Tsk Tsk Quotes

Clary felt suddenly annoyed. "When the self-congratulatory part of the evening is over, maybe we could get back to saving my best friend from being exsanguinated to death?" "Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interupted. "No swearing in church.

Ah.” Puck’s emerald eyes sparkled with glee. “And so they come crawling back for Puck’s help after all. Tsk tsk.” He shook his head and took another bite of the apple. “How easy it is to forget grudges when someone has something you need.

Exsanguinated," said Jace, impressed. "That's a big word." "And you're a big-" "Tsk tsk," he interrupted. "No swearing in church.

Willem tsk-tsks. "You Americans are so violent. I'm Dutch. The worst I will do is run her over with a bicycle.

Troy sighed with frustration. "Let me get this straight. We're stuck in the story of Romeo and Juliet and we can't get home without a magic charm from Shakespeare's quill, which doesn't exist in this world. However, we might be able to get home when the story ends, but if Romeo and Juliet don't meet, then we don't have a story. More important, we don't have an ending." Friar Laurence tsk tsked. He placed his speckled hand on Troy's forehead. "Bless you, my son, but a fever has muddled your mind.

I turn to Melanie. It's on her now. She narrows her green eyes at Willem. 'If you rape or murder my friend, I will kill you.' Willem tsk-tsks. 'You Americans are so violent. I'm Dutch. The worst I will do is run her over with a bicycle.' 'While stoned!' Melanie adds. 'Okay, maybe there's that,' Willem admits.

And what if I need something?' 'Find it yourself.' Connor tsk-ed. 'Where did all the niceties go?' 'You're not a guest. You're family. Find your own fucking towels.

Terror is so delicious," she remarked. "You're disappointingly predictable, Harmonia. All these years and you would still risk everything for him. Tsk, tsk.

Yes?Someone will die at the auction! Tsk! First, the mail will be late, and next, the death alarm is related to the High Auction.

Tsk! As if she can fix the living like she fixes machines.

A: Tsk! Ano ba naman 'tong araw na 'to? Ang ineeeht! Hwooh! B: Natural! Ano gusto mo? Malamig s'ya? E 'di dedbol na tayo n'un! Hwaha! A: Tangek! All I'm saying is... tsk! 'Wag na tayo dito sa labas... Kanina pa tayo nasa araw eh! D'un na -- B: Huwow! And all this time akala ko nasa earth tayo!! Hwow! Teka lang! Huwow!

Darling,” he says and tsk-tsks at me. “Good girls wait their turn.

Ten-to-one odds Callum has either Sore or Lance on Bryn-duty tonight,” I said, changing the subject with an unspoken apology for bringing up the previous one at all. “You Macalisters seem to be Team Bryn favorites at the moment.” Devon’s lips settled into an easy, practiced smirk, and the nearly imperceptible tension in his neck and shoulder muscles receded. “If there’s any justice in this world, watching you should convince them how lucky they’ve been to be blessed with a son such as myself.” “He says with patented Smirk Number Three.” Devon shook his head and made a sound somewhere in the neighborhood of tsk-tsk. “You’re getting rusty, Bronwyn. That was clearly Smirk Number Two: sardonic with a side of wit.

If the medical bay could have raised its eyebrows and made judgmental little tsk-tsk sounds, it would have. Instead,

Jane?” She lifted her brows. “Yes?” “If you so much as hum one word, I shall stuff one of your gloves into your mouth.” “Tsk,tsk.”She assumed an exaggerated sad look.“It’s like that,is it?

Tsk, tsk,” I said, not moving at all. “Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains. You’re the second guy I’ve met within hours who seems to think a gat in the hand means a world by the tail. Put it down and don’t be silly, Joe.

I’ll see you in hell,” she croaks, closing her eyes, and most likely framing my face and words as a last memory. “You might.” I tsk, pulling the rod back and hearing it drop to the floor. “You better fucking pray to Lucifer that you don’t.

What do you think of Lord St. Vincent?” Pandora asked eagerly. West’s gaze moved to a man who appeared to be a younger version of his sire, with bronze-gold hair that gleamed like new-minted coins. Princely handsome. A cross between Adonis and the Royal Coronation Coach. With deliberate casualness, West said, “He’s not as tall as I expected.” Pandora looked affronted. “He’s every bit as tall as you!” “I’ll eat my hat if he’s an inch over four foot seven.” West clicked his tongue in a few disapproving tsk-tsks. “And still in short trousers.” Half annoyed, half amused, Pandora gave him a little shove. “That’s his younger brother Ivo, who is eleven. The one next to him is my fiancé.” “Aah. Well, I can see why you’d want to marry that one.

Tsk!

Tsk-tsk-tsk… Damon won’t like that.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, if he weren’t in love with you like a sheep, he wouldn’t be running around the streets like a madman and wouldn’t be stirring up all the dogs in town. He broke my window frame.

2-Make eye contact. When someone is speaking, keep your eyes on him or her at all times. If someone makes a comment, turn and face that person. 3-During discussions, respect other students’ comments, opinions, and ideas. When possible, make statements like, “I agree with John, and I also feel that…” or “I disagree with Sarah. She made a good point I feel that…” or “I think Victor made an excellent observation, and it made me realize…” 4-If you win or do well at something, do not brag. If you lose, do not show anger. Instead, say something like, “I really enjoyed the competition, and I look forward to playing you again,” or “good game,” or don’t say anything at all. To show anger or sarcasm, such as “I wasn’t playing hard anyway” or “You really aren’t that good,” shows weakness. 5-“When you cough or sneeze or burp, it is appropriate to turn your head away from others and cover your mouth with the full part of your hand. Using a fist is not acceptable. Afterward, you should say, “Excuse me.” 6- “Do not smack your lips, tsk, roll your eyes, or show disrespect with gestures.” 7-“Always say thank you when I give you something. 8-“Surprise others by performing random acts of kindness. Go our of your way to do something surprisingly kind and generous for someone at least once a month.” 9-“You will make every effort to be as organized as possible.” 10-"Quickly learn the name of other teachers in the school and greet them by saying things like, "Good morning Mrs. Graham," or "Good afternoon Ms. Ortiz. 11-"When we go on field trips, we will meet different people. When I introduce you to people, make sure that you remember their names. Then, when we are leaving, make sure to shake their hands and thank them, mentioning their names as you do so." 12-“If you approach a door and someone is following you, hold the door. If the door opens by pulling, pull it open, stand to the side, and allow the other person 13-to pass through it first, then you can walk through. If the door opens by pushing, hold the door open after you push through." "Be positive and enjoy life. Some things just aren't worth getting upset over. Keep everything in perspective and focus on the good in your life.

He says with patented Smirk Number Three.” Devon shook his head and made a sound somwhere in the neighborhood of tsk-tsk. “You’re getting rusty, Bronwyn. That was clearly Smirk Number Two: sardonic with a side of wit.

Jerome. May I see you in my cabin? Just for a few minutes?" "A few minutes?" Jerome grinned. "Tsk, Ezri, when did you become such a pessimist?" "Now," she said, wiping the smile from his face. Chagrined, he helped her to her feet.

I turn to Melanie. It's on her now. She narrows her green eyes at Willem. "If you rape or murder my friend, I will kill you." Willem tsk-tsks. "You Americans are so violent. I'm Dutch. The worst I wil do is run her over with a bicycle.

Shame on you for even saying that. We’re—” The woman glanced down and gasped a second time. “Sinner! I see that whore’s underwear instead of what should be decent covering for your private area. Tsk, tsk! No wonder you were lured to the dark side.

