Oof Quotes

Oof," he says. "Hey, there's a bed there." "Thanks for the warning." "No problem.

(On Angelica in 'Satisfied') Oof. Tryin’ to out-Eponine Eponine up in this piece.

Closer, drüskelle,” she crooned, taunting. He threw an arm over her, hooking her back against his chest. She let out a startled oof and shifted uneasily. “Stop moving,” he muttered. He’d been close to girls—not many, it was true—but none of them had been like her. She was indecently round. “You’re cold and clammy,” she complained with a shiver. “It’s like lying next to a burly squid.” “You told me to get closer!

...she's leaving now. ... Janis attacks the back door of the school gym and finds herself in a heavy cloud of smoke. She realizes she's found the Goths' hangout. Who knew? "Oof," someone says. She keeps walking, muttering, "sorry" to whomever it was she hit with the flying door. *** Cabel: ... That was the Goth stage where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention the hairstyle. (pause) But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And, when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.

just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.”  “Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.

The point is that when you're playing D&D and your group comes across a heap of treasure, or a big sparkly gem, or a magical skull, you should never take it. It's always a trap." He uncrossed his arms and waved them wildly. "This is a trap." Jace was silent. He was looking at Simon thoughtfully, as if he'd never seen him before, or at least never considered him so closely. "Come here," he said. Simon moved toward him, his eyebrows raised. "What-oof!" Jace had dropped his sword into Simon's hands. "Hold this for me while I climb," Jace said, and leaped up onto the plinth.

I wonder if when birds are new they ever try to land on clouds? And if so is it like when you think you’ve gone down the last stair but there’s still another one and you step off and make that weird “oof” noise and everyone looks at you? That would suck. But at least birds are hidden when they fuck up and fall through clouds.

I felt like I was hobbling, like one oof the old crones from Act I of Macbeth - God knows my hair felt scraggy enough that I must have looked the part.

I want to see you not through the machine,' said Kuno. 'I want to speak to you not through the wearisome machine.

Hey. So. You're the new cook?" Oof, yes, ask the guy cooking if he's the new cook. "Yeah! Isn't this place amazing?" "There… was no sarcasm in that statement. I'm confused.

I love the order of deal making, the clarity oof language--how there is little room for interpretation and none for error. I love the black-and-white terms.

Somehow Geryon made it to adolescence. Then he met Herakles and the kingdoms of his life all shifted down a few notches. ... Geryon was going into the Bus Depot one Friday night about three a.m. to get change to call home. Herakles stepped oof the bus from New Mexico and Geryon came fast around the corner of the platform and there it was one of those moments that is the opposite of blindness. The world poured back and forth between their eyes once or twice.

When he let go of Clary, he turned and hugged Jace. Clary watched, tears running down her face. “Oof,” said Jace, sounding extremely startled, but he patted Simon quickly on the back. Simon supposed they usually fist-bumped or something. He did not know the warrior way of being bros: Eric was a big hugger. He decided it would probably be good for Jace, and ruffled his hair a little for emphasis before stepping away.

Cyril had staked out his claim and refused to move. "Move over!" I said, freeing one hand from holding the cat to push. "Dogs are supposed to sleep at the foot of the bed." Cyril had never heard of this rule. He jammed his body up against my back and began to snore. I tugged at the rugs, trying to get enough to cover me, and turned on my side, the cat cradled in my arms. Princess Arjumand paid no attention to the regulations of animals on the bed either. She promptly wriggled free and walked round the bed, treading on Cyril, who responded with a faint "oof," and kneading her claws in my leg. Cyril shoved and shoved again until he had the entire bed and all the covers, and Princess Arjumand draped herself across my neck with her full weight on my Adam's apple. Cyril shoved some more. An hour into this little drama it began to rain in earnest, and everyone moved in under the covers and began jockeying for position again.

Closer, druskelle," she crooned, taunting. He threw an arm over her, hooking her back against his chest. She let out a startled oof and shifted uneasily. "Stop moving," he muttered. He'd been close to girls- not many, it was true- but none of them had been like her. She was indecently round. "You're cold and clammy," she complained with a shiver. "It's like lying next to a burly squid." "You told me to get closer!" "Ease up a bit," she instructed and when he did, she flipped over to face him. "What are you doing?" he asked, pulling back in a panic. "Relax, druskelle. This isn't where I have my way with you." His blue eyes narrowed. "I hate the way you talk.

Summer: Are you okay? Willa: Yeah. Why? Summer: I just got a text from Cade asking. Willa: You can tell Cade I’m getting railed by ten dudes at the best gangbang of my life. Summer: Oof. Even I’m not that brave. I’ll let you tell him that yourself. Summer: He seems stressed, Willa. Just letting you know. Willa: Good.

Oof!" Adam caught me all right, with the side of his head. I could tell by the feel of his skull on my foot as I kicked him. He grabbed me the best he could anyway, and we half landed, half fell in the pine needles. He lay facedown on the ground. I flopped him over on his back to make sure he was alive. If he had a concussion, we'd have to call the ambulance, which meant we'd get caught and he'd get sent to military school. On the bright side, maybe the military school would not take him if he had brain damage. "I'm so sorry." "Worth it," he grunted. He rolled onto his feet like a ninja and grabbed my hand. "Hurry, before they release the hounds.

This is me crouching. This is me standing. This is me realizing how deep this hole is." "Do you have to narrate everything you're doing?" "This is me trying to give myself a boost . . . Oof!" "Sadie-Grace." "I'm sorry! It's just really hard to give yourself a boost.

That spiked measure of awe—of oof—feels like a general slowing, even though what’s really taking place is nothing short of a general quickening.

Hey, look, honey, the hotel has free porn.” A man’s voice laughs, followed by an “Oof” and a woman hissing at him to “Shut the hell up.

Joe fluttered his eyelashes. 'Ooh, Gavin. You made my cold, dead heterosexual heart burst with super gay life and now I can't--oof!' I tackled him. Hard.

Oof,” he said, blowing out a hard breath. “Why are teens so vicious?” “Because we haven’t learned the art of being phony yet, Mr. Soundgarden.” He

I never even thought to look for other—oof!” Lunging forward I found myself tripping right over a nice big chunk of nothing. I stumbled forward; my body surged with the heat of concentrated humiliation. Finally I regained my footing and looked awkwardly up at Joel. “Ha,” I said as a failed effort to laugh at myself. With no hesitation Joel turned around and walked over to the spot that I’d tripped. He bent down and took a firm grip on an armful of thin air. He heaved it up into his arms and walked it over to the edge of the sidewalk and tossed it out of the way. He brushed off his hands with vigor and said, “Don’t want anyone else tripping over that invisible log.

