#he's totally overlooking that bachelor mention

[gemkun]

anonymous said : So, Doctor Ratio, as currently the youngest Intelligentsia Guild bachelor, would you care to share your thoughts on marriage with the rest of the universe, both as a concept and as an institution?

      ⸻       ❝   marriage   .   .   .   ❞   his   tone   peters   off   ,   uncharacteristic   of   the   prominent   rigidity   the   scholar   was   known   for.

  fingers   drift   ,   nestling   to   pose   in   thought.   this   bond   ,   or   rather   the   topic   in   its   entirety   ,   is   one   veritas   had   paid   a   modicum   of   attention   to.   crossing   it   in   passing   ,   whether   by   the   individuals   he   was   surrounded   by   or   the   novels   that   entailed   this   union   ,   was   an   inevitability.   to   talk   about   it   ,   with   the   firmness   he   dished   related   to   subjects   where   expertise   was   present   ,   would   require   further   readings   ,   further   observation   and   further   .   .   .   ah   ,   well   ,   the   unsaid   latter   was   yet   to   come   to   fruition.

  ❝   as   a   concept   is   a   sacred   promise   between   two   individuals   ,   often   sealed   by   the   exchange   of   vows.   as   an   institution   ,   it   is   a   legally   recognised   union   between   these   same   individuals   ,   celebrated   before   a   gathering   of   kin   and   close   ones   alike.   if   deemed   unnecessary   or   unfeasible   ,   paperwork   is   adequate   to   proclaim   the   matrimony   between   new   spouses.   ❞   perhaps   ,   these   are   textbook   definitions   ,   but   how   else   does   one   express   an   opinion   without   the   rational   foundation   that   the   sanctioned   relationship   is   built   upon.

  and   yet   ,   even   he   —   a   staple   of   logic   ,   is   aware   of   the   idiosyncrasies   that   navigate   the   poetic   world.

  he   purses   lips   ,   ruminating   over   the   gravity   of   deliberating   a   theme   as   fundamental   as   marriage.   ❝   to   bind   yourself   to   someone   ,   for   the   remainder   of   your   life   ,   is   the   greatest   declaration.   it   is   an   indelible   commitment   ,   that   will   be   tested   by   a   myriad   of   trials   and   tribulations   ,   to   determine   the   strength   of   your   bond.   ❞

  how   odd.   the   one   word   behind   this   culmination   ,   is   absent.

  ❝   to   overcome   it   together   ,   is   to   overcome   all.   ❞

#* ✦ 𝐈𝐈. ❮ asks ❯ ⸻ ❝ #* ✦ 𝐕𝐈. ❮ muses ❯ ⸻ ❝ 「 veritas ratio 」 #he's totally overlooking that bachelor mention #he's still so detached from it but that is how he delivers an unbiased opinion #besides marriage is far far far off his radar #whether he could actually resign himself to a commitment as immense as marriage is hm #he needs a challenge and he needs anomalies and he needs to not be tied down #so it's a consideration for sure but it's leaning towards the he will stay a bachelor side

[deannaistyping]

Vergil being dumped is complete nonsense it will always have been the other way around.

I take Sex and Gender Studies as part of my Bachelor of Arts. To say it’s given me some insight into why the world is the way it is is an understatement. I’ve found I can apply a lot of the theories within my class to Devil May Cry as a whole. It’s not necessary, but it’s an intriguing process nonetheless. 

I mention in my memoir that Devil May Cry played an important part in my own self-expression. I started the series with DMC4, which gives two very different and extreme representations of femininity/feminism with Kyrie and Gloria. Kyrie is portrayed as an innocent woman who is very reserved — we see her almost in a “servant” position, bringing Red Queen to Nero in the early stages of the game. Then you have Gloria, who is overly sexualised (every time I replay her introduction, I have to point out the ‘fanny shot’ and can’t help but laugh) but gets shit done herself and is confident within her own boots, even if she lacks an under wire.

I bring this up because DMC also shows such variations of masculinity as well. Take DMC3: Dante is shirtless for the entire game, there’s just enough of a promiscuous gap between the button of his pants and his abdomen to get some people swooning. It’s Dante, not Lady, fulfilling the sex appeal role. Then there’s Vergil, who is wearing multiple layers, is prim and proper — a demonstration of masculine reservation — and oozes wisdom beyond his years. Feminists will argue that the female characters are over-sexualised (Trish/Lady, maybe Nico to some extent) or over-reserved (Kyrie), and while it’s true to some extent that there is no in-between — though everyone seems to overlook Lucia during these conversations, probably because she was in arguably the worst game of the franchise — its representations of its characters is just over-sexualised enough in the past that going forward, the series can do whatever the fuck it wants now, because it’s covered all types of representation.

The combination of Gloria, Vergil, Nero and Dante’s ability to wear whatever the hell they wanted, and get their jobs done without the stereotypical “Trish/Lady can’t be in this fight!” conflict between one another because of their gender/gender roles triggered a sense of freedom within myself of sorts. I have played with makeup colour pallettes, styles of clothing, and even branched out in activities (I went to an air guitar competition last year I never would have done that prior to DMC holy shit) thanks to this franchise.

So what is the point to me bringing this up? Why are these points relevant to a self-centred ask detailing what must be, in a god-damn fanfiction?

