#ch al ev

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 7

Pairings: Slow Burn Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NS/FW, f!reader, language, reader thinks Bucky’s name is Nick, fake names (for now, coming to an end soon, I promise), reader is referred to by her stage name, everybody has secrets, reader is insecure, Bucky is a lovable menace, reader is an ex*tic dancer, conversation about int!mate details, D/$ dynamic and talk, d@ddy k!nk, slight reference to 0r/al, slow burn relationship. There will be many, many more warnings for future chapters including maf!a and all the stuff that comes with that.

A/N- this is a long one...but we’re here >:D

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NS/FW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Previous- Chapter 6

Chapter 7

“Truth or dare,” he teased, the ever-present challenging grin on his lips. 

That damn challenge in his smile again....it was the fire igniting underneath the rocket before take off; awesome, a little frightening... explosive. 

You smoothed your hands down the lush purple silk resting against your thighs, trying to appear cool and not at all like you were wiping your sweaty palms off. You’d sort of not expected Nick to have a driver, but realized after everything he’d told you this week, it made sense. He was always on the go, always busy with work, so why wouldn’t he have one so he could keep working instead of driving? One night this past week, he was actually on the phone when you walked into the Champagne Room, then had forgotten to put it on airplane mode after he ended the call. You swore that damn thing buzzed ten times in the next fifteen seconds. He was a busy, busy man.

As if he was reading your mind, or maybe your eyes had given you away again, who knows, Nick nodded to the driver. “This is Steve,” he said, by way of an introduction. “He’s my right hand man. He’s my own personal Amex card- never leave home without him.” Nick grinned at the man cheekily. 

You caught a fleeting glimpse of Steve’s eyes shooting Nick a slightly annoyed look in the rearview mirror, before his eyes returned to the road. “Miss,” he said by way of an introduction in a low, respectful tone. 

“Pleased to meet you, Steve. I’m...” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Nick perk up slightly. “...Angel,” you finished promptly, letting your lips curve into your own secretive smile. You almost giggled out loud when Nick gave a slight huff, pouting and dropping back against the seat. A muscle twitched in Steve’s cheek. 

“Well, I have to say that I’m glad you didn’t tell him your real name,” Nick said pompously, making it even harder for you to control your giggle. “If you’d given it up to him immediately after all the hard work I’ve done, my feelings would be...just so hurt.” He placed one of his gloved hands on his chest dramatically, pretending to hold back the tears. You couldn’t help it. The silliness and the sweetness of the moment made you burst out with the giggles you’d been holding back. He rewarded you with that heartbeat altering smile and a chuckle of his own. 

You pulled up in front of an innocuous building, a simple sign bearing the word ‘Saporito’ over the double doors and heavily tinted windows. Nick chivalrously took your hand, helping you to step out of the car. His hand gently rested on the small of your back as you two made your way to the door. A thrill zinged through your blood at the feeling of his small moment of dominance and you inhaled just the tiniest bit at it. A host opened the door as you approached, nodding respectfully at Nick. Clearly, he knew the guy. You tucked that information away for later. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Steve exchanging a quick word with the valet, then following you both at a distance. 

The moment you got through the doors, you instantly realized that you were in the most upscale restaurant that you’d ever been in before. The front desk was a cream marble half round, being manned by a lovely hostess with a slick blonde updo. A thick, luxurious, deep gray carpet with a silver swirling details spread out before you, which surprised you- you’d never seen carpet in a restaurant before. The softness under your feet was surprisingly soothing, and after taking two steps in your wedge heels, you understood. It absorbed sound, letting the sweet lilt of classical piano music fill the air instead of the click of heels and dress shoes. A softly glowing magnificent chandelier lit the entry way, and the light ricocheted off the rich dark silver and mahogany walls. It was so simple yet so elegant that it took your breath away. And you paused, only for a heartbeat. 

But of course, Nick picked up on it. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Do you not like this restaurant?”

You shook your head slightly, not really sure how to say this, but finally just settled on the truth. “Um, I don’t think...I’m fancy enough to be here,” you whispered to him, your cheeks flushing crimson. Sure you were wearing the fanciest dress you owned- that you’d gotten super lucky at in the clearance section. Your shoes were in good condition even though they were at least 6 years old because you didn’t have much cause to wear them. How the hell were you supposed to fit in in such an upscale place like this? 

Nick smiled gently at you, then took your hand and tucked it underneath his arm. “You are,” he said kindly but firmly. “You absolutely are ‘fancy’ enough to be here.” He led you right to the podium. “Evening, Yelena,” he said politely to the hostess.

“Good evening, sir,” she said with professional courtesy. A tiny part of you twinged with jealousy at hearing someone else call him ‘sir’. Oh my god get over yourself, you snarled inwardly. He’s not yours. Yet.

Completely oblivious to your self-mental castigation, Yelena continued. “Your room is ready for you.” From her tone, it was obvious they knew each other, or had some sort of professional relationship.

“Makkari?”

“Ready as requested, sir.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

Yelena nodded back, and turned to you with a warm smile. She opened her mouth, but then shut it quickly, before stepping out from behind the podium. “Follow me, please,” she said courteously, then turned and began walking. 

Your insides quaked. There had been nothing judgmental in her smile at you, but it was obvious she had stopped herself from saying something. It had to be something about your appearance, the nasty voice in your head snarled at you. You were right- you had no place being here. You looked at the ground, calling upon your devil-may-care persona to get you through this moment. 

“She was about to ask to take your coat,” Nick whispered to you suddenly, shocking you back to normal. Your eyes darted to his smirking grin. Man, he really did notice everything. “She realized you didn’t have one.” Now he arched his eyebrow at you a bit. “Why don’t you have one?” he said calmly, but there was an undercurrent to it that made you shiver, just once. 

Completely thrown by the upheaval of your insecurities, Nick’s observation, and the feeling that you still didn’t belong, you couldn’t do anything other than stutter. “I don’t...need one?” you said, still flummoxed. To your surprise, Nick’s lips pinched at that, but he didn’t say anything. He just tucked your hand closer to his body and followed Yelena. 

You were led to a private room, small but not claustrophobia-inducing. A floaty silver silk tablecloth covered the small square table in the center, with a low glass bowl of freshly cut white gardenias gracing the top. Nick moved swiftly in front of you to pull the mahogany chair out for you. You sat down extremely carefully. The seat looked like it was covered in black silk, and even though you were a well coordinated dancer, your upheaving feelings could easily make you a klutz and you’d slide right off the damn thing. 

“Two glasses of the Montrachet Grand Cru, if you don’t mind,” he said offhandedly to Yelena as he sat himself. 

“Right away, sir,” she said with pleasant efficiency. “Makkari will bring them out momentarily.” She turned to you again, offering you her warm smile. “Enjoy,” she said, before shutting the door behind her. 

As the doorjamb clicked, it suddenly dawned on you. “You own this place, don’t you?” you asked, the penny dropping. 

Nick smiled and nodded. “One of my ventures is in the restaurant industry. Not the greatest money maker, but we’ve done alright.” You could sense something lurking behind his smile as he said it, but couldn’t tell what it might be. “That’s why I was worried that you didn’t like it at first. Can’t have my places carrying a bad rap.”

You laughed. “As if this place could be anything but amazing. Your staff is probably thinking you’re crazy for bringing someone like me here.”

Nick’s eyes iced over before locking onto yours. You suddenly felt like a little girl who had just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Why do you think that?” he said, in that low, silky tone that he’d used before when asking why you didn’t have a coat. “You’re absolutely stunning. You look incredible, you’re funny as hell, you’re sweet and kind, and besides- it’s MY place. They wouldn’t dare,” he said, in that mellifluous yet dangerous tone. “If they think anything like that, they’ll find themselves out on their asses. Got it?”

“Ye-yes sir,” you said without thinking. His gaze was still locked onto you, but the ice left his eyes. He tilted his head, studying you. 

“Why do you think so negatively about yourself, Angel?” he asked in a soft, calm tone- this time, without the undercurrent of tension. “This isn’t the first time it’s come up this past week. I don’t like it when you do that. I want you to stop.” You found yourself completely at a loss for words. You wanted to answer, to ask him a million questions (the biggest one being why he cared about how you thought about yourself), to find someway to laugh it off and change the subject, but your brain had completely abandoned you when you needed it the most just like it had been doing all week. “And that’s part of what I want to talk about tonight.”

Wait-what?

Just then, the door to the room opened, making you jump a mile. A beautiful young woman dressed entirely in black entered quickly, bearing a tray with two glasses of white wine. She beamed at the both of you as she set the wine in front of you. She turned to Nick with a flurry of her hands. You suddenly realized that she was signing to him. And even more to your surprise, Nick signed right back to her. That’s right- you’d forgotten that he told you he knew a bit of sign language when you two had talked about other languages you knew this past week. You watched, fascinated. He had been modest- he clearly knew more than a ‘bit’. There was something so subtly beautiful about the communication between their hands- it was mesmerizing. Makkari turned to you with that beaming smile and began signing to you. You panicked for a moment, before Nick began to translate. 

“Angel, this is Makkari. She says ‘welcome to Saporito’, and would like to know if you have any dietary restrictions.” You shook your head, smiling back at Makkari’s warmth. Makkari responded with a smile and another flurry of hand signs that Nick translated. “She says that chef’s specials tonight are Scallopine di Pollo Marsala, which is chicken scallopine in a cream of artichoke marsala sauce with roasted potatoes, Stinco Di Agnello Con Risotto, a braised lamb shank osso buco with parmesan risotto, and Linguine Nere Al Gamberi, which is house-made black linguine with shrimp in a spicy red sauce.”

“Um, the chicken dish, please,” you said softly, knowing there was no way you were going to remember the fancy name that came along with it, let alone how to try to sign it to her. She nodded at you with a wide smile, clearly able to read lips. Nick smiled that secretive smile of his, and confirmed your order, adding his own in the process. Makkari signed back to him, then turned and gave you a sassy thumbs up with a wink and a grin, making you giggle. That seemed to make the lovely server even happier, and she disappeared in a flash. Nick rolled his eyes, but couldn’t suppress his grin at her cheekiness. 

“Geez, can’t even get my own staff to be professional...” he complained, but it was obvious he was teasing. “I gotta visit this place more often and get them back into shape.”

“Did you know sign language before you hired Makkari?” you asked. 

“Only a little. Once she came on board, though, I took a course to refresh myself. I’m actually here quite often, and she always waits on me, so I stay pretty up to date with it.”

“It was impressive, you rattling off all those fancy Italian dishes like that.”

“Full disclosure, I called them earlier to find out what they’d be serving and I’ve been practicing all day so i could impress you. Glad to know it worked.” You tried to stifle your laughter, sure it wouldn’t be welcome in such a fancy place. Nick chuckled at your obvious squirming. “The room is sound proof. Laugh all you want to.” Which of course was all the permission it took, and you laughed out loud while Nick looked very smugly proud of himself. 

Once you settled down, you wiped your eyes daintily with the fine linen napkin. “Well, even with practice, it was still beautiful to watch. Certain words you both used reminded me of bharatanatyam.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a traditional Indian dance style. It originated in Tamil Nadu, and the word derives from their words meaning expression and dance. It’s thought to be one of the most communicative and expressive dance styles in the world.”

“And of course you’ve studied that one too.”

“A bit. I more enjoy watching it, it’s beyond brilliant and so engaging.”

“As are you when you dance.”

That sent a blush tearing through you again, and you looked down demurely. “Thank you,” you said, trying to hide your smile at how much that compliment meant to you. 

“Hmmm. Seems like we’ll need to work on that, too.”

“On what?”

“Trying to hide anytime someone compliments you.”

Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t jump to conclusions.... “What...exactly do you mean?” you said carefully, knotting your hands together tightly in your lap. 

Nick sighed, reaching for his wine glass, but he didn’t pick it up. He twisted the stem back and forth, watching the white wine swirl in the glass as he answered you. “Look, tonight...tonight is going to be about...honesty,” he said in a low, carefully controlled voice. “I’m going to be honest with you, and I’ll need you to be honest with me. Do you understand?”