All real estate agents should be put on a decommissioned naval frigate which is then towed out into the deepest part of the Atlantic and sunk. It's rather unfortunate that, in recent years, real estate agents have become comedy betes-noires. Rather like lawyers or used car salesmen. Every time they mention their job they probably get people amusingly making the sign of the cross at them or are subjected to some good-natured, humorous ribbing. This has the effect of distorting what I'm trying to say here, which isn't in the nature of a smiling roll of the eyes and a "Tsk, real estate agents, eh?" but rather "All real estate agents should be put on a decommissioned naval frigate which is then towed out into the deepest part of the Atlantic and sunk.

That’s what I said. Found ‘em in the attic one day, they were my grandpa’s. Figured what the hell, did it once, then it became habit. And I gotta say, Hen, pretty disappointed in ya. Who doesn’t try skinny dipping at least once?” He shakes his head with a tsk. “Me,

Yes, it’s too much to ask,” Alexander said when he returned with no ice (“Tomorrow”) but with an ax, a hammer and nails, a saw, a wood plane, and a kerosene-burning Primus stove. “I didn’t marry you so we could go over there every night.” He laughed. “You invited them inside? That’s very brave of you, my wife. Did you at least make the bed before they came in?” He laughed harder. Tatiana was sitting down on the cool iron hearth, shaking her head. “You’re just impossible.” “I’m impossible? I’m not going there for dinner, forget it. Why don’t you just invite them here afterward then, for the post-dinner vaudeville—” “Vaudeville?” “Never mind.” He dropped all of his goods on the floor in the corner of the cabin. “Invite them here for the entertainment hour. Go ahead. As I make love to you, they can walk around the hearth, clucking to their hearts’ content. Naira will say, ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk. I told her to go with my Vova. I know he could do it better.’ Raisa will want to say, ‘Oh, my, oh, my,’ but she’ll be shaking too much. Dusia will say, ‘Oh, dear Jesus, I prayed to You to spare her from the horrors of the marriage bed!’ And Axinya will say—” “‘Wait till I tell the whole village about his horrors,’” said Tatiana. Alexander laughed and then went to the water to swim.

At the time, Mr. Shaw had a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he said, "With your good looks, seem like the type to have a very powerful man. Tsk, I better find one for you quickly." An Zhe said nothing. In truth, all he had was a mannequin that hadn't yet taken shape. This mannequin was still being crafted day after day, and it resembled Lu Feng more and more.

Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?" Mrs. Bennet clenched both her fists. "Yes, or I will never see her again!" she sobbed. "An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth." Mr. Bennet tsk-tsked. "From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do." Lizzy shared a warm smile with her dad. She double-tapped her chest, he double-tapped his, and they did their super secret Favorite Daughter-Daddy handshake. Mrs. Bennet, at the sight of it, broke into sobs anew, and Mr. Collins quietly disappeared down the road, muttering that he would be spending the remainder of his visit at Lucas Lodge, if anybody gave a shit. Which emphatically they did not.

Cuando Hewan regresó a buscarla, Bahana se había ido y ella ya se había vestido con el lindo modelito que le había dejado. El saco le llegaba hasta las rodillas. Tenía dos agujeros por los que había metido los brazos, y estaba cortado por la mitad, como un chaleco. Se lo había atado a la cintura con una cuerda para evitar que se abriera. La miró desde la entrada de los baños, repasándola descaradamente de arriba a abajo, con una sonrisa irónica serpenteando en sus labios. —¿Te gusta tu ropa nueva? —le preguntó, burlándose. Rura alzó la cabeza, mirándolo directamente a los ojos, y un destello de ira cruzó sus hermosos ojos. —Seguiré siendo una princesa sin importar la ropa que me obligues a vestir —dijo con orgullo. —Lo que quieres decir —replicó—, es que seguirás siendo una mujer malcriada y caprichosa, y que nada de lo que haga cambiará eso. Rura casi se echó a reír. La idea que Hewan tenía de ella estaba tan equivocada… Toda su actitud no era más que una fachada con la que se obligó a vestirse para conseguir la aceptación de su padre, el maldito príncipe Nikui; pero estaba tan arraigada que ahora era incapaz de deshacerse de ella. Una máscara tras la que esconderse, y una armadura con la que protegerse. No era así de niña. Recordaba reír a menudo, excepto cuando su padre estaba cerca; disfrutaba de las cosas pequeñas de la vida, y no necesitaba mucho para sentirse feliz: un vestido desechado, un plato de sopa caliente, una manta con que abrigarse, y una muñeca rota a la que abrazarse. Pero su padre lo cambió todo, obligándola a ser cruel, a odiar en lugar de amar, a despreciarse a sí misma pensando que no era suficientemente buena, hasta que lo único que quedó fue la amargura y el resentimiento. —Jamás me ha importado lo que los demás pensaran de mí. —Mentira, a pesar de todo el esfuerzo que había puesto en hacer que se convirtiera en verdad—. ¿De veras crees que me interesa lo que tú pienses? Hewan se acercó a ella, remoloneando, caminando a su alrededor. —Tsk. Es una pena que un envoltorio tan hermoso no guarde nada dentro. —Mejor estar vacía que tener a un monstruo escondido tras unos ojos bonitos.

Nice gate,Ella." I looked back at Daniel. He waved torward my lap. "Oh." I draw on my eans when I don't have paper.My bus had gotten stuck behind a trash truck, right in front of a seriously old churchyard. "Thanks." I wasn't sure how I felt about Daniel staring at my thigh, even if he had recognized the sketch for what it was. "Here." Suddenly, he had a booted foot on the rung of my chair, legs spread, one pressed against mine. "Draw something." "Oh,please," Frankie muttered from his other side. I shook my head. "I don't have a pen." Sadie promptly disappeared beneath the table.I could hear the clank of Marc acobs chain handles and had a feeling in a second she would be asking, "Blue ink or black?" "Don't you dare,Sadie," Frankie said cheerfully. "Ella does not want to be inscribing my brother's crotch." True, I didn't. Except I had the clearest vision of how a little Italian portal devil would look on the faded denim... "Fair enough," Daniel said, sliding his foot off my chair. But he actually looked disappointed. For a second, anyway. "I assume there's food coming?" "There is," Frankie answered. "I'm sure it will come a hell of a lot faster if you do your vampire boy thing on Chloe again." "Tsk,tsk. Jealousy, Miss Thing." They bared their teeth at each other. It was scarily pretty.