DMC is (perhaps unintentionally) ahead of its time. This indicates to me that Vergil ‘dumped’ no one. I doubt we will ever find out what happened. But the fact is, it is totally and utterly unlike Devil May Cry to portray Nero’s mother as nothing more than a hapless victim to Vergil’s ‘charms’, to only then be cast away. Dan Southworth (Vergil’s voice actor) spoke about being unhappy with Vergil’s relation to Nero’s mother being a throwaway line and tried to play it as seriously as he could. If Vergil, the dark slayer, saw Nero’s mother as important to hesitate for just a moment while considering his son, then must I query how Vergil would put up with a submissive object, a victim, as a partner, even for a brief time.

There are different types of feminism and female representations — it would be highly unusual for DMC to go deliberately after the damsel in distress twice. Kyrie is the only appearance of the damsel trope. If Kyrie is the bar to beat, why repeat her plot, for the sake of preserving Vergil’s masculinity?

Speaks fucking volumes to me.

#asks #Devil May Cry #essay #Vergil #Nero's mother #Gloria #Nero #Kyrie #Trish #Dante

[msjr0119]

Love, Fate, Destiny

Part 1- Rewrite the stars

Riley Brooks is a waitress in a ‘Dive bar” in New York. One Saturday night, her past comes back to haunt her as some unfamiliar punters enter her bar on a bachelor party- one of them being someone who she was once close to.

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @butindeed @bbrandy2002 @ladyangel70 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415

******

Riley woke up the following morning, she had believed that she had dreamt the previous night- until she saw the note on the bedside cabinet. For the majority of the night- she had contemplated texting Drake, but didn’t want her heart to break again. Knowing that he was to return to Cordonia later today, she just felt it was best to ignore that the previous night had even existed. Getting ready for the day she decided to go to the subway and head for Central Park - walking always cleared her mind.

****

Drake woke up in the hotel room, immediately reaching for his phone- hoping that Riley would have contacted him. There were no notifications. The stab in the heart made him wake up to reality that she truly hated him- there would be no convincing her that they could change their destiny. Instead of moping about, he swiftly packed his duffel bag and headed to Liam’s room, hoping that the Prince would want to leave early. When Liam mentioned visiting New York for his bachelor party- Drake tried to convince him to have it elsewhere. Liam questioned why his friend wouldn’t want to go back? Frustration in his voice, Drake knew that Liam wouldn’t put his foot down. Who can say no to a Prince anyway?

“Hello, Drake. It’s early. I believe we aren’t leaving until later?” Liam said as stretching his tired limbs. This was supposed to be a relaxing break, and Drake had woken him up at the crack of dawn.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought you’d be awake. I thought if the others were awake we could make an early leave?”

Liam raised his eyebrow, he had a feeling he knew why Drake was suggesting that they leave abruptly. He had told him the previous night to gain closure- maybe it didn’t go that well. Guilt began to go through his mind.

“What happened with her? I know this has something to do with Riley. Why are you wanting to run?”

“Because its what I do best Li, I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t listen. I left the bar leaving her my number and a note. And she hasn’t responded.” - Drake had given up on all hope, he just wanted to leave asap. Forget that he ever laid eyes on her baby blues again.

“Give her time. It’s early.”

“I don’t need to Li. She hates me. This is why I didn’t want to come here in the first place. I know the city is big but I never believed we would see her.”

“She has your number Drake. The only thing you can do is wait. I’m sorry I can’t do anymore.”

Liam pat his friend on the shoulder. He knew this was Leo’s fault for uprooting Drake back to Cordonia. Leo did what he thought was best- but Liam had other people supporting him.

****

Drake went down to the hotel lobby for some breakfast. Liam had hoped it wasn’t a liquid breakfast with how his friend was feeling- he began to think and called Maxwell to his room. He required another person’s opinion on what he planning.

“Li what’s up? I’m hungover. I could have done with a bit longer in bed...” - Maxwell barely walked in the room, his hair was static and he held a black coffee in his hand.

“It’s Drake.”

“Ohhh did he and the hot waitress... you know?” His eyes suddenly widened, hoping that Drake had finally had some fun. He had been a miserable bastard the whole time they was in New York.

“No, he and Riley didn’t do anything. I need you to do something... don’t tell Drake that I’m interfering.”

*****

After the park, Riley decided to travel an hour and half to Wading River Beach. She hired a car not knowing where she was going to begin with. It led her there, to the place where they would all come for a day trip. Those summer days they frolicked on the beach during the day- the men sometimes took time out to fish whilst the girl’s sunbathed. The sunset was the most amazing view anyone could witness- the mixture of orange and pink colours rose above the clear blue warm sea water.

Riley took her sliders off, her feet sunk in the soft sand. A distant memory lead her to the rocks that overlooked the beautiful ocean. Sitting there minding her own business - listening to the waves crashing against the pebbles and pure white sand effortlessly. The slight breeze, moving her brown locks along with its direction. After seeing Drake last night, her memory lead her here- it was the first time they had kissed.

There was an awkward atmosphere, Lola had split up with Drake and was now dating Daniel- Riley’s colleague. They arrived at Wading River Beach- the usual place they attended on a gorgeous summer’s day. Lola’s younger sister, Beth and some other friends joined in the day trip. Drake didn’t really want to see his ex girlfriend frolicking around with her new crush- she invited him to try and keep civil. The first question he asked before confirming was if Riley was going. The minute he knew she was, he decided to go. Before Lola had cheated on him, he always had feelings for her best friend. He knew it was wrong but he could never get Riley Brooks out of his mind.

All the friends decided to go for a swim, the minute Riley stripped down to her bikini, Drake’s eyes widened. He finally witnessed her beautiful body. Every inch of her was perfect, her curves, her cleavage- she was better than he had ever imagined. He didn’t realise he was gawping until Lola tapped him on the shoulder.