“Um...I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but...have I...given you any impression that I’ve not been honest with you this whole week?” you asked bravely, despite the stuttering it took to get the words out. “Because if I have, I’m sorry. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”

Nick’s clear blue eyes met yours, and you were relieved to see that warm, shy smile there. “I know,” he said gently. “I know you’ve been honest with me. And it’s remarkably refreshing. That’s one of the reasons....that I feel so strongly for you already.” Every nerve in your body came alive again, firing all at once as the zing of ecstasy raced through your blood. Holy shit. He had feelings for you. And he just admitted it. IN PUBLIC. Okay, in a private sound proof room with no one else around but STILL. “I have things to tell you tonight. And I need your continued honesty with me. Can you give me that?”

“Ye-yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“Well, you have to admit that was a bit of a red-flag statement. Suddenly saying that you were going to be honest with me TONIGHT after spending a whole week telling me things,” you said bluntly. When his lips pinched together, you held up your hands in an innocent and surrendering gesture. “Hey, you said you wanted honesty.”

Nick’s lips suddenly turned up, and he gave a low, throaty laugh. “That I did. Well, good to know you’re being a good girl and listening.” And you couldn’t help it- when he said ‘good girl’, all the zing in your blood immediately centralized between your thighs. And you squirmed. And you knew in an instant he saw. You knew because those sinfully delicious lips of his cracked into that wicked, mischievous smile. It seemed to confirm something for him, and he plowed ahead. “So. It’s time to get honest about something that we’ve yet to discuss.”

“And...what’s that?” you asked nervously. 

Nick leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and locking his hands together, looking you dead in the eye. “All your life, you’ve been the one taking care of others. Haven’t you? Your parents, your friends, past partners, even to some extent your teachers and coaches.”

You thought of all the stories you’d told him this week about growing up (and about all the stories that you HADN’T told him) and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess I have,” you admitted softly.

“You are always the one picking up the pieces, setting things right, making everyone else happy and comfortable. You’re going above and beyond for everyone else except yourself.”

“Well, that’s a bit of a stretch. You’re making me out to be some kind of saint.”

“You are named ‘Angel’,” he replied with that damn cheeky grin. “A name you picked yourself, might I add.”

“Yeah, but that-”

“Shhh, I’m on a roll,” he said pompously, making you giggle again. “So you’ve spent your life always giving to others. And I think it’s because you don’t think you’re worthy of it yourself.” Your eyes could not have gotten any wider. Between the audacity of his statement, the annoying fact that he was right, and the fact that he somehow knew this about you, you were literally at a loss for words. “So I want a chance to flip the script on you.” His ocean blue eyes drank your face in as he continued. The honest intensity behind his words was darkly captivating. “I want you to be with me. I want to take care of you, to help you, to give you a chance to see that you’re worth it. I want you to be mine. Because there is something about you that absolutely fascinates me, and I want to know every part of it. It’s something I’ve never seen before. I need to know everything about you.” He leaned back again, taking a breath before smiling widely. “Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘colpo di fulmine’?” 

“No...is...is that...Italian?” was all you could get out, your mind somewhere between wild elation and Chernobyl as you struggled to stay in the moment. 

“It is. It’s a Sicilian expression meaning ‘struck by a thunderbolt’. And that’s how I felt the first time I met you. Like I’d been hit by a thunderbolt. And it was...incredible.” Nick leaned back, trying to figure out his next words and struggling. His eyes darted around as he got more and more agitated. You furrowed your brow- he normally was so smooth and he never struggled for words... 

“Look, I’m just gonna say it,” he finally spat out, clearly annoyed with himself. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Sorry if that’s not all politically correct and shit, but you need to know that’s how I feel before I say this next part. You’re hot as hell, don’t get me wrong, but there was something else that gave me the thunderbolt. There was something about the way you danced on that night that....well, frankly, I haven’t been able to think about anything else clearly since then,” he said bluntly. “And I NEED to be able to think and talk clearly in my line of work. With one dance, you’ve rendered me speechless. That has never happened to me before.” You suddenly remembered him tripping over his words on that first night and how mad he’d been at himself- he’d done a huge shot of bourbon just to get his thoughts back on track. His eyes finally settled back on you, now that he’d gotten his words out of the way. “You fascinate me. Something about you draws me in. I have never, not once, asked for a second night in the Champagne Room with anyone. And even after a week, it’s still not enough. I have to know. I have to know all about the world that you keep locked inside you, that only comes out when you dance for yourself.” He leaned back, reverting to the charmer. “So what do you say?”

The silence hung in the air between you as your brain pinged in a thousand directions like a malfunctioning pinball machine. You reminded yourself to breathe and blink, but that was all your were capable of doing at the moment. Which of course signaled the perfect moment for Makkari to enter with your entrees. 

As the door opened, you jumped a freaking mile again, turning Hooker Lipstick Red in the process. Makkari pretended not to notice, placing a dish in front of you that made your mouth immediately water from the look and smell of it. She placed Nick’s down as well. He put the tips of his fingers to his chin and then brought his hand forward, smiling at Makkari. “Is that thank you?” you blurted out, your brain finally deciding to work again. He smiled at you and nodded. You turned to Makkari, repeating the gesture. She gave you a huge smile, as if she’d been touched by your consideration. She signed the same gesture back, and shot Nick a quick grin before speeding off again. 

After watching her leave, you turned your attention back to Nick. “Did I do it wrong? Is that why she signed it back?” you asked worriedly. 

“No,” he said, chuckling. “That’s a common response to ‘thank you’ in ASL. It means she acknowledges your thanks and thanks you back.” He picked up his fork, still grinning. “See? This is what I’m talking about. I just told you that you’re gorgeous and that I want to be with you, that no one has ever made me feel this way, that you’ve hit me like a thunderbolt, and the only thing I can get out of you is to make sure that Makkari understood your thanks.”

“Oh god,” you suddenly said, panic gripping you again. “I don’t mean to make you think that I-”

“Relax,” he teased, chuckling. “It was a lot to drop on you all at once, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” you replied faintly, making him laugh again. He gestured to your wine. “Well, have a drink, and let me talk you into accepting my offer while we eat.” You reached for your glass and downed it in one, the hurricane in your brain still going full blast. Nick just laughed kindly at that. You ignored him and dug into your chicken as he requested. 

Oh my god. 

“This is the best thing I have ever had in my mouth in my life,” you said without thinking, completely blown away by the incredible taste. Suddenly realizing the unintentional double entredre, your eyes shot to his. Of course he caught it. He had that smarmy, shit eating grin on his face, which only got wider as you blushed deeper. Well, fuck. You willed the blood flushing your cheeks to return to the rest of your body as you ate and prayed he wouldn’t comment, otherwise your ovaries were goners. Thankfully, Makkari came back in to check on you two, refilling your glasses and giving you a much needed moment to breathe.

In between bites once she left, Nick kept the conversation going. “So. I suppose I should explain what I mean when I say I want to take care of you?” he asked, forthright. Your nervous gaze darted up to his. 

“Yeah, I’d...be interested to know what you mean,” you said, trying to appear brave. There was no way that he could possibly mean what you desperately hoped he meant. Dreams didn’t actually come true. 

Nick ran his gloved finger along his bottom lip as he thought, then carefully spoke. “I want to...take care of you in many ways. I want to financially provide for you, yes, but I want more than to just be a ‘sugar daddy’.” The way your thighs pressed together when he said ‘daddy’... “I want to help you get rid of all this negative garbage that’s in your head. I want to see what you would find yourself capable of if you weren’t standing in your own way. I want to give you instructions, and help you follow them. I want to set your mind free. I want to be the one to do it.”

You had slowly laid your fork down as he spoke. You hadn’t thought it could be true. But, reading between the lines, you heard what he was actually saying. “You’re a Dominant,” you said softly, but firmly. 

His eyebrows slowly rose to his hairline, but the twinkle sparked in his eye. “You’re familiar with the terms,” he said cautiously, gauging your reaction. 

“I am,” you said just as cautiously back. Steady now...

“Well then, that makes this a hell of a lot easier,” he said with his smug grin, very pleased. You laughed as the tension broke in the room, and tried to casually go on eating as he continued. “I’m not a typical Dominant, not in the sense most people think. I like rules, and I like to be obeyed. I like rewarding you when you behave, and punishing you when you don’t. But I don’t want to control every aspect of your life- that becomes really boring, really fast. But I KNOW I can get you to face whatever this is inside you that’s making you feel like shit. I hate watching you upset, I hate watching you take pot-shots at yourself. I want to change that. Call it...my own personal challenge,” he finished with a sudden cheeky grin. 

“Truth or dare,” you teased back, taking a sip of wine and praying he didn’t notice your hand shaking. “So...you’re a bit of a soft Dom who’s not into total power exchange.” At that, his eyebrows shot up quickly in surprise. 

“You DO know what you’re talking about,” he murmured, impressed. “How many Doms have you had before?”

Your eyes drifted to the table. It was your turn to roll the stem of your glass in your fingers as you thought about your answer. “This is a convoluted answer,” you began carefully, “You’re not going to get a number out of me, if that’s what you’re asking for. But if I’m being completely honest..none, as I’ve never really had a good one.” You took a sip of wine to wet your parched mouth before continuing. “I’ve had guys try, but they were either trying to placate me and they couldn’t do it, or they went too hard too fast and didn’t understand all the intricacies of the role-that it’s not about beating someone into submission and making them feel as much pain as possible.”

“No one has ever taken care of you,” Nick said softly, leaning back in his chair. “I was right, wasn’t I?” Your only answer was your masked smile- to hear it said so bluntly yet with tenderness was bringing you to the point of tears. He leaned forward, reaching his hand across the table to you. As if you couldn’t help it, you placed your hand into his immediately. His gloved thumb brushed soothingly across the back of your hand. “I want to do that for you. You deserve that. You deserve so much more, but...I just want to start here. Let me. Accept my offer.” He swallowed hard. “Please.”

You looked into those spell-binding blue eyes. You already knew what your answer was, what your entire being was screaming for. But there was still one sticking point. And you had to know.

“Please tell me your name,” you almost whispered. 

He stilled, just for a moment. “Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” he said, echoing his offer from last night. His grip tightened on your hand, just a bit. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and told him your name. 

His face broke out with a dazzling smile. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Absolutely beautiful. But...I’m going to keep calling you Angel, because that’s what I see when I see you.” He brought your hand to his lips, effectively putting an end to the words you were going to say- whether it was to argue for or against him continuing to call you Angel, who could say. All you could think about was those electrifying lips that had captivated you last night pressing against your hand so lovingly. This had to be a dream. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, kissing your hand almost desperately, before letting you go with a sigh. He leaned back heavily into his chair, his eyes boring into yours. You didn’t understand the sudden spark of fear that you saw there, but you saw the moment it morphed into resolution. He removed the glove from his left hand and tossed it casually on the table, then let his hand rest on the table.

The first thing you caught was the flash of silver. Was it another glove, or some kind of unique jewelry? You suddenly realized his hand itself was silver as he twisted and turned it, not saying a word, watching your every move. You suddenly realized what exactly you were looking at. 

Colpo di fulmine. 

But in a very, very different way than his. Yours was terrifying.

It began coming together in your brain like one of those equations from A Beautiful Mind, the horror growing as each piece of the puzzle fell into place. “CEO” of “many companies”, all of various professions that didn’t make sense together. Sound proof rooms with deaf waiters- so no one could hear you. Exorbitant wealth. Business owner who took no shit. Never having to explain himself to anyone. Constantly busy, constantly in demand. Right hand man who he never left home without. Someone who could wave Fury away without a glance. And the disturbing rumors and whispers on the message boards in the darkest corners of the internet from last night, with what you assumed had to be an urban legend, because there was no way it could possibly be real. And you were right. This wasn’t a dream. It was turning into a nightmare. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been plunged into a bucket of ice water and you couldn’t move. You only had three words left. 

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” you whispered in terror.