HER HUSBAND’S ALMOST HOME. He’ll catch her this time. There isn’t a scrap of curtain, not a blade of blind, in number 212—the rust-red townhome that once housed the newlywed Motts, until recently, until they un-wed. I never met either Mott, but occasionally I check in online: his LinkedIn profile, her Facebook page. Their wedding registry lives on at Macy’s. I could still buy them flatware. As I was saying: not even a window dressing. So number 212 gazes blankly across the street, ruddy and raw, and I gaze right back, watching the mistress of the manor lead her contractor into the guest bedroom. What is it about that house? It’s where love goes to die. She’s lovely, a genuine redhead, with grass-green eyes and an archipelago of tiny moles trailing across her back. Much prettier than her husband, a Dr. John Miller, psychotherapist—yes, he offers couples counseling—and one of 436,000 John Millers online. This particular specimen works near Gramercy Park and does not accept insurance. According to the deed of sale, he paid $3.6 million for his house. Business must be good. I know both more and less about the wife. Not much of a homemaker, clearly; the Millers moved in eight weeks ago, yet still those windows are bare, tsk-tsk. She practices yoga three times a week, tripping down the steps with her magic-carpet mat rolled beneath one arm, legs shrink-wrapped in Lululemon. And she must volunteer someplace—she leaves the house a little past eleven on Mondays and Fridays, around the time I get up, and returns between five and five thirty, just as I’m settling in for my nightly film. (This evening’s selection: The Man Who Knew Too Much, for the umpteenth time. I am the woman who viewed too much.) I’ve noticed she likes a drink in the afternoon, as do I. Does she also like a drink in the morning? As do I? But her age is a mystery, although she’s certainly younger than Dr. Miller, and younger than me (nimbler, too); her name I can only guess at. I think of her as Rita, because she looks like Hayworth in Gilda. “I’m not in the least interested”—love that line. I myself am very much interested. Not in her body—the pale ridge of her spine, her shoulder blades like stunted wings, the baby-blue bra clasping her breasts: whenever these loom within my lens, any of them, I look away—but in the life she leads. The lives. Two more than I’ve got.

shhh me!” Harper said, and then she yelled, “Oh, are you afraid your girlfriend Alison might hear us?” “Omg…” Dante, completely embarrassed, walked off quickly by himself. “Heeeeey! Where are you going in a such a hurry?” Harper yelled after PigMaster. “Did he find the taco carriage?” I said as I perked up. “No, I don’t think so, but come on, we have to go after him.” “Tsk… where is that darn thing?” I said. We followed after Dante and rounded a corner. Right when we turned the corner, we ran into a huge line in front of a small carriage. “Ah, here it is!” Dante said as he turned around. “How did you find it?” Harper asked. “I used my nose.” “Oh, I thought you went looking for your girlfriend or something.” Dante rolled his eyes. “Mmm… it smells delicious,” I said as I got closer to the carriage. “It tastes even more delicious. Come on, let’s get in line,” said Dante. “But the line… it is soooo long…” “Don’t worry, it moves quickly.” “Alright…” I said reluctantly. So, the three of us got in line, and Dante told me about the new gladiator. “Aaron the warrior upgraded to a gladiator,” said Dante. “Oh, wow, cool,” I said. “And you don’t remember the others, huh?” “Nope, there were too many to remember.” “Hm… I may need to visit all the captains to get an update on the other new upgrades, then.” “Are you trying to keep track of all of our tier 1s?” asked Harper. “Yeah, it’s good information to know.” We waited in line for about ten minutes until we reached the front. “I’ll order for us, okay?” said Dante. “Sure, since you’ve been here before, you probably know what’s good,” I said. PigMaster nodded and placed his order. “Hi, can I please get five chicken tacos, three beef super tacos, one beef burrito, two chicken super burritos, and one order of nachos?” “Holy moly! Are you trying to feed the whole city, Dante?” said Harper. Dante laughed. “Wait till you try it. Then you’ll understand.

But the Psalmist, frequently the designated victim of an approaching lynch mob, is about as uncooperative as a victim can get. And we see here a deep irony in the problems that many modern Christians have with the imprecatory psalms† and psalms of protested innocence. We think the language is over the top. The man is sitting on the back of a horse, hands tied behind his back, and a rope around his neck. He looks at the bulls of Bashan round about and calls them a brood of snakes. “Tsk,” we think. “That kind of language is a little inappropriate.

One day one of the elevators was out of order because of a technical hitch. It gave rise to a line stretching as far as the eye could see. Having to wait their turn does not bring out the best in our residents: there’s a great deal of pushing, shoving, ankle bashing, and cursing. Bakker: “Goddamned crap elevator!” Not exactly a good title for the latest Hello Kitty book. There were shocked, indignant glares and some oohing and tsk-tsking.

Ignoring her apology, Lucian pulled his cock free from his trousers. His thick shaft already hard and ready for her warm, tight mouth. “I will show pity on you, little one. Spread your thighs open nice and wide. If Papa does not find the sweet cream of your own arousal on your cunny, you will be spared.” Once again, Corinne bit her lip in nervous mortification. She already knew her body was betraying her. There was just something about his strong, tall presence. The way he commanded her obedience. Touched her. The sound of his voice. As much as she wanted to scream and rail at his debasing treatment…still…there was something torn and twisted deep in her soul that craved it. She could hear the rustle of fabric as he crouched down in front of her. Two fingers reached out to caress her cunny along the seam. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I believe the lady doth protest too much,” he teased using a line from one of her favorite Shakespearean plays.

How is it that you have such dark eyebrows and yet your hair is golden?" "Oh, that," Eleanor says, tucked up into the corner of the love seat with a shawl draped over her legs. She's still recovering from her own encounter with Lord Downpike. "Hadn't you guessed?" You already discovered he uses a very potent charm spell. It's woven into his hair. Some would consider constantly charming everyone a bit of an excess, but Lord Ackerly needs all the help he can get." "Such vanity." I tsk, trying to hold back a smile. No wonder his hair was both so enchanting and so aggravating.

Tsk, tsk…you should know better. People never blame a man for his passions, no matter how perverse. People blame the woman for arousing them. You won’t get far, asking for sympathy. The public despises victimized women, especially attractive ones.

Tsk-tsk. A lady never raises her voice above a gentle whisper.” Every

We have a problem, Lieutenant.” Taylor started to sit, and Delores tsk’ed at her. Taylor raised an eyebrow and sat anyway, crossing her arms across her chest. The Oompa was still forced to look up at her, maliciousness sparking in her eyes. Power hungry bitch, Taylor thought. “And what problem would that be?” “I’ve been looking over the reports on the Harris suicide. According to the EMT report on Michelle Harris, there was a chance her life could have been saved. Instead, you and your boyfriend interrogated the suspect, allowed her to continue drinking. Is this true?” “Let me see. Yes, we interrogated her. It’s called solving a case. As for whether she would have died or not, only God can tell us that.” “So you’ve imbued yourself with the power of God now?” “Captain Norris, what do you want? I’m tired. The cases are closed. Satisfactorily to all involved, I must say.” “I have a choice to make, Lieutenant. Seeing as there is yet another complaint against you, I could suspend you pending the outcome of the investigation into your actions.” “You’re kidding me. I’ve done nothing wrong.

My mother used to tell me all kids were struggling. Even the bullies. “It’s such a tough time for everyone,” she would say, and get a tsk-tsk look, like she was talking about Ethiopia. A nice perspective, I suppose. But I was pretty sure my unhappiness was worse than everyone else’s.

You’re a fucking siren. Luring me with that vibrant green stare, running your mouth like you want me to shut you up. Tsk-tsk.

That’s the thing about kindness. People view it as a weakness, when it’s anything but. There’s a strength in being decent, caring for others, and showing compassion. It takes strength to be merciful when all you’ve witnessed is treachery.  With the flavor of his blood dripping on my tongue, I whisper, “Don’t assume you’re taking something I haven’t given you willingly.  “Look at you, Snow, admitting that behind the good girl demeanor, you’re nothing but a filthy whore desperate for her big brother’s cock. You turned on by the idea of your stepbrother bending you over and fucking your brains out?” Heat floods my face, and I gaze at the lights above our heads.  “Tsk, tsk, sis. What would your daddy say if he knew his little girl was getting railed in church like a lowlife street walker?”  I grind my hips, desperate to match every powerful thrust of his hips. “I don’t know, big bro. What would your mommy say to you plowing her new daughter up against a wall like an animal?