“How long have you liked her?”- she questioned.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play stupid Drake. I know you like her. She likes you too- she told me when we’d split up. I told her to tell you her true feelings but she’s too stubborn.”

“Lola! Please don’t try and give me relationship advise after what you did in ours. I had thoughts about Riley, which I felt guilty about until I found out that you physically went and fucked Daniel in our bed!” - Drake snapped back at his ex girlfriend. She had no right to interfere in his life anymore.

“Drake... I’m so sorry, I can’t help how I feel. And I’m telling you as a friend. Go and talk to her.”

Drake watched Riley emerge from the water with Beth. Her damp hair swaying across her body, the water trickling down her made Drake go slightly hard. Deciding that now was a good opportunity, he walked over to the two women who were paddling.

“Brooks, Beth.”

“Hey, Walker. What you doing?” - Riley asked, shocked that he would sneak up behind them- she was unsure if to cover up or not, as she was practically nearly naked.

“Well I’m going to take my top off and go for a swim. Are you both going to join?”

Beth noticed in the corner of her eye, her sister waving at her frantically- confused as to why her sister was acting that way- she decided to leave Drake and Riley to find out the reasoning behind her sisters erratic behaviour.

“Erm, you two go ahead, I’ll be back in a moment. Lola seems to be acting like she needs me. Be right back!”

Drake took his top off, flexing his muscles. Riley daren’t look in his direction- she was already blushing.

“Have you got sunscreen on Walker? Sun safety is no joke.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Do- do you need some?” Drake was hoping she would say no, hoping that Beth had already done it. He was already trying to cover up his slight erection. If he was to touch her, he didn’t know what would happen.

“I could do with some on my back. But I’m sure I’ll be fine until Beth comes back.”

“I can do it for you. I’m not totally useless Brooks. After we can have a race if you want?”

“Thanks. We’ll see. I’m an Olympic swimmer ya know.”

Drake laughed at her as she winked at him. He rubbed the sunscreen evenly on her back. He quickly finished as he could feel himself grow. Riley just wanted to turn around and hug him- his touch sent shivers down her spine. She now regretted agreeing to him doing this.

They both entered the natural warm glistening sea. Riley agreed to a race just to shut him up- she would win one way or another.

Drake set off before Riley, she was fuming that he had a head start. She was tired before she even begun but suddenly had an adrenaline rush- she couldn’t let his ego boost anymore. Grabbing his foot, she hoped it would slow him down.

“Hey! What was that?”

“Uh, seaweed?”

Riley smirked as she continued swimming, determined to not lose concentration- eventually she won the race. Realising how unfit she actually was as she was too breathless after a little swim- she realised she needed to join some type of gym to keep fit and healthy. Maybe Drake could help her train?

“I believe I am the winner, Walker.”

Drake grabbed her, pulling her closer him- their bodies collided. Holding her tightly he lent down to her ear whispering in a flirtatious way...

“That damn seaweed... Or would I be wrong in thinking that you pulled a cunning trick Miss Brooks?”

He brought his face back towards hers, resting his forehead on hers- both closing their eyes. After a while, he placed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek, staring longingly into her baby blues.

“Ri, you are beautiful. You know that?”

“We should head back.” Riley gulped as a large lump formed in her throat- she wanted more but didn’t want to feel like a rebound or be rejected.

“Riley... we don’t have to head back yet...” - She looked into his pleading eyes before avoiding his gaze, shaking her head.

“I do Drake. Before I do something I regret.”

Drake held her close and pressed his lips onto hers. Her lips were soft with a taste of cherry balm mixed with sea salt. Pulling back, he had hoped that he wasn’t too presumptuous. Biting her lip not knowing what had just happened, she saw longing in his eyes. What’s the worse that could happen she thought? Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and neck- she reinstated the kiss. As the kiss became deeper and more passionate, Drake picked her up holding her tightly next to his abs- her legs wrapped around his muscly body. When they parted they were both breathless- the oxygen was knocked out of their lungs.

“Wow.”

“Wow?”

“You’re a good kisser Brooks. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You- you have?”

“Yes, it was better than all my fantasies. I like you a lot, Ri....I suppose I always have done.”

“I suppose, I like you too.”

“Would you... would you like to... ya know... go on a date with me? Be my girl?”

*****

Riley could still feel that first kiss linger on her lips even after all these years. She had been sat in the same place for about an hour, and her bottom had become numb. Gathering all her things together, she took in the view one last time. Wishing she could stay for the sunset, but not really wanting to pay an overnight charge for the hire car. Hearing footsteps coming towards her, she believed it would be kids wanting to sit on the rock to search for creatures.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

“Drake? What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same reason you are. The first time we kissed. The time that ‘seaweed’ attacked me. The memories.”

“Heh, yes. Seaweed. Erm I’m just leaving, I have to return the hire car. Have a safe flight back to Cordonia. I’ll text you sometime.”

“I’d like that. I can come and visit you every so often.”

“Sure thing. Walker. See ya.”

Drake ran after Riley, he couldn’t leave it like that. He meant what he said, he would come back to New York - especially with Liam’s social season due to begin soon. No one would notice his absence- he was a nobody. He wasn’t important. Turning her around to face him, he crashed his lips on to hers- scared that she would reject him. Instead she jumped into his embrace, wrapping her legs around him as he deepened the kiss. Parting the kiss left them both breathless as it did all those years ago.

“I mean it Ri. I will come back every weekend to see you....What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart you’d be the one I was meant to find.... I’ve missed you. And I’ve never stopped loving you.”