Chapter 8

#mafia bucky #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #MOB BOSS BUCKY #mob boss bucky barnes #mob!boss bucky #mob!boss bucky barnes #mob boss bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes x reader #mob!boss bucky x reader #mob!boss bucky barnes x reader

[silverwhittlingknife]

thank you @river-bottom-nightmare for the tag!! <333

WIP Files Game

RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have WIPs

The Jason fic

the Damian one with amnesia

Tim dies in RR 12

Dick in disguise coming to bail out “Alvin Draper”

New 52 characters meet old universe ones

the Ra’s al-Ghul + archeology one

possibly-real-tim

Prodigal 2

Trainsurfing adjacent

Pre-earthquake? Hate to think you deceived us then

No Man’s Land: Tim moves to Central City

GK [before Last Laugh] Panic attack

Battle for the Cowl / Red Robin

photograph finale

rld ch 8 + 9? tim&dick + alfred & damian

a bunch of Damian drafts

rld organization hell 2

[also bunch of "untitled" documents, some of which contain fanfic but i'm not sure which ones because i haven't organized them sdfdsfs]

also I'm combining because @ev-arrested tagged me in a different game (hi, nice to meet you!) where you post an excerpt from one of your wips so here is a bit from "Untitled 52"

Dick can be really stupid about injuries, it’s scary, he’s almost as bad as Bruce and just as stubborn.  But saying so wouldn’t go over well, so Tim shuts up as ordered and lets Dick give him ragged and unnecessary stitches.  Dick’s breathing heavily by the end because he shouldn’t be sitting up, and Tim curls his hand into a fist to stop himself from trying to make him lie back down.  

i am bad at tagging uhhhh @bitimdrake @flybynightwing @upswings @birdchildsnest @forestlingincorporated @havendance @scintillyyy @umbrellacam @wufflesvetinari hi! any projects you feel like sharing? no pressure lmk if you'd rather not be tagged <3

#i am hoping maybe this will inspire me to actually make some progress on something sdfsfdsf #@river-bottom-nightmare hi i am the world's slowest person at tag games dsfdsfds #but i am very very curious about the 'it’s wednesday my dudes YET AGAIN' fic #is it a time loop please let it be a time loop i love time loops *vibrates* #tag game

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 60: Camellia Station

SUNDAY - WINTER 14

When Achilles woke, Alex was gone, but he knew better than to worry. He slipped on a pair of socks and padded to the kitchen. No, Alex wasn’t the type to slip silently into the night without a goodbye, he was more likely to—ah yes. There it was. 

Alex, dressed in an old crewneck of Achilles’, standing at a sizzling stove, spatula in hand. 

The sight of Alex in his clothes, as chaste as their night had been, brought a small tickle to Achilles’ stomach, and after taking just a beat to admire the view, he called “Morning,” from the doorway. “Raiding my closet, I see. Just can’t help but rifle through my things, can you?” 

Alex (and Voltaire, who was waiting patiently at Alex’s feet) turned, a wide grin already plastered across his face. “It’s good stuff. Hey, by the way, you don’t have an apron.” 

“Why would I need an apron to boil an egg?” 

“I’m not wearing, like, one of your $500 sweaters am I?” 

“No, it was free. Got it at a signing years and years ago.”

“You’re not lying to me are you?” 

“It’s got a bookstore logo on the back, Al.” 

“I don’t know, don’t rich people sometimes pay a lot of money for things that look free.” 

God, how easy it was still to talk to him. Achilles gave a snort before disappearing back into the bedroom to change and brush his teeth. 

When he returned, Alex was setting two plates down on the table, each complete with pancakes, two fried eggs, and some hashbrowns. 

Achilles scooted his seat forward and gave the yolk a poke, letting it run into the potatoes. “Is making breakfast the morning after part of the Handbook as well?” 

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he poured Achilles a glass of milk. “I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date, you really think my grandpa had instructions for ‘staying the night’ and ‘the morning after?’ I shouldn’t even be here.” 

“So you’re breaking the rules, huh?” 

“Only for you, Ash.” 

“No, no, don’t try to flatter me this time.” Achilles waved his fork at Alex who was now digging into his plate. “You broke them for Tanya, didn’t you?” 

“Huh?” 

Oh. Shit. 

“Ah. I…” Achilles sighed and set down his fork. “I must confess, I ran into you. Well, not ‘ran into’ because you didn’t see me, I suppose you could say I was snooping—”

“—How the turn tables—”

“—but I saw you and Tanya at the beginning of the season. When she dropped you off in the parking lot that morning.” 

Alex blinked several times, as if trying to remember the aforementioned events. Only after he swallowed a rather hefty bite of pancake did he exclaim, “Oh.” 

“I’m not mad,” Achilles hurried to say. “Or upset. Just to be clear. Not that I have any right to be mad, anyway. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“No, I… I was…” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“No, I mean, if I’m honest, I guess I… almost kind of forgot about that.”

Huh. Well clearly it meant nothing, then. 

“She just asked me if I wanted to go to a concert after work, and one thing just… led to another, I guess, maybe I figured I’d… Actually. I don’t really know why I did it. I’m really sorry—”

“Yoba, don’t fucking apologize.” Achilles pinched his nose. “Al, you’re obviously allowed to date other people and…” Experiment? Fuck, what’s the right word… 

“After Spirit’s Eve, I had this… dream. About… you. And I just… well I panicked, a little. At the time, I just chalked it up to the alcohol and stuff, like we’ve all had weird dreams… but you know, looking back, maybe I… maybe I started liking you a lot earlier than I thought I did. Like, maybe my body had caught on before my brain or something… It’s not that I… hate that I’m… gay.” Alex frowned—his expression darkened for a second before he added firmly, “I’m not my grandpa.

“But I just… well. Like I said last night, I just didn’t believe I could have… feelings for another guy. Like outside of senior year of high school for like five minutes, the thought had never even crossed my mind. 

“And I think I just panicked, you know. Was confused for a day, there. And when she asked me out, I think a part of me was just desperate to prove to myself that I was… normal? No, I know, I know, that’s the wrong word, but I mean, I guess I just… I wanted to try and see if I could actually feel some way about a person—about a girl. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I did it because I just… didn’t know what I wanted. Or, thought I was supposed to want something that I didn’t actually want but wanted to test that out—that didn’t make sense, I don’t know. But it didn’t mean anything, shit, I’m sorry—” 

“You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself, Al.” Achilles bumped Alex’s foot from under the table. He sighed, lay his fork back next to his plate and shook his head. “You know, I sometimes forget how lucky I was… How easy I had it growing up. I never really questioned anything, I think I always just knew… And I never worried about how my parents would react. Everyone’s got their own journey, right? Don’t apologize for taking your time with yours.” 

*****

“Any plans for today? Or is it just getting ready for tonight?” 

Achilles sighed and tossed a clumsily re-folded napkin to the left of his empty plate. “Do I ever have plans these days? Might go for a run later, I’m feeling a bit antsy. Likely vicarious nervous energy…” 

“What have you got to be nervous about?” 

“Well nothing, really. That’s why it’s vicarious.” 

“Come on, Ash, you know I don’t know the meaning of any words with four or more syllables.” 

“Oh, it’s just like… hmm, like when you experience or feel something second hand, like through somebody else’s experiences. I know Elliott’s probably freaking the fuck out about his reading, and I’m also nervous specifically through him, if that makes sense?” 

“Huh.” Alex thoughtfully munched on his last bite of pancake. “So like, when I felt really excited watching you win second place at the Stardew Valley Fair last season, that was like, vicarious excitement?”  

“The Stardew Valley Fair? Fuck, was that really the last time I seemed excited about something?” Achilles stood and grabbed his and Alex’s empty plates. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much what vicarious means. Good job.” 

“Oh no, let me help you with the dishes—”

“It’s 7:45, shouldn’t you be heading to the bus?” 

“Dang, you’re a real party pooper, you know that?”   

“We’ve been friends for a year now, it’s your own fault if you weren’t aware. Come on, pip pip, Mr. Manager.” Achilles thwacked Alex’s shoulder on his way to the sink. “You can just keep the shirt.” 

*****

They stood on Achilles’ porch, an early morning Winter wind swirling the previous evening’s dust of snow. Alex was rolling on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.

“I, um. Well I had a really good time. Last night. And this morning.” He gave Achilles a shy smile before looking quickly away at one of the dead bleeding heart bushes by the greenhouse (Shane had reassured him they would grow back in the Spring). 

“Likewise.” Achilles leaned against the doorframe, drying a plate with a dishtowel. “Let’s do it again sometime.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me—” 

“I mean, I am. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole—it’s ‘cause you’re making me nervous, why are you hopping around like that—”

“What? You become an asshole when you’re nervous?” 

“Don’t you dare make the joke I know you’re about to make—” 

“No idea what you’re talking about—” 

“Right, mmhm.” Achilles slapped him lightly with the dish cloth. “Anyway, all that to say… I was messing with you, but I was also serious. I… had a good time, too. And would… genuinely like to do it again.” A beat. “Let me take you out tomorrow, unless that’s too soon?” 

Not even a beat. “Nope!” 

"I can pick you up from Orange Grove. Take you to dinner. Maybe catch a show, I saw Persephonopolis is in town, I’ve heard good things—actually, wait, do you like theater?” 

Alex, who had brightened immediately at Achilles’ offer, was quick to eagerly exclaim, “Yeah!” only to immediately deflate. He bit his lip, scratched the side of his nose. “Well, okay, actually, I don’t know. I’ve never seen a musical before. But I don’t see why I wouldn’t like one! I’m excited!”  

“You’ve never seen a musical?”  

“Nah, theater just always seemed like it was for… fancy people.” 

“Well, I suppose this is our time to be fancy people.” 

“You are a fancy people.” Alex glanced down at his collar. “Hmm, I haven’t worn a tie in awhile…”

“Ok, we don’t have to be that fancy—” 

“Might be fun though—” 

“Hey if you want to go all out, let’s go all out. Whatever you want. Now get off my porch, boyyo, you need to go.” 

Alex smiled. His cheeks were red, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from something else… “I… I really like you, Ash.” Achilles’ hands were full (you dumb bitch, why didn’t you leave the damn plate in the kitchen?), but Alex lightly traced the back of his palms before absentmindedly wrapping the corner of the dish towel around his forefinger. “Can I kiss you again?” 

Achilles couldn’t help but laugh—oh Alex. How could he be so unaware of the effect he had on him? Then again, he could just be being polite…

“Al.” He set the plate down on the porch swing and trailed his now-free fingers down Alex’s scarf. “I think it’s very sweet that you always ask. But you don’t have to anymore, the answer’s always going to be yes.” 

It was a small thing this time—light and quick, but even so, Achilles closed his eyes and savored the brief touch. 

“You really ought to go…” Achilles murmured, gently tightening Alex’s scarf. They had dallied long enough, Alex would probably have to run if he wanted to make it to the bus stop in time… “I’ll see you tonight?” 

“You know it.” 

After but the smallest hesitation, he hopped forward to kiss Achilles on the cheek. And then he was gone. 

*****

Achilles was in a daze. For nearly half an hour after Alex had sprinted off, he had continued to sit on his porch, despite the cold and the wind, warmed by his flush from the morning’s events. 

Did that really just happen? 

The past 12 hours or so… had they all really been… real? Surely this was all but a very good dream. 

“Meow!” 

Achilles patted his lap as the cat bounded up to join him. “What do you think of Alex, Voltaire? Do you like him?”

“Meow!” 

He smiled softly to himself, petting the purring cat. “I do, too.” 

Oh, but had they moved too fast? Should he have taken a step back, put on the brakes? Had he sabotaged this with his eagerness before it had even really had a chance to begin? Despite his joke the previous evening, Achilles didn’t often kiss on a first date, let alone invite his dates to stay the night. 

But those had usually been strangers—acquaintances, mutual friends at best. Surely this was different. He and Alex had been friends for practically a year. They hadn’t needed to spend time getting to know each other, or feel each other out. 

Don’t overthink this, bitch.

No, he had no regrets.

Alex’s reveal the night before had been a bit—well, more than a bit—of a surprise. Achilles had sat on the information some, long after Alex had fallen asleep, pondering the potential ramifications of Alex’s asexuality. Now Achilles hadn’t lied—disappointed, he was not—but he had always had an average enough libido (at least, before the antidepressants), and he’d be lying if he said the news hadn’t somewhat caught him off guard.

But that didn’t necessarily believe this made the two of them incompatible. Of that, Achilles was sure. Yes. He would be fine to wait—more than fine to take it slow. He would compromise, and perhaps there were things Alex would be willing to compromise on, too. They would talk more—what was Alex comfortable with, what would be enough for Achilles. Better define their limits, their wants, their needs. Communication, the foundation of every good relationship, right? And they’d always conversed well. Yes, this would be fine. Better than fine. 

Yoba, to even just touch him again, let alone kiss him. Both were enough for Achilles, and both Alex was more than eager to provide. Yes, he had no regrets. The memory of their dinner last night alone was enough to set a permanent smile on his face. 