I have to help her," I said. "I've been having these dreams." "Ah, you even dream about her! That's so cute!" "No! I mean... that's not what I meant." She made a tsk-tsk sound.

If you’re having a party, don’t forget the Erik Estrada gourmet chips. Did you say “Erik who?” Tsk-tsk. How could you forget his dramatic stylings as a motorcycle cop in CHiPs? Get it now? The chips have the bitter aftertaste of fleeting fame and broken dreams.

You need to let me go, Dmitri, and move on. I am not going to marry you.” “I will have you.” Such conviction, and he’d brought some muscle to try and prove his statement. A pair of brutes exited the car. Dmitri’s order of, “Don’t hurt her,” made her tsk aloud. Please. If he thought to subdue her, he should have brought more guys. As the one gorilla— and seriously, despite his obvious humanity, she had to wonder at his ancestry— grabbed for her arm, she sidestepped, causing him to snare only air. She, on the other hand, didn’t miss. Her foot swung out and cracked goon number one in the knee. He let out a yelp of pain, but before she could take him out fully, the second guy lunged for her. She ducked under his grasping hands and thrust, her fist connecting with his diaphragm. He gasped for breath. She took no mercy and kneed him in the groin, just as goon number one made his next move. With a tinkle of bells, the door to the coffee shop opened, and a very calm-sounding Leo said, “Lay a finger on her, and I will rip your arm off and beat you with it.” As threats went, it was adorable. Especially since, given his size and mien, Leo probably could. The idiot didn’t listen. The thug went to grab Meena’s arm, and curiosity made her let him instead of breaking his fingers. Why exert herself when Pookie seemed determined to come to her rescue? While outwardly he appeared cool and composed, a wild storm brewed in his eyes as Leo growled, “I said don’t touch.” Crack. Yup. There was one guy who wouldn’t be touching anything with that arm for a while, and he’d probably end up hoarse with the way he was screaming. Pussy. In the distance, sirens wailed to life, and it didn’t take Dmitri’s barked, “Get in the car, you idiots,” for the thugs to realize their attempt at a coerced kidnapping had failed. Meena didn’t bother watching the car speed off, not when she had something much more important to attend to. Like a man who thought she needed saving. How her dad would laugh when he heard about it. Her sister, Teena, would sigh about how romantic it was. Her mom, on the other hand, would chastise Meena for causing chaos once again. Turning to Leo, who wore a formidable glower, she threw herself at him. Apparently, he half expected it because his arms opened wide, and he caught her— without even a tiny stagger! She latched her legs around his waist, draped her arms around his neck, and exclaimed, “Pookie, you were awesome. You saved me from those big, bad men. You’re like a knight in Under Armour.” Not entirely true. He wore a plain black Fruit of the Loom T-shirt. But she could totally picture him in one of those form-fitting tees that Under Armour specialized in that would mold his perfect chest. On second thought, given how it would show off his impressive musculature, perhaps she should leave his wardrobe alone. No use taunting the female public with what they couldn’t have. It would also mean less blood for her to rinse if they dared to touch. “I’d hardly say I saved you. You seemed to be doing all right on your own.” She planted a big smooch on his lips and declared him, “My hero.

When the tea tray arrived, Annie the doll was propped up on the settee between Poppy and Merritt. The little girl pressed the edge of her teacup against the doll’s painted mouth. “Annie wants more sugar, Mama,” Merritt said. Lillian grinned, knowing who was going to drink the highly sweetened tea. “Tell Annie we never have more than two lumps in a cup, darling. It will make her ill.” “But she has a sweet tooth,” the child protested. She added ominously, “A sweet tooth and a temper.” Lillian shook her head with a tsk-tsk. “Such a headstrong doll. Be firm with her, Merritt.

River! Don’t yell at me! Got it? I’m doing this for you. For your new girlfriend, my new friend, and you should be appreciative about it. Not an ass**le!” Then pointing her finger at me she continues, “And yell at me again, I’m so telling Mom.” Shaking my head, I just apologize so we can move on. “I’m sorry Bell, darling,” I say in a drawn out mock tone. “Really, we’re a little old to threaten to tell Mom, aren’t we?” Then I remember I wanted to ask her something. “And by the way, how do you even know Dahlia likes purple?” I, myself, have no idea if she likes it or not. She gloats for a few seconds before answering. “River really,” she says in a rather tsk-tsk tone. “She’s named after a flower, and everyone knows Dahlias are purple.” “Bell, are you drunk?" I have to ask this because that has to be one of the dumbest things she has ever said, and now my annoyance is back.

Standing near one of the potted shrubs that isolated the food and drink, I sipped at the punch and started picking out individual voices from the chatter around me, and individual dancers from the mass. I overheard a conversation from the other side of the shrub. “…see Tamara? That’s the third time she’s gotten him.” Curious, I looked at the dancers and easily found Lady Tamara--dancing with Shevraeth. They made a very handsome couple, her pale blue gown and dark hair, his colors the opposite. Her eyes gleamed through her famous lashes as she smiled up into his face; she then spoke, though the words were inaudible. He, of course, was exactly as unreadable as always. “Tsk tsk.” A new voice joined in, drawling with sardonic amusement. “I suppose it’s inevitable. She’s always gotten what she’s wanted; and beware whoever gets in her way.” “Everything?” the first voice said with a tinkly sort of laugh. “Compassing marriage to either of the cousins?” “Come now, she’s dropped the lesser prospect. Why settle for a duke when there’s a king in reach?” “Perhaps she’s been dropped” was the answer. “Or else the glare while Savona danced with the little Tlanth countess was a sham to provide entertainment for our speculation.” Laughing, the speakers moved away. I stood where I was, watching Lady Tamara happily whirling about the room in Shevraeth’s grasp, and I realized that he hadn’t been near me since the beginning of the evening. Uncomfortable emotions began eroding my enjoyment. I tried to banish them, and also what I’d heard. It’s nothing to do with me, I told myself firmly, hoping there wasn’t some like conversation taking place elsewhere in the room--only with me as its subject. I didn’t do anything wrong. Still, it was hard during the remaining dances to recapture the earlier joy, and at the end I was glad to follow Bran and Nee back upstairs to our rooms, Nee yawning all the way. My feet were tired, but I buoyed myself with the reminder that my Name Day came with dawn.

I reach into the hat and pull out a little white slip of paper. I open it slowly while I bite my lower lip in anticipation. In bold letters I read HAND WARMERS. “Hand warmers?” I question. Alex leans over and reads the paper with a confused look on his face. “What the fuck are hand warmers?” Mrs. Peterson shoots Alex a warning glare. “If you’d like to stay after school, I have another blue detention slip on my desk with your name already on it. Now, either ask the question again without using foul language or join me after school.” “That’d be cool to hang with you, Mrs. P., but I’d rather spend the time studyin’ with my chem partner,” Alex responds, then has the nerve to wink at Colin, “so I’ll rephrase the question. What exactly are hand warmers?” “Thermal chemistry, Mr. Fuentes. We use them to warm our hands.” Alex has this big, cocky grin as he turns to me. “I’m sure we can find other things to warm.” “I hate you,” I say loud enough for Colin and the rest of the class to hear. If I sit here and let him get the best of me, I’ll probably hear my mom tsk’ing in my head about reputation meaning everything. I know the class is watching out interaction, even Isabel, who thinks Alex isn’t as bad as everyone thinks he is. Can’t she see him for what he is, or is she blinded by his chiseled face and popular status among their friends? Alex whispers, “There’s a thin line between love and hate. Maybe you’re confusing your emotions.” I scoot away from him. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” “I would.