Oh,” said Sistine. And Rob realized then why he liked Sistine so much. He liked her because when she saw something beautiful, the sound of her voice changed. All the words she uttered had an oof sound to them, as if she was getting punched in the stomach. The sound was in her voice when she talked about the Sistine Chapel and when she looked at the things he carved in wood. It was there when she said the poem about the tiger burning bright, and it was there when she talked about Willie May being a prophetess. Her words sounded the way all those things made him feel, as if the world, the real world, had been punched through, so that he could see something wonderful and dazzling on the other side of it.

It sets me oof giggling, which gets everyone else laughing. And it occurs to me that even in these do-or-die moments, there's still space for us to laugh. I guess that means we still have some fight left in us.

I chuck my bag into his lap,perhaps a little too hard.St. Clair oofs and jerks forward. "Watch it." Josh bites into a pink apple and talks through a full moouth. "He has parts down there you don't have." "Ooo,parts," I say. "Intriguing. Tell me more." Josh smiles sadly. "Sorry. Privelged information.Only people with parts can know about said parts." St. Clair shakes the rest of the leaves from his hair and puts on The Hat. Rashmi makes a face at him. "Really? Today? In public?" she asks. "Every day," he says. "As long as you're with me.

You're not from around here, are you?" That got a smile out oof Neal, a real smile, with both sides of his mouth. "Nebraska," he said. "Is that like Kansas?" "It's more like Kansas than other things, I guess. Do you know a lot about Kansas?" "I've watched The Wizard of Oz many, manny times." "Well then," he said, "Nebraska's like Kansas. But in color.

Jane takes a step toward me. And another. And then she, well…throws herself on me. No lie. I catch her and fall back against the elevator wall with an oof. Her hand twisted into my T-shirt, she pulls me down, and our mouths crash. Fuck yeah. All of my pent-up need for this woman unleashes in that moment, whipping through me.

Patricia waited until Tommington had reached the top, then swung down the other side of the tree, dropping from branch to branch so fast she almost pulled her arm out, and then landed on the ground on her butt with an oof. “Hey,” Tommington said from the top of the tree, where his big eyes caught the moonlight. “Where did you go? Come back here!

She ducks her head down and shouts, “Catch me!” “Dina, shit, hold up—” There’s an oof, a trilling laugh, a growl, and the sound of a palm connecting with a backside.

Oof, that sucks.” Orion was sprawled out on his bunk across the room, reading a book.

As if he sensed her staring, his head rose and his attention was on her. The corner of his mouth lifted in a shy smile. Oof, that kind of smile could knock a girl off her feet.

Oof!

See you at breakfast?" "Yeah.See ya." I try to say this casually,but I'm so thrilled that I skip from her room and promptly slam into a wall. Whoops.Not a wall.A boy. "Oof." He staggers backward. "Sorry! I'm so sorry,I didn't know you were there." He shakes his head,a little dazed. The first thing I notice is his hair-it's the first thing I notice about everyone. It's dark brown and messy and somehow both long and short at the same time. I think of the Beatles,since I've just seen them in Meredith's room. It's artist hair.Musician hair. I-pretend-I-don't-care-but-I-really-do-hair. Beautiful hair. "It's okay,I didn't see you either. Are you all right,then?" Oh my.He's English. "Er.Does Mer live here?" Seriously,I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent. The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big,curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf,like my Nanna Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?" "I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed." "Yes! Meredith lives there.I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh God. What.Is with.The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humiliating. The beautiful boy gives an amused grin. His teeth are lovely-straight on top and crooked on the bottom,with a touch of overbite. I'm a sucker for smiles like this,due to my own lack of orthodontia. I have a gap between my front teeth the size of a raisin. "Etienne," he says. "I live one floor up." "I live here." I point dumbly at my room while my mind whirs: French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused. He raps twice on Meredith's door. "Well. I'll see you around then, Anna." Eh-t-yen says my name like this: Ah-na. My heart thump thump thumps in my chest.

On the other hand, men are sometimes wildly inappropriate in the way they share with women. By a show of hands, how many of you have seen a strange penis on the street? On the subway? At a sleepover? I was once walking with my friend Keri in the middle of the day and some guy asked us for the time. When we looked down at our watches, his dick was in his hands. We giggled and screamed and ran away. We were probably ten. I have been really drunk in high school and had a guy try to fool around with me. I have been called a bitch and a lesbian when I rejected a guy in college. I have locked eyes with various subway masturbators. I have been mugged but not raped, pushed and spit on by someone I knew, and forced to pull over in a road-rage incident where a man stuck his head into my car and told me he was going to “cum in my face.” And I count myself very lucky. That is what “very lucky” feels like. Oof.

That spiked measure of awe—of oof—feels like a general slowing, even though what’s really taking place is nothing short of a general quickening. The sheer, ensorcelled panic of feeling moved. Infirmed by what switches me on but also awake and unexpectedly cured. Similar to how sniffing a lemon when I’m carsick heals.

She's probably just tired of seeing you miserable.Like we all are," I add. "I'm sure...I'm sure she's as crazy about you as ever." "Hmm." He watches me put away my own shoes and empty the contents of my pockets. "What about you?" he asks, after a minute. "What about me?" St. Clair examines his watch. "Sideburns. You'll be seeing him next month." He's reestablishing...what? The boundary line? That he's taken, and I'm spoken for? Except I'm not. Not really. But I can't bear to say this now that he's mentioned Ellie. "Yeah,I can't wait to see him again. He's a funny guy, you'd like him.I'm gonna see his band play at Christmas. Toph's a great guy, you'd really like him. Oh. I already said that,didn't I? But you would. He's really...funny." Shut up,Anna. Shut.Up. St. Clair unbuckles and rebuckles and unbuckles his watchband. "I'm beat," I say. And it's the truth. As always, our conversation has exhausted me. I crawl into bed and wonder what he'll do.Lie on my floor? Go back to his room? But he places his watch on my desk and climbs onto my bed. He slides up next to me. He's on top of the covers, and I'm underneath. We're still fully dressed,minus our shoes, and the whole situation is beyond awkward. He hops up.I'm sure he's about to leave,and I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed,but...he flips off my light.My room is pitch-black. He shuffles back toward my bed and smacks into it. "Oof," he says. "Hey,there's a bed there." "Thanks for the warning." "No problem." "It's freezing in here.Do you have a fan on or something?" "It's the wind.My window won't shut all the way.I have a towel stuffed under it, but it doesn't really help." He pats his way around the bed and slides back in. "Ow," he says. "Yes?" "My belt.Would it be weird..." I'm thankful he can't see my blush. "Of course not." And I listen to the slap of leather as he pulls it out of his belt loops.He lays it gently on my hardwood floor. "Um," he says. "Would it be weird-" "Yes." "Oh,piss off.I'm not talking trousers. I only want under the blankets. That breeze is horrible." He slides underneath,and now we're lying side by side. In my narrow bed. Funny,but I never imagined my first sleepover with a guy being,well,a sleepover. "All we need now are Sixteen Candles and a game of Truth or Dare." He coughs. "Wh-what?" "The movie,pervert.I was just thinking it's been a while since I've had a sleepover." A pause. "Oh." "..." "..." "St. Clair?" "Yeah?" "Your elbow is murdering my back." "Bollocks.Sorry." He shifts,and then shifts again,and then again,until we're comfortable.One of his legs rests against mine.Despite the two layers of pants between us,I feel naked and vulnerable. He shifts again and now my entire leg, from calf to thigh, rests against his. I smell his hair. Mmm. NO! I swallow,and it's so loud.He coughs again. I'm trying not to squirm. After what feels like hours but is surely only minutes,his breath slows and his body relaxes.I finally begin to relax, too. I want to memorize his scent and the touch of his skin-one of his arms, now against mine-and the solidness os his body.No matter what happens,I'll remember this for the rest of my life. I study his profile.His lips,his nose, his eyelashes.He's so beautiful.

