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“Laurel lifted his chin until their faces were even. Tamani closed his eyes and she could feel his jaw trembling under her hands. She brushed her lips over his, reveling in the velvety softness of his mouth against hers. When he didn’t pull away, she pressed more firmly, knowing, somehow, that she had to move slowly, convince his tattered soul so carefully that she meant every word. ‘I love you. And I’m asking you...’ She opened her mouth slightly and gently scraped her teeth along his bottom lip, feeling his whole body shudder. ‘No,’ she amended, ‘I’m begging you, to come be with me.’ And she pressed her mouth against his and murmured, ‘Forever.’ For a few seconds he didn’t respond. Then a groan escaped his throat and he thrust his fingers into her hair, pulling her mouth to his with a fierce hunger. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered. ’And don’t stop.’ His mouth enveloped hers again and their shared sweetness tasted like ambrosia as he caressed her eyelids, her ears her neck, and Laurel marveled at the strangeness of the world. She had loved him, had always loved him. She had even known it, somehow. ‘Are you sure?’ Tamani murmured, his lips softly grazing her ears. ‘I am so sure,’ Laurel said, her hands clutching the front of his shirt. ‘What changed?’ He pushed her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her temples, just brushing her eyelashes. Laurel sobered. ‘When I brought you the potion, I thought I was too late. And I had just taken it myself. And all I wanted right at that moment was to take my own cure away. To die with you.’ Tamani pressed his forehead gainst hers and lifted one hand to stroke her chhek. ‘I’ve loved you a long time,’ she said. ‘But there was always something holding me back. Maybe it was that I was afraid of an emotion that was so consuming. It still frightens me,’ she admitted in a whisper.”

“Laurel paused. Then she took David's hand and wrapped it around Chelsea's. After a long moment he nodded and led Chelsea through the gateway and out of Avalon. Laurel took one look before following. She saw Marion, her face a picture of shock; Jamison, his fist raised in triumph, a roar of cheers and applause surrounding him; Yasmine, still standing on the bench, looking every bit like the queen Laurel had no doubt she would one day be. Grinning, she twined her fingers through Tamani's and together they walked out into the glittering starlight of California. Laurel considered the words Tamani had just spoken. They were technically true; soon they would be in David's car, headed to the house where she lived. But she knew the truth now. With Tamani beside her--his hand in hers-- she was already home." Aprilynne Pike Destined pg. 300-301”

“Laurel stood on stage. She was very still. Her lovely blue eyes were lowered modestly. Her silver blonde hair fell in disheveled curls around her face, white roses and strands of pearls woven artfully throughout. A necklace of what looked like diamonds clasped her slender throat while white kid gloves were drawn up to her elbow. She held a fan of frosted silver in one hand, dangling at her side. Her dress was a shimmering sapphire blue, and it fit her exquisitely, molding to her form, hugging her small bosom and lifting her breasts until they appeared ready to spill from the satin bodice. A silver braided sash cinched her waist, emphasizing its narrowness. And then, she lifted her head, raised the hand that held the fan, then the other one and, tipping her head back, opened her eyes. They were haunting and luminous, soft in the candlelight. Her skin was pale and smooth. The crowd was utterly quiet, watching her. And then, she began to sing. If Dare had thought Laurel Spencer beautiful before, now she became goddess-like to him in an instant as a melody so heart-wrenching and lovely spilled forth from her lips.”

“Laurence [Fishburn] helped redo some of the dialogue [in John Wick 2], he and Keanu [Reeves] workshopped it. And he couldn't have been more respectful couldn't have been more brilliant on set. I said, "look, I'm gonna have to work you a little bit here cause I only get you for three days." He never left set, was always engaging, always working on his lines, it was awesome.”

“Laurence," Granby said at his shoulder, "in the hurry, the ammunition was all laid in its usual place on the left, though we are not carrying the bombs to balance it out; we ought to restow." "Can you have it done before we engage? Oh, good Lord," Laurence said, realizing. "I do not even know the position of the convoy; do you?" Granby shook his head, embarrassed, and Laurence swallowed his pride and shouted, "Berkley, where are we going?" A general explosion of mirth ran among the men on Maximus's back. Berkley called back, "Straight to Hell, ha ha!" More laughter, nearly drowning out the coordinates that he bellowed over.”