I walk to Starbucks for a quick caffeine fix when I hear a voice too familiar and annoying to be real. ‘Tsk tsk pati ba naman dito sinusundan mo ako? Grabe a, are you stalking me?

You’re saying Felix Callahan is your best friend? Holy—” And the waitress said a word that Becky wouldn’t want repeated. Becky did her best not to tsk like an old lady, but she couldn’t help a pointed sniff . “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Felix came up from behind. “I would.” The waitress turned red and scurried away. Becky glared at him. “What,” he said, “you don’t think our friendship merits a few expletives?” “That kind of language shows a baseness of mind and lack of creativity.” “Or a lust for life. You can feel your pulse beat in the harder words. Sometimes you just have to dig in and curse until you are blue.” His voice was rising, audible to the tables nearby, and he raised his hand in a fist. “Go on, cut your teeth on them. Say it with me now. Holy sh——” She put her hand over his mouth. “Enough,” she whispered loudly. She removed her hand. He picked up the bill, glancing over it casually, then whispered, “——it.

What exactly is going on?” Resignation clouded Mary Beth’s cute face. “You know men, always looking out for us.” Anger lit like a match inside Maddie as she turned narrowed eyes on Mitch through the windows. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was in the mood for a fight, and this was the perfect excuse to have one. He gave her a sheepish look, and Maddie wanted to throttle him. She turned away. Her veins practically raced with adrenaline. She’d been tamping down her temper so long she’d forgotten how intoxicating it was to let it rise to the surface. How much effort did she spend repressing her emotions? The better question was, why did she continue? She stiffened her spine. Not anymore. Through gritted teeth she said, “Yes, I know.” Mary Beth’s expression turned consoling and she made some motherly “tsk” noises, even though she couldn’t be much older than Maddie. “They can’t help themselves. It’s in their nature, but obviously execution is not their strong suit.” Maddie turned her attention to the woman. She’d deal with Mitch Riley later.     “What in the hell is going on in there?” Mitch cursed. This was the worst thought-out plan in the world. Why did he leave the details up to Tommy? He knew better. He scowled at the mechanic. “You can’t lie for shit.” Tommy shot him a droll look. “What about you? You could have jumped in any time, but no, you just stood there like an idiot.” “I hired you to lie to her so I wouldn’t have to, dumbass.” With his jaw clenched, the words came out like a growl. Tommy jabbed a finger in his direction. “Ha! I knew you were pussy-whipped.” “I’m not pussy-whipped.” One had to have sex to be pussy-whipped. Not that Mitch was about to volunteer that information. “I just don’t want to lie to her.” “Same difference, dickhead.” Irrational anger flared hot in his blood. God, he wanted to take someone out. He was so fucked. “If you’d thought of a halfway decent story, this wouldn’t be happening.” “How in the hell was I supposed to know she’d know anything about cars?” “She has brothers.” “Yeah, well, you could have mentioned that.” Through the glass window, Maddie shot him a death glare. Yep, totally fucked. He shouldn’t have told her about his past; it was another strike against him, one he knew from experience couldn’t be overlooked. Between tarnishing his knight-in-shining-armor image and the subterfuge, somehow he didn’t think he’d be granted a third strike. They watched the women. Mitch tried to decipher the expressions playing across Maddie’s features and finally gave up, resigned to his fate. Ten excruciating minutes later, the door opened, and Mitch steeled himself for the fight that was sure to come. He didn’t care how he managed it, but she wasn’t leaving. Maddie walked across the dark gray, grease-stained floor, and unable to stand it any longer, he said, “Now, Maddie, I can explain.” “There’s no need.” Her voice held no trace of emotion. Not good. “But—” he started, but before he could say any more, Maddie flung herself into his arms. Shocked, he caught her and held tight. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Mary Beth, and a satisfied smirk curled over her lips. “I told Maddie how her transmission blew,” Mary Beth said in a pleased tone. “And how it cost twenty-five hundred dollars, but Tommy knows this guy over in Shelby who can trade him for a sixty-five Corvette carburetor so it would only cost her around four hundred. Unfortunately, I had to explain how Tommy was doing you a huge, gigantic favor so you agreed to represent Luke in his legal troubles.” While

Let me go, Steven.” “Mr. Fairfax,” he corrected, to her utter amazement. “What?” “I told you before,” he said, pulling her back into his arms when she would have fled. “In public, I want to be addressed as Mr. Fairfax. You may call me Steven in private.” It took all Emma’s resolve not to stomp on his instep. “That is both arrogant and old-fashioned!” she hissed. Steven shrugged. “Then I’m old-fashioned. We’ll argue about the arrogant part later.” Emma was shaking her head. “You really mean it, don’t you?” He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Well, I’m not going to do it!” He made a tsk-tsk sound. “Now, Emma, you know better than to challenge me like that. It just won’t get you anywhere.” Emma

arm around behind her back, turned her toward the house again, and marched her to the front door. He knocked loudly. Pounded, really. With the flat side of his fist. Allie lost her ability to breathe. Her heart couldn’t decide whether to beat too much or too little. It hammered in her chest so hard she feared it might break, explode. Then it missed a beat or even two, leaving a sickening void in the middle of her body that felt like dying. A terrifying pause. Then a light came on inside the house. Victor opened the door, his face muddied by sleep. His hair looked disheveled, not perfectly slicked back, and he wore a haze of light beard. The light in the living room haloed him from behind. Allie couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but just his gaze in her direction made her heart skip beats again. The big man who held Allie spoke in a deep bass. “This the one you called about?” “The very one,” Victor said. “Where’d you find her?” “On her way out.” Victor made tsk noises with his tongue. Three of them. It made Allie feel like a trapped animal. Like the prey of a wild cat who likes to play with his terrified catch before . . . Allie didn’t want to carry the analogy any further than that. “You’ll have your hands full with this one,” Victor said.

I have been the Pharisee tsk-tsking those who don’t do things my/God’s way. Not serving Jesus, but rather standing on His back to reach the high cookie jar so that I can serve myself.

Nutrita dall’orgoglio dell’intelletto, entra in libreria, e comperai un libro; non dovevo più placare l’Uomo; perdio, penso che ce la farò. Acquistai una copia di Sulla servitù delle donne di John Stuart Mill. Ora, chi può avere da obiettare su John Stuart Mill? Ma il commesso aveva da ridire. Agitò maliziosamente il dito verso di me: – Tsk, tsk – interloquì con malcelato senso di superiorità, smancerie e turbamenti cominciarono daccapo; che divertimento doveva essere per lui avere qualcuno da rimproverare, e allora io seppi al di là di ogni ragionevole dubbio che essere femmina vuol dire essere specchio e barattolo di miele, serva e giudice, il terribile Radamante per il quale egli deve esibirsi, ma il cui giudizio non è umano e i cui servizi devono essere prestati a chiunque, la vagina dentata e l’orsacchiotto di peluche che egli riceve in premio se supera l’esame. Questo vale fino ai quarantacinque anni, care signore, dopo di che voi svanite nell’aria sottile come il gatto di Alice, lasciandovi dietro solo una grossolanità disgustosa e un veleno penetrante che automaticamente corrompe ogni uomo sotto i ventun anni.