The windows were shattered. Grass and weeds grew up through the warped wooden floor. The roof had partially collapsed, and the sun shone through on a pile oof leaves that almost reached the ceiling. At the top of the leaf pile, a golden flower has bloomed, stretching toward the sunlight streaming through he exposed rafters.

Gavin finally clears his throat to fill the awkward silence. “Tavish, Lorne. Will you permit me to introduce—” The large man—Lorne—laughs, and it’s a deep rumble in his chest. “Permit me. Well, la-di-da Lord-I-Have-an-Earldom.” “Don’t be an arsehole, Lorne,” Tavish says. “There’s a lady present, for god’s sake, man.” Then he looks at me. “I’m Tavish—uh, Mr. Gray.” He smacks his companion in the stomach, who lets out a hearty oof. “And this impolite son of a bitch is Mr. Candish.” “If you call me Mr. Candish,” Lorne says, “I won’t bother responding.” “Well,” Gavin says, “after that unseemly introduction . . .” He gestures to me. “This is Lady Aileana Kameron.” He turns to Kiaran, rather reluctantly. “And you’ve already seen Kiaran, who is—” “Leaving,” Kiaran interrupts briskly. “My threshold for human tolerance is now exceeded. Send the pixie for me in the event I get to stab something.” With that, Kiaran turns on his heel and strides out of the room. Damn him.

Are you worried about him that much?” “O-…..of course, he’s my friend.” “You become angered at my female friends, and yet you’re saying that I should silently consent to your male friends?” Isn’t that a twisted comparison? “Now listen, Kelpie isn’t a male friend but a fairy friend. Even if you were to blindly love a canary, no one would be jealous.” “I don’t think so. If a peacock were to open up its feathers to court you, I would shoot it dead.” She wanted to think he was joking, but his ash mauve eyes were serious.

Are―you dying?" she asked. "Just can't breathe. This air." "Poor, poor―good lord. I've forgotten your name." "Hell of a thing." "Barney!" He clutched her. "No! Don't stop!" She arched her back. Her teeth chattered. "I wasn't going to," he said. "Oooaugh!" He laughed. "Don't please laugh at me." "Not meant unkindly." A long silence, then. Then, "Oof.

I might want to fuck you, Twelve. But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to get fucked by you.

Even taking the time to write this out has made me dumber. We are all dumber for participating in this shit parade.

Unfortunately, the man made no attempt to brace himself for the finish and simply smacked into the wall with a resounding thud. “Ouch!” he cried. “I mean . . . ow . . . er . . . oof.” He also didn’t think to unclip himself so he could get out of the way before I arrived. I did my best to prepare myself, but I’d been expecting to hit a wall, not an arms dealer.

Rakitin doesn’t like God, oof, how he doesn’t! That’s the sore spot in all of them! But they conceal it. They lie. They pretend. ‘What, are you going to push for that in the department of criticism?’ I asked. ‘Well, they won’t let me do it openly,’ he said, and laughed. ‘But,’ I asked, ‘how will man be after that? Without God and the future life? It means everything is permitted now, one can do anything?

Steve…” “Huh?” I said sleepily. “How are you feeling?” asked Kaming. I rubbed my eyes. “Okay, I guess.” “Do you remember what today is?” “Huh? Did I forget someone’s birthday?” “No, today is the day that you finally get out of that wheel chair,” the medic explained. I gasped as my eyes opened wide and my body perked up. “It’s today! Finally!” Kaming smiled. “Yup, now please take it nice and sl—” But I was so excited that I immediately used my arms to push my body up and leapt to my feet. I landed but my legs instantly gave out from under me, and I fell flat on my face. Oof!

He was astonishingly ugly, so much so that the prettiest boot-embroiderer of the day, Irma Boissy, was so revolted by his looks as to declare him to be impossible. But this in no way discouraged Grantaire, who gazed tenderly and fixedly at all women with an air of saying "If I chose", and strove to persuade his comrades that he was universally sought after.

There was another reason, too, one I didn't tell her. And this will make perfect sense to people who have dealt with depression and make absolutely no sense to people who never have: I didn't want to waste the doctor's time. I knew for a fact that I could not be helped, so let that appointment go to someone with solvable problems. Reader, the whole point of a doctor is to know more than you do, assess a problem, and then help you. Seeing people and trying to help them is the entirety of their job, and thus if you are a person, you are worthy of being seen. You are worthy of help. "I'm not going to a doctor. I mean, what if they put me on pills and I become a zombie or something? Plus, it's a copay." Our co-pay at the time was $10. I was not worth $10. "If you don't love yourself enough to go do this, do you at least love me and the kids?" Oof. "Yes.

