by using any means necessary, regardless of whether or not it seems right.

kaeya’s not evil; he’s morally ambiguous, and that stems from what appears to be a general distrust of others. his life is one shrouded in secrecy. from the moment he stepped foot into mondstadt, he was surrounded by secrets. even now, he doesn’t talk about a lot of things, namely his past, vision, and feelings. though he’s always willing to get information out of others, kaeya never reveals anything about himself. he repeatedly tells the player they can confide in him, but whenever you try and pry into his life, he deflects your questions with some sort of witty comment or flirty remark. anything he does reveal is vague, or spoken in some sort of “code.” for example, his “interesting things” voiceline. he tells us about the owl of dragonspine, how it “seems to look right through you, while letting go of none of its own secrets,” and then tacks on a “quite fascinating, don’t you think?” it seems like an awfully accurate parallel to himself; kaeya does all he can to get information from others, but never gives anything about himself. now, this whole thing—his relationship with diluc falling apart and his need for secrecy—could have probably been avoided if he had just come clean about his mission years ago. so why didn’t he? to start, kaeya was a literal child. not only are children unable to properly tell the difference between right and wrong, but they’ll also typically follow their parents’ orders blindly. kaeya had just been abandoned, and he wouldn’t want to risk being cast out by mondstadt as well if he came clean right away. you see, there’s this thing about trauma, something that trauma theory states. traumatized people feel a sort of shame or guilt regarding their traumatic experience; they’ll keep quiet because they don’t want to cause problems or bother others with their issues. of course kaeya wouldn’t tell the truth about his past, he doesn’t want to destroy the genuinely loving relationships he’d built in mondstadt. his fight with diluc only proves what he was afraid of: if he’s honest, he’ll be abandoned again. and if kaeya’s used to all the lies, why should he bother changing?

another thing, if he’s not going to tell the truth, then why would he have initially gone along with his father’s plans? again, he was a child. he really had no choice, and was forced into a very wrong and cruel situation. there’s a good explanation for this, too, which is also stated in trauma theory; traumatized people will still do their best to please their abusers. especially if said abuser is a parent, that will drive traumatized people to work even harder to please them. although his father hurt him by ruthlessly abandoning him, kaeya still sought to make him and his homeland proud. he was willing to be used as a tool for their gain; that is, until he found people who actually cared about him. he was an impressionable child, of course he’s going to obey orders. but as he gets older, he feels torn. does he serve those who abandoned him, or those that took him in? his father—and arguably, khaenri’ah as a whole—hurt him, sure, but he still feels some loyalty and connection to his former home. instead of revealing anything, he lets the situation play out. that way, he can’t be blamed when things fall apart.

the thing about claiming he’s untrustworthy is that hardly anyone in-game believes that. he’s adored by the older folks in mondstadt, and foes and allies alike find him easy to talk to. despite seeming lazy and uninterested in work, kaeya takes his job very seriously. in fact, his story states that crepus’s death was the “first and only time kaeya failed in his duty.” the “only time” is especially important, because it signifies kaeya still fulfills his duties successfully. he’s had a total of one slip-up, and hasn’t failed since. no, kaeya is not untrustworthy. rather, kaeya finds everyone else untrustworthy. it’s not unlikely that this is a direct consequence of being abandoned as a child. although it’s been established that kaeya and diluc were very close as children, when crepus dies, kaeya assumes diluc is the one that killed him. in order to jump to such an extreme conclusion against someone he was so close to, there had to be some underlying sense of distrust. furthermore, kaeya expresses feeling as though he doesn’t belong anywhere. he was abandoned by khaenri’ah, and then worried he wouldn’t be accepted by mondstadt. he is, but there’s still that worry. if you place him in your teapot as a companion, he tells you that your home feels like someplace he belongs, following it up with a “heh, who’d have thought…” kaeya still feels as though he doesn’t belong in mondstadt; despite the fact that he’s a high-ranking knight of favonius and rather popular, he still feels like an outsider. he doesn’t trust that anyone actually wants him around, and he finds joy in testing peoples’ trustworthiness. it’s noted in his story and through his voicelines that the beloved cavalry captain has a rather sadistic nature. he likes putting people into difficult situations, to see what decisions they will make. he does this to both opponents and allies, testing to see who’s going to back out and who’ll keep fighting; in the sake of allies, who can he trust? or who will turn tail and abandon their teammates at the slightest hint of danger? i mentioned it previously, but kaeya doesn’t care what measures he has to take so long as his job gets done and he gets the answers he wants. it’s a sort of self-preserving mindset, putting himself above the safety of others. kaeya’s trying to protect himself, which makes sense with all he’s been through. he doesn’t want to be hurt, and instead finds pleasure in threatening harm upon others. it’s twisted, sure, but it’s because he can only trust himself in a world that he believes is out to get him. he’s got as many enemies—if not more—as he does allies; of course kaeya focuses on protecting himself first, whether physically or through keeping his secrets, well, secret.

his most obvious traumatic effect is definitely his alcoholism. but he uses it as a distraction, not just to wallow in self-pity. this is seen again in his story, particularly in story 3. it’s found that when his favorite drink, death after noon, is out of season, mondstadt’s crime rate is decreased drastically. at face value, this just means kaeya spends more time working when death after noon is low in supply. but kaeya doesn’t skip work to go to taverns; it’s already been established he takes his job very seriously, so this means he actually patrols and tracks down threats while off work when he can’t indulge in his favorite alcoholic drink. he doesn’t get drunk simply because he’s depressed. if he did, there wouldn’t be a drop in incidents when death after noon is out of season. no, kaeya uses both the alcohol and fighting to distract himself. after all, it’s a little hard to think about feeling sad when you’re either drunk out of your mind or fighting for your life.

despite being so secretive, kaeya gives us glimpses of his true emotions from time to time. as previously mentioned, his flirty attitude is nothing more than a mask to hide how he really feels; and kaeya is terribly, terribly lonely. that may be why he seems so extroverted. constantly being around people should, logically, drive away that feeling, but it doesn’t work like that. when he talks with the player, he frequently expresses disappointment when you have to leave. each time, though, he dampens the weight of his words with playful or flirty language. he’s lonely, but doesn’t want you to know that, like he’s afraid of asking you to stay. he takes the seriousness of his feelings, and basically bends it into some sort of lighthearted joke. kaeya hides his true feelings—negative feelings, to be exact—so that he doesn’t bother anyone. which is, again, something that happens with traumatized people. he displays that hesitance to reveal his true feelings, because there’s a shame or guilt that comes with his past. he doesn’t want to bother others or hold them back, so he puts on a smile and amps up the charisma. one other very important thing—but very small detail—i would like to note is his feelings toward family. his fell apart not even once, but twice, and kaeya still holds familial relationships in high regard. we know he doesn’t exactly care how he goes about getting his work done. he doesn’t pay attention to what’s “right” or “wrong,” so long as he gets what he needs. but one of his informants, vile, notes that the cavalry captain has one exception: he won’t work with those who threaten others’ families. in fact, kaeya claims those who do should be hunted down and destroyed. even though his own families have caused him so much pain—and he ended up estranged from both—he still understands the importance of having people who love you in your life. because he didn’t get that.

kaeya’s not evil. ultimately, as a knight of favonius, his goal is to protect others, because no one was there to protect him. and because no one was there to protect him, because he’s been hurt time and time again by people who were supposed to love him, kaeya has taken to protecting himself. he hides any and all negative feelings with a charismatic, friendly façade, because he thinks it’ll drive away his persistent loneliness. any “bad” actions of his were hardly his fault; he was forced into a life of secrecy and lies, and then abandoned by the first people who truly loved him. kaeya’s a multi-faceted, tragic character, one that toes the line between good and evil, and that’s what makes him so interesting.

[zhoufeis]

Yay! The newbie (me) has finished 10 korean dramas

....... and here are my ratings.

- Ratings for: W - Two Worlds | Extraordinary You | Bring it on, ghost! | Hotel del Luna | The Tale of Nok-du | Run On | Rookie Historian Goo Hae-ryung | Romance is a Bonus Book | Radio Romance | A Love So Beautiful

- Also mentioned: Memories of the Alhambra | My Country - The New Age | Do Do Sol Sol La La Sol | Signal | Mr. Queen | Tale of the Nine Tailed | Goblin | My First First Love | Moon Lovers | The Crowned Clown

Let’s rate from worst to best:

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10) Romance is a Bonus Book. Rating: 2,1 / 5 stars - skip it.

- I kept seeing this show on my dash and since my first kdrama watch was W Two Worlds with the wonderful Lee Jong-suk, I decided to give it a chance.

- But hell, no one warned me how bad it actually is. I’m not talking about the acting (the cast is actually quite solid), but I’m referring to... the plot (or lack thereof), the love story (let’s rather call it one-sided obsession) and the wasted potential. Let’s start with the set-up. A company producing books, a single mother who needs a job, her childhood best friend who works for the company. Yeah, it’s not precisely complex or inventive, but it’s something to work with. Create nice dynamics at the working place, have some yearning between the two leads, give them heartwarming moments and a confession of how they’ve always been in love with each other. There’s just one problem: she really never, ever had any romantic feelings for her childhood best friend. She keeps calling him a brother and insists on him being her closest friend (which seems a stretch since she lied to him for a year about her separation from her husband and kept sort of creeping up into his house to eat and shower there without letting him know). Anyway, I could oversee this (even though I hate the trope of childhood best friends becoming lovers in adult life just because one is a man and the other a woman) if AT LEAST we actually get to see her falling for him slowly within the show. But we just.... don’t. He confesses his love to her - as she is actually starting to see someone else, and let me tell you, she actually seemed to be into the second lead -, then promises her not to push his feelings onto her... but that’s exactly what he does (I guess I don’t need to mention I ended up not being his biggest fan), and she ends up falling for him for unknown reasons. Eh. Okay. I started rooting for the second leads halfway into the show. Hae-rin & Eun-ho as well as Seo-joo & Dan-i appeared to me as the much more shippable pairings. I might have actually cried for Hae-rin & Eun-ho at some point of the show, but well... Moving on to... everything else. I enjoyed some scenes in the company, but not enough that I could tell you any right now because there wasn’t anything very memorable. The show basically thrives in some random scenes usually involving one of the two leads rather than in scenes with the two of them. That random author’s suicide has stuck with me as well as the letters that song hae-rin has wrote to our male lead over the years. The talk about fears between eun-ho and that author has stuck with me too, but other than that... there’s just nothing really happening. I was patiently waiting for a plot to come but nothing ever came. It just feels like a bunch of really uninteresting subplots put into one show. I don’t wanna judge it too harshly, but one of the other modern day dramas I will discuss further down this list also simply works with a bunch of subplots coming together - and it’s wonderfully executed (it’s ‘Run On’, for those of you who are wondering!)

SUMMARY

- Favorite character:

- Positive: nice friendship between women (dan-i & hae-rin); delivery of lee jong-suk, jeong eu-gene & park gyu-young; one strong scene involving a life lesson every few eps

- Negative: no main plot, dull subplots... nothing happens, very cheesy at some points, the protagonizing couple is quite problematic and unshippable, their chemistry is not strong enough to oversee that; i really don’t know why people like this show.

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9) Radio Romance. Rating: 3,2 / 5 stars - it’s cute.

- Radio Romance is the show on this list that drives me into conflict with myself. Because some things about this show are very strong; others (many) very, very weak. I guess the main problem is that the show’s set-up mostly shouldn’t be taken too seriously, but it deals with some heavy topics that need to be taken seriously. And unlike quality japanese animes or some quality chinese drama that usually achieve to make you realize what can be taken as a joke and what can not, Radio Romance is sort of incapable of keeping that balance. You gotta figure it for yourself.

- While offering a quite enjoyable cast and some quite different personalities within the show, there is no one particularly standing out. As you will see as we go further down on this list, this is not my only Kim So-hyun drama, it was also not my first, and I can promise you that it won’t be my last. I simply adore this actress, she’s enjoyable to watch. I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of her, which is why I checked out the show in the first place. Compared to her other characters though, Song Geu-rim is kind and nice and all, but not too memorable. She’s portraying a nice girl next door here with a dream to become a good radio script writer. And if not even her character stands out, as expected, none of the others will either. As for the plot... We don’t really have one, I suppose. If you count the plot making the radio show, I suppose then episode 3 or 4 is the last with actual development. I was hoping for more conflicts and plot twists involving Soo-ho’s backstory - and we got them, but very, very, very late on the show. Basically, getting through the first 7 eps felt very easy to me, due to the change of locations and relationship growth, and getting through the last 3 as well. Although the last was such a cheesy ending, you have no idea. The middle part suffered from a lack of plot and character development as well as it suffered from a focus on the love triangle - which I totally could have lived without. Like, istg, what was the POINT of this love triangle? Soo-ho and Geu-rim had to deal with enough things already, bringing in yet another obstacle through the tercero and putting the focus onto this love triangle was just soooo cliché. And don’t even get me started on how they also went with the problematic love triangle tropes rather than to at least make it somewhat adorable or funny. It was also boring. I kept pausing the episodes there and didn’t keep watching for days. It was only at the end of episode 13 that things finally got interesting again when we finally got to learn more about Soo-ho’s backstory. From then on, I was able to end the show within 2 days. So, no, the backstory was not the thing that drives me into conflict though. What drives me into conflict is how such a quite flat story was able to portray a very good, very realistic case of depression and PTSD. Like wow. This must have been one of the few shows, in which we have a canonically diagnosed character who does not fall into stereotypes and in which his depression isn’t used as a mere plot device to get the ship together and cure him by that. His depression is underlying at all times, sometimes more, sometimes less. He is told to get treatment (”no treatment, no medication.”), he has moments in which his depression mentally and physically restrains him from acting. It’s a very layered, realistic depiction and I adored every single bit of it. Meanwhile, the character isn’t defined by his depression nevertheless - there’s more to Soo-ho then just the depression, and after all, he was an outstanding character (to correct what I said before because I was lying xD). So... for all the lack of plot and development and predictable storytelling, the depiction of depression and the peacefulness of the protagonizing couple save that show.

SUMMARY

- Favorite character:

- Negative: unnecessary love triangles with unnecessary clichés; barely any plot; sheer boredom in the middle of the show; takes itself and its tropes way too seriously.

- Positive: complex character who is suffering from depression and PTSD; layered, realistic depiction of depression; adorable couple that transmits peacefulness.

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8) Rookie Historian Goo Hae-ryung. Rating: 3,5 / 5 stars - nice, but it is no must-watch.

- I feel genuinely bad for putting this right after Radio Romance and Romance is a Bonus Book, because Rookie Historian was, simply put, muuuuuuuuch better. I got invested in the characters and their backstories. The story is quite more complex in retrospect than it seemed at first, but the show’s issue is that this is rather less apparent in more than the first quarter of the show. I really don’t even recall what happened in those first few episodes because it is rather unimportant for the rest of the show, with minor exceptions. The story truly starts picking up around episode 9 and has a strong run until around episode 15. The last quarter of the show then is wayyyyy too fast-moving, too many things happening and we barely spend time on things I then wished to spend more time on. Unfortunately, despite having a good set-up and a quite fine cast, I don’t think I’ll remember anything in particular about this show in a year. It’s a nice watch, even though I sometimes really had to motivate myself to keep watching in the first eps, but it hasn’t lingered in my memory after I finished it.

SUMMARY

- Favorite character:

- Positive: rather lots of plot; positive female relationships; feminism; shin se-kyung; leading couple as well as the second leading couple, even though romance is not at the core of the show; nice messages about morality and truth.

- Negative: the first few eps are really.... slow-moving. To the point that I’d recommend putting the first 8 eps into 2-3 eps and giving more space in the end. Especially the last 4 eps of the show are way too fast-moving. Furthermore, there’s some plotholes. My biggest issue though is the glorification of europe's christianity during the 18th and 19th century. I was not expecting that in a korean drama but it seemed utterly wrong in my eyes, specifically because the show used it to promote that chrisitianity promotes equality of all races and genders. Not to be a bitch, but europe’s christian beliefs have never stopped europeans from discriminating women and non-white people, not then and not now.

- My general impression of the show is quite positive, but I’m not sure I’d willingly watch it again since knowing all the plot twists and storylines actually is enough to be watched once with that show. An experience that I haven’t made with the other kdramas that are higher ranked on this list.

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7) A Love So Beautiful. Rating: 3,5 / 5 stars - if you really don’t want to think at all and just watch a light, easy to follow show, that is your pick. However, NOT recommended for first-time kdrama watchers - it gives you a totally wrong impression of what kdramas are actually capable of achieving.

- I’d like to point out that this show has surprised me in a good way - but there’s things that need to be pointed out here, so let me make three paragraphs: the first will talk about my impression of the first 16 eps; the second will talk about the last 8 eps; and the last will talk about how this show was cute, but could have been incredible, but didn’t use its potential correctly.

- Episodes 1-16: Look, the thing about those eps is very easy to point out: it’s not quality and it is never pretending to be (unlike romance is a bonus book, which pretends to be some smart, adult quality show but is just trash). Those eps cannot be taken totally serious. You have to go in there knowing exactly what is awaiting you. I started it because when I saw the trailer, I immediately realized all the tropes that Extraordinary You (higher ranked, you will see later) was making fun of. What you see is exactly what you get: Clichéd characters, clichéd love story, average acting, average directing, simple dialogue, clichéd love triangle, predictable developments - a simple romcom put into a tv show format. It’s cliché over cliché over cliché put into a het high school love story. And you know what? After weeks of studying for and writing my uni exams, it was exactly what I needed. The show is so over the top with its clichés that it’s genuinely funny. The lightheartedness and the non-existing complexity just add to that. Basically, you could argue that it’s all so bad with its clichés, which is why it becomes hilarious. Unlike other kdramas, it has a straightforward plot: a girl is in love with a boy and wants to be with him. It’s as easy as that. The show clearly loves featuring every trope you could associate with het love stories, but honestly, it’s so light and breezy and such a fast watch (due to the fact that each ep is between 20-25 minutes), you will finish those first 16 episodes before you know you even started it (I made it in less than 2 days). I want to repeat here though, it’s not for someone who starts with kdramas and hasn’t watched other kdramas. It cannot be taken seriously - and you only cannot take it seriously when you have seen things like Extraordinary You or W or, I guess, a bunch of high school kdramas. But I’m telling you, this is the only Kdrama on this list that you can watch in the most stressful time of your life and it will make you feel better. It won’t make you cry, it will make you laugh, and the moment it is out of your sight, you will forget about it - at least, that’s the case about the first 16 eps. And then we get to...

- Episodes 17-24: guys, what have I gotten myself into? As these people finished high school and their problems actually also got more adult, I started to grow genuinely attached, specifically to the ship. When she got sick and he didn’t even know although he’s a DOCTOR? When she was sexually harassed and didn’t know how to talk to him about it because their relationship was filled with other problems? When he left for 3 years and later told her that he had hoped she’d follow him because she always has... and then she didn’t? When he said that everyone is under the impression that she is more dependent on him but that he is actually the one who cannot imagine a life without her? IT ALL HURT BADLY. Because 1) so many years passed in such a short amount of time on the show and it felt like someone was ripping my heart out. I got genuinely reminded of that stupid US movie “One Day” - and y’all know how that movie ended. And because 2) there was a very realistic notion in the adult relationship portrayed. Not only did it point out how differently relationships/friendships can develop once you outgrow your teenage years and start navigating your life by yourself, but the problems, the misunderstandings, the different perceptions of time, the different perceptions of how friendships and relationships are developing - I honestly could relate to it a lot, looking at it from a 24yo perspective because it is something I have been experiencing as well since I finished high school. You feel more lonely and tend to perceive some time as passing by quickly, other times, it feels like everything is going so slow. These last 8 eps completely differ from my perception that I had in the first 16 eps of the show, as the tone is much more serious and the things depicted realistic and relatable. I also sobbed a lot. I didn’t sob at all, ever, in the first 16 eps, but the last 8 were me crying a lot and feeling my heart hurt as the years passed by and these two just spent them apart.

- So, what do I criticize about this show? The show’s pacing. I genuinely loved the change of feeling between high school and adult life, between ridiculousness and seriousness, and I know the show wants to celebrate youth at the end of the day. But I honestly believe this show could have worked so much better if u cut the high school episodes down to 8 episodes and rather spend a few more eps exploring their young adult lives. It would have worked so much better because their young adult selves were genuinely relatable, as well as their problems. The growth within the characters, realizing that the way they acted as teenagers were often self-centred or that they didn’t think that much about the consequences or how other people felt was nicely done. The show had potential. The dialogues were bearable, the camera work had hints of something great. In other words, I believe that with more carefulness to directing and dialogue, the show could have genuinely been a quality romance drama. The potential was there, but it wasn’t used the way it should have been. In the last 8 eps, you simply get a whiff on what this show could have actually been. Because the realistic character and relationship writing was right there - and if it had been put together with awesome directing and better pacing, everything could have been incredible.

SUMMARY

Favorite character:

Negative: the show’s pacing; the waste of potential to be an actual quality romance.

Positive: the un-seriousness of the first 16 eps, which were just so clichéd that it all was hilarious, compared to the seriousness of problems and development depicted in the past 8 eps.