He allowed himself an hour to digest both his thoughts and what had probably been the best breakfast he’d had since moving to the Valley before indeed going for a jog. But if he’d hoped the biting cold would clear his mind from the man at hand (you lovesick goon, you’ve got other things to worry about right now) he was sorely disappointed, for with every pound of his footsteps against the familiar beaten path through Cindersap, Achilles was brought back to the previous season, when he and Alex would run side by side. 

How had this happened? Truly—what were the chances that Alex, of all people, could have ever fallen in love with him? 

Speaking of which… in love! Those were the words Alex had used—and multiple times, at that. Perhaps Alex simply didn’t place the same weight to them as Achilles did, but even so, the thought thawed his wind beaten face with overwhelming warmth. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself… 

It was a shorter run but a longer shower than usual. After it became clear he wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else on the trail, he returned home after half an hour to sit in a cloud of lavender-scented steam for twice as long as his run had been. 

The bath seemed to have done the trick, though Alex was, of course, still lingering in his mind. The sight of the toothbrush Alex had borrowed sitting by the sink brought a small smile to his lips. But when he emerged from the bathroom, it was with a renewed sense of peace and focus that he hadn’t felt in many a week. 

Good. After all, he had business to attend to! 

*****

There was almost an hour to go before doors officially opened, but even so, Achilles found himself scurrying about the museum in his usual impatient way—arranging flowers, moving lamps, straightening the thirty chairs he’d had Gunther arrange ahead of time. 

He hoped thirty hadn’t been too generous an estimation. Surely most of the Stardew community would come out, even if it were more out of curiosity surrounding Elliott’s long-time-coming novel than genuine support for the writer. 

Achilles hadn’t had much to time to advertise, especially with the snowstorm. But he had made sure all villagers were aware at least, and had reached out to some local publishing contacts and had taken out a last minute ad in the local daily paper, promising a book reading and refreshments. Alex, bless his heart, had been more than happy to drop off some flyers at the Zuzu bookstores and coffee shops to help spread the word beyond. 

Taking a page out of Lewis’ festival book (though the thought made him shudder), he had pushed over one of the longer tables at the back of the library and draped it in a sapphire blue tablecloth. Emily was now helping him carefully lay out the catering he had ordered from the Stardrop Saloon earlier that day. 

He’d even managed to put together a little silent auction to benefit the museum—a couple pieces of art from Leah, a few of Gus’ homemade jams, some of Shane’s goat cheese. Haley was even offering up an hour long portrait session (though Achilles highly suspected Alex had perhaps manhandled her into it). The items had been lain neatly out across another table he’d pushed in between two bookshelves. Hopefully it wasn’t a fire hazard. 

Make the space cozier, he had thought to himself earlier when he’d been transforming the wide, labyrinthine space into something a little more intimate. Close the gaps, move the desks, bring up the bean bags. If only he could move the fireplace closer. Gunther, in addition to donating a few rare hardbacks, as well as a peculiar chicken statue, to the silent auction, had pretty much given him free reign to rearrange the room.

He better, after all I’ve done do liven this place up. Barely even had a book a year ago…

Not so anymore. Since Summer, the shelves had been heavy with the community’s surveyed selections and more. It had cost him quite a pretty penny (damn Lewis, where the hell were the tax dollars going?), but Achilles had no regrets. 

Amidst all his scurrying, Achilles allowed himself a minute to pause, weaving through the bookshelves to sidle up to Elliott, who had hidden himself away in the far corner of the adjoining room. The man, an unusually morose expression on his long face, looked without seeing through the darkened windows at the fresh flurries fluttering down outside.  

“How are you feeling?” 

“Oh…” Elliott declined the crab cake Achilles was offering with a wriggle of his fingers before burying his head in his hands, his mane of auburn hair slipping from behind his shoulder to conceal a pale face. “Sick.” 

“Oh.” No lengthy metaphors? No waxing poetic? Yikes. Elliott really must be feeling bad. 

“It’ll be great, man. You’ll be great.” Achilles patted him on the back, adding a bit of extra oomph in his tap against the burgundy velvet of Elliott’s sports jacket for reassurance. But the writer only turned an impressive shade of pea green. 

*****

Shane had been the first to arrive, to Achilles’ surprise. He had slinked in near noiselessly, and was halfway down the refreshments table, paper plate stacked with three hefty crab cakes and a poppyseed muffin, before Achilles, who’d been jotting his name down to bid for the portrait session (knowing it’d drive Haley insane) noticed his presence. 

“Shane! How are you doing, glad you could make it.”

“Mmph.” Shane poked a pudgy finger at the three sprigs of dandelion salad on his plate. “Couldn’t have ordered pizza?”  

“Sure. Right…”

Leah joined soon after, followed by Penny, then Willy the fisherman, and Gil and Marlon. A bit of an odd group, those early birds, but Achilles had provided a spiked option for the hot chocolate, and all were soon mixing and mingling with relative ease. 

At a quarter to 6, Alex arrived with his grandparents. Evelyn greeted him with what was, to the discerning eye, perhaps an overly warm embrace, but George, Achilles noticed, refused to even acknowledge his presence, moving almost immediately away to take a seat in the last row after ignoring the bookmark Achilles had been offering him. 

He and Alex had discussed the matter briefly during dinner the night before—Alex had said there wasn’t much to share, really; it was plain and simple, exactly what Achilles would’ve expected. George wasn’t pleased. And that was that. 

“But it’s my life, right?” Alex had said with a wan smile. “He’s not really… talking to me right now, but Grandma says he’ll… come around…” 

How long that’d take, who knew. But at least Evelyn was on his side, Alex had said—and, of course, Achilles. 

Still, likely overly conscious of George’s glare, they didn’t touch—not even the side-hug that was Alex’s usual way of saying hello for just about anyone. But Alex did greet him with an enthusiastic, double-handed wave after Evelyn had finishing squeezing Achilles within an inch of suffocation. 

“Hi!” 

Achilles unconsciously smoothed the front of his cardigan. “Hey.”

“Nice shirt.” Alex nodded at the tiny trains dotting Achilles’ button down before flicking a piece of dust off of his shoulder. A far from intimate touch—really, barely a touch at all—but it nevertheless kicked off a prickling ripple down Achilles’ arms. He could get used to this. “I’ve always wondered, do you just, like, already own these or do you buy them specifically for whatever event is going on?” 

“Eh, a little bit of both… I did already own this one, though I can’t actually remember why…” 

An obnoxiously loud cackle announced Abigail, Sebastian, and Sam’s arrival. It seemed like they had brought friends from the city, traipsing in with two other strangers who all made their way immediately to the refreshments table. 

“Gonna be a full house, Ell!” he heard Leah exclaim from behind the bookshelves. “Better not fuck this up, eh!” The exclamation was followed by a lengthy, low, almost melodious, wail. 

Well, at least the melodrama had returned. That had to be a positive sign, right? 

Alex and Achilles shared a look, the former stifling his laughter behind a cup of hot chocolate. As more and more guests continued to stream through the doors, he gave Achilles’ shoulder a little squeeze before joining Penny by the bean bags, leaving Achilles to play the role of host undistracted. 

“Congratulations.” 

“Pardon?” 

Achilles turned from greeting Maru and Dr. Harvey, fresh from the clinic, to see Shane emerging from behind another bookshelf with an empty plate and a cup full of hot tea. 

“You and him.” The man gave a jerky nod in Alex’s general direction. “Right?” 

It wasn’t often Achilles was caught off guard, but Shane? Of all people?

“I—you—”

But Shane only grunted, offering up a shrug before plodding away to join Marnie and Jas who had just arrived. 

By 6:25, there were well over 30 guests milling about the museum. Mostly townsfolk, as to be expected, but a sizable group of folks Achilles didn’t recognize had made it out to Stardew as well. 

He made his over way to the podium.

“Hi everyone. We’re going to get started in about five minutes, if you could please make your way to your seats soon, that would be wonderful.” 

*****

“Good evening everyone. Thank you all so much for coming out, we are so excited to welcome all of you to Stardew Valley’s Museum & Library.” 

Achilles looked out at the small crowd of painstakingly straightened chairs. A good turnout, he thought to himself. 39 people, he’d been keeping count. 

He was back at the podium after taking the final few minutes to close the silent auction (he’d been outbid by a “Zachary Grace“ for Haley’s portrait package, unfortunately) and secure a last minute snickerdoodle cookie for himself.

He had never found himself to be good at comforting others, and so was grateful to find Leah had committed herself to hyping up Elliott (though it could be debated whether she was any better than him at the task)—and though Achilles could still make out standing next to him a set of slightly wobbling knees, the writer had at least returned to his usual complexion. 

“Now, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you tonight’s author, and one of my dearest friends, Elliott St. Laurent, who will be reading the first chapter from what will surely be a bestselling, debut novel, Camellia Station.” 

He stepped to the side and, sneaking in what he hoped was a small, encouraging wink, gestured for Elliott to take the stage as a round of healthy applause rang through the room. 

Elliott gripped the sides of the podium tight, perhaps in an effort to stem his shaking, the knuckles of his large hands white with the effort. A handful of deep breaths. A second to clear his throat. And then… 

*****

“Ever since I was a young boy, I dreamt of becoming a writer.

“When the time came for me to leave home and start my own life, I moved here. I was drawn to the peaceful beauty of the valley, and hoped that days of quiet reflection in this idyllic atmosphere would fan the literary flames.

“And indeed they did! As I’m sure many of my fellow villagers would attest, it took perhaps quite a few more days than I had initially anticipated for the aforementioned literary flames to wholly ignite—“ he paused for the townsfolk to laugh politely. “ —but I am proud to share that, after many a year, I stand before you now with my completed novel in hand. 

“But it would be the gravest error not to acknowledge two names, for I could never have completed this endeavor without the support and guidance of my dearest of friends—Miss Leah Connolly and, of course, Achilles Robinson, who you all surely know is a bestselling author himself!” 

Achilles, who had joined Leah in a seat by the side of the room, received the applause politely, giving a small, lazy bow of his head before skillfully turning the attention back to Elliott, who, with each sentence, had quickly grown in confidence. 

“And so, after countless hours scribbling at my writing desk, I now present to you my first book, Camellia Station: a romance novel about a train stewardess who falls in love with a traveling architect.” 

He cleared his throat once more, and then began the reading. 

“Chapter One.

“‘Your ticket, sir?’ Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter. 

“‘Ah, yes. I have it right here,’ he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…” 

Achilles, obviously familiar with the story, leaned back in his chair and sipped his hot chocolate. The most stressful part of the evening was over. Elliott had made it through to the reading alive, all the chairs—and then some—were filled, the refreshments had been warmly received by all except maybe Shane, and the silent auction had been a smashing success. Nice. 

He found himself only half-listening to Elliott’s crooning tenor. Not because he was bored—no, he was very much proud of his friend and had genuinely admired the tomb of a novel—but he had only just finished reading it scarcely a week ago, and steamy romances and wicked love triangles had never quite captured his attention the same way genre did—funny, really, given how he’d been unable to stop replaying his own little romance in his head since this morning.

His fingers flexed at the memories, curled tighter around his paper cup.

But despite his drifting thoughts, he made sure to maintain both a smile and eye contact over the next half hour, just in case Elliott happened to glance over—though at the moment, the writer seemed a little too enthusiastically engrossed with the task at hand. Though his voice remained strong and strident, Elliott’s nose remained scarcely three inches from the page. 

“‘…Clara, there’s something I must tell you,’ he blurted as she turned to leave. Clara turned, slowly, and saw the look of desperation in Horatio’s eye. At that moment, Gozman burst into the compartment, red-faced.” 

After a solemn pause, Elliott closed the manuscript rather abruptly, though the applause drowned out the brusque snap of the pages.

“Well, that concludes my reading. Thank you everyone for coming out. Let us hope that we see Camellia Station on a bookshelf in Zuzu City within the next few years!” 

And though it was Achilles who led the standing ovation, the sight of the enthusiastic, thirty some crowd clapping away for his friend seemed to be contaminating his pride for Elliott with something akin to… envy.  

This could’ve been you. 

But he felt Leah’s hand on his shoulder, and her simple touch was enough this time to pull him back to shore.  