Bilim ve Teknoloji Bakanlığı, personelinin kullandığı 10 bin bilgisayara Pardus programının yüklenmesi talimatını verdi. Devlet, yaygın olarak kullanılan ABD'li Microsoft firmasının ofis yazılımlarına bilgisayar başına yılda 500 TL ödüyordu. Bakanlık yetkilileri kamuda 3.3 milyon memur olduğunu ve en az bu kadar da bilgisayar olduğu belirterek, Pardus programının kullanımıyla birlikte 800 milyon dolarlık tasarruf yapılacağını söyledi. TSK VE GENELKURMAY DA KULLANIYOR

Tsk, Tsk, Sunshine. I believe I have a wanton wench on my hands. Unfortunately for you, I'm in control here, not you.

Opening her eyes, Eva placed her palm in the center of William's chest. "You're next." With her wee push, he obliged her and sat on the edge of the bed. Kneeling, she untied his shoes and removed his hose. When she stood, William had already untied the lace of the arming doublet he wore atop his shirt. Eva held up her finger. "Tsk, tsk. You don't want to spoil my fun do you?" He shrugged out of the doublet with a look of defiance. "It canna hurt to help a bit." "Come here." She pulled him up by the cord of his chausses. Fingers working quickly, she untied them and his braies, and let them drop to the floor. Then, with a sultry giggle, she slowly tugged the tie on his linen shirt, staring at his eyes while she tortured him, pulling oh so very slowly. "This bit of linen is all that's left between us, William." He growled though straight white teeth. "And it will be torn to shreds if ye dunna haste to rip it from my torrid flesh.

Logov sat down in the Captain’s Chair and allowed himself to sink into the nice padding. He rested his hands on the arms of the chair and gave them a gentle pat of satisfaction. Feeling a set of eyes on him, he turned to see Ensign Markson shaking her head and making a tsk sound. He could tell he went a step too far and immediately removed himself from the chair.

She makes tsk-tsk sounds as she unpacks grocery sacks full of Pop-Tarts, mini chimichangas, and a frozen patty-based product called “Chykyn Wingzz,” which I suspect contains neither chicken nor wings. “Kel,

Tsk, tsk, tsk, Maziar,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t play games with me, or you will make me angry again. Don’t tell me that you don’t know about these parties where men and women start with dinner and drinking alcohol and then go to the swimming pool, where they eat chocolate off each other’s bodies.” I sat silently, trying to picture it. How on earth does one eat chocolate off another person’s body in a swimming pool? I had a picture in my mind of chocolate floating on the surface of the water, and then I began to imagine the mixed taste of chlorine and chocolate.

She looked with pleasure at the blue cushioned seat and the hood to protect the rider from sun or rain. How very strange it felt merely to sit above those turning wheels, and bowl gently down the street! And to watch the trotting legs of the rickshaw man before her in the shafts! Since she had grown too big to be lifted astride her father’s shoulder or her mother’s hip, Momo had never been carried by anything but her own strong legs, She laughed aloud with pleasure at this strange sensation, and the coolie turning, grinned at her and called to her cheerfully, “Tsk bai, baccha!”’ (All right, little girl!)

He closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale, a bright smile on his face. “The smell of books is up there with cake fresh out of the oven and peonies.” “I don’t know what peonies smell like.” His mouth drops open. “Don’t you smell the flowers in your backyard?” I shake my head. “No. They were there when I purchased the house, and I pay a landscaper to handle the yard for me, or Mom does it.” He looks at me like I’m insane, then shakes his head, tsk-ing under his breath. I make a mental note to smell every flower in my backyard when we get home before asking him which ones are his favorites, so I can buy some for him when we’re back home. It’s normal for friends to buy each other flowers, right?

But what is the alternative? Look the other way when a dragon flies by?' He tsk-tsked. 'That sort of life isn't worth living.' 'You would risk insanity, then?' 'Without a doubt. It's the only way to live.

They were standing in the middle of the arena, with Stardust tacked up and ready to go. Issie watched as Aunt Hester walked over to the mare and attached a long webbing lunge rein, clipping it on to the bit and running it over the mare’s poll and down the other side. “Before you get on her, let’s try putting Stardust through her paces on the lunge rein,” Hester said. “Run the stirrups up the leathers, will you, dear?” Issie slid the irons up on their leathers so that they didn’t bounce against the mare’s sides and then she stood back as Aunt Hester led Stardust into the centre of the arena. “Tsk tsk, walk on!” Hester clucked at the palomino to get her moving, and Stardust obeyed her commands, stepping out on the lunge at a brisk walk. The lunge rein was about three metres long. Hester held the end of the rein and her eyes followed the mare as she circled around her. “Trot on!” Hester called out and again Stardust immediately obliged, breaking into a trot on command. “She’s got the most lovely trot!” Issie called out to her aunt. “That’s nothing, wait until you see her canter,” Hester grinned. “Come on, Stardust, canter on!” Hester was right. Stardust had a canter that almost seemed to float above the ground–she was as graceful as a ballerina. Issie could see why Rupert had cast this mare in his movie. With her silver mane and tail flowing out behind her, she looked exactly like the sort of pony that belongs to a princess. Stardust shook her mane and arched her neck, as if she knew that she was the centre of attention as she circled round and round the arena. “And steady…walk on! And…halt!” Hester instructed. Stardust did just as she was asked, pulling up on the lunge and stopping in front of Hester in a perfect square halt. “Good girl, Stardust!

Oh, kitten,” I tsk, smiling darkly. “There will be. Lots of it. Every day and night.” Trailing my lips over her jaw to her ear, I whisper, “You will beg, scream, moan, and won’t step outside of my house until I’m satisfied you’ll feel me in your cunt when I’m not with you.

Not that I understand the Spindle talk anyways. Other realms and demon lords. Corblood princes. Magical swords. Quite the mess you’ve put us in.” With another tsk, Charlie settled down next to him, tucking himself tight against the assassin. “If you recall, I was dragged into this against my will,” he muttered. Garion glanced at him sidelong, eyes sharp. “And you chose to stay in it.” “I did,” Charlie replied, thoughtful. As much for himself as for Garion. His voice softened. “I chose to do something with myself, if only something small.” He expected Garion to laugh at him. Instead, the man held his gaze, his dark eyes melting. Their fingers brushed, then wove together. “Small things matter too,” Garion muttered, looking back to the sky. Charlie did not, memorizing instead the lines of Garion’s face and the feel of the sun on their joined hands. The smell of roses, and more rain, not yet fallen, but soon to come. “Yes, indeed.

He is an unholy sight. And I will never stop sinning for him. I move to stand to go to him but he tsk-tsks at me and shakes his head. “Did I tell you to get off your knees?” he says. “You’ll crawl to me.

The question refers to two young women residing at your house who have criminal records for engaging in prostitution." "Tsk, tsk, and they're plying their trade from my house?" "Not exactly." "That's similar to 'no', isn't it?

tsk-tsking Black women never made a sick body well or a neighborhood safer, improved a school system, fed and clothed a baby, or built a happy Black family.

At the time, Mr. Shaw had a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he said, "With your good looks, you seem like the type to have a very powerful man. Tsk, I better find one for you quickly." An Zhe said nothing. In truth, all he had was a mannequin that hadn't yet taken shape. This mannequin was still being crafted day after day, and it resembled Lu Feng more and more.