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #drake x riley #liam x drake

[1dffexchange]

Great Unexpectations

To: Inm @in-madhouses​

From: E @unofficialxstyles​

Summary: Alana Bosworth thinks Dickens is overrated. That and the fact that there was no such thing as too much coffee.

Niall Horan begs to differ.

A tale of two different people, one coffeeshop and a how things never go the way we expect them to.

There probably was no such thing as too much coffee.

Sure, everyone talked about the effects of overdosing on caffeine-among which was infertility, by the way, but nobody actually cared. Coffee was a nectar of the Gods.

And sometimes, Alana Bosworth did think she was God.

Or at the very least maybe a distant, distant, distant relative of the heavenly being.

Afterall, she was able to (read: nearly) finish a ten thousand word assignment in one sitting a day before the submission deadline. If that was not a testament to her powers then perhaps, drinking a total of no less than six cups of coffee was.

Still, as Alana threw her body against the smooth wooden counter that overlooked a quiet, deserted street, she could not help but to second guess her coffee addiction. She hated to admit it but six cups did seem like a bit much.

So she did what any sane person would do in her shoes-she reached for her phone and punched in some numbers. The person on the other end of the line picked up after three rings, specifically, but what was supposed to be cordial greeting was instead replaced with muffled screaming and a loud thud.

Ouch.

“Henry…Henry I told you…no, no,” the voice at the other end of the line sounded distressed but Alana merely waited it out. “Honey, please. Okay, okay, fine, eat the cake,” There was another muffled scream, random shuffling and then, at long last, a proper, “Hello,”

“Hello to you, too, Kat,” Alana responded brightly, adjusting herself so that she was seated upright once more.

“Alan? Hi,” came the response. Unlike before, Katherine Bosworth-Ferguson sounded a little more excited this time. “How are you? You haven’t called in like two weeks. Mum was getting worried, you know. She keeps thinking you’re passed out drunk in a London pub or something and one of these days she’d be getting a call to let her know that you’re dead,”

Alana cringed.

First of all, pubs were never her thing.

Second of all, she did wish her mother had more faith in her.

“You guys actually give me far less credit than I deserve, Kat. You know I could bust ass if need be,” Alana replied, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. There came a sound at the other end of the line once more, a little croak that indicated Kat already had a counter argument fully ready to launch but Alana quickly cut her off. There were more pressing matters at hand.

“Hey, listen I know it’s late I was just calling to see if you maybe knew how much coffee is like too much coffee? As in a lethal amount?” Alana questioned.

Three beats of silence passed.

Birds chirped.

Henry dropped his fork on his now empty chocolate cake plate.

“You….called me….to…ask about…coffee,”

“I’m figuring if there’s anyone who’d know about such things, it’d be a nurse and you’re a nurse so,”

“Exactly what time is it there,”

The question prompted Alana to glance at the watch she had on. “A little after 12.....oh,” The redhead sheepishly smiled, even though her older sister could not witness her slight embarrassment. “It’s early there,”

If eyerolls could be heard, she was pretty sure she heard Katherine’s tumble to the back of her head.

“You should be going to sleep,” was all Katherine said.

The screaming resumed.

“Listen, Alana, I would love to catch up but Henry is now covered in chocolate cake and heaven knows what else so I should really go. Henry…Henry no,” Once again, Katherine sounded livid. “But to quickly answer your question, caffeine has side effects so don’t drink too much of it. It does increase memory, though so if you’re into entering the spelling bee or something, coffee is your best bet. Text me…later, or call me at a better time…maybe text before you do…I have to go. Henryyyyyy,”

With that, the line went dead.

Sisters before misters, they always said.

Unless of course one had a sister with a robust three year old keen on destroying everything he touches.

Then maybe it was time to get a mister.

Or maybe not. Those were always a problem, too.

Knowing she’d get nowhere that night with her burning questions about coffee, Alana pursed her lips, threw her phone into her bag and then resumed her position slumped against the counter. She closed her eyes for all of seven seconds.

“Uhm, miss,”

Good things never did last, of course.

Alana opened one eye and was met with a tall, blonde man looking at her with an odd mixture of curiosity, politeness and a hint of irritation.

She opened the other eye and sat up. He pointed at the clock on the wall.

“We’re closed. We actually closed fifteen minutes ago and….you have to go,” his accent was think but his tone, albeit a little understandably impatient, was apologetic.

Alana nodded her head in understanding and stood up, mumbling her own apology. “Didn’t see the time. Life gets like that when you have to finish a damn assignment on three hours of sleep after finishing one the day before. Life sucks and especially so before Christmas break,”

Alana began packing her bag, throwing a stack of notes and her laptop into her carry on before stacking four empty coffee cups neatly and handing it over to the barista. She knew he was the barista because he was a familiar face-he had been making her coffee over the last year with no less enthusiasm than an energizer bunny each time.

He did not prepare her coffee consistently, of course, but he was there often enough to know her coffee order before she even got a word out and to sometimes use his staff discount.

When the weather was extra nice, they’d even engage in small talk.

His name was Niall.

“Tell me about it,” Niall replied cordially. “I’m this close to being dead but you know…extra cash always helps; especially around Christmas. And they say a bachelor’s will get you far in life….They never mentioned the need to get through this phase, first,”

Alana snorted, then nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Bachelor’s? More like Bache’s gonna kill me,”

Niall, much to his credit, had the courtesy to chuckle lightly at what Alana already knew was a failed attempt at a joke. He held the coffee cups in a silent gesture of goodbye.