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6) Run On. Rating: 4,2 / 5 stars - recommend

- I’m gonna be honest here and tell you something about me you might have guessed by now: Modern-day shows with no sci-fi nor fantasy elements are not particularly my thing. I usually sort of hate-watch them. Romance is a Bonus Book, A Love So Beautiful and Radio Romance are all of such shows and while I was even capable watching two of them without ending up hating them, they’re far from being my fave. Objectively, they’re okay-ish shows, nothing to be considered quality tv according to my cultural studies though. Subjectively, they just suffer even more from the fact that I’m very keen on being critical of such shows. But what happens when I find a non-fantasy, non-scifi modern-day show that is actually... good? Run On is the answer. Run On has memorable characters, their funny, unique characteristics, and simple conflicts put into nice subplots that often talk real-life problems such as bullying or self-neglegance. At the end of the day, this show is a love poem. It’s a love poem to self-love, self-respect, to friendship, to character growth, to family bonds, to achieving your goals, to making new goals, to kindness, and to life itself. That’s really what it is. You will find yourself in, at least, one of the characters. You will see them struggle, fight, grow, become better, and at the end of the day, the most important thing is that you are capable of living with yourself. I personally got attached to all of the stories and I adored how nothing was ever done over the top. Everything was subtle, multiple subplots working together... to form stories of life. It’s more than just a simple “feelgood” show and less than a devastating tragedy, it truly shows you life and puts it into an aesthetic form, that never neglects its reality. Which leads me to something I should point out here: it’s creatively done. From the fact that Seon-gyeom is waiting for Mi-joo at the end of the track to the drawings of Young-hwa that have Dan-ah in them to Dan-ah realizing that people experience the same things differently due to the fact that experience itself is different to everyone to Mi-joo imagining movie plots with the people she surrounds herself with to Seon-gyeom starting to live with Young-hwa in a small flat rather than to live lonely in a big, fancy hotel room - the things the characters go through in this show are not only talked about, but they’re often expressed through art, in all its forms. And these characters, these dynamics, the art, the conflicts are all subtly but carefully put together into subplots that form the show and very nice messages. The most important take-away I had from this show is that the way we treat us and the people around us is the highest form of art. And the show is a love poem to that.

SUMMARY

- Favorite character:

- Positive: the cast (especically the core four), the characters (especially the core four); the wonderful messages about respect, kindness and self-love; the subplots working together, reflecting how life is also not just some simple chronological order of things but rather multiple experiences that we remember and that shape us; life is constant growth.

- Negative: i think the only thing i truly have to criticize is that you never really know what the plot even is. While I do enjoy how the subplots all work together, I would have wished for deeper inspections of some plots. And while it is easy just for some headcanons to come to mind, I still think the show could have incorporated more. Considering the treatment of art forms and how it takes a prominent role within the story (due to Young-hwa and Mi-joo, respectively), I also would have liked to have some cultural nods and references - and interpretations. I think the show used about 85% of its potential - and the potential was great, which is why the rating is still very good.

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5) Bring it on, ghost! Rating: 4,2 / 5 stars - recommend, especially good for people who want to have a focus on romance coupled with a supernatural plot and who want a happy ending

- While the story is pretty easy to follow, often seems to be predictable and familiar, the show still promotes nice messages about forgiveness and regret. The strong side of the show isn’t particularly that though - this show is entirely saved by the two leading actors. Kim So-hyun and Teacyeon portray two incredibly lovable characters you will see yourself drawn to. They furthermore have a chemistry that you just have to love and their bickering is just the best part of all. This is mixed with some tragic moments - in present time as well as in the past - and what you get is a romantic show with a bit of comedy, with a bit of tragedy, but with a very happy ending. If you exchanged the actors with two less skilled actors or two people who simply don’t have a lot of chemistry, this show simply wouldn’t work. Their performances are the shining light of this drama, mixed with some funny side characters that you get to enjoy as well. The reason why it ends up higher on the list than Run On - despite Run On probably having generally the better dialogue writing as well as better camera work and even more beautiful messages - is due to the sole work of the two leads who simply carry this show on their back and the fact that despite having some more or less necessary subplots, there is a main plot here that will take a faster, darker turn in the second half of the show. And I personally just enjoy having a main plot to hold onto as well as I always enjoy a bit of fantasy more than modern day real live shows. On top of that, add some devastating backstory and top-notch character development for Park Bong-pal, and a badass, slightly violent, sassy characterization of Kim Hyun-ji. This show will simply leave you with a huge smile on your face, despite being made for people who enjoy tragedy as well.

SUMMARY

- Favorite characters:

- Negative: subplots sometimes take the focus, a familiar story, stereotypical portrayal of ghosts (yes, ahre, i said it), no real plot twists (which can be a good thing, too, since the show rather simply unfolds each part of the story over the course of its run)

- Positive: the two leading actors, their incredibly shippable couple, a happy ending. If I was going to recommend a light-hearted, happy kdrama that has some tragic parts but ends happily and isn’t that hard to follow, I’ll recommend you this one.

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4) The Tale of Nok-du. Rating: 4,6 / 5 stars - strongly recommend.

- If you ever are in search for an unproblematic dummy as protagonist, watch this show. He’s a dummy you just have to love. You laugh about him, you laugh with him, you cry for him. He’s a puppy, you cry with him. And the best thing is, this puppy falls in love with a girl who can be quite rude and annoyed, but he always makes her smile and genuinely is attentive to her. The most frustrating thing about both of them is that each of them keeps a secret they cannot tell each other because they refuse to hurt each other - and this almost leads to tragedy. Better even, they’re portrayed by two very skillful actors. You’ll love them in the blink of an eye. And then there’s the cute second lead, portrayed by Kang Tae-oh. Yes, cute. Until he really isn’t. I’ve never seen an actor being able to turn around a character to 180° in no time. Some talent that is. And now let’s just say - the plot is nice. It is not the most complex one, but it is interesting to follow and you are always eager to find out new information to collect and put the pieces together. If you are searching for a show that is simply entertaining and nice to watch and featrures a great cast and nice characters and ranges from comedy to tragedy, this is your pick.

SUMMARY

- Favorite characters:

- Negative: the narrative change in the middle of the show that shifted the focus away from women to men (even though it made sense within the story, it was still a very sudden and harsh change, especially if you consider that these women were mostly slaughtered to death)

- Positive: CAST (specifically the three mains are just beyond amazing); an innocent, pure, absolutely adorable protagonizing couple that will steal your heart; feminism; male protagonist being a feminist who ends up working with badass women for his entire lifetime; directing; narration practices - this show is the one that draws the line between the ones i discussed above and the really great ones because it is the first on the list to be capable of telling a story by constantly keeping your nerves up while also not overstimulating the viewer with too much information at once. Only the other 3 shows which will follow now were able to do the same - and it’s what makes people watch or quit, and that’s why it’s so important: constant plot development, no unnecessary side plots, and handing your audience enough information to make them keep watching but not enough to guess the entire plot yet. The Tale of Nok-du was able to do exactly that and I honestly enjoyed the ride.

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3) W - Two Worlds. Rating: 4,8 / 5 stars - strongly recommend, must watch.

- I’d like to point out first that my top 3 are interchangeable. I sometimes tend to change my mind which one of the three I adore the most, and W is definitely in those top 3. Firstly, I’d like to let you know that W was my first Kdrama watch. And it blew me away. I was in awe with Lee Jong-suk, with Han Hyo-joo, with the narration of this drama, with the plot, with the direction, with the leading couple, the cast, THE DIALOGUE. Everything about this drama was excellently executed. The slow-moving narration in episode 1, the extra long scene of Chul holding the writer at gunpoint, the writer ‘becoming’ the killer (which he has always been anyway), the philosophy behind it, the creativity. I was blown away by literally everything about this drama and I believe it to be one of the strongest dramas ever made. Furthermore, what I also really adored, is that you don’t need to necessarily be into the couple in order to enjoy this show anyway because the plot takes the spotlight - but since the couple is always involved in the main plot, you get to enjoy plot, dialogue and couple at once. An interesting thing that I want to note here is that a few weeks after finishing the show, I stumbled upon reddits criticizing Lee Tae-hwan for his acting in general. I don’t know if he just perfectly suited the role of Chul’s bodyguard in W, but I highkey enjoyed watching him in this drama.

SUMMARY

- Favorite characters:

- Negative: I would have adored if Yeon-joo took a more prominent role in the resolution of the story (last 2 episodes) since the ‘hero arc’ went all to Chul there. And another negative aspect is that the show lives from very strong dialogues throughout all episodes, all incredible, all amazing and then - the very last scene. The last words spoken on the show, as a voice-over of Chul and Yeon-joo, are rather dull compared to the rest of the show.

- Positive: narration device, leaving out information to fill us in later and blowing our minds away (PEOPLE, I THOUGHT CHUL DIED), complex main characters, complex plot, no unnecessary subplots, no unnecessary romantic drama, no unnecessary cheesiness, DIALOGUE, direction, the cast in general*.

*I tried Memories of the Alhambra, as I found out that the same people who also made W were in charge of that drama, and I have to admit that I was intensely let down, specifically by the casting. Hyun Bin was alright-ish (not very memorable though), but Park Shin-hye was unbearable for me after episode 3. I stopped watching. If the plot was as interesting as the one of W though, I would have kept watching. But seeing as nothing really happened in those first 3 eps other than the lead killing his old best friend and playing video games that appear to turn into reality, I felt like I was wasting my time.

_________________

2) Extraordinary You. Rating: 5 / 5 stars - strongly recommend for hopeless romantics, people who suffer from second lead syndrome and people who like getting into philosophical debates.

- Extraordinary You was the second kdrama I ever watched. And. And. And. And I almost gave it up after episode one. It seemed somewhat ridiculous to me, way too fast-moving. I would regret my entire life if I had given it up right there and then. Because PEOPLE, IT IS SO GOOD. Not only does it feature a very healthy main couple, it leaves you emotionally devastated because there’s a backstory that you only get to know in the second half of the show but which influences your entire perception of the first half - and jeez, by the time I reached half of the show, I was yelling and screaming and crying my eyes out. You ever want to see a love so deep that it transcends consciousness and universes? A love so deep that time and space become mere nothings? That’s what you get in this show. And one of the best parts is that the ‘’’’’actual’’’’’ lead (in the ancient story within the show, not the story of the show) aka Baek Kyung* does NOT get the girl. But that doesn’t mean you won’t fricking suffer with him. Jeez, I bawled my eyes out for him, too. But Haru/Dan-oh, guys, they’re.... everything. Oh and all of that is nicely mixed up in a strong, complex plot that leaves nothing unexplained. Not everything is explained through words - the show is high on symbolism rather than dialogue - but everything makes sense. And the ending, oh that stupid ending. As beautiful as heartbreaking. Since the plot is put into a philosophical perspective throughout the show, the show also raises questions about existence and being. Yes, I yelled when Heidegger was mentioned. So not only do you get to see a beautiful, heartbreaking love story; adorable, complex characters; time-and-space-transcending friendships, you also get to laugh, cry and think about your own existence and your own place in this world. This show is a delight.

SUMMARY

- Favorite character:

- Negative: you will cry and cry and cry and then laugh and then cry and cry and cry. It’s really not fun. Emotionally devastating. No, but for real... I wished we had a more complex depiction of the female characters that aren’t Dan-oh (specifically Ju-da, Sae-mi and Su-hyang), and a bit less focus on the guys therefore (I love them all but I thought the girls could have gotten some screen time of theirs while I would have accepted Jinmichae, Do-hwa and Nam-ju to get a bit less)

- Positive: Honestly? EVerything. Directing, casting, characterization, narration, love story, friendships, everything.

-  *Let me say something about Baek Kyung, portrayed by Lee Jae-wook. That character could have simply been an asshole. The set-up was there, the writer of the comic also made him that way. But Lee Jae-wook has portrayed this character with so much depth that it is impossible not to feel bad for him. His entire life stages (hahahaha, I’m so funny) are a tragic mess. The fact that he eventually realizes that who he is and who the writer made him are eventually indeed two different people after all - but that they both share being in love with Eun Dan-oh - is as important as it is devastating. Cause it makes you realize that he can finally move his life more freely with that knowledge - become a better person outside of the stages (only if given the chance by the writer though) - while also never finding a happy ending. Firstly, because happy endings don’t exist in their world anyway because endings - if happy or sad - are always endings to these characters’ existences and because it is glaringly obvious his happy ending would include having Dan-oh by his side also outside of the stages. That is denied to him and will always be denied to him. And as a viewer, you understand that and you want nothing else, but the fact that he doesn’t even appear in the new story, not getting a chance at a new life this time, just adds a tragic notion onto all of this that no one asked for. I’d like to thank Lee Jae-wook here for such an incredible portrayal. I started Do Do Sol Sol La La Sol because of him and, unfortunately, had stop watching after 2 episodes because Go A-ra is simply... a terrible actress. I can’t put it any other way. I’m looking forward to other dramas with him and the rest of the cast though. Extraordinary You definitely had a huge advantage already by having a quite young, but incredibly talented mass of actors and actresses.

____________________

*drumroll*

1) Hotel del Luna. Rating: 5 / 5 stars - strongly recommend, must watch.

- It wasn’t thaaaat surprising to me that I would love this show. It was rather.... obvious that this would happen because a fantasy show set in modern day with the involvement of other time eras and a badass, broken, strong female lead is simply my taste. What I did not expect was this to become my favorite tv show of all time. I don’t even know where to start. I guess Jang Man-wol is a good starting point. Because I live for such characters. Characters like hers are precisely of my taste (I had similar people to her before - Ámbar Smith from Argentina’s Soy Luna or Melody Paz from Argentina’s Casi Ángeles - and also after her - Seo Dan-ah from Korea’s Run On), but Jang Man-wol takes the no.1 spot in all tv characters ever. She’s so layered, so complex, so well-written. She’s not predictable, but she’s also not ever surprising. She comes across as one of the most relatable tv characters you could ever see because she isn’t just one thing. She’s very contrary, she can be soft and loving or harsh and ruthless, sometimes all at the same time. She can be forgiving, she can be arrogant, self-hating, self-loving, lazy, passionate, she is quite literally everything. And while in the show’s set-up she is punished for hundreds of years when other, much more problematic people were allowed to leave this world sooner than her, the narrative wants you to feel sorry for her. You see her flaws, you see she’s anything but perfect but it won’t make you conclude that her punishment was ever deserved. The more you get into this show, the more you will ache. Because you know that there is only one possible ending to the show - for her to finally find peace. And that... that can only be achieved if she finally is allowed to leave this world. And it hurts and pains because, obviously, there is a love story. A love story that goes back to when she was a child 1,300 years ago. A love story that reunites her with the guy who saved her these 1,300 years ago and who now finds her again, someone who makes her care about her life again. As deeper as you go into the show, the more you will cry, the more you will suffer. And you will feel conflicted. You will want her to get her revenge while you will want to protect her. You will want her to finally be able to leave this world, but you won’t want her to leave Chan-sung. You will want her to actually care about her own fate while you will also want her to make the mistakes that worsen everything. It is a beautiful character put into a story that mixes fantasy, comedy, tragedy, soulmates, life, death, revenge, a stunning cinematography and strong dialogues into one. And what you get is the probably best show ever made.

SUMMARY

- Favorite character:

- Negative: There is really only one minor thing I’d criticize. While all the chars are rather complex and all subplots and character arcs work within the main plot frame and round up the entire story perfectly, there is one subplot I personally got a bit tired of because it is definitely the most unconnected one to the main plot - this concerns the romance arc of yu-na and hyun-joong. I wasn’t hating it, but I just didn’t need it for this story.

- Positive: This show has everything. I told you above already all the things I like. On top of that, I’d like to add that it has a beautiful found family story arc, promotes wonderful messages, has gotten itself the most excellent leading actress with IU who just beautifully portrays Jang Man-wol in all her depth. The show leaves you with your heart aching while there will be a smile on your face. Emotional devastation is just how this show works.

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- Kdrama I'm currently watching: The Crowned Clown

- Kdramas I plan on watching soon: My Country - The New Age (watched 2 eps so far) | Signal (watched 1 ep so far) | Mr. Queen | Tale of the Nine Tailed | Moon Lovers

- Kdramas I abandoned because I didn’t get into them / disliked them: My First First Love | Goblin | Do Do Sol Sol La La Sol | Memories of the Alhambra

- If you have any suggestions for me based on my likes and dislikes, send them to me. I’m open to everything :)

[brynwrites]

How to Write Non-binary Characters: Part III.

Visit PART ONE: the basics.

Visit PART TWO: the nitty gritty.

PART THREE: common pitfalls and easy fixes.

Here we'll cover some common situations where writing respectful non-binary characters can be trickier.

Writing Non-human Non-binary characters.

Non-human non-binary characters aren’t inherently disrespectful to non-binary people, but it can easily become negative representation when there are no non-binary humans present, because it implies that those with non-binary genders are less human (and usually more monstrous or more alien) than people with binary genders. You can read more about why this is a problem in this full analysis by Christine Prevas.

There's a very simple solution to this though: Write some non-binary humans. (Or, in the least, make it explicitly clear that non-binary humans exist, and are just as valid in their identity as anyone else.)

Writing Non-binary Villains.

This situation is very similar to the non-binary non-humans, but instead of implying that non-binary people are less human, it implies they are less moral, abnormal, depraved, or insane. Villainous figures in history have often have their villainy connected to or blamed on their non-gender conforming traits. We don't want to add to that clinging transphobic and homophobic belief with modern fiction.

As with non-binary non-humans, having non-villainous non-binary characters can go a long way in offsetting this, as well as not connecting (or letting characters within the world connnect) the villain's non-binary aspects with their perceived villainy. Instead of writing a non-binary villain, write a villain who also happens to be non-binary.

(On this note, I would be very cautious about writing villains who are being villainous because they've suffered from transphobia.)

Killing (your only) Non-binary Character.

This falls into the same category as the previous two sections, but it has just one solution: don't kill your story’s only non-binary or trans character. Just don't do it. If that character has to die to make the plot continue, let there be another primary non-binary or trans character in the story somewhere.

Writing “Coming Out” Scenes for Non-binary Characters.

Let's break this into two different types of coming out:

The casual, everyday coming out. This is the kind of coming out a non-binary person has to do every time they need to let new people in their lives know about their gender. If you're writing non-binary characters, you'll probably have to write some version of this at some point. It can be as simple as a character introducing themselves with their pronouns, wearing clothing or pins that say their pronouns, mentioning their identity casually, correcting someone's misuse of their pronouns, making a (respectful) joke involving gendered terminology (e.g. "I'm the king of monopoly today and the queen of monopoly tomorrow, but either way you're all going to lose!"), or a multitude of other ways.

While writing any setting that you create yourself (whether that's fantasy, science fiction, alternate history, etc), you can always do yourself a favor and work a method of identity presentation into the world building. Maybe in your fictional culture everyone wears a certain color accessory for certain gender identities or in your fictional boarding school the students all decided to introduce themselves with their pronouns no matter what gender they identity as.

The major, terrifying coming out. Often, this is the traditional coming out scene where the person sits down with family and tells their truth, even though they know things might turn out poorly. It might be the first time they've come out to anyone, or it might be that they've held off with certain important people in their life because they're afraid of those people's response. Be wary of writing out these scenes if you haven't lived through them yourself, because it's a very emotional and complex situation which, if represented poorly, can harm non-binary and trans people in real life. Sometimes though, you might want to allude to what happened during this scene because of its effect on the character!

Keep in mind that while there is much prejudice against non-binary (and trans) people in our world, that you don't have to include that in your stories. It is always the writer's decision to include transphobia and transphobic characters in what they write, as well as their responsibility to make sure that any transphobic inclusions are framed as the terrible, incorrect biases they are, and do not harm the trans and non-binary community.

Writing Non-binary Characters Discovering They’re Non-binary.

Realizing you're non-binary is often a long, emotional, and extremely personal experience. Unless you have a non-binary (or trans) co-writer or you've done an academic level of research, its best to leave these experiences to be written by the people you lived them, because there are many living people who have lived them, who will be effected by these stories on a very real, very personal level.

So, go write non-binary characters, but write them having adventures and falling in love instead.

Writing Societies Without Gender Binaries.

Because this is a huge topic where new pitfalls might appear at any moment do to the endless ways it can be used, the best thing to do if you're interested in writing it is to read speculative fiction from trans and non-binary authors and study the nuances of how they portray these societies, and, of course, always avoid the societal version of all the previous no-nos, like having only villainous or non-human non-binary societies.

Remember: when in doubt, get non-binary people to beta read your work.

Finally, here are two insanely easy ways to include non-binary representation in all your stories:

1. Give a character (or multiple characters!) they/them pronouns. 

You don’t have to explain this. The character never needs to come out as non-binary. There doesn’t have to be a focus on whether they’re androgynous or not. You can keep it so simple that their description is just “Parker had brown hair and a hooked nose and when they smiled their eyes lit up,” and there you have a non-binary-coded character without having to do any work or research at all.

2. Have a character refer to their family member with gender neutral terms. 

“Those are my sisters, my big brother, and my little sibling. We were on a skiing trip, but our step-parent came down with the flu so our father stayed back at the lodge and let our auntcle take us up the mountain.” Will any of these non-binary characters ever by in the story itself? Perhaps not. But it still shows that the author accepts the existence of non-binary people in their story’s world, and that the character speaking loves and respects the non-binary people in their family enough to refer to them in the ways those family members prefer.

Closing Words.

Non-binary people have had a long history of being ignored in Western stories. Having writers attempt to include respectful non-binary representation in their books is more important to us than having all that representation be perfect. So, write non-binary characters, find a few non-binary or trans readers to double check your work, and most importantly, and have fun.

While you’re at it, consider supporting non-binary writers writing ownvoices stories. If you don’t know of any, here’s the wikipedia list of the more famous authors and a little twitter thread with some lesser known voices. You can also purchase my debut novel, Our Bloody Pearl, a fun romp about a disabled, non-binary siren and a freckly pirate captain.

Stick around for a preview of Our Bloody Pearl....

SWELL BEGINNINGS

There is one thing I know for certain: We were right to hate the humans.