Sorasa Sarn rolled out onto the cold floor and Dome’s vision slanted, his head spinning. Ronin laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “Honestly, I expected more from an Amhara.” Something snapped in Domacridhan, bone-deep. Like an earthquake breaking a mountain. He knew only fury, only rage. He felt nothing, not even the snapping of the chains around his wrist, the steel links shearing apart beneath his own force. Whatever immortal soul he carried disappeared, reducing him to little more than beast. Six harried, terrified heartbeats thrummed alongside his own. The knight and guards looked on him as they would a monster, the whites of their eyes flaring. Sigil’s heart raged, mirroring her anger. But Ronin’s heartbeat remained even. The wizard was not afraid. Weakly, beneath the rest, another heat drummed. Steady but slow. And stubbornly alive. “Sorasa, SORASA!” Sigil’s cry rebounded off the walls, her voice coming from seemingly everywhere. Don’s free hand went to his collar, his fingers working to grip the metal edge. “She’s alive,” he bit out. It calmed Sigil, but only a little. “Tsk, tsk, Domacridhan,” the wizard said, ticking his head back and forth. With another twitch of his fingers, he gestured to the knights again. Wide-eyed as they were, they locked Sorasa in her cell and made for Dom. Metal groaned as Dom pulled away the collar, its screws tearing out of the stove behind him. With both shoulders and one arm free, he went for his other wrist next. The jailer’s key jingled closer, the lock on his cell door clicking open, and three of the knights surged in. Dom caught the first knight by the gauntlet, his open palm wrapping around an armored wrist. In the corridor, the fourth knight yelped, coming too close to Sigil’s cell. She moved lightning fast, thrusting an arm through the bars to grab him around his throat. The other knights surrounded Dom, leaving their compatriot to fend for himself as they overwhelmed the immortal. To his surprise, they left their swords sheathed, using all their weight to pin his arm back against the wall. Dom cursed them in his own language, loosing five hundred years of immortal rage. His teeth snapped, inches from their armor, fighting to find any gap of skin. Desperation set in slowly, his window of opportunity disappearing with every second. One of the knights put his forearm to Dom’s neck, throwing all his weight into it. Steel slammed against his throat. “You accomplished nothing but a few new bruises,” Ronin said above the sun.

Sorasa Sarn rolled out onto the cold floor and Dom’s vision slanted, his head spinning. Ronin laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “Honestly, I expected more from an Amhara.” Something snapped in Domacridhan, bone-deep. Like an earthquake breaking a mountain. He knew only fury, only rage. He felt nothing, not even the snapping of the chains around his wrist, the steel links shearing apart beneath his own force. Whatever immortal soul he carried disappeared, reducing him to little more than beast. Six harried, terrified heartbeats thrummed alongside his own. The knight and guards looked on him as they would a monster, the whites of their eyes flaring. Sigil’s heart raged, mirroring her anger. But Ronin’s heartbeat remained even. The wizard was not afraid. Weakly, beneath the rest, another heat drummed. Steady but slow. And stubbornly alive. “Sorasa, SORASA!” Sigil’s cry rebounded off the walls, her voice coming from seemingly everywhere. Don’s free hand went to his collar, his fingers working to grip the metal edge. “She’s alive,” he bit out. It calmed Sigil, but only a little. “Tsk, tsk, Domacridhan,” the wizard said, ticking his head back and forth. With another twitch of his fingers, he gestured to the knights again. Wide-eyed as they were, they locked Sorasa in her cell and made for Dom. Metal groaned as Dom pulled away the collar, its screws tearing out of the stove behind him. With both shoulders and one arm free, he went for his other wrist next. The jailer’s key jingled closer, the lock on his cell door clicking open, and three of the knights surged in. Dom caught the first knight by the gauntlet, his open palm wrapping around an armored wrist. In the corridor, the fourth knight yelped, coming too close to Sigil’s cell. She moved lightning fast, thrusting an arm through the bars to grab him around his throat. The other knights surrounded Dom, leaving their compatriot to fend for himself as they overwhelmed the immortal. To his surprise, they left their swords sheathed, using all their weight to pin his arm back against the wall. Dom cursed them in his own language, loosing five hundred years of immortal rage. His teeth snapped, inches from their armor, fighting to find any gap of skin. Desperation set in slowly, his window of opportunity disappearing with every second. One of the knights put his forearm to Dom’s neck, throwing all his weight into it. Steel slammed against his throat. “You accomplished nothing but a few new bruises,” Ronin said above the din.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Don’t be greedy, little goddess,” he chided. “You’ll get just as much as I want to give you.

You talk that way about the mother of your child?” I tsk and shake my head like it’s a shame. “I was gonna ease up on you, show some mercy, but now I’m gonna wipe the floor with your bitch ass.

Drunk actions are sober thoughts, little one, or didn’t you know that?” I tsk.

I bet it’s because I was talking about Garrett.” “Ooo,” she sang, lifting an eyebrow at me, “Is that so?” “Yep,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I caught them kissing the other day.” I shot up into a sitting position, narrowing my eyes at the little devil who was conveniently hiding behind Sadie. Layla’s expression was so giddy, all she needed was a bag of popcorn to complete the package. “Kissing in plain sight, Mads? Tsk-tsk.” Jamie pretended to gag, holding a finger to his open mouth. “It was gross. He kissed her so much, she fell to the ground.

Köpeklerin Kardeşliği 90’ların resmi çete devleti Pasur İlçesini ve Köylerini yakıp yıktı. Ülkücüler’in güdümünde hareket eden söz konusu Aşiret Mensupları da Korucu olmayı seçti ve göçe zorlanan yerli Halk’ın yerlerini – meskunlarını işgal etti. Ortada akılla görülen bir işbirliği var. Bugün söz konusu Aşiret Mensupları kendilerine verilmiş ikinci bir kimlik ile, başta Emniyet’in, TSK’nın, Yargı’nın, MİT’in, kısacası tüm resmi kurumların içinde görev almakla beraber, ekseriyetle Kürd Aydınları’na ve Kürd Halkı’na karşı kullanılıyorlar. Ülke genelinde “Faili Meçhul” adı altında seri cinayetler işliyorlar. Ortada akılla görülen bir senaryo var. Deniz Sarıtop

Come on, a deal is a deal. Let it down and let’s get it packed up.” “Tsk… fine.” I stopped punching and the zombie dropped to the ground. But right when it collided with the floor, it poofed and dropped some XP orbs and a piece of rotten flesh. “Whoa! That happened again? Oops! Maybe I should start catching them,” I said as I absorbed the items. BrutalVGam1ng’s mouth dropped. “You… you poofed it?” “I guess so.” “Why?! You’re not supposed to poof it!” “Huh? I, uh, didn’t mean to?” “OMG… I’m in so much trouble now…

I made a sound, a sort of disbelieving tsk, and Jane spared me a pitying look. "The empire had arrived by then, with its borderlines and deeds and railroads and Maxim guns. I was not the only motherless, feral child running through the bush."    I was silent. I thought of Mr. Locke's lectures on Progress and Prosperity. There were never any orphan girls or stolen farms or Maxim guns in them.

Everyone gasped as Autumn flew through the air and swung her iron sword down at Jasmine. But instinctively, the quick monk rolled back and out of the way so that she could recover. Autumn instantly followed up with additional swings after she landed. The monk, though blind, still had an acute sense of hearing, so she was able to dodge her opponent’s attacks. “Tsk! How are you doing that?!” yelled Autumn. “Doing what?” Jasmine replied. “How are you dodging my attacks with your eyes closed?” “You’re as noisy as can be,” she grinned.