“I… should go clean up. Goodnight,”

“Goodnight,”

She watched Niall disappear behind the double doors that led to the kitchen before heaving a sigh. The young woman grabbed her coat and began her trek back to her dorm room-just two blocks down from Barney’s Coffee & Cakes.

Replaying the few words that she and Niall had exchanged earlier, the reminder of Christmas approaching made her smile in nostalgia. With the most awaited holiday just two weeks away, despite her excitement of spending it abroad for the first time in her life, she did at times wish she had chosen to spend it with her family. She could already picture Katherine, Joshua and Henry taking a photos with the Christmas tree at her parent’s house, her father in his ugly Christmas sweater insisting everyone taste the turkey he’d already perfected the recipe for and just staying up with her mother on Christmas night, talking about all the things they were thankful for in the last year.

The mental image made her miss her family a little bit more but she comforted herself with the fact that she was about to experience something different, this time with friends she had made over the last year, which made the anxiety dissipate a little.

By the time she had reached her front door and turned the key into the lock, Alana was, once again, affirmed over the decision of staying in London for Christmas instead of heading back to Los Angeles a week early.

That is, until she opened the door to a sight straight out a porn production.

“Holy Jesus,”

The curse that left Alana’s mouth broke the obvious sex laden trance two of her friends were in and they immediately broke apart while having the decency to actually look guilty. She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air, making her way towards the kitchen.

“I thought you weren’t coming home,” It was Soo Young-Soo to everyone else-who spoke first. She got up from her position on the sofa and trotted towards Alana. The latter thanked the heavens Soo still had her t-shirt on.

“And what gave you the idea?” Alana poured herself a glass of water.

“I don’t know. You might have decided that someone at the coffeeshop was worth getting laid with. You spend like…all your time there,” Soo commented, positioning herself next to Alana against the kitchen counter.

“Not all-”

“All,” Zayn, Soo’s boyfriend, volunteered. Upon careful inspection when her attention was turned to him, she noted that he too was still fully clad. “Would it kill you to live a little, Alan?”

“I only go there when I need to complete an assignment,”

“That doesn’t mean being there all the time?” Soo poked Alana’s arm, earning a protest from the latter. “Honestly, Alan….you’re beautiful and you’re funny sometimes. Talk to people. So what if you don’t meet deadlines? Not making it for one assignment wouldn’t kill your grades,”

Alana offered Soo a stare that could rival Medusa’s.

“You forget that I’m here on exchange and my grades do matter because my records are going to be sent back to UCLA and I want to graduate when I get back or my year in London will come to moot,”

“Your year in London is already moot,” Zayn argues. “You came to London a boring bug and you’re leaving London…a boring bug,”

She loved Zayn-adored him, really-but sometimes, he had the emotional quotient of a pig.

In an attempt to defend herself and to prove a point of sorts, Alana crossed the space between them and smacked Zayn squarely on the head. There were times where she hated his truthful and wise moments-even if they were….truthful and wise.

“I’m not boring. I party with you guys,” Alana defended herself.

Zayn chortled.

Soo grunted in apparent disagreement.

Alana looked between them both.

“Look, Alan, there’s nothing wrong with being a homebody and considering game night a party but really, let loose a little,” Zayn advised. “Like Soo said…you’re young and beautiful. And maybe call yourself Lana instead of Alan,”

“What’s wrong with Alan? I like Alan and everyone calls me that,” Alana scrunched her face up. “It’s much more unique than an Alana being called Lana,”

Logic, duh.

“Yeah,” Zayn stifled a yawn. “But being an Alan won’t get you laid as often,”

“You’re very misogynistic you know. You’re lucky I love you or I’d have put a lock on our door a long time ago,”

This time, Soo laughed from where she was in the kitchen and Alana cracked a smile.

Of all the things that had happened in the last year-which really was not much- she was most thankful for having Soo as a roommate and then, by default, meeting and becoming friends with Zayn. Unlike her, they were both students with King’s College and were her first friends. It was Soo who brought her on a ‘Locals Only London’ tour on her first week here and Zayn who invited her to his birthday party-where she met a few other friends she had grown to appreciate.

In turn, it was one of her outer circle of friends who had introduced her to Barney’s-which quickly became her sanctuary. It was less popular than the other coffeeshops in the area because it was a little rundown-with some scratched out tables and rickety chairs-but somehow, Alana thought those very features held true the coffeeshop aesthetics and were ones that made the place all the more cosy.

Plus, Zayn and Soo did occasionally get up to no good in the room so to Barney’s was a quick escape plan.

“Life’s not all about getting laid though is it,” Alana finally replied, sitting herself proper next to Zayn. Soo soon joined her other side. “Anyway, getting laid thoughts aside…are we still doing the Christmas gift exchange thing with Harry and Jen?”

It was the highlight of Alana’s Christmas abroad.

At the mention of this, surprisingly, the previously playful air around them tensed a little and Alana did not miss the look Soo and Zayn shared. Instantly, it sent warning bells ringing in her head. When they had talked about Christmas plans a month ago, it was Soo who suggested they had a small gathering in a nearby bar-just having drinks and hosting a gift exchange. Alana had jumped on the idea, thinking it was a perfect way to celebrate the holiday.

“About that….” Soo broke the silence, biting her lip as if not liking her next words, either. “Zayn’s parents invited us down to Braford for the holidays and we…kinda agreed. It was totally last minute, we didn’t know,”

“Harry and Jen will still be here,” Zayn offered.