HUNGER HAUNTS ME like a bull shark. With every roll of the ship, the gunk inside my stagnant tub sloshes against my waist, stinging anew. The tight wooden room's stale air burns my lungs.

Steam whistles in the pipes that run along the walls, their copper gleaming in the dim ceiling light. My wrists throb where the metal cuffs locking me to the tub dig into my silver scales. The gill slits along my neck are clamped shut after a year without seawater and my head fins stick to my scalp like barnacles to rock.

I try to anchor myself with the memory of home, of fine sands and vibrant reefs, but I can barely recall the rush of the warm current or the thrill of the hunt. Even a single wrasse sounds like a feast now. Or a few human fingers.

At least I can still smell the sharp brine of the ocean. When the ship rocks, the small, circular window to my left reveals the sea rolling in an endless stretch of deep blue, begging me to return. The silhouette of an approaching vessel forms a blur on its horizon.

I squint at the hazy shape, but Captain Kian’s roar of irritation from an upper deck makes me recoil. My captor’s harsh voice is so loud it seems to shudder its way down my spine.

The new vessel leaves my sight as the ship I’m captive on—the Oyster—turns toward it. The steam stacks clatter to life somewhere beneath me. Fabric and metal wings stretch out from the sides of the Oyster, and the ship bursts forward, riding just above the crests of the waves.

The sudden change in speed shoves me backward, tossing up my putrid water. As the liquid recoils, it grazes my largest tail fin, lying limp over the far edge of the tub. For all the pain I suffer, I nearly forget my tail exists, its iridescent gleam washed away by the filth and grime of the tub. It must still be impaired from the massive, anchor-like weight my captor crushed it beneath when she first locked me here. I can’t bring myself to focus on its lifeless form for long. I wasn’t meant for this.

I need the sea.

Purchase the full novel on amazon, bookdepository, or kobo, or request it from your local library!

[secretshinigami]

Not Alone

Author: @jam-knife (I’m submitting through my main) For: @misas-biggest-fan Pairings/Characters: LxLight Rating/Warnings: Mature. Major characters’ deaths. Mentions of sex (though nothing too explicit, and I kept curse words to a minimum too). Angst, lots of it. Prompt: Light being tailed by L’s ghost Author’s Notes: heyyyyy first of all I LOVED your prompts! I really enjoyed writing this for you, it was a very interesting scenario to explore. I hope you like it!!! Please let me know what you think of it once you finish reading it. Second of all, this fic begins with a scene that was unfortunately cut from the anime (though it wasn’t canon in the manga as far as I know, so it’s not that bad). I don’t know whether or not you’ve watched it, but I’ll leave the link here just in case! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tX1_K-mUH94 Word Count: 12k (approximation)

“You said nothing much to look forward to, Ryuk?”

Light’s words were met only by the rustling sound of leaves being ruffled by a sudden cold breeze, which carried with it the smell of removed earth, moss and death. The dirt stuck to his palms and the fabric of his pants as he stood up. He didn’t even show the empathy it required to rub it off.

“Not really. From now on, I’m going to show you how the new world is built.”

His eyes travelled to the sky, dyed orange and red as dusk fell upon him and his –unusually silent– Shinigami. He didn’t give L’s grave one last glimpse as he turned and left. What was there to see anymore? The rocky cross was nothing more than some artfully carved stone, the body six feet below it just an empty carcass, and the dirt that covered it and clung to his person wasn’t different from any other dirt.

None of it truly represented what L had been. L couldn’t possibly be reduced to or preserved in a graveyard lot. Those symbols were hollow.

L was gone. Forever. Which meant that Light now had green light to do with the world –His world– what he wanted.

That’s when he felt it, for the first time.

A step.

Light froze. That… he must have imagined it. Just in case he glanced over his shoulder, and confirmed there was nobody else there; just Ryuk, hovering half a foot over the paved path. That means he imagined it.

That extra step, as if someone tailing him had synchronized their walking with his own, but their last step was slightly off-key.

No. It was nothing. It had been a long day… a long year actually. But now the war was finally over, and all there was left to do was conquer-

He didn’t manage to conclude that thought before the chilling breeze enveloped him in a personal whirlwind of sorts, seeping into his clothes and attacking his every nerve. It only lasted a moment, but it was more than enough for him to perceive an intention in it. One simple idea. Confrontation.

Light was free. Omnipotent. And L was no more.

That is the plain truth… right?

The second time he noticed it was a few days later. Most of the time he wouldn’t even remember it, but every now and then the extra step would announce itself. Subtle, barely present enough to tickle the back of his head. And it grew worse every time he looked the Task Force members in the eye and manipulated or lied to them.

No, he didn’t feel guilty about L’s death –or about any death that preceded it. To think that the reason why his subconscious invoked a constant sensation of being followed and sneered upon was because of some pathetic remorse was ridiculous. Light Yagami was above all that moral crap humans loved to entertain themselves with. He was the God of a newborn world; he simply did what needed to be done for true justice to prevail.

No matter how many times he told himself this, though, the sensation wouldn’t fade away. But, again, it was just that. A sensation.

Or so it had been, until that night.

He had been working on replicating L’s voice synthesizing program for hours on end. There were no windows on the building’s main room, but he knew it was probably very late by now. Even Ryuk, who didn’t biologically need sleep as the otherworldly being he was, had sprawled himself messily on one of the couches and was snoring to his heart’s content.

Light sighed and went back to work. He remembered how that artificial voice had sounded when L used it against him, and when he lent it to Light so he could contact Namikawa during the Yotsuba period. That’s how he knew he was close to getting it right; going to sleep now would only be a waste of time and concentration.

He tweaked the depth and the vibration here and there, checked it, then went back to correcting it. And finally, he succeeded.

“Hello, one two three, testing…” He spoke into the mic, and beamed when he realized he made it. Yes, this would work.

To make sure it was convincing enough to fool anyone, but mostly just because he was feeling giddy with victory, he tried out some L-ish phrases and worked on his intonation and mood.

“You’re in Japan. And your first victim was… little more than an experiment.”

That was exactly what that man had said… so many months ago. Light could still perfectly recall the smugness dripping off every syllable.

“It won’t be too long now before I am able to sentence you… to death.” He replicated impeccably, the words leaving a sour aftertaste behind as he remembered the rage they had unleashed within him back then.

Light gulped and took a breath before leaning into the mic one more time.

“I am L.”

Are you done playing detective?

Light jumped. The chair rolled beneath him and he landed roughly on the floor, together with the toppled mic and a stack of papers, causing a momentary ruckus. He quickly scrambled to his feet, finding support on the desk behind him as he eyed the room. But there was nothing there.

There was no way. He could have sworn he heard L’s voice –not the digital fake, the real deal– whispering inside his head just now. But it lacked the inconsistency of a memory; it had sounded way too organic. It was nothing like the footstep or the silent vigilance. That… was real.

But it couldn’t be. L was dead –he was absolutely certain of that. He had held his body when it happened. He felt it go numb. Still. He confirmed there was no pulse. Then why… why could he hear him?

Was he going crazy?

Every ounce of rationality in him told him so. But. If that… thing just now was real, then…

“Well… Shinigami exist, don’t they? Literal Gods of Death.” He thought out loud. “So… what would be so weird about ghosts?”

Slowly, as if not to disturb the atmosphere, he picked up the chair and sat back down. Not facing the computer, but the room enveloped in darkness. Nothing happened, but he still raised his knees to his chest and adopted his rival’s trademark position out of instinct.

He was definitely losing it.

“Did I make you mad, L?” Light teased, his lips twisted into a wry smile that lost some of its effect given how shaken he actually felt. Even so, there was no answer. “Nothing to say? Why so shy all of a sudden…”

The room was completely quiet except for Ryuk’s thunderous snores. Light waited for a whole minute, and then two more. There were no words… but that feeling of something lingering remained.

“You said yourself I’d do a great job succeeding you.” He tried out, although he was probably just trailing off. “But we both know you wanted to test me, to see if I gave you a response worthy of Kira. You weren’t expecting to actually see it unfold, were you. Does it irritate you? Do you want to hurt me?”

He was about to give up and go back to work when the quiet, familiar chuckle resonated inside him, sending shivers down his spine.

That’s rich coming from the man responsible for my death.

Light’s heart skipped a beat… and his smile grew darker. So it was really him. He wasn’t crazy, or hallucinating. L was haunting him.

“So what? Have you come to take revenge? Talk about a sore loser.”

That, right there, is where you are wrong, dear. You think you’ve already won, but the war is far from over.

He frowned. Even dead, L continued to be as smug as ever. Had it always been this annoying? Moreover, how come L could say it wasn’t over? What else was there left to do? Who else left to defeat?

“What do you mean? I killed you. Everyone left believes in my innocence and supports me as the new L. I’ve acquired the ultimate power. I can direct the police force as L while enchanting the general public as Kira. There’s nothing and nobody else standing on my way to absolute victory.”

Only silence followed his statements. Even more exasperated, he declared:

“You are already dead, L. You’re dead.”

He waited, but nothing else came from L that night.

That, of course, didn’t mean he was gone for good.

Light continued to hear the extra step following him from room to room. That he learned to ignore over time, since it’s easier for the brain to disregard what it gets used to perceiving –just like not seeing your own nose in front of you all the time unless you actively think about it.

What always caught Light off-guard, even though it had become an everyday thing, was when L spoke to him. Light would normally be able to feel when L was laughing at him, or when something he did made the ghost mad. But every time L spoke actual words, they echoed inside Light’s head and his skin tickled.

It was icky. Plus, talking to L always got Light on his nerves. Even after death, the detective had found a purpose for his existence in unnerving Light. And even that was remarkably ordinary and unsurprising compared to the fact that Light somehow managed to put up with it for over four years.

Four years of snarky remarks over his shoulder. Four years of effort dedicated to ignoring that voice and pretending he didn’t hear it, only for L to slip into his dreams where he couldn’t escape him.

Not all was bad, though. He had already experienced having L study his every move, follow him from room to room… back when they were handcuffed they even had to sleep in the same bed and take showers together. Compared to that, the current situation was not so bad. The lack of chains was an improvement, he no longer had to hide his identity as a mass murderer, and since he already had several years worth of experience with talking to entities nobody else could see, concealing L’s presence to the Task Force wasn’t too hard a task.

Ryuk would sometimes eye him like he had gone insane, but Light had no interest in explaining himself to a Shinigami. He knew what Ryuk thought of death: after passing away, the soul goes to the 無(Mu). The Nothingness. According to that, L’s existence as a ghost should be impossible. But here he was regardless.

L didn’t just talk. Light came to realize he was a great listener too. Maybe ‘realize’ was not the right word; more like… rediscover. Except that back when the man was alive, Light was convinced the only reason why he listened to anything he had to say was because he was desperately trying to blame him for something, even though Light didn’t have memories of being Kira back then.

The fact that L listened to him, now that everything was out in the open and what couldn’t be undone had been done, was… nice? That was not quite it.

Sometimes they’d just debate for hours about justice, life and other philosophical matters; sometimes Light would get engrossed in explaining detail by detail each and every plan he executed against L while the ghost laughed and mockingly praised his ingenuity. Sometimes Light felt so alone he crawled out of the bed he shared with Misa and went to the living room, just to sit down in the dark and talk nonsense to that invisible presence.

Meanwhile, time flew by and the world mutated. Kira had become the universal symbol of justice with little to no opposition from any government or social movement, and the mighty detective that once confronted him had slowly faded away, until people grew to remember him as one of many who rebelled against God and obviously failed.

Ghost L found this hilarious at best, and revolting at worst.

And even though the supernatural factor of their whole relationship also extended to how annoying the ghost could get, Light still got used to him not ever really leaving. Slowly, too gradually to pinpoint when, the rage of an imperfect victory was subdued by the solace of keeping the one person that understood.

Until Sayu was kidnapped by Mello. And that changed everything.

There were more opponents. L would call them ‘successors’. The words that were spoken by the ghost over four years ago began to make sense: the war was far from over. With the rise of Mello and Near, Light felt like he was facing his old rival all over again, except this time everything was messier, and the stakes higher.

They had to give away the Death Note to save Sayu’s life. Light did everything that was at hand to stop them from taking it… but they lost the missile. A defeat of that magnitude… It was something he hadn’t experienced in years. It was even worse than when L publicly humiliated him with his live broadcast.

It reminded him of that time. The rain fell relentlessly. He sat, soaked, and let L massage his feet while those huge, merciless yet peaceful eyes pierced him with the truth that the detective had never, not even for a second, swallowed his bluffs. And it made Light feel stupid and desperate and small. That was how he felt now.

The wrath, the impotence, the absolute disgust it all produced were so intense he did nothing but sit on his chair, staring at the ceiling. Misa approached with a cool drink, probably trying to soothe him, but he lacked the energy and the interest to pretend he gave a fuck, so he simply slapped it off her hands and to the floor.

Why was everyone so useless? Why was he so useless?!

Those two kids… he hated them for getting in his way. And he hated L, for being related to them.

Light stormed out of the room and into the bathroom, the door finding its frame with a bang. He wanted to yell. He wanted to break something. With no means to release his rage, he began briskly ripping his clothes off and turned on the shower. Steam immediately filled the room from floor to ceiling; the heat was suffocating even without exposing himself to the water and that, somehow, was relaxing.

You know, that was a very rude thing to do.

Light growled. Not now. He couldn’t handle L as he was now.

“Nobody asked for your bloody opinion.”

I knew you had some anger management issues, but I never would’ve thought you’d take it out on the only person in your life who’s ever offered you comfort and her unconditional support-

“What do you care, L!” He swirled around, yelling at the empty bathroom. He knew he wouldn’t find the man there when he turned, but screaming at the shapes in the steam was easier. “For someone who isn’t even alive you do have a lot to say. It’s pretty hard to give a shit about what you think when you’re never useful and you’re not even here.”

What do you expect me to do, then?

“I don’t know! How about you face me for once instead of hiding like a coward? Or maybe you could just disappear! Why are you even here?!”

He was being irrational, he knew it. And he could only imagine what Misa or Ryuk would think of all this if they walked in on him, screaming at the air. But he didn’t care if he didn’t make sense; he was too angry, and the only one he wanted to take it out on was L. Because it was his fault that people continued to sabotage his perfect plans. If L hadn’t shown up… everything would have been easier.

Do you really want me to leave?

“Yes.” He answered, without a shade of a doubt. “That’s the only thing I’ve wanted ever since you first threatened to sentence me to death. I thought you picked that up when I held you in my arms and watched you die with a smile on my face. Or didn’t you see me laughing at your grave?”

I did.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?”

A moment of silence followed. Then, hesitantly…

I can’t.

What?

“Why?” Light asked, reaching the limits of his patience.

You think that if I knew I’d still be here? Don’t flatter yourself. The voice answered dryly. It was irritating, but… somewhere deep inside those words he could identify an edge of frustration and… pain. There is something that draws me towards you. Like there’s something I need to do, and it won’t let me go until I do it. But whatever that is I have no idea.

Light huffed, holding his head in his hands.

“Why couldn’t you just die normally…”

I ask myself the same thing every day.

He breathed out. So there was no way to get rid of L as it was. No chance of freedom in the near future. Well, at least he could vent out a bit. Resigned, he finished stripping and stepped into the shower.

He reached out to take the soap, and froze. The presence… L’s ghost was usually respectful of his personal space but now, it had followed him into the shower.

“What are you doing?” Light asked cautiously, his face beat red and not because of the heat. He didn’t want L in his shower, not even for old times’ sake.

You must hate my guts. Not that I have any anymore.

“Isn’t that obvious?” He retorted, not knowing when the atmosphere got so dense or why he felt uneasy about it.

I guess. Still, I never thought of our altercation as something personal.

“We literally tried to get the other killed for months, L. I’d say it was pretty personal.” Light frowned, earning himself a giggle from L.

Fine, I guess you’re right. However, I don’t think I hate you now. I hate what you did. What you still insist on doing. But I don’t hate you, even though it doesn’t really make any sense.

He didn’t answer. He had no words worth speaking, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with them.

I’m sorry. I wish I could disappear just as much as you do.

“It’s okay. I… don’t mind having someone to talk to either.” He admitted through gritted teeth.

But, about facing you… I think I might be able to do that much.

What… what was he talking about? Light stayed put as water dripped down his body, feeling the steam behind him shift and change, then settle. His skin tickled with even more intensity than it did before, and for a whole five seconds, he seriously considered running off without turning around to see. But, of course, he didn’t. The temptation was too great to ignore.

When he turned around, every nerve end alert in case he had to fight –even though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight a ghost–, he saw it. A translucent figure, its edges blurring into the steam…

“L…”

The commotion of seeing his face again, his eyes, his knowing expression after so many years was so strong Light stumbled back, and found stability against the dripping tiled wall. L’s pale lips curved into a small smile.

“Better?”

Light gulped. Even his voice sounded more corporeal, now that it was coming out of a mouth and not echoing inside his head. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and reached out to touch him. L, understanding his cautious curiosity, didn’t move.

Light went for the chest, over the point where he felt that last dying throb before L’s heart failed permanently. But when he got close enough to touch, his fingers simply trespassed the specter. Energy tickled like electricity all over his hand and up his forearm. He pulled out in shock, and the steam regrouped around the hole he left behind.

“Could you feel that?” He blurted out before thinking.

“Not at all.” The man answered, calmly even though he was also eyeing his own shape with devouring interest. This was new for him too. It was the first time in over four years that he tried out a physical shape.

Wide translucent eyes beamed when a new idea crossed his mind. L tossed his hand against the shampoo rack, but it didn’t even react. It didn’t show the slightest disturbance. That new discovery had L bedazzled. Meanwhile, Light couldn’t stop staring at him, still not quite grasping that this was real. That he could see L again, just the way he was when he lived. His expressions were even livelier than they were back then, now that he was dead and didn’t need to be cautious with his thoughts.

“Can others see you?”

“I don’t know yet. But given how nobody could hear or perceive me before except for you, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Then, from now on, can you stay like this? Visible I mean.”

L’s eyes narrowed, his features shifting with amusement, and Light looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Did you miss me that much? I’ve always been here though.” He teased. Light thought he’d die of mortification.

“Shut up. I just hate hearing you speak inside my head. It feels icky.”

“Alright then.” The smirk grew meaner.

“Also, step out of my shower. This is already weird enough as it is.”

L’s laugh in response to that couldn’t have been more annoying.

L had been right… for the most part. No other person or living being could see him hovering around Light; they wouldn’t react at all to the late detective’s presence as long as he avoided being trespassed by them.

But coming to realize Ryuk could see and hear him was amusing. For L at least, who could also now perceive the God of Death and seized the opportunity to suffocate the otherworldly being with questions until Ryuk lay on the floor, exhausted. Ryuk, too, seemed flabbergasted to find out ghosts actually existed, and he even taught L how to perfect his manifestation technique, until the specter managed to muster an almost solid-looking consistency he could acquire or shed at will.

Meanwhile, Light felt like his temper was gradually being gnawed at. Having both entities annoying him separately had been irritating enough, but he simply couldn’t have imagined how much worse it would get when they did so together.

“And then he told me he wouldn’t give me any more apples unless I found all the cameras!” Ryuk whined. “Even though he knew of my terribly painful withdrawal symptoms. And then I am the monster…”

“How awful.” L shook his phantasmagoric head in exaggerated disapproval. “Oh Light dear, what a cruel, terrible Master you are.”

“You said it! Heh-heh.” The Shinigami barked in agreement.

That was it. He wasn’t taking it anymore.

Light groaned, tossed the earphones away, snatched a pencil holder from the desk’s top and unchained a vicious rain of pens and pencils against the source of his irritation. L and Ryuk simply sat, amused, and watched the items as they trespassed their intangible forms.

“For the love of everything good in this world and the next, can you both just shut up for a goddamn minute?!”

“Anger management, remember?”

Exasperated, Light simply growled and went back to work.

“Ryuk, go back to my father before the rest begin wondering where you went. We’ll be ambushing Mello’s headquarters in a few hours. I need you to be there so he’ll do the deal of the eyes with you.”

“Heh-heh. Sending others to accept deals you’d spit on yourself.” Ryuk chuckled grimly, his eyes flashing bright red for a moment. “Alright! Let’s catch up later, L.”

L nodded at the Shinigami before it disappeared through the wall. He then came hovering to where Light was and sat –or rather landed– on the desk, facing him.

“So the reason why you forfeited the ownership of the Death Note is not only passing the trouble of handing over half of your remaining lifespan to someone else, but also avoid your father realizing you are a Note owner yourself when he comes back. Am I right, Light?”

“It was the only way.” Light shrugged it off, not quite grasping why L found that little trick so interesting. “How can I hope to rule the New World if I die young? I’m not going to risk my life on the frontline, let alone give my years away.”

“But your own father’s years are alright to sell.”

Light didn’t answer.

“You don’t care at all, do you. You’re straight up throwing him to the wolves. He could be shot to death in there and even if he does survive, he won’t have much of a life ahead of him, will he?”

“Enough.” He mumbled, but L didn’t stop.

“You know it. You know they wholeheartedly believe in that 13-days rule you made up. You know that lie is the only alibi in your hands that’s keeping Aizawa and the rest at bay. Which means… that even if tonight works out how you want it to and Mello is killed by your dad, then you’ll have to murder him in two weeks for your plan not to crumble-”

“That’s enough.” This time his voice came out firmly, and the ghost fell silent. “I’m just doing what needs to be done, L. I thought you of all people would understand that, after you confined and tortured Misa and me for days and even forced my dad to pretend to shoot me.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone. We are not the same-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Light cut him, every muscle in his body tense. His stare was hard, unyielding, when it locked with L’s. “You were perfectly willing to let a criminal use the Death Note to prove the 13-days rule was false. You admitted yourself that you were expecting me, Kira, to instantly kill my dad if he tried to shoot me, because you knew damn well I’d put my own life before his. His death was no more than a calculated risk to you. In fact, in your head, it was the most probable outcome.”