*****

“I have dedicated the book to you two, my dearest friends.” As the audience slowly dispersed, Elliott made his way over to where Achilles and Leah had been sitting in the corner. 

He took each of their hands in his. “Without your support and encouragement this past year, who knows if Camellia Station would have ever… shall we say, left the station.” He solemnly placed a hand over his heart and gave them each a deep bow. 

“We’re very proud of you,” Achilles said before Leah could swoop in with what he imagined would be a sarcastic comment of the highest degree. Let’s not lead with that. “Your reading was fantastic—you should record your own audiobook.” 

Elliott turned red, patting Achilles’ hand as he shook his head modestly. “Oh my, you do honor me, my friend—let us not get ahead of ourselves…” 

“Stop talking to us,” Leah hissed in a carrying whisper. She tilted her head at a handful of admirers who were beginning to congregate by the podium, each tossing the occasional impatient glance at the huddled trio. She proceeded to give the writer a hearty shove with her shoulder. “Go mingle with your new fans. Could be an agent in there somewhere! Schmooze!” 

“Oh ho!” Elliott’s eyes gleamed as he snuck a covert peek at a particular suited stranger. He straightened his tie and stood confidently to his full, looming height—the well-received reading had clearly renewed his sense of vigor. “Then I shall pay them a visit posthaste—but oh ho, I believe there’s someone waiting to speak with you, as well, my dear friend.” Elliott ended his declaration with a devilish wink, nodding to something behind Achilles before striding over to the small waiting crowd of well-wishers. 

Achilles turned to see Alex waiting patiently alone, munching thoughtfully on a small stack of finger sandwiches by the first row of seats. 

Leah grunted. Less eloquent than Elliott, she merely smacked Achilles’ ass before leaving him for the refreshments table. “Go get that boy of yours.” 

Achilles hadn’t had a chance to update either of his friends about his recent developments, and yet even so, Leah hadn’t bothered keeping her voice down. Alex perked up upon hearing her quip  and, after shoving the remaining three sandwiches rather inelegantly into his mouth (now don’t you go there, Achilles, don’t you think about that), brushed the crumbs off his hands and jumped to his feet.  

“Am I 'that boy of yours?'” 

Dear lord, was Alex batting his eyelashes?

This man…

He could feel himself blushing at Alex’s hypnotizing, long-lashed gaze. But refusing to further indulge this roguish little show, Achilles lightly shoved his laughing figure aside and turned away to nod at Shane who was seemingly attempting to surreptitiously pocket the remaining crab cakes. 

“No, she was talking about Shane.”

“Oh yeah? Does Shane he's ya boy—”

“Want to help me pack up the food? You can take the rest of the sandwiches if you’d like.” 

#llnks #stardew valley fic #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew elliott #stardew oc #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv leah #sdv oc

[quadrant-query]

gray,

; l;ke to cons;der myself a b;t of a "romance understander", but recently th;s has backf;red ;n the worst poss;ble way.

my matespr;t and ; are com;ng up on our one sweep, but ;'m not sure we'll make it to the n;ght. she has been attempt;ng to court a goldblood ;n the p;tch quadrant for about two per;gees now, and was com;ng to me for adv;ce on how to best secure h;s spade. unfortunately he recently confronted her about "steal;ng" one of her fl;rt;ng attempts "beat-for-beat" from a popular romcom that he had recently watched. they had a b;g blowup about ;t, and sadly dur;ng that argument ;t came out that not only was all the adv;ce ;'ve been g;v;ng her from var;ous f;lm-based sources, but the spec;al moments ;n wh;ch ; or;g;nally won her over were "plager;zed" as well. now she ;s fur;ous w;th me, ev;dently because that goldblood has conv;nced her that me tak;ng ;nsp;rat;on from my favor;te mov;es means that my feel;ngs are just as "fake".

normally ; would look to med;a for adv;ce, but now even that ;s out because no doubt ;t w;ll also be cons;dered ";ns;ncere"!!

; feel a b;t l;ke the protagon;st of ";n wh;ch a greenblood makes a l;v;ng boost;ng the conf;dence of romant;c su;tors so that they may w;n over the;r quadrants only for h;s own prospect;ve flushcrush to m;stakenly bel;eve from her mo;ra;l that he ;s ;n the bus;ness of d;sgu;s;ng sleazeballs ;n order to tr;ck people ;nto pa;l;ng them, wh;ch ;s not at all true but h;s reputat;on ;s ru;ned as well as the bronzeblood's whom he ;s help;ng to w;n over a seadweller etc"... ; don't know ;f you've ever seen that mov;e but that's bas;cally my current s;tuat;on!

what should ; do??

Holy shit, I love that movie actually. Troll Will Smith is fucking amazing in everything he does and I'll never hear otherwise.

As for your actual problem though, that sucks ass. You should try to talk this out with your matesprit, explain to her that everything comes from your genuine feelings for her and that you just like using moves from your own favorite things which you consider to be incredibly romantic on her. That's a very flattering thing to do! However maybe use your own words for it, just to really prove that it's from your pusher and no one else's.

Besides, things work out for the main character in the end of that movie. He gets to be with his flushcrush, and even the bronzeblood and the seadweller get together! (Spoilers if you haven't watched it I fucking guess, but like, that movie is so old that really it's on you if you haven't seen it).

Things will likely work out if you just explain your reasoning... perhaps to her kismesis as well, since he seems to be a big part of it. You should probably stop giving her advice for her other quadrants, though, because clearly other trolls aren't very appreciative of it.

Good luck.

#advice #flush

[viktorkondrakis]

Linguistics: Ancient Greek pronunciation

Modern Greek is a beautiful language with a rich cultural history. But to say Ancient Greek sounded the same as Modern Greek is to be dishonest, as much as saying Middle English and Contemporary English sound alike.

So what did Ancient Greek actually sound like? Well, we can reconstruct the pronunciation by comparing different written Greek dialects (such as Doric and Ionic), and seeing what grammarians of the time described the language as sounding like (such as the writings of Dionysius Thrax). We can also see loanwords in languages like Coptic to work our way back to an older mode of speech.

Alpha, Epsilon, Iota, Kappa, Lambda, Mu, Nu, Xi, Omicron, Pi, Rho, Tau, and Psi have all generally kept their Ancient pronunciations in Modern Greek.

The sounds that are different in Ancient Greek:

Β/β: like a "b" sound instead of Modern Greek "v." Basileus instead of Vasilevs.

Δ/δ: a hard "d" sound instead of Modern Greek soft "dh." Dolos instead of Dholos.

Γ/γ: like a "g" sound instead of Modern Greek "y"/"yh." Gunaika instead of Yineka.

Φ/φ: an aspirated "p" sound instead of an "f." Words like φῶς (phos) would have been pronounced like "p'os" instead of "fos."

Θ/θ: an aspirated "t" sound instead of a soft Modern "th" sound. Words like θάλασσα (thalassa) would have been "t'alassa" instead of "th'alassa."

Χ/χ: an aspirated "k" sound instead of Modern soft "ch." Words like χρυσός (khrusos) would have been pronounced like "k'rusos" instead of "chrisos."

Ζ/ζ: an "sd" sound that became "z" in Modern Greek. "Zeus" would have been pronounced as "Zdeus", with some dialects having "Dzeus."

Σ/σ: depending on the dialect a "z" sound instead of modern "s."

For vowels:

Αι/αι: as in German "Ein."

Αυ/αυ: as in German "Augen."

Ευ/ευ: an "ew" diphthong instead of "ev."

Ει/ει: a long "eh" sound, like in German "Ehrmann." Nelos (Νειλος) instead of Nilos (Νιλος).

Η/η: as in "ant" or "absolute." Hence the Doric spelling Σελάνα (Selana) for the usual Σελήνη (Selene), for example.

Υ/υ: as in German "über."

Οι/οι: as in "soy."

Ω/ω: a bit like the "aw" in English "raw."

There were also sounds like Digamma (Ϝ/ϝ), a "w" lost in many dialects, so words like ἄνασσα (anassa, "queen") were once ϝάνασσα (wanassa).

So the opening lines of the Iliad:

"Μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος

Οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί᾽ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε᾽ ἔθηκε,

Πολλὰς δ᾽ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προΐαψεν

Ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν

Οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι, Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή,

Ἐξ οὗ δὴ τὰ πρῶτα διαστήτην ἐρίσαντε

Ἀτρεΐδης τε ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν καὶ δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς."

Would be something like this in Ancient Greek (using a simplified transliteration):

"Mǣ-nin a-wē-de te-a Pæ-læ-i-a-deo A-ki-lǣ-os

Ū-lo-me-næn, hæ mu-ri A-kai-ois al-ge' e-tæ-ke,

Pol-las dip-tī-mūs psu-kas A-wi-di pro-i-ap-sen

Hæ-rō-ōn, au-tūs de he-lō-ri-a tew-ke ku-nes-sin

Oi-ō-noi-si te pā-si, Di-wos de-te-lē-e-to bū-læ,

Ex hū dæ ta prō-ta di-as-tǣ-tæn e-ri-san-te

A-tre-i-dæs te wa-nax an-drōn kai dī-wos Akill-ews."

#greek mythology #greek language #ancient greek #greek alphabet #linguistics

[sealiteral]

Names are hard to come up with

When I wrote Leaving the Glowsheep in English, I gave most of the characters English names. I even called the MC Al (which could be short for Alice or Alexander or something else: I didn't want to bother deciding which gender that character should have so that's also why they don't get referred to by other pronouns than "I" and "you"). But when translating into Danish and Spanish, English names don't work perfectly well: Al means "to the" in Spanish and "all of" in Danish, so I probably want to go with longer names and have some names that don't sound out-of-place if you're reading the story in a language other than English.

One thing I got suggested to do was to use Hebrew, Greek or Latin names. And yes, names like Daniel and Laura should work. But for each name that does work, I find several that don't. Here are some that do seem to work in Danish, Spanish and English: Daniel, Laura, David, Irene.

And here are some that don't: Mary (Marie, María), Christian (Kristian, Cristian, and let's not forget that in English it's actually a word), Christopher (Kristofer, Cristóbal), Sophie (Sofie, Sofía), Anna (Anne, Ana; though you could use the English name in Danish, but in Spanish it would look foreign with two n's), Lewis (Louis, Luis). Notice the spelling often changes.

The spelling thing got me thinking about which letters are most problematic, and they seem to be c (changes into k in Danish) and ph (changes into f in Danish and Spanish). And chr turns into kr in Danish. But how about ch without r? Well, Charlie seems to work in Danish, but not in Spanish.

Another thing Spanish does sometimes is adding accents on some letters. I guess most people wouldn't care about adding or removing those when translating character names, but I kinda want the names to be the same in all three languages, even down to the accents.

And sometimes the changes aren't even spelling changes. Adam and Eve are called Adán and Eva in Spanish. (And I almost wrote "y" instead of "and", because I tend to do that between Spanish words, I guess being good at a language can have drawbacks).

As for what I end up doing in the VN I'm writing now, I'm currently using names made of random syllables and silly puns, but puns are a whole other beast when translating, so maybe I should get rid of them and either pick some other random syllables or just use names that I put in this post already.

#character names #translation

[ahlulbaytnetworks]

🍃🕊🍃 The eve of ⁦‪Eid al-Fitr‬⁩ is one of the greatest nights of the year.

‎Do as much worship. These are recommended:

‎☑️ Ghusl

‎☑️ Ziyarah of Imam Hussain (as)

‎☑️ Recite Sura Yaseen (Ch. 36)

‎☑️ Recite Sura Kahf (Ch. 18)

‎☑️ Recite Sura Anaam (Ch. 8 )

‎☑️ Recite 100 times:

‎أستغفر الله و اتوب اليه

‎Astaghfirullah wa Atub Ileyhe

.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Fri[day] 28 October 1836

7 3/4

12 20/..