I'm sure we'll need some- oof!" She was never to finish the thoughts she was startled by a creature that came bounding swiftly around the side of the carriage. A glimpse of floppy ears and jolly brown eyes filled her vision before the enthusiastic canine pounced so eagerly that she toppled backward from her squatting position. She landed on her rump, the impact knocking her hat to the ground. A swath of hair came loose and slid over her face, while a young tan-and black retriever leapt around her as if he were on springs. She felt a huff of dog breath on at her ear and the swipe of a tongue on her cheek. "Ajax, no," she heard Ivo exclaim. Realizing what a mess she'd become, all in a matter of seconds, Pandora experienced a moment of despair, followed by resignation. Of course this would happen. Of course she would have to meet the duke and duchess after tumbling on the drive like a half-witted carnival performer. It was so dreadful that she began to giggle, while the dog nudged his head against hers. In the next moment, Pandora was lifted to her feet and caught firmly against a hard surface. The momentum threw her off balance, and she clung to St. Vincent dizzily. He kept her anchored securely against him with an arm around her back. "Down, idiot," St. Vincent commanded. The dog subsided, panting happily. "He must have slipped past the front door," Ivo said. St. Vincent smoothed Pandora's hair back from her face. "Are you hurt?" His gaze ran over her swiftly. "No... no." Helpless giggles kept bubbling up as her nervous tension released. She tried to smother the giddy sounds against his shoulder. "I was... trying so hard to be ladylike..." A brief chuckle escaped him, and his hand moved over her upper back in a calming circle. "I would imagine it's not easy to be ladylike in the midst of a dog mauling.

I heard a right-wing radio show host two weeks ago talking about how the battle against environmentalists is winnable. He was saying the right wing had almost won the war. I heard this WHILE I was driving in Ohio on a main highway that was six inches above the flood waters. I can't imagine your average Ohio Republican voter is standing up to his waist in his flooded house thinking, “Goddamn straight! We've almost won the war against environmentalists! Time for a celebration!” talk about out fo touch with voters' concerns! You think they give a shit about whether there's a group oof people whoo think wind and solar power would help the world? No! Their number one concern is finding the front half of their house that rumor-has-it is a mile away on top of a Pizzeria Uno. Their main concern is not defending a billionaire's right to drill for oil in the last remaining polar bear's living room. Their main concern is finding something too weigh down their 2-year-old Corgi so he doesn't shoot off into the twister clouds like the last one did.

Yes. I'm going to talk to her. Maybe." Kristoff huffed. "You, Bulda, Grand Pabbie... you act like this is so easy! They may be so-called love experts, but they've never left the valley." Sven snorted. "Hi," Anna interrupted, feeling funny. She was suddenly very aware of how she looked, and how he did, too. Kristoff had on a bright blue dress shirt and clean pants. She was wearing a green dress under a flour-and-icing-covered apron. Her braids, which she'd had in for two days, needed refreshing. "Were you looking for me? I mean, not actually looking, but you're here, so maybe... you're hungry?" He immediately blushed. "What? Yes. I mean, no. I..." He pressed a bunch of carrots into her hands. "I just wanted to give you what I owed you." "Oh." Anna looked down. "You didn't have to bring me back- oof!" Sven had bumped into Anna, sending her flying into Kristoff's arms. The two tumbled backward, falling onto several stacks of flour Anna's parents hadn't had a chance to bring into the shop yet. "This is awkward," Anna said, struggling to get up. 'Not because you're awkward. Because we're... I'm... awkward." She stood up. "You're gorgeous. Wait, what?

Here he comes,” Blake said. When Kaidan climbed the steps to the deck he came straight for me, his hair slicked back with sweat from running. He took my face in his hands, breathing hard, lips tight, eyes like blue blazes. “Don’t ever do that again,” he ground out. It took a second to process his words and remember what exactly I wasn’t supposed to do again. Then I recalled interfering. “I know it was dangerous,” I admitted, “but there were five of them—” “I can bloody well handle myself, Anna!” His hands flung away from my face. “Maybe if there were only a couple, but there were five pissed-off psychos with weapons! I couldn’t just stand there and watch!” Kaidan, exasperated, pivoted like he was going to walk away, raked his fingers through his hair, and turned to me again. “What did you think you could do?” he asked. “You got in a lucky shot when you racked him, but what if it hadn’t worked? As you saw today your mind powers don’t always work!” Ah. He had no idea what I was capable of now. I held a hand out. “Give me your knife.” His eyebrows went together. “What?” “Just give it to me.” I stepped closer, feeling edgy. “No, Anna, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this is ridic—” My movements were fast as I went for him full force, using all my body weight and strength to hook a foot behind his knee and slam my palm into his shoulder. He landed on his back with a surprised oof and I crouched over him. “Give me your knife,” I said again. “Holy . . .” Blake let out a long whistle from where he watched at the rail. Kaidan lay there with a whimsical sort of look and said, “God, that was hot.” I held out my hand. This time he fished the knife from his waistband and placed the onyx handle in my palm. From my crouched position I momentarily eyed a wooden bird statue perched at the top of the deck rail twenty feet away, then let the cool metal fly from my fingers. It spun through the air with a sound like rapid wing beats, then a whump as it stuck into the side of the bird’s head. “Dude!” Blake yelled. Beneath me, where Kaidan lay, burst a vivid cloud of red so brief I wondered if I’d imagined it. I stared down at him in shock. “You showed your colors!” I said. “Did not.” He pushed himself up and we both stood. “You totally let ’em out, brah,” Blake told him with a grin. “Shut up.” When he peered down at me I said, “I’ve been training. I’m not completely helpless anymore.” “I can see that,” he murmured.

There was a man in the garden with the little girl. He was turning over the soil in a garden bed. He had obviously heard the car, because he raised his hand in greeting, but then he had gone back to his work. He had actually turned his back on the car. Tina thought she knew what that meant. The man had not wanted to see Pete the policeman. Maybe he thought Pete was bringing bad news. Tina smiled. Here was good news. Finally, here was good news for this family. The man dug the garden fork into the soil with a little bit of effort. He was deliberately not looking at Pete. The little girl walked down the driveway towards them. Pete said quietly, ‘No real way to prepare them. You go ahead, Lockie.’ Lockie squeezed Tina’s hand. ‘Go on, Lockie, it’s your dad. He’s been looking for you for a long time. Go on.’ She pulled her hand slowly out of Lockie’s grip. She wanted to save him from his fear, but she had saved him once. Lockie would have to do this by himself. The little girl who was surely Sammy looked back at her father, but he was still concentrating on his work. She smiled in Pete’s direction and then she focused on Lockie. She stared at him, as if trying to work out exactly who he was. Lockie pushed his hood back, exposing his short blond hair. He stood, and Tina could sense him holding his breath, waiting for his sister to see him. To really see him. Sammy stared hard at Lockie now, frowning. And then Tina saw recognition light up her face. She looked at her father who had still not looked up. She looked back at Lockie. She started jumping up and down. ‘Lockie!’ she screamed. ‘Lockie, Lockie, Lockie!’ Lockie smiled.The man jerked upright and dropped the garden fork. ‘Stop that, Samantha,’ he whispered angrily. ‘Jesus, stop that! Be quiet. Stop that.’ ‘Lockie, Lockie, Lockie!’ The little girl flew down the driveway and launched herself at her brother, who went, ‘Oof,’ but he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Lockie, Lockie, Lockie,’ she repeated, as if to make the moment real for herself. The man stood and stared at his children, still without realising that he was indeed looking at both his children. He started walking down the driveway. He began with an angry quick stride but the closer he got the more unsure his steps became. He was a big man in charge of a big farm but his steps became small and faltering. Tina could see the disbelief spreading across his face. Sammy let go of Lockie and took his hand. She started pulling him up the driveway. ‘It’s Lockie, Dad. Look, it’s Lockie, come look, Dad, Lockie’s home. He’s home, Dad. I knew he home. He’s home, Dad. I knew he would come home. I told you, Dad. Look its Lockie. Lockie, Lockie, Lockie’s home. Lockie’s home.’ The man stopped a few feet away from Lockie. His mouth was open. He moved it once or twice, but no words came out, and then came a sound that Tina had never heard before. It was a moaning, keening sound, but rough with the depth of his voice. It was four months of agony and the ecstasy of this moment all rolled into one. It was his heart right out there in the open for everyone to see. He opened his arms and dropped to his knees. Lockie let go of Sammy’s hand and continued alone up the driveway towards his father. He was twisting his hands and pulling at his jumper. He walked into his father’s arms and was completely surrounded by the large man. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Dad, I’m sorry.’ At the bottom of the driveway Tina watched Lockie and his father. Lockie’s voice was muffled by his father’s arms, but Tina could still hear him repeating, ‘I’m sorry.’ Say it, Tina begged the man silently. Please, please, just say it. ‘Oh, Lockie,’ said the man through his tears, his large shoulders heaving. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry, Lockie. I’m sorry. I’ve been looking for you, Lockie. Where did you go, mate? Where did you go?