The detective fretted, and Light grinned maliciously. He hit home.

“See? We both do whatever it takes to get what we want. You’re not different from me. You’re not better than me. So, instead of pretending to be surprised by my methods, how about you leave me alone so I can work on getting my Death Note back?”

The silence that followed was smothering. Painfully so. L was no longer looking back at him, but staring through the window. He looked offended mostly, but also guilty. His expression was so open and so sincerely aching Light blinked. So this was how L truly felt about the decisions he took, back when he was alive.

“Fine.” The ghost muttered finally, as his form dissolved in the air and disappeared.

For a moment that sight filled him with pure dread, but then he realized, as his heartbeat settled down, that he could still feel L’s presence coating him. He wasn’t really gone, he had just temporarily left his visible expression.

Good. Light didn’t feel strong or stable enough to face him right now.

A few hours later, Soichiro Yagami died in a hospital bed, relieved to know his son wasn’t a mass murderer.

After returning the Death Note to its rightful owner –a Shinigami that called itself Sidoh– all the Task Force had left to do was wipe their tears away and wrap it up. The trip back to headquarters was silent. Light appreciated that everyone was too shook and devastated about his dad’s death to talk about it.

Once alone in his room, he was free to be himself again.

He began calmly taking his clothes off and getting ready for bed, but before he could invoke some self control, he was already screaming and punching a pillow while tears rolled down his face.

This had been his father’s fault. If he hadn’t been weak… if he had killed Mello instead of hesitating…!

“Why did you let yourself get killed, idiot?!” Light yelled, his throat aching. His hands, which were clutching the pillow with violence, trembled vehemently as his crying echoed through the room and his tears fell, abundantly and showing no signs of stopping. “You didn’t even get rid of him! Why?! You weren’t supposed to die! Y-You… you weren’t supposed to…”

A sob shook his whole body on its way out, and he collapsed on bed, his face buried in the wet pillow. Only soft whimpering could be heard.

Later, he felt the air shift, and electricity tickled him in the leg.

“I thought you were counting on his death.”

Light’s face was swollen from crying when he lifted it from the pillow to look at L’s figure, sitting next to him in the dark with his hand on Light’s thigh. The touch held no weight or warmth, nothing quite organic; just a tingle.

“He was destined to die.” He mumbled weakly as his gaze wandered to the opposite wall. “It’s as you said. Either tonight or within two weeks, he had to. What’s more pathetic is that he only lived for a few hours after doing the deal… which means… that even if he hadn’t done it, he didn’t have much time left in his clock to begin with. He would’ve passed away naturally by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Why are you crying, then?” L inquired softly, as his hand caressed up and down Light’s leg. “Because you couldn’t see Mello dead?”

Were other the context Light would’ve found the sparkly sensation bothersome –even embarrassing. He didn’t want to reach the level of feebleness that made him deserve L’s consolations. But that was not the case. The detective’s almost inexistent touch was comforting. Light closed his eyes, trying to remember what the real thing felt like, while fighting the devastating pang L’s question induced in him.

“My father’s death was inevitable. I know I did what I had to do. Still… that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. In an ideal setting, Aizawa, Ide or even Matsuda would’ve taken it upon themselves to do the deal and kill Mello.”

He sat up, feeling the warmth building behind his eyes as new tears accumulated.

“Then… I could’ve killed any of them easily. But he just had to be… so freaking moral. He had to sacrifice himself… why? Nobody would’ve judged him if he had let someone else do it, then why?! It was that same attitude that got him shot in the end!”

Furious, he wiped the tears away before they overflowed. It was the truth. Even when his father died a somewhat happy death, he would’ve preferred it had been anyone else in his place. Still…

Light’s breathing settled, and he looked L in the eyes with determination.

“However, when he stood with Mello in that room, and when the building exploded and all the cameras went blank… and even as he lay there dying… all I could think of was ‘kill Mello. Kill him for me. Don’t leave without taking him down with you’.”

The pain of actually losing his dad came a while after, and even then it had been tainted with frustration and resentment. He wanted Mello dead. That, together with retrieving the Death Note, had been the whole point of the mission, and he had failed because his father chose the worst possible scenario to be humanitarian.

Light hated the feeling. He lost, even though he did nothing wrong. He hated not having control over his own battles. He hated how his father had chosen to die without revenge. He hated Mello for being alive out there somewhere.

“Even if it had been someone else in his place, I know your methods well enough by now to know you won’t be able to hide your true self forever.” L placed a finger on his chin. Even though the gesture wasn’t useful in practice since he simply trespassed it, Light still raised his head to look at him “Eventually, you’ll be wiping all that is left of the Task Force. And then it won’t matter anymore that your dad died today.”

Yes. L was right. Light… would have killed Soichiro eventually. It was only natural to take that course of action. And Light would bite his tongue and choke on it before letting himself hesitate on that matter. L’s eyes as they regarded him were incredibly sad, but not surprised.

“Do you find me disgusting, L?” He asked, a wry smile taking over his lips even though he was terrified of the answer he’d get. The ghost shook his head.

“No, Light.” An incorporeal hand brushed over his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and leaned into the tingle. “I’m just trying to decipher whether you’re a remorseless psychopath faking the pain you show, or if you’re actually acting remorseless to hide how much you’ve wounded yourself. Either way… I find you pitiful.”

And Light wanted to be angry. He tried his best to feel rage, indignation… even shame. But he couldn’t find it in himself. He was empty.

“Maybe… you’re both.”

“Tell me, Light. Did Misa approve of this plan?”

“Shut up.” He scowled, fixing his tie in front of the mirror.

Of course the answer was no. If Misa ever found out about this then she would gouge out both his and Takada’s guts. Giving up her Death Note and passing it to Mikami didn’t really make her any less lethal.

“I thought so. Especially by the way you whispered sweet nothings into the phone earlier.”

“Look, L.” Light turned around to face the late detective. L had become so good at expressing a physical shape that, if it weren’t for the blur at the edges when he moved, Light could’ve believed he was actually standing there in flesh and bone. “Whatever I choose to do with my love life is not your business, especially if it has something to do with my plans as Kira.”

L narrowed his eyes. Whether or not he was judging Light was hard to say.

“You have no moral structure whatsoever, do you?”

“As previously established, you don’t have much of that either-”

“I know.” The ghost cut him, raising a hand. “And I admit I wouldn’t hesitate to do the exact same thing you’re about to do to gain a benefit, as you already know.” At that, Light looked away. The room was too dark for his blush to be discernible. “Still, your shamelessness continues to amaze me.”

He chuckled ironically, staring the specter down as if it had just dared him to do it.

“Aizawa will come to install the cameras and mics now. Once he begins, I’ll have a perfect excuse to ignore you for the next few hours.” Light opened the box on top of the coffee table and began pulling out wires. He then halted, a meditative twinkle in his eyes, and addressed L. “Actually, could you disappear? I don’t want to see you through the corner of my eye when I-”

“You know that I’ll still be here even if you can’t see me, right?”

“Ah, yes. I forgot you’re a prime voyeur.”

“Trust me; this is about the last place in the world I’d like to be in.” The detective retorted, and for some reason his voice had an irritated edge to it.

“I guess we both have to compromise, then. As long as you stay invisible and keep yourself from talking inside my head until I’m done here, I’ll make sure not to kick your ass in Hell.” Light satirically extended a hand to him. “Deal?”

L simply stared him back, scorn invading his whole expression, before disappearing. Light could feel he was mad –uncharacteristically so. Yes, Light had seen him in a foul mood many times, while they lived chained to each other and they both had to listen to Matsuda speak.

But whatever got him so on edge about tonight, Light had no idea.

In fact, L’s mood grew worse and worse as the night progressed. He didn’t notice it at first; It became a constant buzz in the back of his head after Light looked Takada in the eyes and said ‘I missed you’, so he managed to ignore it quite well. However, by the time all mics and cameras were disconnected, he realized L was on the verge of bursting.

Lately, L’s thoughts had grown more tangible, together with his physical shape. So much so they sometimes became suffocating. When L would forfeit his form and settle back inside his head, Light often had a hard time differentiating their mixed feelings.

In life, L had always been incredibly skilled in the art of preserving a cool semblance. Even when he had been visibly annoyed or angry, the way he carried himself always sold the idea that the matter in hand was no more than just a mild inconvenience for him.

“Listen, Kiyomi. I am the real Kira.”

Light would’ve never expected to come face to face with that bubbling rage.

Takada gasped in surprise.

“That’s right. I’m Kira.” He repeated, mostly to confirm she had heard him right, but also to assure himself against L’s violent, thundering emotions. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Takada didn’t respond immediately, so Light took the chance to raise the phone to his ear and wrap up the conversation with Mikami. “Listen. I won’t allow you to ask Kiyomi who I am; you don’t need to know my identity.”

“Yes. I’ll leave the rest to you, God.”

Bastard.

Light shook. It had been a while since he had last heard L’s voice inside his head. Didn’t he explicitly tell him not to do that?! He’d make sure to devote the rest of his life to researching a way to kill a ghost again. He hung up the phone and turned around to address Kiyomi, as he stifled down his irritation.

“Do you understand? I am Kira. The man who was on the phone, is one of my followers who I’ve shared my power with.”

Takada’s eyes lit up.

“I… I can’t believe it’s you!” She whispered in awe. “You are the only man I’ve ever really admired. To be honest… the only man I’ve ever felt a connection with.” L growled. “And now, to find out you’re Kira… it’s incredible.”

As planned, Light had Takada curled around his finger in no time. He would’ve been able to fully enjoy the sweet taste of victory if it weren’t for L’s sour invasion. Oh, but he wasn’t about to let that bloody ghost spoil his mood. Was he pissed off now? Then he was about to become completely infuriated.

Light stepped closer and willfully lowered his voice to a deep whisper as he cupped Takada’s cheek in his hand.

“Please… join me, Kiyomi. And you will be the goddess of the New World.”

“Light…” She immediately pulled him into an embrace he didn’t fail to return.

He smirked over her shoulder –he had her right where he wanted her… and she was about to have him right where she wanted him too.

When Light leaned down to kiss her, L’s wrath pulsed through him.

Two and a half hours later, Light finished doing his tie, put his coat on and exited the room. Takada had already left –it was best for both that they weren’t seen leaving the hotel together.

Everything was working out smoothly. He now had a connection to Mikami through her, which would make everything easier from now on. The annihilation of the whole Task Force, together with the SPK and Near were visible in the horizon. In a matter of days, there would be no one left in his way. He’d be the only, unquestioned God of his own New World.

Confident with his secured victory, Light pulled the phone out.

“Light! Are you okay?” Matsuda exclaimed. Of course they were worried, after losing all connection with him for over two hours.

“Yeah… Kiyomi was able to work things out with Kira. I decided that from now on, I’m gonna pretend to be dating her.” L, who had fallen unusually quiet for a while now, suddenly shifted uncomfortably inside of him. He smirked. “We might be able to find Kira that way.”

“Alright, if you say so…” Matsuda answered, and for the musicality in his voice it was clear to everyone that a) he had serious doubts Light was just pretending and b) he knew Light simply hadn’t spent the last two hours with Takada playing Monopoly.

Right after that, a smack could be heard. Matsuda whined out loud as Aizawa scolded him. Light rolled his eyes and hung up.

So you actually went and did it.

He stopped on his tracks, overwhelmed by how the voice reverberated inside him. He growled in annoyance.

“I told you not to do that!”

As an answer to his protest, L materialized in front of him. All the ire he had felt bubbling inside him left. It shook him to realize that L had turned back to his old –living– habits. The expression in his face was barely a washed-down version of the consuming wrath Light now knew inhabited him.

“Still manipulating women and using sex to get what you want, uh?”

“You say it like that’s the worst thing I’ve done.”

“Oh, no. Of course it isn’t.” L shook his head. When he narrowed his eyes, the gaze he bore was venomous. “When are you gonna kill her, then?”

Light gulped, glaring at him. He wanted to be surprised that L brought that up, but he couldn’t; he knew how vicious he could get. The ghost smiled back at him, even though the gesture held no warmth, sympathy or bliss whatsoever. It was a dry smile, filled to the brim with a wish to hurt.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Attachment and intimacy are alright as long as you can get something from it. As soon as the other person becomes a hindrance you dispose of them.” L spat. “So? How long until you murder Takada too?”

“I hate you, you know.” Light hissed. “I hate how you always talk like you know everything about everyone. I hate how hypocritical you are, going around making moral statements about other people when you were just as bad or even worse. And I hate how you are convinced that everything has to be about you!”

The ghost took a step back, and Light seized the opportunity to push further. They had already pulled each other down on the mud; they might as well fight.

“Maybe I just like sleeping with Takada. But… oh? Does that irritate you?” One look at the detective’s face told him he had hit the nail’s head. “Does it drive you crazy, that it’s her and not you?”

“This is nonsense. Stop talking before you humiliate yourself.” L growled, earning himself a barking laugh from the other.

“Come on. I felt it. I felt how your blood boiled when she embraced me. Admit it.” The ghost stood there, and said nothing. Suddenly intoxicated with rage and something close to desperation, Light walked up to him and reached out to grab his arm. He grabbed nothing. “Admit you’re jealous.”

“How…” for the first time ever, the specter’s voice came out so terrifyingly low it sent chills down his spine. “… am I supposed to be jealous, when we both know you’re just using her? We both know she’ll soon be dead meat. She isn’t getting anything I haven’t gotten already.”

Light shivered, unable to talk through the knot in his throat.

 “You can’t fool me, Light. I see everything, remember? Goddess of the New World… How many times have you used that trick on Misa this month?”

“Shut up.” The words were no more than a tremulous whisper. It was mortifying.

“Then how about this very week?” L pressed, and even though Light couldn’t feel a breath meet his face, he still stepped back, looking hurt. When he replied, his words were calm with bitterness.

“So now we’re pretending you’re not the same?”

It happened often during the lapse of time Light had to cope with L cuffed to his wrist and without his memories of the Death Note. He’d constantly be shaken awake by nightmares that didn’t seem his own. Sometimes the startling would be soft enough to simply wake him up, and he could just roll over and go back to sleep without disturbing L. And sometimes, like that time, he’d physically jump on bed and find himself drenched in cold sweat.

He sat up and looked to his left –by his side, L slept soundly, curled into a ball with his knees to his chest, the half of his face that wasn’t buried in the pillow giving off an expression of peace.

Light sighed deeply as he wiped sweat off his face and neck. He wouldn’t mind being able to lock himself up in the toilet, but handcuffs. He directed his energy into staying still and steadying his breath instead.

“Another nightmare?”

Light blinked. So L wasn’t even half as asleep as he pretended to. He looked at him from below, his face still half-buried in his pillow. It was way too adorable –Light looked away.

“Yes.” The detective sat up too, the sheets sliding down his torso.

“What was it about?”

“I… stood on top of a very tall building.” He narrated, his gaze lost somewhere in the shadows that inhabited the room. “Below, at ground level, people were screaming. I wanted to look down to see what was happening to them, but I was too afraid. Then, from behind… a tall massive shadow hovered over me. It’s silhouette wasn’t that of a human. The thing laughed; that wasn’t human either. I tried to look over my shoulder, and was pushed off the building. I fell. The screaming grew closer…. and I woke up.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“Is that all?” L inquired quietly. A crease took shape between Light’s brows, and he fixed his stare on his lap.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid enough to not be able to deduce what you think my dream represents. But, Ryuzaki…” He formed fists with his fingers to keep them from fidgeting, and raised his eyes to L’s. “I can’t be… I don’t remember ever doing any of that. And I know. I know people can do the unspeakable when pushed to the limit, but I’d never kill on my own free will.”

“Light…” L hesitated, and then crawled across the bed to reach out and grab one of the towels from a nearby hanger. When he crawled back, he pressed it to Light’s face. “There is a chance Kira somehow possessed you during that period. In that case, you wouldn’t have been in control of your own actions.”

His tone was soft, but it wasn’t enough to conceal his real thoughts. Light smiled sadly as L wiped the sweat off his neck.

“But you don’t think I was possessed.” He spoke the truth nobody wanted to acknowledge. L stopped drying him. “You’re certain I was the original Kira. Even now, you must be wondering whether I’ve been bluffing ever since I was inside that cell. You’re probably thinking all this is just part of an act; some greater scheme on my behalf.”

The detective didn’t respond immediately. They looked at each other for several seconds; when he did, his words were grave with the amount of seriousness the statement deserved.

“I am.”

Light nodded. He didn’t really blame L for thinking that. He, too, was slowly getting more and more obsessed with the idea that he might have been, indeed, Kira. Yes, the justice system was flawed. But if he had had Kira’s power, would he had actually used it like Kira did?

“I understand.” He replied. “You’re just doing your job. And I want to help however I want. I want to reach the bottom of this, and cleanse my name. It’s just…” Light sighed and scratched his head. Saying it was much more awkward than he had anticipated. “I really wish it could have been different.”

“What?”

“My relationship with you.”

His heart was beating like crazy, but he had already begun talking. The rest gurgled out and he couldn’t restrain it.

“I wish I could’ve stood on equal ground with you when I met you; with me being a detective, not the prime suspect for the greatest mass murder of the decade. I wish I could’ve gotten to know you, without all the games and the lies. We could’ve held conversations that didn’t feel like interrogations. You’re very smart, and determined.” His face was burning up now, but he kept on talking. “Even though that shouldn’t be good, considering you suspect me… I admire that a lot.”

Their eyes locked, and Light’s stomach turned.

“I admire you.”

For a long while, L didn’t move or react at all; instead of widening eyes or abrupt exclamations, that was how the mighty detective processed shock. It was pretty embarrassing for Light, though. The blush crept to his ears and neck, and he was about to roll over and pretend none of that ever happened, when L cleared his throat. A soft, pink shade took over his pointy cheekbones.

“You admire me.” He reiterated, as if not completely believing it. Light would’ve found it funny had he not been focused in his racing pulse. He nodded… and L gulped. The detective raised a hand and brushed a strand of brunet hair away from his eyes. “Do you only admire me?”

“I…”

“How else do you feel about me?” His finger curled around Light’s ear. His voice was soft, but deep. “Tell me.”

“Not all is good.” He admitted, too distracted by the touch to watch his words. “Sometimes I hate you. So much I want to punch you-”

“Yes, you have done that.” That made him laugh.

“Yeah… it’s because I hate it when you prod me for a confession I can’t give you. And when you say things like ‘it’s pointless to keep on trying’, when my name is in as much of a stake as your title, and when you’ve already done too much to me to just dismiss it like that. I hate being reminded that you only see me as a potential murderer; that you were lying when you said we were friends… And I hate being unable to accept your kindness without thinking you’re playing with me, because I-”

Crap. That was close. He barely managed to bite his tongue before he spurted something dangerous. But L, being L, simply wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. The detective scooted closer –their legs were touching, and they were breathing the same air. Light’s heart fluttered. L’s fingers on his cheek were cold compared to the flushed skin beneath.

“Because?” L whispered, and Light’s gaze fell on his lips, fascinated by their shape, the cadence with which they moved, their invisible, indescribable allure.

Don’t make me say it if you already know. That was what he would have liked to say, but he couldn’t speak. He barely had a moment to process what was happening and take a breath before L closed the distance between them and delicately sealed their lips together.

Light held his breath and sat, static, as his mind was filled with the subtle, tingling sensation of L’s mouth caressing his. That alone was enough to make his heart pound hard against his ribcage. It was a soft kiss; plush, barely more substantial than the brush of a finger. When the man pulled away –only one inch, just enough to end the contact–, their lips separated with a quiet pop.

Light’s whole body was tingling, and he had to forcefully stifle down the urge to tremble that was building steadily in the pit of his stomach. He breathed out, and in, and out; shallowly. He didn’t want to risk inhaling any more of L’s scent.

He should have backed off. Gone back to sleep and pretended that never happened. It would have been wiser. Instead, he remained still and did not oppose L’s movements when the detective cupped his nape and angled his face into another kiss.

It was a deeper one this time, given how their mouths were briefly open. Moisture quickly built up over his upper lip as he felt L’s lower lip seductively pressing against his teeth. Light closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Swiftly, without letting the chance slip by, the man expertly locked their jaws together and entered Light’s warm mouth with his tongue.

A soft gasp that escaped him and coated L’s lips, and then transformed into a barely audible whine. It was inevitable. He couldn’t fight the trembling anymore. He felt feverish all over. Touch-starved and about to burst. His tongue tingled when L’s caressed it, and it filled him with desire and a deep-rooted desperation. He changed his angle to reciprocate the man’s movements, their lips now moving in unison as they sank deeper into each other.

Nobody had ever… not like this. Misa’s kisses weren’t necessarily bad, but they were always messy and indelicate-

L’s free hand began travelling up his thigh, and the spasm that triggered on the muscles of his leg was so powerful Light jolted backwards, and the trance was broken. Out of breath, he searched the detective’s face, and looked away when he realized he could only focus on the blush in his cheeks, the intensity of his gaze and the moist spot on his lower lip.

“Ryuzaki-”

“What’s wrong, Light?”

He bit his lip. L’s voice was still deep, but it was gradually acquiring a sharp edge. Now more than ever, he knew he shouldn’t have allowed that to happen. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What about Misa? Even if she never finds out…”

He shyly searched the man’s face again. L held still for a moment, as he considered his words. Slowly, he seemed to assimilate them. He nodded, and cupped Light’s face again.

“Then… you can hold me accountable for it.” L whispered, and dived back in. That time their mouths locked together even more naturally, and although Light’s whole body was brimming with the urge to give in to the kiss, he still couldn’t brush off the feeling that it was wrong.