V

N

N

L

No kiss fine frosty morn[in]g F[ahrenheit] 34 1/2° now at 8 50/.. a.m. out ab[ou]t till br[eak]f[a]st at 9 1/2 - A-  [Ann] d[i]d

h[e]r Fr[en]ch - out ag[ai]n at 10 1/4 – Ingh[a]m + 2 men and a boy at the parapet wall ov[e]r the dry wall arching –

Rob[er]t Mann + 3 lower[in]g and levell[in]g in front of the h[ou]se till 11 then took them off to prepare for mov[in]g the

heap of clay laid last y[ea]r ag[ain]st the gard[e]n wall - the run and all made ready and they beg[a]n mov[in]g the clay to the [foot]

the mound (to the east) of the rockwork immed[iatel]y aft[e]r their din[ner] – Rob[er]t Schof[iel]d and his man Jos[e]ph all the day wall[in]g

the hall-cellar drain - the gard[ene]r and Ch[arle]s and Ja[me]s How[art]h and John Booth and Mark Hepw[or]th help[in]g when they

c[oul]d to clear the orch[ar]d – lit[tle] trace left of an orch[ar]d this ev[enin]g - Mark Hepw[or]th levell[in]g soil aft[e]r the N[orth]g[a]te

carts on the gr[ea]t embankment in front of the h[ou]se - Frank cart[in]g for Ingh[a]m st[one] fr[om] the gard[e]n wall in the morn[in]g and rag

throughs fr[om] Hipperh[olme] quarry in the aft[ernoo]n - Booth the gr[eate]r part of the day and 2 masons all the day at the west tow[e]r

2 masons jobb[in[g – prepar[in]g for the top of the drab-r[oo]m chim[ne]y (hew[e]d by the 2 hewers Ja[me]s Murgatroyde and

Booths’ son Jos[e]ph and w[oul]d ha[ve] been put up but for the windy days we ha[ve] late[l]y h[a]d) - and prepar[in]g

lancet-lights for the groin[e]d dry wall arch - In the gard[e]n and ab[ou]t all the day exc[ept] fr[om] about 2 to 4 when

saunt[ere]d d[o]wn the walk - and along the low[e]r brea daisy bank thro’ Wellroyde wood int[o] the N[or]thow[ra]m r[oa]d to so[me]

dist[an]ce ab[ou]t Upper brea - to where Shibd[e]n is 1st seen - stood compar[in]g the diff[eren]t points of view –

ret[urne]d by the Stump X Inn and the Lodge – 1/2 h[ou]r there talk[in]g to Matty for Hannah Pearson the cook here

20 y[ea]rs ago h[a]d been at the hall and call[e]d on her way b[a]ck to see Matty - poor Hannah! she told me how I w[a]s

altered – so[me]bod[y] h[a]d told h[e]r lately how m[u]ch I w[a]s aged - But she d[i]d n[o]t kno[w] she sh[oul]d expect

me to look just as I us[e]d to do - no! s[aid] I, you ha[ve] n[o]t seen me these 20 y[ea]rs - it is ti[me] for

me to be alt[ere]d - it is fr[om] s[u]ch peop[le] one hears the  truth - I h[a]d th[ou]ght, on her ent[erin]g the

r[oo]m, she w[a]s grown an old wom[a]n - so chang[e]d I might n[o]t ha[ve] known her en passant –

b[u]t I made no rem[ar]k on this to her – ho[me] ab[ou]t 4 – w[i]th Rob[er]t Mann at the clay mov[in]g and ab[ou]t

till ca[me] in at 6 – dress[e]d – direct[e]d and seal[e]d and s[e]nt off by Frank tonight my notes (writ[ten]

last night and dat[e]d yest[erday]) to ‘Mr. Hoyland Gibbet-lane’ order[in]g a hatch[men]t for my a[un]t to be done as soon

as poss[ible] - and my no[te] to ‘Dr. Kenny Ward’s end’ enclos[in]g a guin[ea] (a sov[erei]gn and a shil[ling]) sor[ry] that

this sm[all] debt of w[hi]ch I w[a]s n[o]t aware h[a]d been so long unacknowledg[e]d – din[ner] at 6 35/.. – coff[ee]

upst[ai]rs - A- [Ann] r[ea]d h[e]r Fr[en]ch - I asleep on the sofa 1/2 h[ou]r - A-  [Ann] h[a]d let[ter] tonight fr[om] Messrs. Gray –

the complet[io]n of her Radcliffe purchase to be at the White Swan H[alifa]x on Tues[day] - Mr. S. Washingt[o]n

to attend - A- [Ann] annoy[e]d - we all al[on]g th[ou]ght of go[in]g to York - she h[a]d n[o]t wish[e]d the purch[a]se to be

complet[e]d here and for Mr. SW- [Samuel Washington] to ha[ve] an[y]th[in]g to do w[i]th it - at 10 20/.. p.m. h[a]d just writ[ten] all the ab[ov]e of today

at wh[ic]h h[ou]r F[ahrenheit] 33° ver[y] fine cold frosty day -  

 How m[u]ch I chang[e]d

[sorrowfulsoul]

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Contents: Top 0–9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

# 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

A Aa Ab Ac Ad Ae Af Ag Ah Ai Aj Ak Al Am An Ao Ap Aq Ar As At Au Av Aw Ax Ay Az

B Ba Bb Bc Bd Be Bf Bg Bh Bi Bj Bk Bl Bm Bn Bo Bp Bq Br Bs Bt Bu Bv Bw Bx By Bz

C Ca Cb Cc Cd Ce Cf Cg Ch Ci Cj Ck Cl Cm Cn Co Cp Cq Cr Cs Ct Cu Cv Cw Cx Cy Cz

D Da Db Dc Dd De Df Dg Dh Di Dj Dk Dl Dm Dn Do Dp Dq Dr Ds Dt Du Dv Dw Dx Dy Dz

E Ea Eb Ec Ed Ee Ef Eg Eh Ei Ej Ek El Em En Eo Ep Eq Er Es Et Eu Ev Ew Ex Ey Ez

F Fa Fb Fc Fd Fe Ff Fg Fh Fi Fj Fk Fl Fm Fn Fo Fp Fq Fr Fs Ft Fu Fv Fw Fx Fy Fz

G Ga Gb Gc Gd Ge Gf Gg Gh Gi Gj Gk Gl Gm Gn Go Gp Gq Gr Gs Gt Gu Gv Gw Gx Gy Gz

H Ha Hb Hc Hd He Hf Hg Hh Hi Hj Hk Hl Hm Hn Ho Hp Hq Hr Hs Ht Hu Hv Hw Hx Hy Hz

I Ia Ib Ic Id Ie If Ig Ih Ii Ij Ik Il Im In Io Ip Iq Ir Is It Iu Iv Iw Ix Iy Iz

J Ja Jb Jc Jd Je Jf Jg Jh Ji Jj Jk Jl Jm Jn Jo Jp Jq Jr Js Jt Ju Jv Jw Jx Jy Jz

K Ka Kb Kc Kd Ke Kf Kg Kh Ki Kj Kk Kl Km Kn Ko Kp Kq Kr Ks Kt Ku Kv Kw Kx Ky Kz

L La Lb Lc Ld Le Lf Lg Lh Li Lj Lk Ll Lm Ln Lo Lp Lq Lr Ls Lt Lu Lv Lw Lx Ly Lz

M Ma Mb Mc Md Me Mf Mg Mh Mi Mj Mk Ml Mm Mn Mo Mp Mq Mr Ms Mt Mu Mv Mw Mx My Mz

N Na Nb Nc Nd Ne Nf Ng Nh Ni Nj Nk Nl Nm Nn No Np Nq Nr Ns Nt Nu Nv Nw Nx Ny Nz

O Oa Ob Oc Od Oe Of Og Oh Oi Oj Ok Ol Om On Oo Op Oq Or Os Ot Ou Ov Ow Ox Oy Oz

P Pa Pb Pc Pd Pe Pf Pg Ph Pi Pj Pk Pl Pm Pn Po Pp Pq Pr Ps Pt Pu Pv Pw Px Py Pz

Q Qa Qb Qc Qd Qe Qf Qg Qh Qi Qj Qk Ql Qm Qn Qo Qp Qq Qr Qs Qt Qu Qv Qw Qx Qy Qz

R Ra Rb Rc Rd Re Rf Rg Rh Ri Rj Rk Rl Rm Rn Ro Rp Rq Rr Rs Rt Ru Rv Rw Rx Ry Rz

S Sa Sb Sc Sd Se Sf Sg Sh Si Sj Sk Sl Sm Sn So Sp Sq Sr Ss St Su Sv Sw Sx Sy Sz

T Ta Tb Tc Td Te Tf Tg Th Ti Tj Tk Tl Tm Tn To Tp Tq Tr Ts Tt Tu Tv Tw Tx Ty Tz

U Ua Ub Uc Ud Ue Uf Ug Uh Ui Uj Uk Ul Um Un Uo Up Uq Ur Us Ut Uu Uv Uw Ux Uy Uz

V Va Vb Vc Vd Ve Vf Vg Vh Vi Vj Vk Vl Vm Vn Vo Vp Vq Vr Vs Vt Vu Vv Vw Vx Vy Vz

W Wa Wb Wc Wd We Wf Wg Wh Wi Wj Wk Wl Wm Wn Wo Wp Wq Wr Ws Wt Wu Wv Ww Wx Wy Wz

X Xa Xb Xc Xd Xe Xf Xg Xh Xi Xj Xk Xl Xm Xn Xo Xp Xq Xr Xs Xt Xu Xv Xw Xx Xy Xz

Y Ya Yb Yc Yd Ye Yf Yg Yh Yi Yj Yk Yl Ym Yn Yo Yp Yq Yr Ys Yt Yu Yv Yw Yx Yy Yz

Z Za Zb Zc Zd Ze Zf Zg Zh Zi Zj Zk Zl Zm Zn Zo Zp Zq Zr Zs Zt Zu Zv Zw Zx Zy Zz

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؅ ؐ ؑ ؒ ؓ ؔ ؕ ؖ ؗ ؘ ؙ ؚ

؜ ۖ ۗ ۘ ۙ ۚ ۛ ۜ ۟ ۠ ۡ ۢ ۣ ۤ ۧ ۨ ۪ ۫ ۬ ۭ 𝅥

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

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 ️ ︎ ︍ ︌ ︋ ︊ ︉ ︈ ︇ ︆ ︅ ︄ ︃ ︂ ︁ ︀

󠀁 󠀠 󠀡 󠀢 󠀣 󠀤 󠀥 󠀦 󠀧 󠀨 󠀩 󠀪 󠀫 󠀬 󠀭 󠀮 󠀯 󠀰 󠀱 󠀲 󠀳 󠀴 󠀵 󠀶 󠀷 󠀸 󠀹 󠀺 󠀻 󠀼 󠀽 󠀾 󠀿 󠁀 󠁁 󠁃 󠁄 󠁅 󠁆 󠁇 󠁈 󠁉 󠁊 󠁋 󠁌 󠁍 󠁎 󠁏 󠁟 󠁞 󠁝 󠁜 󠁛 󠁚 󠁘 󠁗 󠁖 󠁕 󠁔 󠁓 󠁒 󠁑 󠁐

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#?????