Alana felt her heart clench but she quickly gathered herself and smiled. Holidays were family time, too, and she could not be selfish about things like these. Besides, Zayn and Soo had done so much for her-she could not expect them to stay back against their will, too.

“I’m not as close to them but…it’s okay. We’ll manage. You guys go, have fun,” Alana assured them. “Say hi to your siblings for me, Zayn. Would love to meet them someday,”

Zayn ruffled the top of her head.

“Will do, Lana,”

Alana groaned. “It’s Alan,”

Soo hugged them both.

---

Christmas eve in London was like one of those postcards on a window display one saw whilst walking along the streets heading to the Tower Bridge. It was snowing lightly, bright lights lit up the street and there were muffled noises of celebration going around campus. Alana jammed her hands inside her pockets, soaking in the sights as she headed to Barney’s. It was two hours till Christmas and she did not feel like spending Christmas eve alone so she had decided to head to her favourite hangout instead.

Soo and Zayn had left for Bradford three days before. An unusually teary Soo apologised profusely for pulling out the plug on their holiday plans and it took a firm hearted Zayn to pull her away and multiple assurances from Alana that they’d see each other before Alana went back to the States before Soo would let her go. Alana gave them both their little gifts-a bottle of Soju and pair of concert tickets for Soo and a thrifted leather jacket for Zayn which proclaimed his undying love for Guns and Roses, embroidered at the back-before bidding temporary goodbye.

That Christmas eve, Harry, Jen and her had met up at the pub as planned, sharing a few drinks before doing the exchange. At Harry’s invitation to attend a Christmas eve countdown party afterwards, Alana had decline, using the excuse that she was a little bit tired. In truth, however, Alana had no interest in spending time with people she barely knew.

She was certain she would have listed the benefits of coffee to an unsuspecting stranger and branded herself a weirdo for life and she would very much like her Christmas eve to be pleasant.

Even if Jen did stay true to her teasing promises and gave Alana an ugly sweater for Christmas.

Finally arriving at Barney’s, Alana was unsurprised to find that it was even emptier than it was before. Despite the wooden walls being decorated with proclamations of a “Merry Christmas” and a few miserable Christmas cards, Alana doubted anyone would want to ring in Christmas drinking coffee. The young woman walked up to the counter, ordered herself a latte then sat herself by the usual spot, by the window, as she awaited for her coffee to cool down.

As she stared out the window and watched people heading towards their Christmas plans, Alana could not help but to admit that she’d miss Barney’s as much as she’d miss Soo and Zayn. Barney’s had seen her through late nights, early mornings and days where she just needed to treasure her aloneness. Somehow, the wooden walls has seen her grow over the last year-the unusually quiet girl had taken a leap of faith, going to another country for an entire year, alone, merely to pursue the unknown. It was a walking cliché but hell, it was Christmas eve.

Heaving out a breath, Alana pulled her knees up to her chest and took out the book she had been attempting to read over the last week. One of her classmates, while in conversation about the best literary classics of all times, found herself in genuine disbelief when she realised that Alana had not yet read Great Expectations. Alana had defended herself, letting her classmate know she had attempted it before but just never properly understood it and had given up. She was presented the book a day later by the very same classmate with the promise that she would read it over the Christmas break.

Her second attempt, so far, was a failure. She was at page twenty seven when she closed the book, pushing it across the table in mild frustration.

“Not a fan of Dickens?”

It was Niall.

Alana looked up to find him looking at her in ill-disguised amusement.

“I just don’t think it’s as much a classic as its touted to be. Or maybe I just don’t understand it,”

“You think Great Expectations is sub-par?” Niall had the audacity to look surprised now. He perched his bucket of collected mugs against his hips, eyebrows raised.

Alana made a face, then chuckled.

“Wait here,”

Before Alana could protest or question the semi-stranger before her, Niall disappeared behind the double doors. When he re-emerged, he spoke in hushed tones to the other barista, gesturing towards her. With a firm nod from the other, Niall undid his apron and quickly joined Alana, sitting across from her.

He would have been skiving had it not been for the fact that the only customer was her.

“Care to tell me what this is about?” Alana’s asked. She leaned back in her chair, then folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m here to tell you what you missed out with Dickens,”

Niall’s grin was smug.

“Right…because what I really need on Christmas eve is a lecture about the great Charles Dickens,” Alana mocked, looking pointedly towards the book.

Niall seemed to contemplate his response and in those moments, Alana dared a glance at him. Only then did she fully register that his eyes were a deep blue and that he had a slightly dented chin. His hair, while mostly blonde, had highlights of auburn in them.

Strange how she had seen him throughout the year and only then noticed the most obvious details.

“About that…why are you here on Christmas eve?” Niall’s sudden change in topic caught Alana off guard, causing her to frown. Her response prompted Niall to shoot his arms up in defence and after laughing lightly, added. “I mean, I’m sure you have better Christmas plans than coming here to get drunk on coffee,”

“I don’t get drunk on coffee,”

“Well, with a six cup black coffee record, you might as well have,”

“I’ve had ten once back home,”

“And….where is home?”

The question, although catching Alana off guard, caused her to grin. “Smooth one-if that’s your way of finding out where I live,” Alana pursed her lips, reaching for her coffee. “Home is Los Angeles. Only here for exchange…which officially ends in a week,”

Sometimes, when Alana got nervous, she tended to give more than she cared to admit.

“That’s…pretty far from here. No plans tonight?”

Alana shook her head no, then added. “My grand total of two friends decided to love it up back in his hometown so I’m left with a barely friends Christmas secret Santa thing and Dickens in a coffeeshop,”

Yup, she was definitely nervous.