Disrespecting Misa, playing with her feelings for him… he wasn’t like that. And the fact that he had to instruct himself to feel guilty about it only brought him self-disgust. He turned his face to the side, and L’s lips slid away from his. The detective didn’t waste over a mere second to understand that this –whatever it was– would not drag any longer.

“Could it be that you were pretending to be interested in me?” He inquired.

Light flinched. His words stung more than he could’ve predicted.

“Do you think I’d do that? You know what, don’t answer. Either way, this… it’s not fair on Misa. I told you I would never use a woman’s feelings to my advantage, so don’t make me betray myself-”

“You don’t love her.” Light gulped. “You don’t even know why you are with her, do you.” L’s gaze grew harder as he went from appreciating Light to analyzing him; a shift Light himself was all too familiar with. “You forgot… together with everything else-”

“That’s enough.” He cut him, his voice coming out firmer than he had expected, and brushed L’s hands off his face. “I’m not about to believe I am a murderer. And Misa isn’t either. I’m not what you think I am, Ryuzaki.”

That being said, Light rolled over and pulled the covers over himself, signaling the end of the conversation. What they just did… it was better off forgotten. As things were now, stubbornly trying to follow that path would only bring pain, regardless of Light turning out to be Kira or not, and regardless of his feelings for Misa and the man. Which didn’t necessarily mean that Light wasn’t already aching over it, but he’d never admit to it.

After a good five minutes of complete stillness, L finally tucked himself in bed, he too giving his back to Light, and before drifting to sleep he murmured:

“If it’s worth something, I really hope you weren’t.”

Yes. The memory of that night’s events, no matter how long gone, was very fresh in their minds. Though, just like the nightmares had been back then, the Light from the present didn’t quite feel that it belonged to him.

When he lost the Death Note… it was crazy. He became a completely different person. It wasn’t just about not remembering being Kira; it reached the point where thinking of what Kira had done revolted him to the core. Then he began questioning himself, doubting his own innocence, and came to realize he could understand his actions to some extent. He used to think the world was rotten before Kira entered the picture, and he still did during the Yotsuba period.

However, the retrieval of the Death Note carved a crack in his moral system he didn’t remember ever sealing. He went back to his old ways, used Misa just like the dangerously volatile tool he had always seen her as. He used everyone, including Rem, a God. Thinking back, it made sense L was suspicious of his most tender side; the Light he was now would have definitely tried to seduce L if he had seen some utility in it.

Kira would have never fallen for the detective.

Even so… what he had felt back then had been real. He did fall for him. And he was given a chance to shatter that burden when he got his memories back –his priority went back to being himself, and L was simply an obstacle–, but this was the first time he let himself think about what could have been, and he found out his feelings weren’t shattered at all.

It still ached.

“Didn’t you do that just to test me?” Light said, accusingly. “You thought I was acting it out, didn’t you. You had to see for yourself how far I’d take it.”

L didn’t kiss him because he felt something for him; he did it to see if he would recoil. In fact, the way he rejected the man in the end was probably interpreted as a positive result.

The ghost didn’t need to answer –Light could see the admission in his face.

“I pretty much confessed to you.” He looked away. That was in the past now. It should have been. L was dead. Then why did he still feel so bitter about it? “And you didn’t even care. You were too busy studying me like a bloody scientist.”

“Can you blame me?” He couldn’t. “Besides, that is not entirely true.”

Confused and untrusting, Light locked eyes with the ghost. L sighed.

“I do admit I didn’t believe it at first –it was too convenient. But I never gave you any hints I was romantically interested in you, and I couldn’t have imagined you were. Therefore, I didn’t understand why you resorted to that method if you just wanted to manipulate me. I began to wonder if it had been for real; but before I could question you further on the subject it was too late. We captured Higuchi, and it didn’t take me long to notice that you… changed.”

Light’s stare landed on his feet. He believed L; he was dead and didn’t need to lie. What if the detective had said something before they cornered Higuchi? It was pointless to dwell on it, since Light was certain he would have killed him in the end. The world needed L to die so Kira could reign. In retrospect, it was a good thing he didn’t, since he allowed Light to move forward with his heart unscathed.

Or so he thought, before all the pain he wasn’t even aware existed inside him through the years came back to bite at him. He hated it. Despising L was easier than this.

“Why are you telling me this?” He bit back, arms crossed as he returned L’s gaze, his ache now obvious in his features. “If I had broken into tears back then and told you I still felt the same way for you, would you have let me go? Would you have risked trusting me? No, you wouldn’t have given me a chance-”

“I did give you a chance. That’s how I know Takada is as good as dead now.”

Light’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean…

“That time…”

It had been the night after Higuchi’s capture. He had his memories back, and L had, according to the Task Force’s wishes, begrudgingly agreed to dispose of the handcuffs that had bound them together for months. Light was allowed to spend the night in his own room, alone, for the first time in what seemed ages. However, he couldn’t sleep.

It must have been because the excitement at seeing his plan work out perfectly had been too great. Or maybe he had grown used to having someone else lie next to him. His bed seemed huge to the eye and cold to the touch, even though it was the same size as the previous one and both rooms’ thermostats shared the same settings.

He was pacing around aimlessly when he heard a knock on the door. It was L. But Light didn’t get to talk to him, for the man immediately raised his dark eyes to Light’s and determinedly jumped him, pulling him into a ravenous kiss. And before nobody could get in the way, the door was slammed shut and they were in bed.

This could work for my advantage, Light had thought as he gave in without a care for the world. He had wanted it for so long, anyway. In the end, it had been a good way to release pent-up frustrations and unnecessary feelings, and no sweet words or pathetic confessions were exchanged.

“I woke up, alone.” He recalled. “You had gone out to the roof, even though it was pouring. That’s where I found you.”

Right now, Ghost L looked just as sad and decidedly hopeless as he had looked back then. Light could even imagine the rain dripping down his face and dampening him whole in between one blink and the next. Later, at the staircase, L had smiled sadly and said ‘It will be lonely, won’t it? You and I will be parting ways soon’.

He couldn’t have predicted that wouldn’t really ever happen. Still…

“Back then… you already knew you’d die, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” L nodded solemnly.

“But why? I… I gave you my consent. We-”

“Exactly. I knew you disposed of people as soon as you stopped finding them a use. By letting me have you the night before, you were clearly trying to manipulate me. If you had been the same Light I’d been handcuffed to for months –if you had felt strongly enough not to kill me– you would have rejected me. But you didn’t resist or hesitate. Not even when I-”

“Enough.” He breathed. He felt like he was choking. So that was why L had called him a liar back at the roof. The detective had seen right through him… the whole time. But… he was missing a vital piece. A thunder resonated in the distance.

“I invited you to use me. And you did.” L concluded, a small smile forming in his lips without reaching his eyes. The first few droplets began falling.

He had to say it. If he didn’t say it now, he never would.

“Yes, I admit it.” Light lowered his head. The rain grew stronger above him. “I wanted to manipulate you, just as much as you wanted to call me out for it.” Then he raised his chin to look straight into the ghost’s eyes, water rolling down his face as he spoke up. His voice came out broken. “But that’s not all it was, and you know it.”

L’s specter froze, his eyes slowly gaining focus. Light, on the other side, let out a long exhalation. The aching deep in the pit of his stomach didn’t really yield, but shifted. A weight had been lifted; one he couldn’t claim back even if he wanted to.

“Are you saying you truly wanted me?” L breathed out, as if worried that raising his voice would disturb the atmosphere. However, he looked more aghast than hopeful.

“No.” He shook his head, his expression softer. “I’m saying we wanted each other.”

There was silence, and rain. L stood there, petrified as the falling drops trespassed him without disturbing his clothing or his black messy hair. And with every second that he spent with his wide, desperate eyes glued on him, Light’s heart beat faster. Harder.

He had to wait until the man was already dead, but he finally did it.

He finally confessed.

“Won’t you… say something?” He whispered.

L opened his mouth… then closed it. Then opened it again.

“I…” The ghost looked away, and Light realized then how utterly devastated he was. His voice quavered. “I can’t.”

And then he disappeared.

…

Wait.

Why… why couldn’t Light feel him… he was always able to feel him when he vanished, then why?

No.

No… No.

“L…” Nobody answered. “L!!!!!” It was useless.

L wasn’t there. All there was, was silence and rain.

Events continued to develop without further disturbance. He met up with Takada several times –with the Task Force listening, so he didn’t try anything–, and passed his instructions to Mikami. The SPK found out about Mikami and tried to tamper with his Note, so a fake Note was crafted. Everything was going according to plan.

Even Mello’s decision to kidnap Takada, though unexpected, worked out perfectly for him, as he managed to dispatch both of them easily. He had been waiting to see Mello dead since the explosion. As for Takada, he was relieved to take that weight off his back. And he would have actually been able to be a hundred percent remorseless about it had he not remembered his conversation with a certain deceased someone.

As for L… he didn’t return. No matter what Light did or how awful he became, L didn’t manifest, talk inside his head, or give any other signal whatsoever of still existing. And Light had expected it to hurt… maybe he wanted to feel hurt. But he was too empty to feel nothing other than rage, and greed. All that occupied his mind was Near, and their encounter at the warehouse. He was too busy with conquering the world to feel lonely.

Still, some nights he’d surprise himself yelling at the top of his lungs at a soul that no longer tailed him. He’d yell stuff like ‘Aren’t you going to show yourself?!’. There never was an answer.

Then the day came. Mikami did his job perfectly, so much so Light physically struggled to avoid bursting into laughter ahead of time. And right when he was feeling giddy with victory, desperate to rub his success in Near’s juvenile face as the boy’s heart failed… everything was gone. It slipped from between his fingers as easily as the seconds ticked away in his watch.

He didn’t go down without a fight. First, he desperately attempted to accuse the SPK of framing him, and when that didn’t work, he used the truth. The mask he had carefully crafted crumpled. In a feverish, delusional moment of revelation that lacked little to reach hysteria, he gave the greatest speech of his whole life; he shared with them the legacy he had tried to leave behind, hoping they would understand. Even so, Near still called him a crazy serial killer, nothing more, and nothing less.

He had his watch with a piece of the Note inside, but he could have never calculated that Matsuda would shoot him; repeatedly. When he fell to a puddle on the floor and Matsuda stood over him, tears streaking down his betrayed face as he glared and aimed his gun at his head… Light realized how badly he had screwed up.

He could have died. That man could have killed him in a mere instant. Even through the multiple layers of tortuous pain his fresh bullet wounds were inflicting on him, he only had the mental capacity to process that gut-deep, swiping fear.

He called for Mikami… but the man was of no use. So he simply lay there in his puddle as it changed its color from transparent to red. He gasped for air, and cried out.

“Where are you, Misa?!” He had used her, and left her at home, deprived of her memories. “Where’s Takada?!” He had killed her. His actions finally settled fully on him, and tears swelled at the corners of his eyes.

Someone… w-what do I do n-now…

…

L…

Mikami stabbed himself, and Light wasn’t about to grow out of old habits. He used his follower one last time, to crawl to his feet and escape while everybody else focused on the bloodshed.

He ran. As fast as he could, with his body bent over in pain and his injured arm hanging like dead weight by his side. Every step was excruciating to take, and every gasping breath was more difficult to inhale than the one that preceded it, but he didn’t stop. He knew his legs would give in soon. The blood loss was taking an exponential toll on his body. He kept on running, even though it was futile.

Every decision he had made up to that point, only now he could see how they had stuck to him like parasites. He had been rotting away ever since he picked the Note. Ryuk… had been right. In Kira’s crimeless world… the only rotten apple left was him.

However, if he had been given the chance to go back to being that seventeen-year-old, naïve boy he once was, he wouldn’t have taken it.

His running slowed down to walking; he had lost Aizawa and the rest long ago. By the time he reached the abandoned building, he could hardly stay on his feet. He sprawled himself on the stairs… and then he felt it.

It coated over him. It felt like coming back home after what seemed forever.

Hello, Light.

Tears overflowed his eyes. He could have never imagined that his voice would bring him such intense joy.

“L…” he whimpered. “Y-You’re back-”

The specter materialized before him… weird. He looked more corporeal than he ever had before. Or was it just that Light had forgotten how he had looked after so long? There was some sort of ethereal blue aura around him, though, which hadn’t been there before. And he was smiling… fondly.

“You don’t look too well.”

Light laughed, which made him cough and wince in pain.

“Missed you too?” He retorted sarcastically, and it lacked most of its usual bite. Everything, even just raising his head to look L in the eyes, felt awful, but he did it all the same. “I thought… you were gone for good.”

“And give you the pleasure?” The detective grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Never.”

“Good.” He replied, relaxing and smiling at last.

It was at that moment that his heart hammered through his chest… once. Burning pain irradiated in all directions from there. He felt the tingle taking over every inch of his body as his vision blurred and his focus faded.

“W-What…” The pain, suddenly, stopped. All at once. He jerked to his feet, utterly confused, only to realize he didn’t feel the pressure of a floor beneath his feet anymore. L was staring at him wide-eyed. Whatever he saw had him flabbergasted. Light looked over his shoulder… at his own limp body, lying on the stairs and with no soul in its eyes. And he understood. “Ryuk…”

He shook at the incorporeal sound of his own voice.

“That makes two of us, I guess.” L mused, walking over to face him. “Welcome to the realm of the dead, Light.”

“I’m…” He stood still, having a hard time processing it. Then, slowly… a sparkling sensation in his stomach bubbled up, and he giggled. The smile he gave to L was radiant, as he reached out to him.

And as if things couldn’t get any more amazing, when his inexistent fingers landed on the man’s chest… there was resistance to oppose them. Solid, and warm.

“L!” He beamed, patting the other repeatedly. “I can touch you… I’m touching you!”

“Yes. Yes you are.” L confirmed, laughing too. He was bedazzled. “I feel you…”

The moment after, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing. It shouldn’t have felt this real, but it did. Light could even perceive a hint of L’s scent when he dug his face into raven hair.

“You’re here…” He squeezed harder. “What happened? Why did you disappear? Where did you go?”

“I was always here. I was just in such conflict with myself I couldn’t reach out to you.” The man murmured against his shoulder. “I get it now… this was my mission all along. I was supposed to be here, to welcome you when you passed away. Everything makes sense now…”

Light pulled away. He needed to look L in the eyes.

“So, a moment ago…” He hesitated for a moment that didn’t last too long. “When you spoke to me. Was I able to hear you because I was agonizing, or-”

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” L shook his head, and smiled. “I finally found an answer to my conflict. To my feelings for you.”

Light blinked, finally understanding. He didn’t think he’d be able to feel butterflies in his stomach given how he no longer had internal organs, but he did.

“What I said that time…”

“You wrecked me.” L joked, and cupped Light’s face in his hands. When their eyes locked, his were full of devotion. “But you were right. I shouldn’t have, you were a mass murderer not to mention my nemesis, but I did want you. More than you can imagine.”

Light reached up, to fondly caress L’s knuckles.

“L, I loved you.” He swallowed, and leaned into the warm touch. “I… still do. Even after everything.”

“Me too.” The man whispered back, and for the first time, Light heard him go weak.“Even after everything.”

He grabbed him by the collar and locked their lips together. He melted into the kiss, trembling feverishly. He had missed this sensation so much he could barely stand it. The plush, wet and enticing brush of their lips soon grew hungrier, starving, even though they were both smiling into it. And it felt, both literally and metaphorically, more real than any other touch they had ever shared, dead or alive.

Then, they slowly began crumbling away. The kiss was broken as they both stared down. It began at their feet –they were dissolving into iridescent specs of dust that caught the light, and then into nothing. Gradually, it crawled up their shins, reaching their knees, and thighs.

But it wasn’t painful, or scary. Neither of them was scared. It was very peaceful. But just in case he didn’t get another chance, Light pressed every part of him that remained to L’s shape.

“L…” He breathed against the man’s mouth. “Are… are you even real? Or have you just been a product of my imagination all this time?”

L looked puzzled for a moment, but then he simply smiled.

“Does it even matter at this point?”

Light looked him in the eyes, as their torsos began to fade, and felt it deep within himself. He took L’s face in his hands, even though the tips of his fingers were disappearing too.

“No.” He concluded, and leaned in for one last loving kiss which L reciprocated.

And after that, nothing.

[camelliacried]

            WROW  I’m finally gonna write down Tsubaki’s P5 verse !

            Tsubaki Yayoi is seventeen, and she attends Kosei High School; she’s an art student, a prominent member of the student council, and comes from an incredibly prestigious family among the political elite. She’s calm, intelligent, modest, and above all incredibly compassionate; although she studies art and sings in her spare time, she has every intention of helping better the lives of others when she graduates. It is because of her unwavering belief in justice, due process, and law and order that she grows to despise the Phantom Thieves and their rise to fame. It isn’t that she’s jealous of their success, or that she disapproves of their motives --- but she cannot oblige the fact that they deem themselves above the law.

            Unflinchingly traditional, the Yayoi family often practices in arranged marriages --- and although it’s never been confirmed, rumors have circulated for years that the majority of those marriages are kept within the family. Throughout the game, she also comes to learn that her family’s practices aren’t as upright and honest as they (as well as the bribed tabloids) claim; exploitation, bribery, and blackmail have all been kept under wraps by carefully-worded legal arrangements and money under quite a few tables. This revelation combined with mentions of a potential ‘arrangement’ for Tsubaki in the near future lead her to seek the help of the very people she condemned: the Phantom Thieves. Coming to the conclusion that there was no use seeking assistance within the justice system --- a prominent Yayoi domain that still bears signs of their influence --- and growing more desperate by the week, she submits a name to the Aficionado Website: that of the current Yayoi family head, her own father. 

            The Thieves must first investigate in Mementos, and upon doing so, they discover it’s already become a full-fledged Palace. As she submitted the request anonymously, they have no way of knowing she would willingly cooperate --- so once Yusuke informs them she attends the same school, they set about tailing her to see if they can acquire more information about her family. Tsubaki catches on rather quickly, and upon realizing their true identities, agrees to assist them. During a thorough search of the Yayoi family home, the correct keywords to enter her father’s Palace are accidentally spoken --- thus, she finds herself dragged in with them. She had been quietly festering and seething inside ever since she first stumbled upon some of her family’s illicit dealings, and to see the Palace with her own eyes --- a mixture of old and new, sprawling grounds with seemingly endless hallways, several traditional Japanese mansions juxtaposed much like the Yayoi’s ancient traditions and modern vices... Tsubaki refuses to leave without seeing it for herself, and retreats further inside when the Thieves insist otherwise. As they attempt to give chase, they encounter several clues that detail more of her life: headstones that detail at least eight siblings, none of which made it past their first year --- all born before Tsubaki; a sprawling family tree, written in elegant hand with ink on a traditional canvas, whose branches’ names overlap repeatedly with one another; a cognitive version of a younger Tsubaki that seems to represent an angel, bathed in light, surrounded by her household; cognitive versions of those the family have exploited and cheated over the years --- young and old, business and pleasure, workers and business partners and enemies alike. 

            They eventually catch up to the real Tsubaki, on her knees before the cognition of her father that reigns over the Palace. Dressed in traditional garb, he informs her that everything the Yayoi family has done has had a ‘noble’ purpose: to further the survival of their bloodline. Decades prior, a family head realized that the deciding factor in many political stations was a combination of incredible intelligence and charisma; thus, all marriages sought to foster these qualities... Until ultimately the only candidates deemed suitable were those within their own bloodline. When Tsubaki was born, it was deemed a miracle --- especially that she was born so strong, physically and mentally, and carried the best traits of a Yayoi. To further her excellence, to maintain the family’s sterling reputation, to keep their ‘breeding’ practices away from public view... Every not-so-noble act was motivated by these ‘noble’ needs. It’s at this point that she breaks down, forced to call everything into question; not only has she fully processed that everything she knew and held dear --- every facet of morality she’d clung to and upheld --- was a lie, but she was also led to believe her very birth was the biggest catalyst. With the help of the Thieves, however, she comes to the conclusion that none of it was her fault; she was only an excuse to justify the means as well as the ends. It’s with this revelation, and the promise to  SEEK OUT AND UPHOLD HER OWN JUSTICE  , that she awakens her persona:  BRYNHILDR . Tsubaki’s outfit resembles her  canon outfit  when releasing Zero Type: Izayoi; her persona has a similar motif, resembling a typical valkyrie and wielding the same sword. Because of the wings, angelic appearance, and her exasperated explanation of who Brynhildr was, her codename becomes  VALKYRIE  . Her secondary weapons are dual handguns. Her persona deals both Bless and Curse damage, but is still weak to the latter. 

            Upon defeating her father, she admits that she’s aware --- and dreads --- the full truth of her family will come to light, her birth included. She resolves to face it with her head held high, though, for the sake of all the people her family has hurt. Much of her confidant deals with her attempt to protect and perpetuate her own justice, as she declared she would upon her awakening. This includes personally seeing to it that injured parties get proper reparations; making amends with her father while he’s incarcerated; assisting however she can in the ongoing investigation into her family, the legitimacy of their assets, and so forth. Halfway through her confidant, she admits to the protagonist that there’s been a significant amount of pressure from the student body as well as concerned parents for her to not only resign from the student council, but in some cases be expelled ‘out of basic principle’. Tsubaki also admits that she was aware of her family’s marriage practices all along, as well as the circumstances of her birth; she believes in part that perhaps she should comply with the school’s demands, considering herself complicit in that regard. Ultimately, however, the protagonist convinces her that she needs to fight --- for the sake of truth and justice, no less --- and at the very least see to it that she’s heard. Her passion, sincerity, and articulation see to it that at least the majority of her peers are swayed; although she mentions she still has to deal with jeers here and there, she is allowed to stay enrolled and on the student council. She also thanks the protagonist for instilling courage in her when she needed it the most. She acknowledges that her future career goals --- be it the military, the justice system, or politics --- would be hindered greatly by her family’s scandal, but that she has no intention of laying down and taking it. 