“Laurent stopped. Damen could see the moment when Laurent decided to continue. It was deliberate, his eyes meeting Damen's, his tone subtly changed. 'Damianos of Akielos was commanding troops at seventeen. At nineteen, he rode onto the field, cut a path through our finest men, and took my brother's life. They say--they said--he was the best fighter in Akielos. I thought, if I was going to kill someone like that, I would have to be very, very good.”

“Laurie‍ Penny, jedna z ważnych współczesnych feministycznych myślicielek, pisze: „Kiedy‍ rozeszła się wieść o morderstwie, kiedy cały cyfrowy świat zaczął je omawiać i zastanawiać się nad jego znaczeniem, byłam bliska napisania do mojego wydawcy mejla z prośbą o kilka dni wolnego, ponieważ kilka szczególnie brutalnych pogróżek, zwłaszcza tych dotyczących gwałtu, sprawiło, że byłam roztrzęsiona i potrzebowałam czasu, żeby się pozbierać. Jednak zamiast dać sobie ten czas, piszę niniejszy post – piszę go, pogrążona w żałobie i pełna gniewu nie tylko z powodu masakry w Isla Vista, ale także z powodu tego, co tracimy wszędzie, dlatego że język i ideologia nowej mizoginii wciąż traktowane są jako coś, co można wybaczyć. (…) Mdli mnie, kiedy za każdym razem, kiedy próbuję mówić o ofiarach i o tych, które przetrwały przemoc, każe mi się współczuć sprawcom”.”

“Laurie piped up again. 'At State, everybody calls diversity dispersity. What happens is, everybody has their own clubs, their own signs, their own sections where they all sit in the dining hall--all the African Americans are over there? . . . and all the Asians sit over't these other tables? -- except for the Koreans? -- because they don't get along with the Japanese so they sit way over there? Everybody's dispersed into their own little groups -- and everybody's told to distrust everybody else? Everybody's told that everybody else is trying to screw them over--oops!' -- Laurie pulled a face and put her fingertips over her lips -- 'I'm sorry!' She rolled eyes and smiled. 'Anyway, the idea is, every other group is like prejudiced against your group, and no matter what they say, they're only out to take advantage of you, and you should have nothing to do with them -- unless your white, in which case all the others are not prejudiced against you, they're like totally right, because you really are a racist and everything, even if you don't know it? Everybody ends up dispersed into their own like turtle shells, suspicious of everybody else and being careful not to fraternize with them. Is it like that at Dupont?”

“Laurie Siler. The singer. The Rockstar. He looked older than his 21 years. I’d always thought he was good looking, in music videos and interviews. But he was so much more beautiful in person. He had a strong jaw beneath a wide mouth, kind green eyes, floppy brown hair, slicked back but still brushing his shoulders. He wore a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans over tan Chelsea boots. I looked back to his eyes and they were staring straight at me. I was struck. Breathless. He smirked. The cocky sonofabitch.”

“LAUT YANG MENGENANG DUA BAYANGAN Fragmen I — Laut Yang Mengasah Ingatan Laut membuka kelopaknya pelan, seperti ibu tua yang tak pernah berhenti menyebut nama kedua anaknya yang tak kunjung pulang. Dalam kabut asin, dayung-dayung perahu mengiris fajar tipis— di kejauhan, layar-layar kapal Tiongkok, Gujarat, Arab, berdiri seperti kitab-kitab raksasa yang menuliskan nasib manusia. Gelombang itu tahu: sebelum Tuah lahir dari sumpah dan Jebat dari luka, ada nadi besar yang tak berhenti memanggil— nadi yang tak tunduk pada raja mana pun, nadi yang menyimpan seluruh rahasia tentang siapa sesungguhnya yang berdaulat: manusia, atau rasa takutnya sendiri. Fragmen II — Pelabuhan Urat Nadi Zaman Pelabuhan berdenyut seperti jantung basah. Suara pedagang Pasai, Makassar, Champa, menyilang di udara: serak, cepat, waspada— setiap transaksi adalah pertaruhan jiwa. Di pasar ikan yang licin, tumpukan garam mengkilap seperti tulang-tulang dari sejarah yang tak ingin dilupakan. Bocah-bocah menjerit di antara karung lada, dan seorang perempuan tua menawar kain sutra dengan tangan gemetar oleh kelaparan yang diwariskan. Di balik hiruk pikuk itu, para syahbandar mencatat angka-angka yang tak pernah memihak rakyat. Pelayaran besar sedang berlangsung: rempah bergerak, emas bergerak, manusia menggerak dan digerakkan. Dari tepi dermaga, Tuah kecil dan Jebat kecil memandang kapal-kapal tak dikenal, merekam napas pertama mereka kepada dunia. Fragmen III — Istana: Takut yang Menjadi Hukum Dinding istana berlantai marmer dingin menggemakan bisik-bisik yang lebih tajam dari keris. Para bendahara menggeser angka, para pembesar menggeser kesetiaan, para tabib menggeser kebenaran. Raja duduk seperti bayang-bayang yang ketakutannya menjelma jadi ritual harian. Setiap mata tertunduk— bukan hormat, melainkan ketakutan agar tidak ikut ditarik ke liang intrik. Di sini, sumpah setia menjadi mata rantai, dan keadilan hanyalah pantulan cahaya dari lampu minyak yang hampir padam. Tuah tumbuh di bawah atap ini— belajar bahwa setia bisa berarti bisu, bahwa patuh bisa berarti sekarat. Sementara Jebat, di lorong lain, belajar bahwa diam adalah dosa yang diperintahkan oleh para penguasa untuk melanggengkan ketidakadilan.”