There are marble-workers at the Barrière du Maine, and painters and workers in the sculptors' studios. They're keen, on the whole, but inclined to blow hot and cold. I don't know what's got into them recently. They seem to have lost interest, they spend their whole time playing dominoes. It's important for someone to go and talk to them, and talk bluntly. Their place is the Café Richefeu and they're always there between twelve and one. It needs a puff of air to brighten up those members. I was going to ask that dreamy character, Marius, but he doesn't come here any more. So I need someone for the Barrière du Maine, and I've no one to send." "There's me," said Grantaire. "I'm here." "You?" "Why not?" "You'll go out and preach republicanism, rouse up the half-hearted in the name of principle?" "Why shouldn't I?" "Would you be any good at it?" "I'd quite like to try," said Grantaire. "But you don't believe in anything?" "I believe in you." "Grantaire, do you really want to do me a service?" "Anything you like — I'd black your boots." "Then keep out of our affairs. Stick to your absinthe.

He adopted his standard mocking approach. “Having trouble getting out of the pool, Lily? There’s a ladder on the side for the old ladies who come and do aqua aerobics.” Everything inside her stilled. That condescending wretch. She felt him come closer, and was careful not to stir an inch, not even a hair. “You should get out of the pool and take a long hot shower. It’ll make you feel better,” he suggested, not ungently. His brow furrowed with worry. She ignored the thread of concern in his voice and concentrated on not moving too suddenly. Slowly, as if in unbearable agony, she lifted her head. He was dressed once more in his khakis and shirt, his sneakers were in one hand, his gear bag in the other. Good. She let her face crumble, her expression slip into wretchedness. Her lower lip trembled, a special added effect. “I—I’m not sure I can even make it to the ladder,” she confessed haltingly. “My whole body’s shot.” Damn, she must be hurting worse than he’d imagined. Trying not to stare at her lush lower lip quivering helplessly, Sean dropped his gear bag and stepped forward. “Here,” he said, leaning over, stretching out his hand. “Grab my hand. I’ll pull you out.” She’d braced her feet against the wall of the pool, knowing she’d have to strike fast. They grasped hands. The second his tightened about her forearm, she jerked backward with all her strength. Physics were on her side. Caught off balance, Sean somersaulted through the air, with only enough time to yell, “Shit!” before he landed with a cannonball-sized splash. Lily braced her arms on the pool deck. She’d intended to jump out and make a mad dash for the ladies’ locker room but her efforts were hampered by her convulsive laughter. A surprised “Oof!” flew from her lips. Sean’s arm had snaked out and wrapped around her waist, dumping her backward into the water. She pushed to the surface to find Sean glowering menacingly. He was sopping wet and just as furious. Lily’s laughter redoubled, then died away when his hands took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. Mere inches separated their bodies. “What are you doing?” Her voice came out an alarmed squeak. Her eyes flew to his. They sparkled with green and gold lights. “Payback time, Lily. You’ve pushed me once too often. I had my cell phone in my pocket. I don’t think it’s waterproof. My leather wallet is in my rear pocket, crammed with pictures of my adorable niece and nephew. Basically, Banyon, you owe me. Big time.” His tanned face, with drops of water still clinging to its chiseled planes, descended. He was going to kiss her, she realized, panic-stricken at the thought. “Don’t, Sean, don’t!” “I think I have to. It’s been a long time coming. Oh, by the way, I like lots of tongue.” Indignant, her mouth opened, ready to skewer him. But Sean was quicker. He shut Lily up the way he’d been dreaming of for so long. For years she’d driven him mad, made him crazed with desire. Now, by God, he was going to taste her. The passion and frustration inside him erupted. He seized her mouth, molding her lips to his own. Carnal fantasies gave way to a reality a thousand times sweeter. Starved for her, Sean’s lips plundered, boldly claiming her as his.