            Some additional tidbits:

Tsubaki’s confidant deals with art, but also has numerous motifs with flowers: if the protagonist works at the flower shop, she will occasionally be waiting there and will explain flower language to him throughout different points in the game. the gift she gives the protagonist upon maxing out her confidant is a painting she made of a camellia flower --- a play on her name that also translates to ‘longing’ and ‘waiting’ in flower language. if the confidant is a romantic one, on christma/s she will admit that she’s taken the liberty of hanging her gift in the attic: a painting of edelweiss (to encourage him he does have power and should always have courage), hibiscus (to remind him to be gentle, always), and a third flower that’s a little more difficult to place but resembles angel’s wings. she will inform him that it’s referred to as habenaria radiata (sagisō in japanese), or the white egret flower. it means, according to her, ‘my thoughts will follow you into your dreams’. she intended it to convey her feelings in a lasting, sincere manner, having no idea how poignant they’d be considering where he’d soon be going...

she loves historical dramas --- be it plays, movies, or literature. taking her to see a period movie, buying her appropriate merchandise or reading material, it’ll all please her immensely and she’ll chatter on excitedly about them for hours. 

in idles whenever they meet as a group in the protagonist’s attic, she’s often either reading a book, adjusting something into its proper place, or wiping her finger along a shelf as if inspecting for dust. 

in one conversation randomly activated between confidant conversations, Tsubaki admits that she often watched Yusuke intensely as they were in the same art class and his work always caught her attention. she also remarks that since he’s been spending time with the protagonist, he hesitates less and has a ‘better energy’ when painting.

when Makoto leads the study group among her classmates, Tsubaki will also show up for a time and assist --- explaining that they’ve helped each other study on occasion. 

one of her all-time favorite historical figures is a renowned folk hero of the feudal era, and she gets flustered just referring to him. her mother told her all the stories surrounding him, and she even owns several plushies modeled after a cartoon character meant to portray him on television.

her phrase during criticals is ‘let justice... be served !’; there’s also scales of justice and wings littered among camellia flowers in her finisher portrait after an all-out attack.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Son Of Scheherazade, 16

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted!

Not gunna lie, this chapter actually drained me emotionally after writing it. Aside from taking characters I love to bad places, I also used to have major anger issues when I was younger, so, sore spot. But here we are, and the next chapter will be silly. So silly. Prepare for major silly.

Also also, I had three or four different endings planned, including having Goofy and pals "save" the day. Oh well, maybe next time.

Summary: What does it mean to carry the sins of your family? Is hate naturally born, or does it get inflicted upon you? The contest is over, but there are things worse than losing.

The rest of that day and the following day were much of the same – silly displays of what Father Wander and his servants considered to be the truest of true love. This involved feeding each other cake, reciting poetry made up on the spot, dramatic re-tellings of their first encounters, carrying their bride over dangerous thresholds, and so on and so forth. More couples continued to be dragged away when they didn't meet the ridiculously high standards of Father Wander, but there were still enough people for Mickey, Minnie, Donald and Daisy to lose Runner-Up. All four of them did their best, refusing to give up, and took everything as seriously as possible.

… Well, three of them did.

Donald and Minnie had no troubles with their tasks, so devoted to their friend that they were able to give masterful performances. When Donald accidentally dropped a piece of cake on Minnie's dress, she merely laughed it off, and they chatted about favorite desserts. Minnie discovered she had a talent for rhyming during poetry, Donald made up a well-thought out story of love at first sight, and they crossed their threshold – theirs lined with dangerous metal spikes – without a scratch. Working together, they found there was nothing they couldn't do, and happily enjoyed each other's company.

Mickey and Daisy were such a different story, one could almost say they were another genre entirely. Mickey was trying to play the role of a devoted husband as best he could, but Daisy continued to have fun at his expense. She smashed her cake into his face, wanting to “recreate their wedding”. For poetry, she made an entire list of made-up phobias he had, assuring him that she loved him despite all his weaknesses. As Mickey tried to create a story about their first meeting, Daisy kept interrupting with new details that Mickey had to struggle to connect. Their threshold crossing, which involved fire and brimstone, ended with a singed tail and Daisy whining about her poor ashy dress. Each new section of the contest was like another heavy burden on Mickey's shoulders, and his temper was rising.

By the end of the second night, Mickey had trouble sleeping, due to how much Daisy had utterly and thoroughly annoyed him during all hours of the day. If she had been planning to act this way the entire time, why couldn't she have chosen Donald and left him alone?! He hated thinking this way, wanting someone else to suffer in his stead, but she was driving him crazy. In addition to this, he missed Minnie terribly. Even though he saw her as often as he could, it just wasn't the same as having her by his side and hearing his name. Each part of the contest was a reminder of the things he promised he wouldn't do to her and with her until she was free – and at times he hated himself for making such a promise, even though it had been the morally right thing to do. He wanted to earn her love the right way, but what if when she was free, she only thought of him as the Son of Scheherazade?

Morning came and Mickey was exhausted, having slept very little. Donald flashed him a look of pity as they lined up for breakfast, but when he asked what was wrong with his friend, Mickey barked that nothing was wrong, he just missed his dear little wife so terribly. Donald winced, but didn't give up. “It's the last day,” Donald reminded him, trying to offer a smile. “In just a few hours, this will all be over, and we'll be back on the ship.”

Mickey gave this some thought. “...I guess I could make it a few more hours,” he finally replied, fighting off a yawn. “But after this, I kind of never want to see 'Donna's' face again.” The men were taken to a small dining room, where a hearty meal was being served, and Father Wander was standing at the end of the table, always pleased to see everybody. Mickey tried not to look at him. “And I'm convinced this guy wouldn't know actual love if it bit him on the face.”

Donald paused to consider this. “I guess if we're actually fooling him, you're right. Makes this whole thing a sham, doesn't it?” Perhaps after doing this contest for years and years, the competition had lost its original meaning. It was a shame, he thought, because an actual celebration of happiness that being with certain people brought would have been something great. Maybe once upon a time there hadn't been temptation tests or cake-eating or poetry. As they sat down, Donald lightly slapped Mickey's shoulder, still wanting to help. “When we win the map and get back to the ship, we should have a party!”

Mickey blinked at him, his anger beginning to settle down. “A party?”

“Yeah! To celebrate getting a huge leap closer to your folks! We can be our real selves again, and sing and dance and be with all our friends! Wouldn't that be fun?”

Actually, that did sound like fun, and Mickey missed Goofy and the others, all their odd behavior included. “That's not a bad idea,” he said as he imagined Panchito playing the guitar, Jose asking for all the details, Clarabelle and Horace arguing then dancing together, and Goofy giving Mickey one of his affectionate ruffles between the ears. “Yeah! We should absolutely do that! It'll be great!” Now that he had something to look forward to, perhaps his anger would stay in check today -

Or perhaps it wouldn't as his chair was knocked over, due to Grimwold shoving himself into the next seat adjacent. “Move it, shorty.”

Donald was up in seconds. “Hey! You did that on purpose!”

Grimwold didn't reply to Donald – as he was actually slightly terrified of the duck, who had somehow zapped him into unconsciousness days before – and kept his sights on Mickey. “I still have a bone to pick with you.”

Mickey clenched his teeth as he put his chair back up. “A bone? All I ever did to you was tell you to stop bullying people! It's not my fault you're a huge jerk!” He slammed his hand down on the table, starting to get the attention of the others.

“It's not bullying when someone is clearly stronger and better than you!” Grimwold leaned over Mickey, sneering right back at him. “No one has ever talked back to a Gloom and lived to tell the tale! I think it's about time we settle this!”

“Fine by me!” Mickey snapped back, ignoring Donald's tugging on his sleeve and insistent pleas that this was not the time or place for such an argument. “The sooner I get you off my back, the better! I can't stand people like you, who think they should always get what they want! The world doesn't work that way, and people aren't your toys to play with!” Was he yelling at Grimwold, or someone else?

“Then let's finish this, mano a mano!”

“Right here, right now!”

They both could've sworn they heard the ringing of a boxing bell – except it turned out to be a real bell, much to their confusion. This was Father Wander, ringing a small bell in his hand, eyebrows quirked at the display presented before him. “I must say, gentlemen, I am surprised by this behavior! This isn't in the spirit of our romantic competition!”

Donald jerked – was this impromptu fight going to get them disqualified? He thought quickly, then flailed his hands. “Yes it is! Of course it's in the spirit! Because... because they're fighting over... whose wife is prettier!”

Father Wander watched the two in genuine hopes this was correct. “Really?”

“... Yeah, sure.” Grimwold stood up straight, smoothing down his blue hair. “After all, my Hilda is like a goddess in human form! And this miscreant thought his ragamuffin could honestly compare to her. It's laughable really!”

This was supposed to be the part where Mickey was going to falsely gush about Daisy's beauty and grace and all her likable features, but he couldn't. He was so sick of having to tell lies and praise a woman who was getting on his last nerve, especially to the guy who was getting on the second-to-last nerve. Mickey was angry, Mickey was incredibly angry at everyone and everything – at Grimwold for picking such a stupid fight. At Donald who thought Mickey needed help. At Father Wander for not noticing the obvious, at this whole moronic competition that was never about real passionate love, at Daisy who put him through this, at the Phantom Prince who took his parents and made him go through this ordeal – and then he found anger at people who had nothing to do with anything, except to make this anger grow, Goofy, for agreeing with this whole farce, and Panchito and Jose who never shut up and Horace and Clarabelle for their insipid arguments, and his mother for lying to him and his father for -

And his father for -

And his father for -

IT'S NOT FAIR! HOW DARE YOU LIVE?! WHY DO YOU DESERVE TO LIVE?!

His heart began to beat in his ears and suddenly he was a little boy and he was scared and confused and his parents weren't there and there was blood and there was pain and screaming and tears and -

“Awww!” Father Wander's very loud coo startled Mickey out of his past – Mickey who had begun to sweat and shake, his fingers clutching the tablecloth so hard he'd begun to tear it, his breath coming in and out rapidly. “Mortimer, you're so offended on your wife's behalf, you just can't control yourself, can you?”

It took Mickey a moment to remember where he was, and his breathing slowed, suddenly very aware of all the eyes on him. He felt nauseous, and his hand flew to his neck, rubbing the scar over and over. “Yeah,” he answered quietly, afraid of where he'd just been. “I just... love her so much, you know.” The answer came automatically without thinking, and he sat back down, not touching his food. Grimwold also sat down, deciding not to push his luck any further, although he was smirking. As far as he was concerned, he just laid down the first part of his trap. Donald watched Mickey, worried, but over what he wasn't sure of. In that brief second, Mickey had changed into someone unrecognizable. The body had been Mickey's, of course, but the eyes had grown dark and instant, reflecting a hate so powerful that it threatened to swallow everyone whole. Donald had never seen anything like it, not even in Flintheart's cruelest moments, and he could've sworn that if Father Wander hadn't inadvertently put an end to it, the thing that looked like Mickey was going to strike.

“That's just the mood we need for our final day!” Father Wander continued, ringing the bell again, this time for the melody. “We only have one more display of love to go through, and then my friends and I will decide the winners! Ooh, isn't this exciting?” he applauded, expecting everyone to do the same, but didn't mind when they chose not to. “At noon, we'll have everyone gather in the prayer room of the chapel. In there we have a set of magic mirrors! We'll have the chosen pair stand in front of the mirrors, and their reflection will show who they truly love.”

Donald spat out the juice he'd been drinking. “What? Magic?! Honest to goodness magic?!” Why in the world hadn't they just done that on day one and saved everyone the trouble? How were they supposed to fool magic? Their lies would be revealed in an instant! Did Daisy know about this? No, perhaps this was beyond even her – Donald desperately wanted to believe that Daisy had an ounce of goodness, or basic sense, in her. It was probably the desire for another kiss making him believe this, which still popped into his head every day. Donald looked at Mickey, hoping for him to have an idea or to be equally upset, but Mickey was still not entirely there.

The prince now had his hand on his mouth, fighting a battle in his chest, trying to still the monster that had threatened to come out. He had barely heard anything Father Wander had said, the competition now the last thing on his mind. He could not let the beast out now, not ever. His anger had always been one of his biggest flaws, but it had never ate at him so badly before – perhaps because he had been so spoiled and privileged until his parents were taken away. But now he had problems and people he didn't know how to handle and his insides were bubbling hotly. Maybe it would go away on its own. He hoped so.

“Until then,” Father Wander had utterly ignored Donald's outburst, “You're free to spend the day as you wish! I bet you've all missed your significant others so much! So eat up, and then love up! Noon's not that far away!” He tried another attempt at applause and was still met with rejection.

Mickey stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and forced it into his mouth, even though he had no appetite. Donald kept asking him over and over if he was okay and Mickey would not answer. Once Mickey's plate was entirely clear, he shoved himself away from the table, hopped off the chair, and walked away as fast as his feet would take him. Donald wanted to follow him, but felt he still wouldn't be answered. Maybe the girls would have some ideas, he wished, and once he finished his meal he set out to find them. Perhaps for now it would be best to leave Mickey alone with whatever thoughts were haunting him.

Things would be all right, Donald was convinced of this. They would win the map, and have their party, and Mickey would be happy, and Minnie would be happy, and Daisy would tell them where the next part of the map was, and they'd dance and sing and be merry. There was nothing to be worried about. Mickey would be fine.

So why did he keep staring at Mickey's empty chair with a sense of dread?

~*~

Donald did manage to meet up with Daisy and Minnie, and while he told them of the magical mirror mishap, he didn't mention the argument between Mickey and Grimwold. He felt it would serve little purpose, and given Daisy's All Seeing Eye, maybe she already knew. Besides, the mirrors would be a real challenge.

The three of them were sitting outside on the church steps, trying to decide what to do. “Maybe we can use a wish on this,” Daisy suggested, her usually manipulative brain running low on ideas. “I think this is a desperate times call for desperate measures deal.”

Minnie sighed, shaking her head. “My Master is dead-set on not using my wishes. He only uses them when his life is in danger... or a slip of the tongue.” With faint amusement she recalled a time when Mickey had almost accidentally wished Jose to stop smoking, but he had caught himself just as he said the word wish – he slapped his hands over his mouth with such force that he knocked the back of his head against the wall. He then profusely apologized to Minnie, only stopping when he heard her giggling.

“Maybe we can make up some kind of hokey-story to explain the reflections.” Donald furrowed his brows. “Father Wander and his goons believe just about everything we say to them already.”

Daisy smirked as she heard Donald's plan, making her own decisions, and Minnie pouted, looking around. “We really should be discussing this with my Master. Where is he now?”

“I don't know.” Donald didn't meet her eyes, still reluctant to share what had happened. “He just needed to... blow off some steam. I'm sure he'll come find us before everything starts. Worse comes to worse, we can just beg for that map, and maybe they'll have some pity on us.”

Minnie leaned back on the seats, watching the sky. “I hope he's all right. He's been working so hard on those maps every night... Do you think he's getting enough sleep? Or enough to eat?” Minnie missed Mickey just as much as he was missing her, though neither guessed that the other was longing for them so deeply. She disliked sleeping away from her lamp, if only for the fact that it meant she couldn't be at Mickey's side at a second's notice. She just wanted to be useful to him in any way imaginable.

Daisy clicked her tongue. “What are you, his mother?”

What was meant to be a tease brought Minnie somewhere else, as she faced Daisy with a curious expression. “By the way... why is my Master's mother so important anyway? Why was it a big deal that she has the All-Seeing-Eye instead of telling stories?”

Donald made a startled noise in his throat. “What? You don't know? Everyone knows the story of Scheherazade. Even I got told that tale, before my nannies got too scared to watch over me. It's the most famous story in the whole wide world!”

Daisy lit her pipe, coming to the correct conclusion instantly. “Maybe so... but then, not every master thinks their slaves should know everything about the world.”

Minnie bit her lip, saying nothing. It was true that many of her past masters, even ones who had started out kind and generous, treated her more as an object than as a living person, much less a friend to share stories with. It was possible they thought if she was more educated, knew more about the world, she'd try to leave them or influence their wishes. Now it made her feel like a fool, left out of the earth's most obvious facts. “I feel like there's something my Master isn't telling me.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes downward, remembering the hesitation Mickey had shown the last time they spoke of his mother. “If Sultana Scheherazade is such a wonderful and amazing person... why won't he tell me what the story is?”

Donald and Daisy looked at each other, a cold dread creeping up their backs. They had a fairly good idea that it wasn't so much Mickey's mother that was the problem. Was it their place to speak of it? Even Daisy, who reveled in the pain of others, seemed to be debating. She was about to come to a final choice, when the church bells rang, loud but melodic. She exhaled a stream of smoke. “They're probably about to start setting things up in the prayer room... Let's get there early and try to see what we can do.”

Minnie frowned, but made no objection. The explanation could wait another day, she supposed, and if they lost the mirror challenge, they could try to find a way around it. Nothing was impossible, so long as they had her magic and Mickey's cleverness. Maybe that's what he was doing now, using his brilliant mind to think of a winning strategy. Dear, darling, clever master. Minnie didn't need, nor want, fancy poetry or cakes or fights to prove how Mickey felt about her, since he wore his emotions on not just his sleeve but his entire outfit. As long as he was himself, Minnie was content. She hadn't realized she began smiling, but Donald did, and he felt that worry from before get stronger.

No, surely everything would be all right. The three of them thought this calming phrase over and over  – everything would be all right.

~*~

Mickey had been, of all places, up on the roof. To him, it was the closest thing that resembled the balcony of his room back at the palace. He had hoped that the familiar view would calm him down, and while it did ease his anger, it didn't erase it entirely . His hate found new forms to attack with, and they all centered around himself. How could he be so immature, rising to Grimwold's taunts, when there were much fiercer enemies up ahead? If he couldn't handle himself in front of a simple man, how could he hope to defeat the Phantom Prince? He was doing nothing but bringing shame to his parents. The only thing he was grateful for was that Minnie hadn't seen that childish display. Minnie, Minnie, Minnie, he wanted to see her, he wanted to see her so badly, he wanted her touch and her kiss and her love even though he hadn't done anything to deserve it.

If she could just fall in love with him before she knew what Mickey's father had done, what his mother had done, what the story was, then maybe things would work out. She could love him for him and not where he came from. But in the end he knew that it was far, far better to be worshiped as a false idol than to be hated. He knew what it was like to be hated. And while it was not impossible to say she wouldn't hate him if she knew, that one in a million chance would never go away, even though he had not been at fault. The sins carried through his blood. He felt nauseous again.

The church bells rang, and Mickey was glad to hear them. Now he could enter the final lap of this whole frivolous affair, get the map, get back on the ship, and hear his name again. He stood up, smoothed down his robes, and headed for the door that led back into the church – only to find Grimwold was on the other side. Mickey slammed the door in his face. “First off,” Grimwold said on the other side, “Rude. Second, there isn't another way down.”

Mickey sighed very, very deeply, before opening the door. “The bells are ringing, that probably means the last part of the contest is ready. If we're late, they'll probably disqualify us. So we don't have time to fight.”

But instead of taunting or insulting, Grimwold backed up from the door, showing the stairs. “Actually, I wanted to make you an offer. You were right, bullying isn't going to get me anywhere. It certainly hasn't helped with the contest one bit.”

That was... suspiciously nice and quick of a conclusion. Mickey squinted, and headed for the stairs, Grimwold trailing behind him. “An offer? What are you talking about?”

“The truth is, there's really only one prize me and my amazing Hilda are after.” Grimwold put a hand to his heart, closing his eyes to emphasize his sincerity – but this wasn't the best idea, as he tripped and fell down, and had Mickey not stepped aside in time he would have joined him. Mickey blinked at the crumpled heap on the floor, wondering if perhaps the Glooms had more bark than bite. But then Grimwold popped back on his feet, using the same pose, as if nothing had happened. “You see, we never got the honeymoon we wanted. I just want her to have the best in life, and if I could help get her that prize, I'd be the happiest man in the world.”

Mickey walked onto the floor and into the hallway. “What's that got to do with me?”

“I'm no fool.” Grimwold now walked at Mickey's side. “The judges have been studying you and your wife intensely. You're going to be a winner, I can tell. Maybe that's why I can't help but... act impolitely to you and your friends at every opportunity.” A hearty chuckle. “Why not let bygones be bygones, and have a chat about what to do about it? We can use the men's chambers – with everyone filing into the prayer room, it's sure to be empty. And since you guys entered last, you'll probably be chosen last for the mirror match.”

Mickey stopped walking to give Grimwold a deadpan look. “This is a trap.”

“A trap?” Grimwold staggered backwards, his acting getting so hammy a pig would've been envious. “A trap! I am wounded! I am hurt! Here I am, offering an olive branch of friendship, and you dare call it a trap!”

“A-huh.” Mickey crossed his arms, unimpressed. “So if we go into the men's chambers, your wife isn't going to be there to help outnumber me, and you two aren't going to threaten me into dropping out?”

It took five seconds for Grimwold to answer – Mickey counted. “...Nnnnooo.”

The prince rolled his eyes so far in his head he almost saw brain matter. These two almost weren't worth getting angry about. But Mickey thought this through – if he denied Grimwold now, maybe he'd do something worse in the prayer room, disrupting the whole thing for a temper tantrum and making this whole ordeal longer. If it was a trap, and it absolutely was, Mickey believed he could handle the Glooms very easily. His combat skills had improved immensely during his time on the ship, and what did they have? Bottles of acid he could dodge, and a stolen sword – he saw it on Grimwold's hip – that they didn't even know how to wield? Maybe once they were defeated, they'd shut up and leave Mickey alone.