Summer Ends” I will not name you again. I will not reduce you like a memory to your smallest parts,       little fantastic machine-heart slaving away its heat       little controlled burn       little smolder-fire wicking toward the dry brush. I will not replace this moment with the next,       will not exchange you with clocks,       with steady breaths or the tsk-tsk of the nearest metronome       the pulse of lost touches that never made landfall. I will not end when the summer ends,       this small, small moment bird-like in its nervousness       our bodies near touch-to-touch       there are new nervous octaves nested in my throat which will be anything for you,       be bird for you,       be timepiece of wrists for you, be shadow and wind for you,       be jeans for you. Licks for you. Oh, summer ends bemoaning its own misfortune. I sit near you       and the dusk comes on like the dizzy sweet sting of your cologne. For you I could be the longest day, all of your sunlight,       if for me you made yourself coda,       made nightfall, made yourself nest. The New Hampshire Review (no. 2)

Tsk tsk, Wenzhou really is amazing. It's just to bad that his hand is handicapped." Ye Xiu said. "He's standing right behind me..." Huang Shaotian replied. "Then his hand isn't handicapped?" Ye Xiu said. "Captain..." Huang Shaotian turned his head to look at Yu Wenzhou with an innocent expression. Yu Wenzhou only laughed, "it's the truth. My hands really are handicapped. "Your trash talk is having no effect on our team captain," Huang Shaotian replied.

JohnDoe: TSK%#4GFE%SXG!Z@MGK>MT$?#666 KSpicer’s heart drops, eyes widen and instantly gets killed in the game by the Murderer. Ends Roblox.

What do you think of Lord St. Vincent?” Pandora asked eagerly. West’s gaze moved to a man who appeared to be a younger version of his sire, with bronze-gold hair that gleamed like new-minted coins. Princely handsome. A cross between Adonis and the Royal Coronation Coach. With deliberate casualness, West said, “He’s not as tall as I expected.” Pandora looked affronted. “He’s every bit as tall as you!” “I’ll eat my hat if he’s an inch over four foot seven.” West clicked his tongue in a few disapproving tsk-tsks. “And still in short trousers.” Half annoyed, half amused, Pandora gave him a little shove. “That’s his younger brother Ivo, who is eleven. The one next to him is my fiancé.” “Aah. Well, I can see why you’d want to marry that one.” Folding her arms across her chest, Pandora let out a long sigh. “Yes. But why does he want to marry me?” West took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Why wouldn’t he?” he asked, his voice gentling with concern. “Because I’m not the sort of girl everyone expected him to marry.” “You’re what he wants, or he wouldn’t be here. What is there to fret about?” Pandora shrugged uneasily. “I don’t really deserve him,” she confessed. “How splendid for you.” “Why is that splendid?” “There’s nothing better than having something you don’t deserve. Just say to yourself, ‘Hooray for me, I’m so very lucky. Not only do I have the biggest piece of cake, it’s a corner piece with a sugar-paste flower on top, and everyone else is sick with envy.’” A slow grin spread across Pandora’s face. After a moment, she said in an experimental undertone, “Hooray for me.

Gibbons came trotting out of the dressing room with Nash’s best evening clothes draped over his arm, whistling a merry tune—always a bad sign. “What are you doing with those?” Nash asked suspiciously. “Checking for moths,” replied the valet testily. “We go to Brierwood next week, you will recall.” “Not in that rig.” “But there is to be a ball,” sniffed Gibbons. “I had it from Mr. Hayden-Worth. Honestly, if I waited for you to tell me anything—” “Next week,” Nash interjected. “That, Gibbons, is the operative word.” “And if there are moths?” challenged the valet. “Have you any idea how long it would take to get a new suit of evening clothes made up?” Nash shrugged. “I must have a dozen more in there somewhere,” he said, picking up his coffee. “Just drag out a set of old ones.” “They mightn’t fit,” said Gibbons with another sniff. “None of us, I fear, are quite the men we once were.” Nash put his coffee down, and turned sharply in his chair. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?” Gibbons smiled faintly. “You are almost five-and-thirty, sir,” he said. “Things begin to shift—or spread—perhaps even sag.” “I’ll be damned,” said Nash, leaping from his chair. He loosened the dressing gown and jerked it off. “Really, my lord!” Gibbons rolled his eyes. “The tape measure!” Nash growled, stripping off his shirt and hurling it to the floor. “Get me the goddamned tape measure!” Gibbons sighed, went into the dressing room, and returned with the tape, curled like a little snake in the palm of his hand. Nash loosened the fall of his trousers, and held up his arms. “All right,” he said. “Measure it.” “Sir, this really is not nec—” “No, by God, I said measure it.” Gibbons wrinkled his nose and wrapped the heavy ribbon around Nash’s waist. “Ah-ha!” said Nash. “Thirty-two inches, is it not?” “Tsk, tsk,” said Gibbons. “What?” Nash demanded. “They do say a man’s eyesight is the second thing to go,” said Gibbons mournfully. “This tape plainly says thirty-three.” Nash gasped in horror. “You must be lying.” He squinted down. Yes, Gibbons was lying. The tape very plainly said thirty-four. “Oh, God!” said Nash. “Not to worry, sir,” said Gibbons placatingly. “Before your sucking gasp of horror, it was an even three-and-thirty.

Kusha asks herself another question, making sure Taha doesn’t notice. Will death happen today? (a) Yes (b) No. No. She ignites the engine. When will it happen and where?—she thinks, but no answer comes. It’s not a yes-no question, and she has no options to choose from. So, just as her machine-bugs calculate their next moves, her mind storms, creating and canceling options: the death alarm came after looking at the mail-box ... mail has a connection … the auction entry-ticket … maybe it has something to do with the High Auction? Kusha frowns. Will anyone die in the High Auction? (a) Yes (b) No. Yes. Yes? Someone will die at the auction! Tsk! First, the mail will be late, and next, the death alarm is related to the High Auction. Is it a bad sign? (a) Yes (b) No. Yes. Of course, it’s a bad sign! Unnecessary question! Is it an omen? (a) Yes (b) No. Yes. Is it only one death? Kusha keeps asking questions one after another...

Evert nods, studying my red wings as he raises his hand and traces a finger along the feathers at the top. The sensation instantly shoots a shiver down them and my feathers ruffle up involuntarily. I slap his hand away. “Stop that.” He looks at me, amused. “Touchy, touchy.” Before he can catch on to what I’m about to do, I bend down and grab hold of his tail, petting it gently. He flinches back in surprise and his tail flicks out of my grasp. I tsk. “Touchy, touchy,” I say with a smirk. He narrows his eyes and takes a step forward, forcing me to tilt my head up to look at him. “Touching a genfin’s tail isn’t a good idea, Scratch,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

Fuck you.” “Tsk, tsk. Such language. Your readers are going to be mad.” “Fuck them, too.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Mom's a lying liar who lies.

Politeness is so important,” Vanessa said, holding us up to her face. “Especially for young people. That’s what I care about more than anything else in the world. Good manners.” She narrowed her eyes at us. “That day in front of the grocery,” she scolded, “you didn’t apologize for crashing into me. So I had no choice. I had to punish you.” She studied us, tsk-tisking. So that’s why Anthony wasn’t turned into a chicken, too! I realized. Before he ran away, Anthony had called out to Vanessa that he was sorry. If only Cole and I had apologized then! We wouldn’t be peeping little chicks today.