Okay,let's do it," Robbie said, slapping his hands together as he stood. He stepped towards me with his arms outstreched and I tripped back. " What? No" " What? Yes," he said. He hit the rewind button and the tape zipped backward. He paused it right as the dance began. " You don't really expect me to ask Tama to dance with me without any practice. Even I'm not that stupid." I was suddenly very aware of my heartbeat. " There's no way I'm dancing with you." " You really know how to stroke a guy's ego," Robbie joked. "Come on. I'm not that repulsive." "You're not repulsive at all, it's just-" " Well, that's good to hear," Robbie said with a teasing smile. He was enjoying this. "it's just that I don't dance," I admitted. Never had. Not once. Not with a guy. I was a dance free-zone. " Well, neither do II mean, except on stage. But i've never danced like this, so we're even" he said. He hit "play". The music started and Robbie pulled me toward him by my wrist. he grabbed my hand, which was sweating, and held it, then put his other hand on my waist. My boobs pressed sgsinst his chest and I flinched, but Robbie didn't seem to notice. He was too busy consulting the TV screen. " Here goes nothing," he said. "Okay, it's a waltz, so one, two, three,,, one, two, three. Looks like a big step on one and two little steps on two and three. Got it?" "Sure." I so didn't have it. " Okay, go." He started to step in a circle, pulling me with him.I staggered along, mortified. " One, two, three. One two, three," he counted under his breath. My foot caught on his ankle. " Oops! Sorry." I was sweating like mad now, wishing I'd taken off my sweater, at least. " I got ya," he said, his grip tightiening on my hand. " K eep going." " One, two, three," I counted, staring down at our feet. He slammed one of his hip into one of the set chairs. " Ow. Dammit!" " Are you okay?"I asked."Yeah. Keep going," he said through his teeth. " One, two, three," I counted. I glanced up at the Tv screen, and the second I took my eyes off our feet, they got hopelessly tangled. I felt that instant swoop of gravity and shouted as we went down. The floor was not soft. " Oof?" " Ow. Okay, ow," Robbie said, grabbing his elbow. " That was not a good bone to fall on." He shook his arm out and I brought my knees up under my chin. " Maybe this wasn't the best idea." "No! No. We cannot give up that easily," Robbie said, standing. He took my hands and hoisted my up. " Maybe we just need to simplify it a little. " Actually i think its the twirl and the dip at the end that are really important," I theorized. It seemed like the most romantic part to me. " Okay, good." Robbie was phsyched by this development. "So maybe instead of going in circles, we just step side to side and do the twirl thing a couple of times. " Sounds like a plan," I said. " Let's do it." Robbie rewound the tape and we started from the beginning of the music. He took my hand again and held it up, then placed his other hand on my waist. This time we simply swayed back and forth. I was just getting used to the motion, when I realized that Robbie was staring at me.Big time." What?" i said, my skin prickling. " Trying to make eye contact," he said. " I hear eye contact while dancing is key." " Where would you hear something like that?" I said. " My grandmother. She's a wise woman," he said. His grandmother. How cute was that? His eyes were completely focused on my face. I tried to stare back into them, but I keep cracking up laughing. And he thought I'd make a good actress. " Wow. You suck at eye contact," he said. "Come on. Give me something to work here." I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It's just Robbie Delano, KJ. You can do this. And so I did. I looked right back into his eyes. And we continued to sway at to the music. His hand around mine. His hand on my waist. Our chests pressed together. I stared into his eyes, and soon i found that laughing was the last thing on my mind. " How's this working for you?

Oof! That’s what a guy gets for being chivalrous?” he says, pretending to look wounded but then grins wickedly. “Unless this is the start of my punishment – in which case, I think we should come up with some safe words before this gets completely out of hand.” I punch his shoulder. “No, that’s what you get for being a moron. What you could’ve got for being chivalrous … well, now you’ll never know.” I tell him with a wry laugh.

Kruppe hastens with proper welcome to this grand company to already beloved Scillara of the Knowing Eyes and other assorted accoutrements of charm Kruppe would dearly wish to knowingly eye, if not for the dastardly demands of decorum. Welcome, cries Kruppe, even as he slumps back - oof! - exhausted by his enthusiasm and dimpled with desire.

Oof!

oof

OOF!

(on private schools in LA) paying 40 grand every year for your kid to hate school GET OOFED

I make a little noise—an audible oof—and his eyes narrow curiously, a subtle hint that he’s heard me.

among others—the Oofs (not the “Oops,” as the text gives),

He dropped the cases with a bang that made her jump. “You talk too bloody much.” With that, he gave her a yank. Off guard, she plowed into him, and managed no more than a quick oof before he shoved her chin up. And took her mouth like a man starving for it.

Well, thank you for that information. I have enough to get me going.”   “Good. You should head home now.”   “What? But I still have so many questions to ask you.”   “Those questions will have to wait for another time,” the Sage said.   “Wait, why should I leave now? Is something wrong?”   “Just a minute ago, I saw a glimpse about your hometown, something is going to happen there.”   I gasped. “What? What did you see?”   “I’m sorry, my vision wasn’t clear on what it was.”   What is it? What could it be? I wondered to myself.   “The villagers there, they will need you. That’s all I saw.”    I took that as my cue to leave. “I gotta go. I’ll head back right now,” I said as I quickly rushed to the door. Before leaving the building, I yelled, “Thank you for your wisdom! I’ll be back one day.”   The Sage nodded. “Be careful going dow—”   In my hasty exit, I was reckless and tripped over my foot. I fell and rolled down the mound.   Oof!   Ahh!   Ugh!

I collided into the zombies. The undead monsters poofed from the collision, and I went tumbling down.   Oof!

it didn’t take me long to learn that there is a major disconnect between most parents and children when it comes to talking about puberty. And regarding sex in particular—perhaps the most pivotal conversation for an adult, a major parenting milestone and hurdle cleared—the moment often doesn’t even register with their kid. Oof.

I have tried to kill him,” he babbled. “Rand al’Thor. I have tried! But I cannot find him. I cannot! I was told my family would be killed if I failed, one by one. I was promised I would be last! I have cousins, yet. Nephews. Nieces. I have another sister! You must give me more time!

Your Sicarius team?” Goodbye frying pan, hello fire. “Yes,” he said proudly. “Out of emotional concern for others, I am acquiring assets to come to y’all’s aid.” He saw the looks on our faces, and his fell. “That was wrong? Dang it. I thought I nailed it this time. I’ll go stall them.

I walked over to Claire. “Um … hurrr … will you marry me, Claire?” Claire dropped her fork on her plate. The room became deadly silent. Oof. Maybe I should have tried a different approach. Claire stared at me and blinked her eyes. “What?” I got down on one knee like I’ve heard you’re supposed to do. “Will you marry me?” Claire blinked a few times. Her mouth began to tremble. “What is this coming from?” I handed her the letter. “Read this.” She took the letter with a trembling hand and began to read. As she read, she placed her hand over her mouth. She gasped twice. The color drained from her face. She finished and rested the letter in her lap. With tears in her eyes, she stood up, looked at me, and said, “Yes.

I just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.”  “Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.

He spoke as if this were the Brangelina wedding (RIP).

And though our life in this manifestation often turns out to be a little trash, still it is life and not just the extraction oof a square root.

I just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.” “Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.” “Don’t start with anything. He thinks you kill people,” Atticus said, practically apoplectic at that point. “He does kill people?” Adam reminded.