[nijjhar]

The Fake Aryan and Negro circumcised sons of Isaac, Semitic race will sp... Fake Aryan and Negro circumcised sons of Isaac of the Semitic race will spit, burn and kill strangers. https://youtu.be/zT2AMZuVa88 A tree is known by the fruit it bears and this is amply reflected in the fake sons of Isaac created by the greedy Temple Priests who killed Angel Stephen for exposing their dirty Mammon-orientated business. Today, the Fake sons of Isaac, the Iranian and others are going to kill them. Matt 13v24 - 30 is going through and the Tares are bundled up in Israel for the Final Burning. The Tares are the sons of the most High Satan Al-djmar Al-Aksa who exploit people in the name of religion. Such things happened in India in 1947 and 1984 but the religious fanatics would not learn. Our Jatt tribal Pillar Ch. Chhotu Ram Ohlyan did keep us united and these Sons of Satan Lala M.K. Gandhi, Lala Tara Singh Malhotra Khatri and Lala Mohd. Ali Jinnah, a Babla Bhatia was kept away but soon after his death, they gave us the religious colours and the division of India. We learn a great lesson from the Chosen People of Abraham. The Elder son Ishmael is still faithful to Abraham and it is shown in putting in jail President Morsi for exploiting people in the name of the Muslim Brotherhood which is dominant in Iran and other countries. Whilst in Russia, this Satan was crushed by the local tribal people. Here are my other videos on this topic:- Fake circumcised sons of Isaac in Iran and Pakistan will destroy Israel. Angel Stephen warned them but they killed him. https://youtu.be/YtvxeJSNp3g CIRCUMCISION OF FLESH FOR THE SONS OF ABRAHAM IN MOSES TO THE UNIVERSAL CIRCUMCISION OF HEART FOR COVENANT WITH OUR SUPERNATURAL FATHER OR FROM CORRUPTED PRIESTS OF MOSES TO THE PURE OF HEART ROYAL PRIESTS, THE CHRISTS. http://www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/circum.htm Youtube video in Punjabi:- https://youtu.be/orQRBGqlong Youtube videos in English:- https://youtu.be/o6ZJktIsq-g https://youtu.be/fIVND_Mz_-Y Two Gods and two covenants; one of flesh with Yahweh, Brahma, Khudah, etc. and the other of our supernatural self “soul” called Elohim, ParBrahm, Allah, etc. Covenant with Yahweh, the creator of Nature and of the natural man with sex: - This is the Dark Age and to look after his creation, Yahweh set up an Ideal Family called “Chosen People” in Israel as the demonstration nation of Priests, the moral teachers to teach us the moral lessons through practical demonstration. Abram was settled as “Adam” and “Sarah” as Eve living in the company of creator Yahweh in a land of plentiful called Garden of Eden. For Abram being a righteous person who believed in the Promise of God, our Supernatural Father Elohim, so his name was changed to Abraham. Now, Abraham had two sons; one born of the slave woman Hagar and the other, the Promised Child Isaac that was born of Sarah. As the real son Isaac and his seed were entitled to occupy the Promised Land, so Abraham took Hagar and her son Ishmael outside the boundary of the Promised Land and made them settle there. And Abraham gave a TRIBAL MARK OF CIRCUMCISION to Isaac but not to Ishmael who was born of a concubine but carried the seed of Abraham. I lived in Ghana for 14 years as a Lecturer and there most of the people have tribal marks on their faces so that by seeing a person, you can tell his tribal identity. Thus, circumcision of the flesh was given by Abraham to his real son Isaac for his covenant in flesh/Adam but not to the son Ishmael born of the slave woman or concubine Hagar. This tribal mark that women cannot have is for the seeds of Isaac through water or semen and you cannot make a slave or a Gentile the son of Isaac/Abraham through circumcision, a practice that was prevalent among the greedy Rabbis who went far away to put this millstone of rituals around the necks of those prey and that they themselves would not carry. Genesis Chapter 17 on circumcision is full of corruption. Thus, Mohammedans whether from the Middle East or East or West having circumcision, ask them whether they are the sons of Isaac of the Semitic race through semen, which is his seed? No. That is how the Rabbis were fleecing people and honest to God people could not tolerate it and asked our Supernatural Father Elohim to send His Own Royal High Priest to circumcise our hearts making the circumcision of flesh in Yahweh, Brahma, Khudah, etc. inferior to the Superior Circumcision of heart in which you build your Covenant with Elohim by His grace to become the sons of Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc. called “Royal Priests”. Covenant with our Supernatural Father of souls by cleansing your hearts of hypocrisy: - It is Universal and makes you the Son of the Most High Supernatural Father called Elohim, Allah, ParBrahm, etc., the Christ, a Royal Priest capable of Preaching the Gospel from his own circumcised heart. John, the Baptist was the last Prophet Elijah (my god is Yahweh) – Luke John's baptism:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/johnsig.pdf Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf

#youtube

[postsofbabel]

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JXO~asEHT~xOagduVxT;<"& bBQo"C?S.-?p

#posts of babel

[loverandservantoftheahlulbayt]

🍃🕊🍃 The eve of ⁦‪Eid al-Fitr‬⁩ is one of the greatest nights of the year.

‎Do as much worship. These are recommended:

‎☑️ Ghusl

‎☑️ Ziyarah of Imam Hussain (as)

‎☑️ Recite Sura Yaseen (Ch. 36)

‎☑️ Recite Sura Kahf (Ch. 18)

‎☑️ Recite Sura Anaam (Ch. 8 )

‎☑️ Recite 100 times:

‎أستغفر الله و اتوب اليه

‎Astaghfirullah wa Atub Ileyhe

[the-pendejadas-of-bof]

MAR DE LOS MOUNSTROS

·         Charlotte tras caer en el bote, queda desmayada por el resto del capítulo (pobre de Lottie). Lerley reconoce por donde estaban navegando cuando Percy le dijo las coordenadas, Annabeth también reconoce el lugar. Cuando llegan a la bahía de Chesapeake, Tyson lleva a Charlotte en brazos aun desmayada y la deja recostada en el escondite mestizo, Lerley trata de ayudarla con sus pocas habilidades curativas pero Charlotte aun permanecía desmayada. Percy se preocupada, Annabeth le dice que Charlotte sufrió un gran ataque de pánico, era mejor dejarla descansar. Annabeth y Lerley hablan acerca Thalia y Luke con Percy, Annabeth menciona lo parecida que Lottie y Thalia eran, pero Lerley dice que son muy diferentes para él. Cuando Tyson regresa con Donuts, dejan a Charlotte en el escondite y van a buscar de donde saco Tyson esas donuts.

·         Charlotte tiene sueños acerca de una chica de cabellos blanco, no puede ver su rostro por que estaba tapada con una capucha, la chica de la capucha y cabellos blanco poseía una espada muy parecida a la suya con la diferencia que aquella espada tenía un extraño resplandor rojo. Cuando despierta está sola en aquel refugio, no sabe donde esta y su cuerpo se siente débil. Cuando sale del refugio para averiguar en donde estaba, escucha los gritos de sus amigos y el sonido de un barco. Cuando encuentra a sus amigos, puede ver el enorme barco además de sus amigos repletos de una baba verde, confundida se acerca a ellos pero una mareo extraño la invade y se vuelve a desmayar, escuchando los gritos de sus amigos.

·         Clarisse fue quien subió a Charlotte al barco, Rosse se apresuro a ir a prepararle un medicamento a Charlotte, Allyson y Eve le dieron a sus amigos un recorrido por todo el barco. Tras dejar a Charlotte en una habitación, Clarisse le dice a Annabeth, Lerley y Percy que Tántalo los expulso por la eternidad. Una pequeña pelea con Clarisse ocurre, todos se retiran a descansar.

·         Rosse le da de beber a Charlotte una infusión de hierbas que la ayudaran a sentirse mejor, momento triste porque Charlotte menciona que no debió unirse a la misión y se sentía inútil, Rosse la anima diciéndole que es muy valiente de su parte unirse a aquella misión sabiendo lo peligroso que puede ser para ella. Charlotte le cuenta a Rosse lo que vivieron en el barco de Luke, Rosse dice ¨Luke ahora es el enemigo, Lottie, por más que nos duela debemos tener cuidado con lo que nos dice, puede querer engañarnos a todos¨. Charlotte le da la razón, Rosse hace que Charlotte vuelva a dormir y al salir de su habitación se topa con Annabeth, tienen una cálida conversación de hermanas y cada una va a descansar.

·         A la mañana siguiente, Lerley y Percy se despiertan con la noticia de que estaban en la entrada al mar de los mounstros. Al querer unirse a sus amigos, se encuentran con Ares hablando con Clarisse, con una mirada silenciosa ambos prometen no decir nada de lo que escucharon allá abajo. Al unirse a sus amigos, Allyson se da cuenta de lo raro que están Percy y Lerley pero ninguno dice nada, Charlotte junto a Eve se unen a ellos y Percy se acerca a ella preocupado. Charlotte alega estar bien, pero Percy nota como ella evita mirar hacia la marea. Allyson y Tyson se ven inquietos por como se comportaba el barco, Allyson dice que si no se detienen los pistones empezarían a fallar poniendo nerviosos a sus amigos.

·         Percy se acerco a Charlotte manteniéndose cerca de ella, cuando las cosas empezaron a empeorar, Charlotte cerro los ojos y se tapó los oídos buscando una manera de calmar su mente que empezaba a jugar con ella. Allyson dice poder arreglar los pistones, todos se niegan, Annabeth menciona que Allyson no es resistente a tanto fuego, la terminaría matando. Tyson se ofrece para arreglar los pistones, cuando Clarisse ordeno tirar los cañones, Charlotte se tiro al piso por todo el miedo, Eve trato de ir con ella pero Allyson la agarro diciendo que era muy peligroso moverse ahora. Escila los estaba azotando, Lerley se tiro encima de Charlotte protegiéndola de las olas que cian encima de ellos, la agarro levantándola contra su cuerpo. Annabeth dice que hay que abandonar el barco, Clarisse la apoya. Allyson destapa los botes, mete a Eve en uno de ellos, aunque Eve quería ir con Charlotte. Percy grita por Tyson pero Rosse lo obliga a subir aun bote, pero Percy se escapa queriendo ir a buscar a Tyson cuando el bote explota.

·         Lerley estaba consiente cuando el barco explota, aun mantenía a Charlotte en sus brazos quien buscaba de una manera ayudar a Lerley con su peso. Annabeth los encuentra y los sube al bote, Charlotte cierra los ojos buscando relajarse se hace bolita aun lado del bote, Lerley encuentra a Percy flotando en el agua y con ayuda de Annabeth logran subirlo, también recuperan algunas cosas. Dieron una vuelta para buscar al resto pero no había nadie más, sin embargo, parecía que sobrevivieron pues las mochilas que usaban Eve y Rosse, no se encontraban por ningún lado. Charlotte se disculpó con sus amigos por ser inútil para aquella misión, pero Lerley la tranquiliza diciendo que ella siempre hace todo que ahora le toca a ellos.

·         Cuando Percy despierta, lo primero que hace es preguntar por Charlotte y Tyson, se tranquiliza al ver a Charlotte pero se queda triste por Tyson. Navegan por horas en silencio, Percy ve como Charlotte parecía totalmente perdida mirando al suelo del bote. Percy le dice a Lerley y Annabeth que le hablen acerca de la profecía, ellos le hablan lo poco que sabe. Percy menciona que él o Charlotte serian aquellos mestizos, Charlotte habla por primera vez diciendo que importa poco quien sea, estará allí para luchar a como de lugar, Percy asiente dándole la razón. Annabeth menciona las gaviotas y que estaban cerca de tierra.

·         Eve reacciona del desmayo, su cuerpo estaba en la orilla de una isla con Allyson a su izquierda también dormida, cuando Eve se levanta siente dolor en su cuerpo y solo puede recordar la explosión. Levanta su mirada a la isla, ve a Rosse parada más allá observando su alrededor, Rosse menciona que está feliz por ver a Eve ya despierta. Rosse dice no saber dónde estaban, pero deberían explorar. Juntas despiertan a Allyson, van a explorar aquella isla cuando escuchan una voz conocida: Era Grover, estaban en la isla.

[holibufuvuc]

Lehrerhandbuch unterrichtssprache deutsch

  LEHRERHANDBUCH UNTERRICHTSSPRACHE DEUTSCH >> DOWNLOAD LINK vk.cc/c7jKeU

  LEHRERHANDBUCH UNTERRICHTSSPRACHE DEUTSCH >> READ ONLINE bit.do/fSmfG

        aspekte a1 pdfklett online-übungen deutsch klett deutsch als fremdsprache klett klasse a1

  Das Lehrerhandbuch enthält:- eine ausführliche Einführung in die Konzeption des Wörterbuch der Unterrichtssprache- methodisch-didaktische Hinweise zu den. Unterrichtssprache deutsch : Wörter und Wendungen für Lehrer und Schüler Disponible en Biblioteca/CRAI Sala de lectura (803.0-07 BUT unt) Bücher bei Weltbild: Jetzt Planetino: Bd.2 Lehrerhandbuch von Gabriele Kopp Deutsch als Fremdsprache - Kurs für Kinder von 7 bis 10 Jahren. Unterrichtssprache ist Englisch. Leider weiss ich noch nicht, welches Sprachniveau ich unterrichten werde, deshalb suche ich ein Lehrwerk, dasDeutsch für Jugendliche Lehrerhandbuch mit Video-DVD und Audio-CDs Birgitta Redemittel zur Unterrichtssprache und hinten eine Landkarte von D-A-CH. Der grüne Max 1: Deutsch als Fremdsprache für die Primarstufe. Lehrerhandbuch | Krulak-Kempisty, Elzbieta, Reitzig, Lidia, Endt, Ernst | ISBN: 9783126062015 Eine Besonderheit weisen die Übungen zum „Sprechen üben“ im Lehrbuch auf, denen im Arbeitsbuch Stunde anhand der Unterrichtssprache geübt werden. HUEBER HELLAS. Lehrerhandbuch. Deutsch für Jugendliche. Planet 1. Gabriele . Test: Durch die Tests, jeweils mit Selb

https://lacapoxoqi.tumblr.com/post/693999381617180672/teamdrive-2-handbuch-des, https://gabecijum.tumblr.com/post/693999602242813952/loderer-claudio-handbuch-bewertung-unternehmen, https://gabecijum.tumblr.com/post/693999326579638272/logitech-k480-bedienungsanleitung, https://gabecijum.tumblr.com/post/693999086577287168/bedienungsanleitung-aeg-nm-1715-rittenhouse, https://kijedowilo.tumblr.com/post/693999510786064384/ev-dc-one-bedienungsanleitung-galaxy.