With a regretful sigh, Mickey resumed walking. “Yeah, sure. Let's go and hear the offer.”

“Yes! Excellent!” Grimwold rubbed his hands, genuinely under the belief that Mickey had fallen for the asinine plot. “Right this way, my young friend!” It was only a hop, skip, and a jump to the chambers, and when they opened the doors, Mickey was totally and completely not surprised to see Hilda there, standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, bursting into evil laughter.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly!” Hilda cackled, giving Grimwold a thumbs-up as he closed the door behind them. “You've fallen right into our trap!”

“Oh no,” Mickey said without a single trace of emotion. “A trap. I never would have guessed. Oh gee. Oh my.”

Grimwold frowned and looked over at his wife. “Honey, I don't think he's appreciating all the hard work we put into this plan!”

“Well, he'll care when we tell him the real reason we're here.”

Mickey could feel his temper rising again, and he rubbed one of his temples. “You two can have whatever prizes you want, okay? We just want the map! A map that's of no use to anyone else! So you win, hurray, good for you, can I leave now?”

“You're leaving all right,” said Hilda as she began to walk forward. “But with us... the Phantom Prince has big plans for you, Son of Scheherazade.”

Those two titles slammed down onto Mickey like falling bricks, and hearing them together by someone else's voice was such a shock that at first Mickey was sure it couldn't have happened. He knew his real name hadn't been used once, not once, and even if it had, no one else even knew what or who the Phantom Prince was. After all, wasn't it only a legend that a dying tribe passed along? “What... did you say?” His voice came out weaker than expected.

“You heard us, your highness.” Grimwold pushed Mickey from behind, making him stumble. “As if we need some cheap prizes to prove we're the best couple in the whole world... the Phantom Prince has promised us riches beyond our wildest imaginings if we bring you in! Do you have any idea how far his dark power reaches?”

“He's told us all we need to know,” Hilda added, leaving out the more truthful interpretation that they only knew what they had asked. “So if you don't want any more trouble, you'll be a good boy and come along with us quietly.”

So far they had only been right about a few things – Mickey had no idea how far the Phantom Prince's reach was, or how many minions he had around the world, lying in wait to capture him. How many were willing to sell him out for their own greed? How did they find Mickey in the first place and know to enter the contest? Was his mother being forced into using her All-Seeing-Eye? Was she being threatened into doing so? Tortured? Heat filled his head. “You two can't possibly think I'd just agree to be your prisoner!” He placed one foot back, and steadied his arms, remembering the vital lessons Horace and Clarabelle had taught him. “If it's a fight you want, that's exactly what you'll get!”

“Now why would we make such a mess.” Grimwold pulled out his sword, but made no threatening moves with it just yet. “When we can do this the easy way? Either you come with us now... or we can all head into the prayer room together... and Hilda and I will tell everyone who you really are!”

“Forget about just disqualification.” Hilda moved to stay by Grimwold's side, her heels pressing hard into the floor. “But what about your precious wife? Does she know the full story? Does she know where you came from?”

Mickey gawked – they knew who he was, but didn't realize Daisy's role was fake? It was laughable, and he almost did laugh, except – except there was someone who didn't know the full story. Someone who Mickey cared very deeply for. He could feel his arms trembling. She didn't know. She didn't have to know. She didn't have to be given the choice of love or hate, not yet, not today, that wasn't fair, they didn't have a right to say anything.

“I must say.” Grimwold smirked, rubbing his nose. “Fetching yourself a beauty like that is impressive... and it'll be amazing to see her reaction when she finds out her husband is the Child Born Of Blood.”

It's not fair. It's not fair. Mickey's heart was thumping hard, and his breath came in quickly through his nostrils. They couldn't say this. They didn't know anything. They didn't understand.

“In a way, we'd be doing her a favor.” Hilda nodded to herself. “After all, history does tend to repeat itself. We could be saving her life by telling her who you are. I bet you're just the exact image of your father... in every single way.”

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up.

It wasn't like that.

He didn't mean to. He lost control. He stopped. He learned.

Mickey wasn't like that. No he wasn't. He could never be like that.

They had no right THEY HAD NO RIGHT -

Grimwold approached Mickey, the sword out, but he didn't feel he'd really have to use it. “So, what's it going to be? A harmless get-a-way with us, or do we get to play storyteller to the love of your life?” He pointed the sword at Mickey's neck, right where the scar was -

He pointed the sword at Mickey's neck -

And suddenly – and suddenly -

And suddenly Mickey was four years old, a bright little child who was the apple of his parents' eyes. It took longer for him to learn how to walk and talk because his parents spoiled him endlessly. Mama was telling one of her stories even though Mickey could only grasp at a few concepts, and was paying more attention to the plush bear she was playing with, making it mime walking and talking. He giggled and clapped his hands, and Papa was trying to get in on the fun, tickling Mama until she shrieked with laughter. Papa loved Mama and Mama loved Papa, and Papa and Mama loved Mickey, and Mickey loved them.

But their good time was interrupted when one of the older servants entered the room, a kindly quiet maid whose hair was graying several years too early. An ambassador had arrived a whole day early, much to his parents' surprise. The maid offered to put Mickey down for his nap while they spoke with the ambassador, and she picked him up, cuddling him close. Mickey fussed about naptime, but she booped his nose with a wrinkled finger, and he laughed again. Mama and Papa left, but Mama was frowning, deep in thought.

The nice maid carried Mickey off to his room, telling him how lucky he was and how everyone loved the Son of Scheherazade. Mickey merely nodded, sucking his thumb. In his brightly colored room, she didn't put him down on the bed. Instead she knelt on the floor, and sat him down. “You love your Mama very much, don't you?”

Mickey smiled. “Love Mama!” he repeated with true enthusiasm.

The woman smiled back, but her smile was dark, secretive, something ugly brewing under the surface. “And you love your Papa very much, don't you?”

“Love Papa!” Mickey agreed, clapping his hands. Was this a new game?

“I had someone I loved once,” the maid said, reaching to grab something hidden in her dress. “But your Papa took her away from me. Your Papa took away so many people's loved ones.” Her sickly sweet voice began to hiss with strong acid, her pretty eyes swirling into a loathing that Mickey couldn't fathom. “But now your Papa gets to live happily ever after. And you get to make him happy. That doesn't seem fair, does it?” Mickey didn't answer, couldn't answer, he didn't understand what was being asked of him. “Why do you, the Child Born of Blood, get to live, when my sweet sister didn't? What great purpose do you serve in life? Why were you born?”

Mickey didn't know what was going on, but he did understand he was very afraid, and he wanted Mama and Papa. The woman then struck her hand onto his chest, pressing him down into the floor, and in her hand was a sharp knife, and she was hissing and crying, “He doesn't deserve to be happy! And you don't deserve to live!”

Mickey screamed even when the knife sliced into his neck, screamed as the hot blood gushed out of his skin, screamed as the doors burst open and his parents rushed in with the guards, screamed as his hysterical mother took him into her arms and yelled for someone to get a medicine man. But no matter how loudly he screamed, he could still hear the maid even as she was dragged away.

“IT'S NOT FAIR! HOW DARE YOU LIVE?! WHY DO YOU DESERVE TO LIVE?!”

No, it wasn't fair. None of this was fair. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. Was not, was not, was not his fault, they couldn't do this to him, wasn't fair, wasn't his fault, they wouldn't do this to him, not, not, NOT, NOT, GOING TO DO THIS TO HIM, NOT AGAIN, NOT EVER EVER AGAIN!

~*~

The mirror competition was starting, and several couples had been eliminated. The process was kind of simple – the couple stood in front of two golden, rather plain-looking mirrors, and waited to see their reflection. If they saw their own face, they were booted out. If they saw their loved one – and the “right” loved one – they stayed. Minnie, Donald, and Daisy nervously waited in the pews, glancing at the door every so often to see if Mickey would run in late. Minnie's patience was wearing out, and she whispered to her friends, “What could possibly be taking him so long? I think we should try to find him.”

Donald nodded nervously. “Yeah, we're really cutting it close. 'Donna', can you use your All-Seeing-Eye to find out where he is?”

Daisy huffed. “Such nervous Nellies. Fine, fine, but if I catch him doing something embarrassing, that's on you.” She leaned back in her seat, concentrated...

… And then went very pale. “Oh. Oh, no.” Her voice was unusually hushed, a fear that Donald and Minnie had never seen before, had never thought Daisy was capable of. “By the gods... we...we have to stop him!” She was on her feet then, but her legs were weak, sickened by some display, breathing erratically, not caring if she was making a scene. “We have to find him, now!”

“Stop him?” Donald asked, trying to catch Daisy from falling. “Stop him from what?”

“JUST GO!” Daisy screeched, catching everyone's attention and not caring. “Find him, now!” She couldn't even make out what room it was, too horrified by what she was seeing.

Minnie backed up, and then began running, even as she heard Father Wander ask what was going on. It didn't occur to her to simply will herself to Mickey's side, because if Mickey was in danger, he'd call her with his lamp, wouldn't he? So, logically, he shouldn't be in any danger, right? Yes, surely this was one of Daisy's tricks – even if she truly looked like death itself. No, Mickey was all right, had to be all right. She checked every door she came across, calling for “Mortimer”, and then she found the men's chambers, and opened the door.

The first thing she saw was blood.

Blood splattered across the walls in small spurts, broken beds and destroyed drawers, the carpet was ripped, and the stench of blood was everywhere. Hilda was thrown in a corner, suffering from many sharp cuts, dark bruises on her pale skin, her ankle twisted if not outright broken. She was on her hip, crying out for her husband, begging someone to stop.

And there, in the middle of the room was... a monster that had taken the form of her master.

Grimwold was on his back, both eyes blackened, and unlike Hilda, there was no doubt his arm was broken – no, not just broken, it was as if every last bone had been shattered. He was also cut to ribbons, bleeding openly in many places, and he would have been excruciating pain if he wasn't unconscious. Yet despite having clearly been knocked out, the beast that was sitting on his chest was still punching his face, smashing out a tooth, a mangled snarl behind his lips.

Minnie could not even blink. She knew this was Mickey but it couldn't be Mickey, not sweet, gentle Mickey who wanted her freedom and embraced Donald at the height of danger. This was a nightmare and she'd wake up any second now. She felt a sting in her eyes, and her breath caught. Don't cry, don't cry, you absolutely mustn't cry, if you cry everything will get worse, it is the law of genies, you must not cry, even if what you're seeing is enough to drive you to the brink of utter despair. She could not find words, could not find strength, could not believe this was the Mickey who stammered her name and touched her hands with softness.

The creature spotted the sword which had been dropped during the brawl, and he reached for it, because wouldn't it be fitting? Grimwold wanted this stupid sword so badly, he could have it. He could have the thing driven into his heart, and then he would learn, oh he would learn. Then they would never come after Mickey again, they would leave him alone, and he held the sword high, they would leave him alone and his parents alone and everyone would just shut up and stop blaming him and -

“STOP IT, MASTER!”

The world.

Went.

Still.

Mickey's body stopped where it was, and he slowly, slowly, slowly lifted his head. There was Minnie, now in front of him, her hands clasped around the sword in a desperate attempt to stop him, her fingers sliced open in the process. And it was here that Mickey saw in her eyes, those deep gorgeous green eyes that gave him comfort in his dreams, he saw something just as terrible as hatred – fear. Fear of him, and what he had done, and what he could do – and it was then that Mickey understood just what he had been doing.

His eyes widened, taking in the room, finally hearing Hilda's retching sobs, feeling the man he almost murdered breathing underneath him. “No,” Mickey whispered, dropping the sword, hands falling at his side. “No,” he said again, knowing it was futile, tears filling his eyes. “No... I didn't mean...” What had he done? What was he about to do? He hadn't meant – he just wanted – what did he want? There was no justification here, this had been a foolish pair of humans who hadn't thought things through, there had been no need to do... this.

Mickey crawled off Grimwold's body, his vision blurry from tears. It wasn't too late, and he looked at Minnie – then couldn't bear to look at her again. She was afraid of him. She sat where she was, staring at him as if he was a new breed of animal that'd been hiding in the darkest of shadows. Her body trembled, one of her hands on her pounding heart, the blood on her fingers staining her clothes. She was clearly fighting not to cry, with staggering breaths and a choke in her throat. How could he explain things to her when he couldn't explain it himself? “I'm sorry,” he pleaded, to Hilda, to Grimwold, to Minnie. “I'm so sorry.” But sorry wouldn't make things better, wouldn't save the man bleeding on the floor. “I wish... I wish the Glooms were healed.”

Minnie raised her hand, and Mickey's scar glowed – a glittering rain of sparkles descended onto the humans, and with each touch of pixie dust their bruises faded, their wounds closed. The familiar pain struck both mice, making them heap forward to gasp for air, but it seemed so mildly insignificant now compared to what had been done to the Glooms. Hilda didn't care what was happening or why, scrambling to reach her husband and cradle him in her arms. She pressed her forehead to his, weeping openly, telling him that she loved him and she was going to take him home, and the Phantom Prince could find someone else to do his dirty work.

Mickey tried to stand and couldn't, but knew it wasn't just the wish draining his energy. Minnie's eyes were still upon him, her gaze like a cold dagger of ice right into his heart. He deserved it. Even with magic, there was no reset button to undo what he'd done. He needed to get away from here. “I wish... I wish we were in my room, on the ship.”

In another puff of pink smoke, Mickey was suddenly on his bed, startling his sleeping dog. The agony of two wishes, and the crash of adrenaline from the fight, made every muscle in his body burn in pain, his bones aching as if they were being pulled apart, and even breathing became a fight with hard, loud gasps. Mickey laid on his back as Pluto yipped in concern, only having enough power to move his eyes to try and find Minnie, maybe explain what had led to everything. He didn't see her body, but he saw her pink smoke entering the lamp, and understood she was there now, and would be there for some time, unable to stand the sight of him.

“I'm sorry.” Mickey felt himself crying again, and the self-loathing he had managed to bury for so long came back with a furious vengeance, eating at his soul. “I'm sorry...” Pluto climbed onto the bed, snuggling up to his master, wishing to comfort him somehow.

He could not blame her for her fear, and he was now afraid as well – afraid of the monster called Mickey.

~*~

Donald would have gone on to chase with Minnie, but he was so concerned with Daisy's well-being that he couldn't bring himself to let her go. He held her close as she trembled, stroking her hair and asking what was going on, and the other couples and servants gathered around, hoping the poor girl was all right. Daisy finally began to show signs of calming down, sighing in relief once she “saw” that the Glooms would be healed. “They're going to be okay...”

“Well and good, whoever they are,” Donald said, cupping Daisy's cheeks. “But what about you? Are you okay?” As much as he wanted to get to know the “real” her, he never wanted it to be like this.

Daisy at last seemed to realize Donald was there, and had been there for some time, comforting her as she broke down. “Didn't I tell you to go?”

“But... I couldn't just leave you like that.” Donald hoped he wasn't in for a lecture or teasing. “He's important to me, but so are you, so's everyone in the crew. No man left behind, right?”

Daisy blinked at him, perplexed, because she thought she understood Donald completely, which made him so easy to mess with. This was not what she thought he was capable of, and it was... charming, in a way. Silly, foolish, and not helpful, but... charming. That could lead to problems. Speaking of problems, they were still surrounded by everyone, and she cleared her throat to alert Donald about the situation.

Father Wander made his way through the crowd. “My goodness, what in the world is going on here? Why did Madeline run off like that? And what's with you two?”

Donald looked at Daisy, and Daisy looked at Donald. It looked like the jig was up. Daisy rolled her shoulders, and grew serious. “Father Wander, it's time you heard the truth.”

“The truth?!” Donald spat, startled. “You're choosing now, of all times, to speak the truth?!”

Father Wander frowned, leaning forward but still trying to believe the best of them. “And the truth is what, exactly?”

Daisy placed her hands together, begging for understanding. “We've been lying to you this whole time. I'm sorry... but we had no choice. We never meant to make a mockery of your blessed celebration. I don't dare ask your forgiveness.”

Donald ran a hand down his face, but if Daisy was going to spill the beans, he might as well go along with her. “I know it was a dumb thing to do, but if you'll hear us out, I'm sure you'll agree, we had to do it.”

Daisy took Donald's hand and squeezed it. “Yes, for you see, the truth is...Gladstone and I are the ones in love!”

“Yes, that's exactly-” Donald's brain caught up with his ears. “... Wait, what?”

Daisy was easily back in lying mode, slumping her body against Donald's and cuddling up to him. “Our cruel master, Mortimer, made us enter this contest so we could win those prizes! So he forced me to pretend to be his bride! But I can't hold it back anymore...Gladstone is the one I'll always love, and I don't care who knows! Nothing Mortimer can ever do to me will stop me from loving him! As long as we're together, I can endure anything!”

“...You're unbelievable.” And Donald did not mean this as a compliment. Come on, surely even Father Wander wouldn't fall for this – he was going to fall for it, wasn't he.

“That's...so...romantic!” Father Wander began to cry, in loud, heaping, overly dramatic sobs. “A forbidden love inside a forbidden love? It's too beautiful! It's exactly in the spirit of Rumansy!” He threw his arms around Donald and Daisy, hugging them tightly. “We have true love right here! I don't need to hear anything more, they deserve a prize for having to hide their precious love! Never hide it again, it must be shared with the whole wide world! Shout it from the rooftops! I'll do it myself if I have to!”

“Please don't,” Donald insisted.

“Well, we don't need much,” Daisy fluttered her eyelashes, upping her innocent act. “Buuut... my darling Gladstone enjoys collecting maps, so if we could have the Runner Up Prize, that would just make everything worth it!”

“Of course, of course!” Father Wander signaled to the servants. “Hurry up and get that map piece out of storage! Glad to get rid of the weird thing, anyway.” As he flagrantly ignored his own rules and regulations, the remaining couples couldn't help but think if entering this contest had been worth anything. Luckily for Father Wander, websites devoted to giving tourist location reviews had yet to be invented.

As the servants rushed to fetch the map, Donald whispered to Daisy. “Did you plan this since the start, or have you been making it up as you go along?”

“Fiddle-dee-dee. I'll never tell.”

Donald made an exasperated sound, but found it difficult to get really mad at her. He wondered why that was, and it was a long time before he let go of her hand. He didn't notice that she didn't let go of his for a long time either. Instead he focused on what he knew to be correct – everything had turned out all right.

Yes, everything was all right, wasn't it?

[phantom-le6]

Episode Reviews - Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 2 (4 of 5)

Carrying on with my episode reviews for Star Trek: The Next Generation, we now come to the penultimate group of episodes for the show’s second season…

Episode 15: Pen Pals

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

As the Enterprise surveys an area of unexplored planets with unusually short life spans due to severe geological changes, Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher is put in charge of a survey team in order to further his studies toward becoming a Starfleet officer. Wesley selects a team of highly competent science officers; however, as they are much older than he is, he worries that his authority will be challenged. One team member, Davies, rebuffs Wesley's request to run a time-consuming scan, causing Wesley to doubt himself.

 Meanwhile, Lt. Commander Data receives a primitive radio signal from a young girl on one of the planets. Data makes contact with the girl, named Sarjenka, and continues to converse regularly with her over the course of several weeks, keeping the details of his identity secret as Sarjenka's culture is unaware of life existing outside their planet. When Sarjenka reports that earthquakes are occurring with increasing frequency, Data realizes her planet is beginning to break down, and reports to Captain Picard in the hope that the Enterprise can find a way to reverse the process. Picard sympathizes with Data's case, but sternly orders him to cease communication with Sarjenka to avoid any further violations of the Prime Directive.

 Wesley seeks Commander Riker for advice on handling his team. Riker stresses that Starfleet training is about both responsibility and authority, and commends Wesley for his record of responsibility, but urges him to exercise authority with the science team. Wesley returns to the team and requests in a more authoritative manner that Davies perform the planetary scan, and Davies complies without argument.

 The senior staff debate whether to aid Sarjenka or not; Picard and Worf stand firm on principle, Dr Pulaski and Geordi against the idea of letting the child and her people die, and Troi and Riker take opposing views on the idea that the planetary destruction may be part of a cosmic plan; Riker thinks that plan is something they shouldn’t interfere with, while Troi suggests their interference could be part of that plan.  When Picard orders Data to terminate the radio link, Data activates it and everyone hears Sarjenka pleading for help. Feeling that this is now a direct call for assistance, Picard orders the Enterprise to Sarjenka's planet.

 The scans prove to be key to understanding the planet's geological instability, and Wesley's team proposes a method to correct it. Due to a breakdown of communications on the planet, Picard allows Data to beam down to take the girl to safety; running out of time, he takes her back to the Enterprise instead, much to Picard's dismay. The crew is able to safely restore the planet's geological system, and Picard orders Chief Medical Officer Dr Pulaski to sedate Sarjenka and erase her memories of Data and the Enterprise. Data returns the sleeping girl to her home, now safe, leaving her with a "singing stone" that Dr Pulaski had given her while in Sickbay.

Review:

This episode is the first in the Next Generation series to really debate the Prime Directive, and it’s no wonder there are many episodes where Starfleet officers decide on moral and ethical grounds to ignore it.  The moment Picard brings up the question ‘do we get involved in a war’, everyone’s moral certitude seems to dissipate, but then he brings up the question ‘do we get involved if a corrupt government is slaying innocent people’.  That’s basically asking if a Starfleet ship came across a planet where a like-for-like analogue of the Nazi holocaust was occurring, would it be right for the crew of that ship to interfere.  The answer, of course, is hell bloody yes; they go down there and phaser the hell out of whatever goose-stepping alien bigots are pulling that kind of prejudiced, barbaric bullshit.