I just hate myself so much for not being loved.” Oof. I absolutely got it. I made my voice soft. “You can’t make people love you. But you can give the love you long for out to the world. You can be the love you wish you had. That’s the way to be okay. Because giving love to other people is a way of giving it to yourself.

don’t want you to feel embarrassed for wanting me.” “Yes, but you said you wanted to go slow. To take as much time as you need. I don’t want you to feel pressured by my needs. Because if we’re being honest? I’m always in need when it comes to you.” I love hearing that. I move toward him, grabbing a fistful of his uniform and tugging him toward me. “Will you give me a kiss, then? Show me just how much you need…?” “Right now?” “Right now,” I agree. “Because I’m feeling it, too.” He moves closer, his hand skimming along the line of my face. He leans in⁠— “What the kef is going on here?” The door swishes open and Sakkar steps into the room. Oof. Busted. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN KAZEX I could cheerfully strangle Sakkar for his keffing awful timing.

Floyd hopped up on the loveseat next to me. "Hi, pal," I said, feeling a little drained. "Your mom should be back soon." His meow sounded like a whine. "I know the feeling. But maybe I can help you out?" When I went to the kitchen and cut up a scallop, he meowed again and went up on his hind legs, begging. "Did you just twirl?" I said, astonished. I sat back down on the sofa and put my hand out, and he became a little furry seafood vacuum. "I didn't know you could purr as you ate. That's kind of amazing." He headbutted my empty hand, and I took a hint and ran it through his silky fur. I dug my fingertips around his ears and chin, and he closed his eyes and purred even more loudly. "Such a good boy," I said, feeling a little better. "You like that? Is that, oof!" His big back feet drove the air out of me while he climbed onto my chest. "Jesus, cat, at least buy me a drink first." He ignored my smartass comment and stretched out from my thighs to my shoulders. "I guess this is me now. Your throne, forever." Green-gold eyes blinked slowly. "Are you smiling?" He rested his head under my chin and sighed. We hadn't had animals when I was a kid. Too messy, Mom said. Too needy, Dad said. But maybe this was the upside of being needed. Quiet, sweet moments like this one. "OK," I told him. "Just for a little bit." Ellie Was Kieran crooning? Maybe the wall of the cottage was distorting his voice? "That feels so good, doesn't it, bud? Such a big, nice cat. Yes, you are." Yes, he was. He rubbed Floyd's cheeks and my cat melted for him like fluffy butter.

She wrapped her hands in Logan’s soaking wet shirt and pulled him closer, relishing the surprised ‘Oof’ that left his lips.

And I count myself very lucky. That is what “very lucky” feels like. Oof.

I reached for my purse which I’d hung on the back of the chair.  Desperate, Scott moved to grab my hand.  Clay stood abruptly.  He successfully knocked Scott’s hand out of the way but also bumped the table in the process.  Peter reached out to steady his and Rachel’s drinks, and I hurried to pull a twenty from my purse. The waitress returned with the bill and the wrapped up leftovers.  Since Rachel was still digging in her purse, I just handed the waitress the twenty after a quick glance at the bill.  I was willing to pay for Rachel if it helped us leave faster. “I better drive her home,” Rachel said to Peter.  “You have my number.  Give me a call if you want to do something next weekend.” I stood, and Rachel shadowed me, ready to go.  Clay bumped into me, knocking me off balance so I had to grab Rachel for support.  I looked down at him and noticed Scott stand and hand the waitress his portion of the bill. “Rachel, you can stay with Peter.  I don’t mind taking Gabby home,” Scott said.  Oily enthusiasm dripped with each word, and I didn’t even need to look at Rachel for her to decline. “No, Scott, I think we’re done for tonight.”  She waved to Peter and grabbed my hand. Poor Peter looked at us all, bewildered.  His night out with Rachel had fallen apart fast, and I truly felt bad about it. I went with Rachel, relieved to escape before Scott’s recklessness grew.  An “oof” sounded behind us, and I panicked, realizing I’d forgotten Clay.  I spun around in time to see Scott hit the ground.  He’d tripped over Clay in his hurry to catch me.  I suspected Clay had done it purposely to slow Scott down. Clay wasted no time.  He ran to me and bumped his head against my back to get me moving before Scott could pick himself up again.  There wasn’t yet enough distance between the table and us to mute Peter’s next words. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?  You come on too...”  What he still had to say faded as we quickly walked away. “I’m sorry,” Rachel said.  “You told me, but I didn’t really get it.  Even the men sitting around us were eyeing you.” I’d been too busy keeping an eye on Scott and Clay to notice.  We continued to speed walk to the car. “No big deal.  You should see me in some of my classes.  ‘No’ is the most common word in my vocabulary. Scott’s reaction was worse than most because he already considered me his date.  If you say ‘no’, consistently and to everyone, it doesn’t get so bad.

Oof! I’ve been stabbed!” The Duchess of Worthington did not look up from her needlepoint. “Perhaps that will teach you to fidget while at the hands of your dressmaker.” She cast a sidelong glance in the direction of her youngest child. “Besides, I highly doubt that Madame Fernaud ‘stabbed’ you.” Lady Alexandra Stafford, only daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Worthington, heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. She rubbed the spot at her waist that bore the mark of London’s finest dressmaker’s needle. “Perhaps not stabbed—but wounded nonetheless.” Garnering no reaction from either her mother or the unflappable modiste, Alex slumped her shoulders and muttered, “I fail to understand why I must suffer this fitting anyway.” The duchess continued with her needlepoint. “Alexandra, there are plenty of young women who would happily assume your position, standing on that platform, ‘suffering’ through a fitting for that dress.” “May I suggest any one of them take my place?” “No.” Alex knew when she was fighting a losing battle. “I didn’t think so.” The

As I laid there huffing and panting, the lady kicked me in the stomach.   "Oof! Ugh! Why...?" I asked weakly.   "Cindy was my niece, you jerk."   "Oh..." I replied. It all started to make sense.   I fainted after that…  

Don’t be looking at me like that, Lady Rose.” His tone grew rigid, like he was holding himself back. “Like what?” she whispered. “Like you’re wanting me to kiss you.” He moved in closer, and his expression left no doubt that he wanted to. The words made her heart beat faster, and she tried to calm herself. “We’re only friends,” she reminded him. “So we are. It doesn’t mean that I’m dead.” His pirate smile returned, and she did pull away this time. “Behave yourself.” She rested her hands upon his chest to keep him at arm’s length. “Is that what you want?” He reached out and covered her hands with his own. Her eyes locked with his, and she was conscious of his roughened hands against her gloved ones. She ought to pull away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. “O-of course.” Lord Ashton slid his hand into her hair, drawing it down the edge of her cheek. His touch burned through her skin in a path of heat. She felt the echo of sensation coursing through her, and she couldn’t have moved away if she’d wanted to. His green eyes held hers captive, and she was intently conscious of his touch. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered, while he was staring at her. He let his hand linger upon her chin, sliding it down her throat to her shoulder. A thousand shivers broke over her skin, and she felt herself bloom with arousal. She imagined this man kissing her again, and the very thought made her self-conscious. They had an agreement to help one another, and that was all. She shouldn’t dream of letting down the boundaries between them. “You’re worth more than six letters,” he said quietly. “I hope you know that.” And

Before Raihn could move, I threw my legs off the bed and pushed him flat to the floor. "Oof," he grunted, as I crawled over him. "I go through all the trouble of bringing you to the bed, too.