[crcwned]

okay, so i don’t really have a dedicated tag for ships, but i also have a lot of ships that i want, so i went ahead and made a list. it’s non-exhaustive, and i’m open to other fcs pairings that aren’t on it, but these are just some basic ideas. if you see anything you like, leave a ♡ and i’ll come to you about plotting !

** bold denotes the fc i would prefer to use ; no bold = no preference !

l*ly james x s*bastian st*n

l*ly james x m*chiel h*isman

l*ly james x chr*s ev*ns

sydn*y sween*y x j*cob el*rdi

sydn*y sween*y x al*xa d*mie

sydn*y sween*y x nat*sha liu b*rdizzo

anne hath*way x j*ssica ch*stain

anne hath*way x chris p*ne

j*ssica ch*stain x osc*r isaac

j*ssica ch*stain x chr*s ev*ns

m*la k*nis x s*bastian st*n

z*ndaya x tom h*lland

m*rgot r*bbie x s*bastian st*n

m*rgot r*bbie x m*chael b. j*rdan

m*rgot r*bbie x chr*s ev*ns

eliz*beth ols*n x m*chiel h*isman

eliz*beth ols*n x chr*s ev*ns

eliz*beth ols*n x p*nn b*dgley

eliz*beth ols*n x r*bert p*ttinson

eliz*beth ols*n x tom h*ddleston

j*die c*mer x j*e k*ery

an* d* arm*s x chr*s ev*ns

an* d* arm*s x m*rgot r*bbie

an* d* arm*s x s*bastian st*n

l*dy g*ga x ad*m dr*ver

l*dy g*ga x f*nn w*ttrock

l*dy g*ga x s*bastian st*n

l*dy g*ga x al*xandra d*ddario

v*ctoria p*dretti x ol*ver j*ckson-c*hen

v*ctoria p*dretti x am*lia eve

v*ctoria p*dretti x dyl*n arn*ld

v*ctoria p*dretti x p*nn b*dgley

v*ctoria p*dretti x dyl*n o’br*en

#1x1 rp #1x1 discord rp #indie rp #i censored this list to hell lmao #please read my rules before interacting #q

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sat[urday] 15 October 1836

8 35/..

12 1/4

No kiss ver[y] rainy morn[in]g and F[ahrenheit] 45° at 9 50/.. - at w[hi]ch h[ou]r br[eak]f[a]st and h[a]d Mr. Husb[an]d till 10 3/4 –

h[a[d Mr. H- [Husband] ab[ou]t the board[in]g up the hall for the bearers to br[eak]f[a]st in, and told h[i]m to be here tomor[row] ev[enin]g to

see ab[ou]t gett[in]g the coffin d[o]wnst[ai]rs int[o] the draw[in]g r[oo]m - at my desk at 10 3/4 or rath[e]r sid[in]g my

b[oo]k cupb[oar]d and h[a]d Ingh[a]m and Ch[arle]s How[ar]th and p[ai]d them up to tonight inclus[ive] and in full (exc[ept] Ingh[a]m

for the fence-wall[in]g at Hilltop that Mr. Husb[an]d h[a]s n[o]t yet meas[ure]d off) - all this took me till 12 3/4 –

Look[in]g ab[ou]t w[i]th A- [Ann] in the draw[in]g r[oo]m etc. then giv[in]g direct[io]ns to Bligh ab[ou]t the mak[in]g off the

buttery w[i]th the green cloth screens etc. etc. out – ab[ou]t –w[i]th Rob[er]t Mann + 4 – sid[in]g

up the court etc. etc. the 1st length of the 2 dry wall arches finish[e]d by Rob[er]t M- [Mann] and co. bef[ore] din[ner] –

Mark Hepw[or]th and anoth[e]r one h[or]se cart here today - Hemingway the Wyke gard[ene]r here this morn[in]g

b[u]t n[o]t this aft[ernoo]n – d[i]d n[o]t get to the Lodge r[oa]d today - the gard[ene]rs g[o]t a wett[in]g this morn[in]g in gett[in]g

heather and whims on the top of Bairstow - John Booth w[e]nt a 2[n]d ti[me] for beef today – n[o]t at right and

the cook w[e]nt - Bairstow and his 1/2 broth[e]r ca[me] to A- [Ann] ab[ou]t the Shugden head st[one] - she spo[ke] to them

at the door (ab[ou]t one p.m.) h[a]d n[o]t made up h[e]r mind – w[oul]d n[o]t dispose of the stone priv[atel]y w[i]thout

lett[in]g them kno[w] – walk[e]d w[i]th A- [Ann] on the flags oppos[i]te the h[ou]se fr[om] 4 50/.. to 5 1/2 then h[a]d the

 Shugd[e]n head

stone

  239

1836

Oct[obe]r

N

+

2 Manns fr[om] then to 5 3/4 – ab[ou]t 3 p.m. h[a[d h[a]d Mawson and Mallins[o]n the joiner bet[ween] 4 and 5 – ca[me] for

a check w[hi]ch Mr. Harper w[oul]d leave w[i]th me for ab[ou]t £100 – h[a]d nev[e]r got it - M- [Mallinson] to sp[ea]k

to Mr. Husb[an]d and might ha[ve] his mon[e]y immed[iatel]y on my rec[ei]pt of Mr. Harper’s ord[e]r –

M- [Mallinson] c[oul]d wait till Tues[day] - Mawson h[a]d co[me] on the sa[me] errand, and h[a]d the sa[me] ans[we]r – b[u]t

ment[ione]d als[o] the h[ou]se set out by Stocks - and his, Mawson’s wish, for a 10 h[or]se stab[le] w[i]th a

chamb[e]r ov[e]r it – s[ai]d I h[a]d no object[io]n - it w[a]s agreed at the lett[in]g of the Inn, I w[oul]d do wh[a]t

w[a]s reasonab[le] on rec[eivin]g a percentage on wh[a]t w[a]s laid out, and I w[oul]d adhere to this – s[ai]d M- [Mawson]

h[a]d best tell Stocks that his gett[in]g a licence transferr[e]d to his new h[ou]se oppos[i]te Mawson’s w[oul]d

be oppos[e]d in good earnest - and I th[ou]ght might the opposite[io]n might stand for so[me]th[in]g – b[u]t if

n[o]t, M- [Mawson] h[a]d on[l]y to mend his beer - sell good beer and ale and good wine, and he w[oul]d do ver[y]

well I h[a]d no doubt – Rob[er]t Mann h[a]d told me in the morn[in]g that Stocks off[ere]d Jos[e]ph

Wilkins[o]n 5/. a y[ar]d for the gr[oun]d and h[a]d giv[e]n 7/. p[e]r y[ar]d – perh[aps] ta[ke]s 400 y[ar]ds –

Settl[e]d w[i]th the Manns – talk[e]d ov[e]r the coal – Rob[er]t h[a]d talk[e]d to me in the morn[in]g

of the new line of rail-r[oa]d to go ov[e]r Micklemoss to Bradford - the Manns h[a]d been s[e]nt for

ab[ou]t the tunnell[in]g thro’ the moss – h[a]d told John Mann to say £15 p[e]r y[ar]d (rough guess) to

Mr. Norris – b[u]t John h[a]d s[ai]d £12 w[hi]ch they w[oul]d n[o]t stick to – dimens[io]ns

of tunnel (of stuff tak[in]g out) 20 deep x 20ft. wide - Mr. N- [Norris] want[e]d informat[io]n as to wh[a]t

good w[oul]d be done to Mr. Stocks in loos[in]g his coal - RM- [Robert Mann] told me the benefit w[oul]d be ver[y]

gr[ea]t - I told h[i]m to calcul[a]te as nearly as he c[oul]d and let Mr. N- [Norris] kno[w] - it w[oul]d n[o]t ans[we]r

to any of us to benefit Mr. Stocks’ coal-trade too m[u]ch for noth[in]g - this subj[ec]t to be

furth[e]r and well consid[ere]d and Rob[er]t to co[me] and talk to me ab[ou]t it tomor[row] week - the Manns

ga[ve] me their calculat[io]ns of wh[a]t my coal will make p[e]r ac[re] – Jos[e]ph f[ou]nd the coal at the extent

Est[a]te by the Manns of the val[ue] of my coal

of my boundary str[ai]ght, ab[o]ve Walker pit, adjoin[in]g the waste = 15in. i.e. hardly 4 loads p[e]r sq[uare] y[ar]d

b[u]t suppo[se] 4 l[oa]ds to co[me] out of a sq[uare] y[ar]d and to be g[o]t at 3d. p[e]r l[oa]d and bank[in]g and pull[in]g and str[ai]ght work

and tools and taxes and ev[ery]th[in]g = 2d. p[e]r l[oa]d .:. exp[ense] p[e]r load =5d. + 3d. profit =8d. p[e]r l[oa]d

on talk[in]g it ov[e]r they th[ou]ght 1/2d. p[e]r l[oa]d w[oul]d be en[ou]gh to allow for agency

they calculat[e]d 3d. p[e]r l[oa]d prof[i]t =£242 p[e]r ac[re]    I s[ai]d I th[ou]ght as m[u]ch as this w[oul]d be bid

well! then, s[ai]d they, there m[u]st be so[me] partic[ula]r way of gett[in]g a liv[in]g out of it

coal m[u]st sell for mo[re] or so[me]th[in]g - they th[ou]ght 3 ac[re]s p[e]r ann[um] w[oul]d n[o]t be g[o]t and sold

at 1st - I alw[a]ys say and alw[a]ys ha[ve] s[ai]d fr[om] the 1st I m[u]st ha[ve] 3 ac[re]s p[e]r ann[um] g[o]t

Perh[aps] the Manns’ calculat[io]ns may co[me] as n[ea]r as any case co[me] - they are n[ea]r en[ou]gh to my

own - and so long as coal sells at 8d. p[e]r l[oa]d and wages are as ab[ov]e I m[u]st n[o]t calcul[a]te

up[on] clear[in]g mo[re] than £200 p[e]r ac[re] up[on] the low bed and ab[ou]t £100+ up[on] the upp[e]r b[e]d p[e]r ac[re]

I m[u]st let a sm[all] quant[it]y on a sh[or]t term –

wr[ote] no[te] to ‘Mr. Duncan, undertak[e]r, etc Halifax’ and s[e]nt it by Frank to desire gloves and bisc[ui]ts to be

s[e]nt to Mrs. Ja[me]s Briggs (as ment[ione]d last night when D- [Duncan] w[a]s here thro’ Rob[er]t the f[oo]tman) and to Rachel Sharpe, late

cook here - to be direct[e]d to her at her fath[e]rs’ Pump S[ou]thow[ra]m – chang[e]d my pelisse – din[ner] at 7 to 8 – coff[ee]

upst[ai]rs A- [Ann] r[ea]d h[e]r Fr[en]ch - I look[e]d int[o] her Pinnocks’ Goldsmith’s Rom[an] hist[ory] - then 1/2 asleep on the sofa - then wr[ote] my journ[a]l

till now at 10 1/2 at w[hi]ch h[ou]r F[ahrenheit] 47° ver[y] rainy morn[in]g b[u]t fair bet[ween] 9 and 10 a.m. and aft[er]w[ar]ds damp, muggy, Nov[em]b[e]r like day –

 Pr[ice] of JW-‘s [Joseph Wilkinson] gr[ou]nd

sold to Mr. Stocks.

 Railr[oa]d

gr[ea]t benef[i]t to Stocks.