“LAUT YANG MENGENANG DUA BAYANGAN Fragmen IV — Dua Tubuh yang Saling Menghantui Malam di istana jatuh seperti kapak. Angin lembab membawa bau darah yang belum mengering dari sejarah. Di ruang sepi, dua sosok berdiri— bukan lagi Tuah dan Jebat, melainkan dua luka yang mencari siapa yang harus menanggung cacat zaman ini. Keris bergetar di tangan, tapi yang sebenarnya mereka tusuk adalah pertanyaan yang tak pernah dijawab: Apakah kesetiaan adalah memberi segala pada penguasa? Ataukah kesetiaan adalah membela manusia dari penguasanya? Setiap langkah pecah seperti bongkah es di dasar sumur. Setiap tatapan adalah cermin retak yang memantulkan dua takdir yang tak bisa berhenti mencintai dan mengkhianati dunia yang sama. Fragmen V — Rakyat: Bayang-Bayang yang Tak Pernah Ditanya Di luar istana, rakyat berkumpul seperti kabut— tak terlihat, tapi menentukan musim. Mereka mengasuh luka yang diwariskan dari kerajaan ke kerajaan, dari penjajah ke penjajah, dari pemimpin ke pemimpin yang semuanya mengaku penyelamat. Di pasar malam, seorang lelaki kehilangan anaknya karena jerat pajak yang terlalu tinggi. Di kampung nelayan, perempuan-perempuan menjerang air asin untuk mengelabui rasa lapar. Rakyat menonton duel Tuah–Jebat melalui kabar yang tak pasti: siapa bajingan? siapa pahlawan? siapa pembebas? Atau mungkin pertanyaannya salah: siapa yang sebenarnya memanfaatkan keduanya? siapa yang menciptakan perpecahan ini agar istana tetap aman dan rakyat tetap tiarap? Fragmen VI — Pertanyaan yang Diwariskan Layar-layar modern berkedip seperti kapal-kapal tua yang kembali dari perjalanan jauh. Kita hidup di antara penguasa yang tak takut pada rakyatnya, dan rakyat yang diajari untuk mencintai para penguasa lebih dari dirinya sendiri. Tuah hidup di kita setiap kali kita memilih diam atas ketidakadilan yang kita lihat. Jebat hidup di kita setiap kali kita berteriak tanpa memahami bagaimana suara kita dimanfaatkan. Dan laut— ah, laut itu masih memanggil, seakan berkata: “Anak-anakku, kalian bertengkar terlalu lama di atas geladak perahu yang sama. Kalian lupa bahwa badai datang tanpa memilih siapa yang setia dan siapa yang memberontak.” Kita berdiri di sini, saksi tanpa nama, penimbang tanpa mahkota: Di manakah manusia seharusnya berdiri— pada sumpah, atau pada nurani? Desember 2025”

“Lava crust," he said, voice hushed in wonder. "It's lava crust. The fire is burning within the creature's skin." "No wonder it's in pain," Machiavelli muttered. "You sound almost sorry for it," Dee snapped. "I never traded my humanity for my long life, Doctor. I've always remembered my roots." His voice hardened, turning contemptous. "You worked so hard to be like your Elder master that you've forgotten what it is like to feel human—to be human. And we humans"—he stressed the last word—"have the capacity to feel another creature's pain. It is what lifted the humani above the Elders, it is what made them great.”