Well, no worries there. Pretty sure if she looks anything like you, there will be no need for rule number five.” His brow lifts, and I realize what I just said. “I mean, shit, I didn’t mean that. You’re actually, wow, you’re a good-looking guy, very attractive. The bald thing really accentuates your . . . uh, steely eyes, and the tan you’ve been able to procure while coaching a winter sport is really impressive. Not to mention your physique, just oof, what a bundle of muscles that are not wrinkly. Some people your age might look wrinkly, but not you. You’re firm. Firm in all the right places. So much firmness. Just look at those forearms and the sinew and firmness. Lots of firmness. And you know, just to throw it out there, not that you asked, but if I were a woman, then hell yeah, I would be talking to you about a date, or maybe a kiss or⁠—” “Shut the fuck up.

I love this kid," I said. "She's a role model for us all." "So I kissed her," Charlie said. "And then she said, "That's it?" And I could tell she was disappointed, but I had no idea how to do anything differently. And while I was thinking, she told me that she was going back and to wait ten minutes so nobody would catch on." "Did you ever figure out what you did wrong?" "I think I just kissed her like you'd kiss your grandma." "Oof.

Could you imagine the smell?” “Oof yeah. Wait a minute... what do you mean by that?

How about a chocolate shake, it’s on me, big boy,” one boy said. “Shut up.” I grinned. They were still teasing their friend. Good. If they were teasing him, maybe it was because he thought I was cute, too. Maybe he’d come back to the restaurant tomorrow, find me, ask for my number, and then who knows? I couldn’t help myself — I creeped along the backside of the restaurant and peered around the corner. The boys were walking in the other direction. The shortest of the boys pushed the tall, cute one. “Enjoy your chocolate shake. It’s free, because I’m so desperate for you to notice me.” Oof. That stung. I wasn’t desperate; I was just trying to be spontaneous. And flirty. And fun. The other boy punched the tall one in the shoulder. “You know, I’ve heard you’re only as attractive as the people that ask you out. So you should probably think about plastic surgery.” That offhand comment, that comment that I wasn’t supposed to hear, was a slap in the face on a freezing winter day.

Oof,” replied Easy, trying to loosen the clutch she had on his penis. “Say,” noticed Judy, “you’ve got an erection.” “People keep telling me that.” “Obviously you’re not a rat then. You find me attractive.” “It’s a simple reflex, ma’am. Anybody who rubbed my leg could produce a similar result.” “You’re ducking the issue.” She stroked the head of his penis twice more and let go.

and a man at the back who Jules considered surprisingly good looking for somone who believed in god.

Then, of course, we could choose to stay only within the reach of those rulers we favor—and I can’t conceive of the chaos and overburdened troops and officials that would be found in any realm in which folk could choose their rulers. Thankfully, I can’t believe that any people would ever be crazed enough to do that. Not in this world, anyway.

Look, everybody lies. You're the only pillar of truth I know." "Me and the woman I end up with." Oof.

prince was hurled up and over… “HUH!” …and landed on his back, sprawled out on the floor. THUD! “OOF!” A figure was standing over him in the blackness. “What do you think you are doing out of your room at this time of night?” the voice demanded. “I thought you were locked in!” “Nanny! You’re surprisingly strong,” said the boy as he lay there, dazed and confused. The old lady proudly shared her fitness regime. “Porridge every morning and a bottle of port each night.” Indeed, the stench of alcohol coming from the old lady was overpowering. Alfred thought he might get drunk on the fumes.

about 50 percent oof our time is spent thinking about something other than what we are doing....80 percent of the time we are thinking about something that is actually more stressful than what we are currently doing, meaning that we are the authors of the stress we are seeking to avoid.

They fear that without compulsion the masses will not work. But during our own lifetime, have we not heard the same fears expressed twice? Once, by the anti-abolitionists in America before the emancipation of the Negroes, and, for a second time, by the Russian nobility before the liberation of the serfs? ‘Without the whip the Negro will not work,’ said the anti-abolitionist. ‘Free from their master’s supervision the serfs will leave the fields uncultivated’, said the Russian serf-owners. It was the refrain of the French noblemen in 1789, the refrain of the Middle Ages, a refrain as old as the world, and we shall hear it every time there is a question oof sweeping away an injustice. And each time actual facts give it the lie.

impossibly low swing while you stand there hunched over, staring into space, begging yourself not to look at your watch yet because zero time has passed in the last seventeen hours; it is the same exact time it was when you arrived at that park, before your butt was wet with something smelly and before you put your hand on a fireman’s pole covered with bird poop, and before someone else’s child sneezed directly into your face. Time stands still when you are a stay-at-home mom, and working moms are always saying, Oof! Where did the day go? and I am always thinking, It did not go. It will never end. I will never get to the part where I sink into a comfy chair with a glass of wine, because this is the longest day of my life. Until tomorrow. So yes, I’m very glad to be sitting in Wendy’s pretty reclaimed-warehouse office with gorgeous architectural details and story-and-a-half paned windows looking out over one of the cutest, busiest hot spots in the city. Wendy has a fancy ergonomic chair and a sit-to-stand desk. Here at her workplace, people care if her body is properly aligned and healthily engaged. They care if she is comfortable. Sometimes Anna Joy comes into our bedroom in the middle of the night,

So I stepped forward and hugged him—hard. It was the first time I’d ever hugged a boy,and it was the stiest, shortest, weirdest two seconds in the history of hugging. I managed to poke him in the ribs somehow. He made a pained “oof” sound. Over the years, Danny and I would get better at hugging. We got better at other things too. Spinning stories. Collecting secrets. Telling lies.

I turned around and a zombie punched me in the face. Oof!

It’s payback time.” I smashed my knuckles together, and then yelled, “Dash!” I flew toward my opponent and unleashed my 10-Punch Combo on him. “Huh?!” Pow-pow-pow! Pow-pow-pow-pow! Pow-pow-pow! Every punch connected perfectly, and they staggered Donutz. While he stood there wobbling on his feet, I grabbed his right arm, turned around, and threw him over my shoulder. The fencer flipped over and landed on his back. Oof! Then I got on top of him and wailed on his face like no tomorrow. “Yeah! You like that?! Taste my knuckles!