Instead of appearing sorry for her, however, Niall shrugged.

“Sounds a whole lot better than working on Christmas eve,” his voice was laced with an undertone of sadness and that alone, somehow, made Alana sit up a little bit straighter.

“Well, you have your barista buddy if it counts for anything…and an equally lonely customer,”

As if to proof a point, Alana raised her cup in a quiet toast before sipping her drink.

“Jack’s about to knock off; he has a party to get to…but you’re more than welcomed to stay,” Niall stood up then and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I uh…better go clean up. We close at twelve so don’t make me chase you out…again,”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Alana joked.

“Hopefully it wouldn’t be the last, either,”

The laughter that escaped Alana’s lips carried through the now empty space, She chose to sit back and do nothing for a while, watching as mere minutes later, Jack emerged from behind the counter, waving at Niall as he approached the front door. He noticed Alana during these moments and with an enthusiastic “Merry Christmas”, was on his way.

Perhaps, in all of England, her Christmas was the most boring.

In the two hours that followed, Alana alternated between attempting Dickens and checking her phone-though she spent more time doing the second. The group chats she was in were filled with Christmas greetings and updates, the most active being one of her family and her close friends back home. Both groups seemed to be preparing for Christmas in full swing. Her father was roasting the turkey, as usual, and her friends were already calling dibs on what they’d be bringing to the party at Carlos’. Alana felt a pang of sadness wash over her but as quickly as it came, she halted her thoughts by reaching for Dickens, focusing now on Pip and his journey on Christmas eve.

Perhaps, in some greater metaphor of sorts, Dickens on Christmas did seem appropriate.

“Looks like I am going to chase you out,” Niall’s sudden interruption brought her out of her semi-reverie in nineteenth century England.

“Is it twelve already?” Alana looked at the clock to find that they were exactly five minutes away.

“Not yet but I wanna wish you Merry Christmas instead of chasing you out right at midnight. That would be very Fairy Godmother of me,”

“Indeed,” was all Alana said before standing up, packing her bag and then swinging it over her shoulder.

“Did you get anywhere with Dickens?”

“First base, if I’m lucky. But I think it’s more of a cordial friendship at this point,” When the response was met with a puzzled look from Niall, Alana giggled. “We’re at page forty and I am still not impressed,”

Niall did the unthinkable then.

“Come over to my place then…tomorrow…not tonight…because I have to clean up and it’s…not appropriate, anyway,”

Alana blinked.

Twice.

In slow motion.

“I mean…if you want to. I did a review on Dickens last semester and maybe it’d be easier for you to understand and appreciate it and also….I kinda don’t want to spend Christmas alone,”

As if to confirm her suspicion, Alana asked. “You’re asking me out?”

“No…yes…I mean…we’ve known each other almost the year right so that makes us friends and we’re just…hanging out on Christmas and I have gingerbread cookies and we could talk Dickens or not and you can say no-”

The rest of Niall’s words blurred into the background and in its place was Zayn’s voice telling her she needed to live a little and live a life outside Barney’s that was less calculated. Leaps of faith were never her thing but perhaps, there was no harm in this one-especially since she knew deep down, she had nothing to lose. It was a tiny gathering between friends and if she had to put it in her own words and her own terms, it was kind of like a Christmas study date.

“-and of course I have boardgames and-”

“Okay,” Alana answered at last. “I’m pretty sure we’d get nowhere with Dickens but I do love gingerbread cookies,”

Niall held in his response for a moment after the agreement was forged, unable to belief that his spontaneous idea of asking a fellow lone soul to spend Christmas together would bear fruit.

“Yeah…yeah okay,” Niall finally found his words but unconsciously scratched the back of his neck in sudden shyness. “I’ll go get my phone and then text you my address,”

While Niall went to get his phone, Alana quickly reached for hers and with rapid speed and an equally quick heart rate, ignored the multiple texts she received to send a message to Soo.

“Got asked out on an almost date for Christmas. Merry Christmas to you and Z!!!!!!!!! xxxxxx”

Just as she hit send, Niall emerged once more and handed his phone to her so she could type in her number. A knowing smile formed on her lips, however, when the name space was filled with the name “Karen”.

“Uhmm…my name is actually Alan. Short for Alana. Alana Bosworth,”

Niall looked puzzled. “What do you mean….?”

“I mean….” Alana paused and licked her lips, unable to hold in a laugh that eventually escaped her lips. She held his phone up. “I mean my name is Alana not Karen. You might have misheard me saying Alan…everyone calls me Alan…. and assumed my name was Karen and wrote it down by mistake. You’ve been writing it wrong the whole year,”

It was Niall’s turn to blink twice. In slow motion.

“What do you mean I’ve been writing your name wrong for a year?” Niall turned pale, his eyes reflecting obvious embarrassment. “Why have you never corrected me?”

“Because,” Alana was laughing without inhibitions now and gave herself a few moments to gather herself. “….Because you only asked once and I thought I could correct you the next time I saw you but you never asked for my name again so I’m….Karen,”

Niall ran a hand through his hair, opening his mouth as if to say something before quickly deciding against it. “You mean I’ve mistaken you for a Karen the whole year,”

Alana nodded in mock seriousness, the nudged her new friend. “It’s okay…no big,”

Typing her phone number in then, she gave herself a missed call before handing the phone back to Niall who looked a little less shocked than he was before but still clearly beating himself up over getting someone else’s name wrong for a whole year.