 This, ultimately, is why the Prime Directive seems to get a seemingly uneven application in many Trek episodes; because while there are many situations where interference in other cultures is wrong, that’s not always going to be the case.  To my mind, the divide comes in where the motivation to get involved is strictly of a humanitarian nature.  The basic point of the Prime Directive seems to be to try and prevent the kind of damage done to indigenous cultures that is caused by outside interference.  In other words, the Federation doesn’t want to do to any alien culture what Europeans did to the Americas, Africa and some parts of Asia in our real-life history.  This is fine, but saying you don’t help any pre-warp civilisation on any grounds just to avoid that is wrong; you just forbid those specific forms of interference that cause harm and allow the ones that don’t.

 It’s also good to have Data be the one who sparks the debate, because his android nature allows him to act with a very child-like innocence that facilitates the situation that arises.  Anyone else on the crew would never answer Sarjenka’s transmission; only Data could make that error and land the Enterprise and its crew in such a moral dilemma.  It’s also a little reminiscent of how autistic people like myself can get into bad/awkward situations because we don’t fully understand the unwritten rules of a situation until it’s too late.

 The B-plot surrounding Wesley’s first taste of command is also not bad; not great, but not bad, and it ends up nicely dove-tailing with the A-plot.  It’s concerning that the director of the episode apparently wanted more A-plot to see if Data’s relationship with Sarjenka would progress to Data becoming a threat to others due to his machine nature.  Clearly, the idiot doesn’t understand what Data is a character and person first and foremost, not a machine to be pushed off the proverbial deep-end for drama’s sake.  You want that, go direct a Terminator film.  In Trek, you do character and morality work primarily, and this episode is a good mix of both.  It’s not great, but it’s fine as it is.  I give the episode 8 out of 10.

Episode 16: Q Who

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

On his way back to his quarters, Captain Picard steps off a turbolift and, instead of finding himself in a corridor onboard the Enterprise, ends up on board a shuttlecraft with Q at the controls. Picard demands to be returned to the Enterprise; Q calls him "an impossibly stubborn human" and refuses to take him back until he agrees to at least hear Q's requests. Q then transports them to Ten Forward, where Guinan, who recognizes Q, warns Picard not to trust him. Q reveals that he wants to join the crew to assist them as they push further into unexplored regions of the galaxy, asserting they are not ready for the threats they will encounter. Picard chooses to make their own way into the unknown, and rejects Q's offer. Irritated by Picard's arrogance, Q instantaneously sends the Enterprise thousands of light years across the galaxy, then disappears. Lt. Commander Data reports that the nearest starbase is over two years away at maximum warp. A fearful Guinan warns Picard to set course for home immediately, but Picard is curious to explore.

 The crew discover a nearby planet that shows signs of a previous civilization but has been stripped of all industrial and mechanical elements, similar to destruction found several months ago to Federation outposts bordering the Romulan Neutral Zone. Moments later, they detect and are then met by a large, cube-shaped vessel which does not answer their hails. Guinan warns Picard that the ship belongs to the Borg, a powerful, cyborg-like race that nearly wiped out her people, scattering the survivors across the galaxy, and again urges Picard to leave immediately or face certain destruction. Though Picard orders the Enterprise's shields raised, a single, speechless Borg transports into Engineering and begins to probe the Enterprise's computer systems. Lt. Worf initially attempts to incapacitate the intruder with his phaser set on stun, which has no effect. Worf is forced to use the kill setting in order to neutralize the Borg. Immediately afterwards, a second Borg appears and continues probing the computer, now proving to be completely immune to phaser fire. Completing its mission, it strips several components from the dead Borg, then transports itself and the dead Borg away. The Borg ship contacts the Enterprise and demands their surrender. The Borg then immobilizes the Enterprise with a tractor beam, disables the shields, and uses a cutting beam to slice into the saucer section to remove a cross-section of the ship, killing eighteen people.

 Picard orders return fire, and the Enterprise apparently disables the Borg ship. Against Guinan's advice, Commander Riker takes an away team to the immense Borg cube where they find mostly dormant Borg drones and a Borg nursery. Data discovers that the Borg ship is regenerating and repairing the damage made by the Enterprise. The away team is beamed directly to the bridge, and Picard orders that they depart at maximum warp. The Borg ship suddenly reactivates and begins pursuit, gaining on the Enterprise. Q appears on the bridge and warns Picard that the Borg will never stop chasing them, and cannot be defeated. Picard attempts to fight back against the Borg to no avail, and finally admits he needs Q's help. Q obliges, safely returning the Enterprise to its last position in Federation space. Picard, though thankful for Q's lesson, blames Q for the deaths of his crew. Q disappears, but not before reminding them again of their ill-preparedness. Guinan warns Picard that now that the Borg are aware of the Federation's presence, they will be coming. Picard reflects that perhaps Q did the right thing for the wrong reasons by bringing forward their encounter with the Borg, as it has informed the Federation what lies ahead of them as they continue to explore.

Review:

At last, Q returns to plague Picard’s crew again, only this time it’s a totally different situation, because this time, for the first time in at least TNG if not all Trek up to that point, the lead characters don’t really manage to come out with a win of their own.  Not only does Q throw them up against TNG-original villains the Borg for the first time, but for once the opposition isn’t sized up and worked out within the first segment or two of the show.  This time, Q is proven right about Picard and company being caught unprepared, and only through Picard humbling himself by asking Q’s help does the Enterprise get saved.  However, this time there are loses, which makes it one of the first TNG shows to really try and show the idea of lasting consequences.

 For me, this is where Trek starts to get good because it shows the human-led Federation starship crews of Trek are not invincible.  They are still fallible and can fail, which is important to keep the franchise going over the long term.  As I’ve noted in previous reviews, Roddenberry at times seems to have been almost too optimistic about how far humanity might advance in the world of Trek, so anything that brings his utopian vision of the future a bit closer to reality, anything that provides an appropriate counter-weight of realism, I am all for. For me, this episode gets 9 out of 10.

Episode 17: Samaritan Snare

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

Captain Picard refuses to have a medical operation on his artificial heart on board the Enterprise by Dr Pulaski as he is concerned about his image with the crew. He instead heads to a nearby Starbase for the operation, travelling by shuttlecraft. Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher accompanies him, as he is due to undergo his Starfleet Academy entrance exams. Though initially rebuffing Wesley's attempts to make conversation, Picard eventually softens, and talks of his past, including why he has an artificial heart and needs it replacing.

 Meanwhile, the Enterprise encounters the Mondor, a Pakled ship. The aliens request help to fix their vessel. Based on the Pakleds' rudimentary communication skills and apparent lack of understanding of the basic operations of their ship, Commander Riker judges them to be inept and harmless, and agrees to send Chief Engineer La Forge to assist them. After boarding the Pakled ship, La Forge repairs the navigational system, when main power fails. On the Enterprise, Counsellor Troi, an empath, warns Riker that La Forge is in danger, but Riker dismisses her concerns. Upon finally completing the repairs, La Forge prepares to leave, but a Pakled incapacitates him with his own phaser, and raises the ship's shields. Lt. Commander Data determines that the Pakleds have acquired advanced technology from other races, and the ship's malfunctions were a ruse. Riker demands they return La Forge, but the Pakleds refuse, and stun him again with his phaser. Riker and Lt. Worf develop a ruse of their own, which they communicate to La Forge in code.

 At the Starbase, complications arise during Picard's transplant, and the doctors realize that unless they can locate an expert with the necessary expertise, he will die. As Riker sets up the ruse, Worf receives a message from the Starbase that Picard is close to death. The Pakleds seek to attack the Enterprise, but La Forge convinces the Pakleds to delay firing until a specific range. In response, the Enterprise generates a spectacular but harmless pyrotechnic display, and La Forge simultaneously disables their weapon systems. The Pakleds, convinced they have been defeated, back down and allow La Forge's return and the Enterprise races to the Starbase. Picard is dismayed upon waking up to find that Pulaski has completed his procedure. While Pulaski assures him that she will keep his secret, he returns to the Enterprise's bridge to applause, which he quickly silences.

Review:

As cool as it is to find out Picard used to be a more action-oriented officer in his youth, and paid for it by having to have an artificial heart implanted, the fact is this is some very bad Trek, especially coming on the heels of the previous episode.  Picard’s medical procedure goes wrong for no reason, the concerns of Worf and Troi about the Pakleds, who were a truly abysmal guest-race, weren’t given anything like the credence they should have been, and from start to finish it is just highly forgettable filler.  3 out of 10, next episode please.

Episode 18: Up The Long Ladder

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise receives an automated distress call from satellites orbiting a human colony on the planet Bringloid V, which is in danger from solar flares from its star. The colony turns out to have been founded by the crew of the SS Mariposa, a freighter launched from Earth several hundred years earlier. As the Enterprise approaches the planet, Worf appears to faint on the bridge and is transported to sick bay. When he regains consciousness, he is embarrassed to learn he is suffering a Klingon equivalent of measles. Dr Pulaski agrees to protect his privacy. In gratitude, Worf later approaches her to offer a Klingon tea ceremony. He warns that the tea is deadly to humans and explains it is just a gesture which would be important in his culture. Pulaski suggests he is a romantic, and takes an antidote to allow herself to drink the tea with him safely.

 The "Bringloidi" colony (after brionglóidí, the Irish word for "dreams"), now led by an Irishman named Danilo O'Dell and his hot-tempered daughter Brenna, are followers of an early 22nd century philosopher who advocated returning to a pre-industrial agrarian lifestyle, and when taken aboard the Enterprise, must quickly adapt to the 24th century technology (this is fostered in part by Riker giving Brenna a tour of the ship, ending by washing her feet and implications of more). When the transfer of the colonists is complete, O'Dell informs Picard of another colony, also planted by the Mariposa. The Enterprise proceeds to the second colony, which has named itself "Mariposa" after their ship, half a light year away. The colony's Prime Minister, Walter Granger, is happy to see the Enterprise and welcomes them to visit, so Commander Riker beams down with Lieutenant Worf and Chief Medical Officer Doctor Pulaski.

 The Mariposa colony is strikingly different from the Bringloidi colony, as the Mariposa colonists have kept their advanced technology, and appear refined and cultured in contrast to the Bringloidi's relatively primitive existence. Pulaski quickly ascertains, however, that all of the inhabitants are clones. Granger reveals that their ship crashed while landing, and only five survivors were left to start the colony. As this was insufficient to establish a stable gene pool, and the survivors were all scientists, they turned exclusively to cloning instead, and consequently no longer have any desire for biological reproduction. For almost three centuries, every Mariposan has been a clone derived from one of the five original colonists, and now the colony is in danger of dying out because of replicative fading; each subsequent generation introduces additional minor flaws in the genetic code, which within only a few more generations will make further clones nonviable.

 The Mariposans ask the Enterprise crew for samples of their DNA to create new clones. Riker refuses, as he values his uniqueness, and Picard advises the Mariposans that the rest of the crew is likely to feel the same, so the Mariposans decide to kidnap Riker and Pulaski to steal their DNA instead. Upon discovering this, the away team beams directly to the colony's cloning labs, where they are repulsed to find copies of themselves being grown, which Riker destroys. Granger is furious, and appeals to Picard, but Pulaski argues that a new batch of clones will only delay the inevitable. Instead, she advises that they consider partnering with the Bringloidi to create a viable gene pool. Initially, each colony's leader treats the other society with disdain, but they eventually agree to merge their colonies and disparate cultures.

Review:

This episode is a lot of concepts that are good put into a badly executed mess.  Apparently, the writer of the original draft of the episode was trying to make a comment on the value of immigrants in a positive way, but as a result of re-writes and budget restrictions, the Bringloidi colonists become a very bad stereotype of Irish people as a whole, and I’m amazed Colm Meaney who played Chief O’Brien on the show actually let himself appear in an episode like this.  The episode also drew flak from pro-life advocates because of the scene where Riker destroyed the clones being made without his and Polaski’s consent, as well as lines from Riker about having the right to control his own body.

 To me, however, that part of the episode isn’t really about advocating abortion.  To me, this is actually a metaphor about rape culture; the way in which Riker and Polaski have their DNA taken from them is violent and aggressive, as rape is.  As with rape, the act creates new but fundamentally unwanted life, and as the unwitting progenitors of that news life, Riker and Polaski assert their right to decide if that life should come to term or not.  The only thing I’m really annoyed about here is the lack of apparent penalisation against the Mariposians for their actions.  Then again, given their somewhat bigoted distaste for the Bringloidi, maybe having to combine the two cultures to save the day is a kind of punishment.

 Bottom line, you have to kind of tune out the anti-Irish racism of the episode to hone in what little is good about the episode, namely a good but weak anti-rape, pro-choice plot that also warns against the pitfalls of cloning, and a very short sub-plot around Worf and Polaski where both characters come across quite well.  On balance, I give this episode 4 out of 10.

Episode 19: Manhunt

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise is ordered to escort two Antedean ambassadors to an important conference on the planet Pacifica. The Antedeans are transported aboard in a self-induced catatonic state, to reduce the stress they experience from space travel, along with a plentiful food supply for when they awaken in accordance with their custom.

 En route, the Enterprise is ordered to rendezvous with a shuttlecraft carrying the Betazoid ambassador Lwaxana Troi, mother of ship's counsellor Deanna Troi, and her mute manservant Mr. Homn. Due to his previous experience with her, Captain Picard does not entirely welcome Lwaxana's presence, as she tends to be overbearing and lack tact, but Starfleet's instructions are that she be afforded full diplomatic courtesy. Lwaxana invites Picard to dinner, and he is surprised to find that rather than the formal diplomatic function for the entire senior staff that he expected, it is a romantic setting for just the two of them. Picard evades her advances, inviting android Lt Commander Data to join them and manipulating him into taking over the conversation with long-winded anecdotes.

 Troi explains that her mother has entered "The Phase", a stage in the life of a Betazoid woman when her sex drive drastically increases, and that she is searching for a new husband (having been long-since widowed). Moreover, her telepathy is clouded as a side effect, causing her to misread Picard's thoughts as indicating sexual desire for her. Picard retreats to the Holodeck to hide from her, leaving Commander Riker in charge. Frustrated by Picard's absence, Lwaxana targets Riker instead, and makes a surprise announcement to the bridge crew that they will be married.

 The Antedeans have meanwhile revived, and Riker goes to the holodeck to notify Picard. Lwaxana follows, and having determined that Riker is not interested either, switches her attention to a character from Picard's Dixon Hill simulation, who returns her affections. Picard somewhat reluctantly informs her that her new husband-to-be is merely a holographic projection.

 When the ship arrives at the conference and collected ambassadors prepare to beam down to the planet, Lwaxana offhandedly informs the crew that the Antedeans are actually assassins. Though they deny this, scans show they are carrying explosives, just as Lwaxana indicated, and they are taken into custody. She remarks that while she did not find a new husband, at least she saved the conference, and as she is beaming away, playfully chastises Picard for having "such naughty thoughts" about her, much to his dismay.

Review:

This episode is another poor one, and all because they brought back the boss’ wife.  Yep, the actress playing Lwaxana Troi, Majel Barrett, was married to Gene Roddenberry in real life, and according to Memory Alpha’s notes, accommodating her more into the script meant the original plan to do a more noir-oriented story with Picard on the holodeck as Dixon Hill got relegated to a relatively minor part of the episode.  To my mind, this is why they should have picked someone else to play Deanna Troi’s mother; not only would almost any other actress have been far, far less annoying, but that annoyance would not then take up an undue share of the episode because of the inherent nepotism in her being hired.

 This again just shows why Roddenberry leaving Trek helped it to improve; just imagine how good an episode this could have been if it hadn’t gone through numerous revisions just to placate his wife.  To my mind, if you’re going to make any kind of entertainment that’s good, you check your family connections at the door and do what is best for that entertainment, and anyone who can’t do that doesn’t belong in show business.  This episode is testament to that simple and unequivocal reality.  I give it only 2 out of 10.

[alicemccombs]

I Ching for the Day

61 Chung Fu / Inner Truth Changing to 10 Lu / Treading (Conduct) 

May 7, 2019 Sunrise Waxing Moon Question: What does Earth need most to be healed at this time? 61 Chung Fu / Inner Truth Changing to 10 Lu / Treading (Conduct) Cast Hexagram

61 Chung Fu / Inner Truth https://ichingfortune.com/hexagrams/61.php Above Sun the Gentle, Wind Below Tui the Joyous, Lake Introduction The wind blows over the lake and stirs the surface of the water. Thus visible effects of the invisible manifest themselves. The hexagram consists of firm lines above and below, while it is open in the center. This indicates a heart free of prejudices and therefore open to truth. On the other hand, each of the two trigrams has a firm line in the middle; this indicates the force of inner truth in the influences they present. The attributes of the two trigrams are: above, gentleness, forbearance toward inferiors; below, joyousness in obeying superiors. Such conditions create the basis of a mutual confidence that makes achievements possible. The character of fu ('truth') is actually the picture of a bird's foot over a fledgling. It suggests the idea of brooding. An egg is hollow. The light-giving power must work to quicken it from outside, but there must be a germ of life within, if life is to be awakened. Far-reaching speculations can be linked with these ideas. Judgement Inner Truth. Pigs and fishes. Good fortune. It furthers one to cross the great water. Perseverance furthers. Judgement Commentary Pigs and fishes are the least intelligent of all animals and therefore the most difficult to influence. The force of inner truth must grow great indeed before its influence can extend to such creatures. In dealing with persons as intractable and as difficult to influence as a pig or a fish, the whole secret of success depends on finding the right way of approach. One must first rid oneself of all prejudice and, so to speak, let the psyche of the other person act on one without restraint. Then one will establish contact with him, understand and gain power over him. When a door has thus been opened, the force of one's personality will influence him. If in this way one finds no obstacles insurmountable, one can undertake even the most dangerous things, such as crossing the great water, and succeed. But it is important to understand upon what the force inner truth depends. This force is not identical with simple intimacy or a secret bond. Close ties may exist also among thieves; it is true that such a bond acts as a force but, since it is not invincible, it does not bring good fortune. All association on the basis of common interests holds only up to a certain point. Where the community of interest ceases, the holding together ceases also, and the closest friendship often changes into hate. Only when the bond is based on what is right, on steadfastness, will it remain so firm that it triumphs over everything. The Image Wind over lake: the image of Inner Truth. Thus the superior man discusses criminal cases in order to delay executions. Image Commentary Wind stirs water by penetrating it. Thus the superior man, when obliged to judge the mistakes of men, tries to penetrate their minds with understanding, in order to gain a sympathetic appreciation of the circumstances. In ancient China, the entire administration of justice was guided by this principle. A deep understanding that knows how to pardon was considered the highest form of justice. This system was not without success, for its aim was to make so strong a moral impression that there was no reason to fear abuse of such mildness. For it sprang not from weakness but from a superior clarity. Changing Line (4) Six in the fourth place means: The moon nearly at the full. The team horse goes astray. No blame. To intensify the power of inner truth, a man must always turn to his superior, from whom he can receive enlightenment as the moon receives light form the sun. However, this requires a certain humility, like that of the moon when it is not yet quite full. At the moment when the moon becomes full and stands directly opposite the sun, it begins to wane. Just as on the one hand we must be humble and reverent when face to face with the source of enlightenment, so likewise must we on the other renounce factionalism among men. Only be pursuing one's course like a horse that goes straight ahead without looking sidewise at its mate, can one retain the inner freedom that helps one onward. Changing only this line creates Hexagram 10 - Lu / Treading (conduct). To learn we must be humble enough to accept instruction. Sitting at the feet of the master is a long practiced method of gaining wisdom. Legge agrees with Wilhelm, if in an opaque way. The resultant hexagram 10, Treading (conduct), shows us that the teacher we seek instruction from will tolerate our approach and further our quest which will proceed successfully. Transformed Hexagram 10 Lu / Treading (Conduct) https://ichingfortune.com/hexagrams/10.php Above Ch'ien the Creative, Heaven Below Tui the Joyous, Lake Introduction The name of the hexagram means on the one hand the right way of conducting oneself. Heaven, the father, is above, and the lake, the youngest daughter, is below. This shows the difference between high and low, upon which composure correct social conduct, depends. On the other hand the word for the name of the hexagram, Treading, means literally treading upon something. The small and cheerful [Tui] treads upon the large and strong [Ch'ien]. The direction of movement of the two primary trigrams is upward. The fact that the strong treads on the weak is not mentioned in the Book of Changes, because it is taken for granted. For the weak to take a stand against the strong is not dangerous here, because it happened in good humor [Tui] and without presumption, so that the strong man is not irritated but takes it all in good part. Judgement Treading. Treading upon the tail of the tiger. It does not bite the man. Success. Judgement Commentary The situation is really difficult. That which is strongest and that which is weakest are close together. The weak follows behind the strong and worries it. The strong, however, acquiesces and does not hurt the weak, because the contact is in good humor and harmless. In terms of a human situation, one is handling wild, intractable people. In such a case one's purpose will be achieved if one behaves with decorum. Pleasant manners succeed even with irritable people. The Image Heaven above, the lake below: The image of Treading. Thus the superior man discriminates between high and low and thereby fortifies the thinking of the people. Image Commentary Heaven and the lake show a difference of elevation that inheres in the natures of the two, hence no envy arises. Among mankind also there are necessarily differences of elevation; it is impossible to bring about universal equality. But it is important that differences in social rank should not be arbitrary and unjust, for if this occurs, envy and class struggle are the inevitable consequences. If, on the other hand, external differences in rank correspond with differences in inner worth, and if inner worth forms the criterion of external rank, people acquiesce and order reigns in society.

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[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.