“Relax, Niall. It’s okay, really. At least now you know, right?” Alana assured him. “Text me your address tomorrow and we’ll meet up,”

Niall nodded his head robotically.

“Okay,” Alana was still amused as she backed away and towards the door. “Goodnight, Niall…and Merry Christmas,”

“Good….goodnight, Kar….Alan. See you tomorrow. Merry Christmas,”

Niall blew out a breath of utter shock as he watched Alana leave. When he finally fully recovered, he dialled a number on the phone. The other person picked up almost instantly.

“Hey…yeah buddy…Merry Christmas to you too. Listen, you wouldn’t belief what happened, Zayn….”

#1dff #exchanges

[alluringcliche]

let me try to remember my buffy/angel episode feelings as i rewatch because i have a bad memory -- one-two sentences per ep @ezrisdax @feelsandotps

I started at 1x12, skipped most of 1. Btw my faves are still Cordelia & Buffy, and my problematic fave is Spike, there it is. I felt like S3 was my fave, but I really appreciate the Spike in S4, so there’s that -- I think 4 has some great eps and 2 of course does as well.

SEASON 1

12. Prophecy Girl - Buffy dies, ouch, but Xander has a heroic moment (?), I think Buffy’s already depressed and it’s S1.

SEASON 2 1. When She Was Bad - See, Buffy’s already depressed and angry but everyone should cut her some slack SHE DIED, SHE’S TRYING. 2. Some Assembly Required - Oh I already forgot about this one, but it was fun because they tried to kill Cordelia and she was great and I adore Cordelia 3. School Hard - SPIKE is here and Spike/Dru are amazing. Also parent teacher night honestly Joyce&Buffy so far is ouch in general. 4. Inca Mummy Girl - This one’s the other kind of ouch like you did a pretty bad job with portraying people who aren’t white, come on. 5. Reptile Boy - Oh the one with the demons in the frat boy basement, nice team scenes, nice metaphor for the patriarchy (yeah I’ve been listening to Buffering the Vampire Slayer, did I mention that). 6. Halloween - Def a S2 favorite they all turn into their costumes Buffy’s helpless, Cordelia’s normal, Xander’s in the army, the whole Willow ghost thing, Spike’s there, it’s great. 7. Lie to Me - The one with the cult who wanted to be vamps. Not much memory of this one except like...the guy had cancer which was sad, not a fave. 8. The Dark Age - First Ripper stuff so that’s fun! 9 & 10. What’s My Line, Part 1/2  - Kendra! Angel tied to a cross! Spike! A fun plan where we save them as a Team. What’s not to like? 11. Ted - Ah, Joyce’s robot boyfriend. Odd, but memorable and like...really dark...when she gets arrested. 12. Bad Eggs Oh yeah, there’s like a monster under the school and everyone’s possessed. Joyce&Buffy is still ouch. 13. Surprise I like when Cordelia jumps out of the cake...but anyway...this is a good though PAINFUL arc, not a Bangel fan. 14. Innocence Ouch Angelus and sad Buffy, but they use a rocket launcher in a mall which is cool. 15. Phases Oz! I never realized he got bit by like his baby cousin? LOL. Touching arc in this ep though!  16. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered Everyone loves Xander, I liked that there was a Cordy focus.  17. Passion OUCH. JENNY. 18. Killed by Death The kind of out-of-normal-context one where Buffy’s in the hospital with ghostly kids! Well done though, has Cordelia’s “tact is just not saying true stuff line” 19. I Only Have Eyes for You I was creeped out by the fact that it was a teacher student relationship and no one cared? Good writing though. 20. Go Fish Haha, Xander and the swim team. I like Cordelia’s monologue about Xander. 21. Becoming, Part 1/2 KENDRA :( BUFFY :( Oh also some great Spike scenes (with Joyce). And of course the ENNNND ouchhh. I’m not fine.

S2 Faves: Halloween, School Hard, Becoming, Passion (ouch!)

SEASON 3 1. Anne - BUFFYS DEPRESSED SOME ONE HELP HER 2. Dead Man’s Party - BUFFY’S DEPRESSED STOP BEING MEAN TO HER 3. Faith, Hope and Trick - Hi, Faith. Didn’t like Faith as much last time, she’s grown on me. 4. Beauty and the Beasts - Another good expansion of Oz’s arc and some Bangel emotions. 5. Homecoming - GREAT I love Buffy and Cordelia and they are together and it’s amazing. Cordelia’s speech at the end is quality. 6. Band Candy - GREAT I mean Joyce and Giles and Snyder as teens it’s so funny and well-paced, nice. 7. Revelations -- This one has an evil British watcher and Xander/Willow (plus Xander being kind of a jerk), not a fave. 8. Lovers Walk -- GREAT. Painful ending. Love Spike & Willow. GREAT. SPIKE/BUFFY/ANGEL WORKING TOGETHER I LOVE THIS. 9. The Wish - GREAT. Ouch. Alt!Buffy. NICE. 10. Amends -- Like, Angel’s past is kind of awful? Give me Angel-the-show dorky Angel please! 11. Gingerbread -- Haha the one where the Sunnydale people try to kill witches I mean again @Joyce&Buffy, ???? not the greatest relationship ???  12. Helpless GREAT OUCH GREAT...the Watcher’s Council tests Buffy, GILE’S DILEMA, BUFFYS BETRAYAL ouch 13. The Zeppo I mean I like Xander’s arc about believing in himself more, despite him not being great all the time, I still like him overall, glad he got a chance to shine. 14. Bad Girls Faith stop corrupting Buffy! This show has more like very heavily implied Faith/Buffy than I remembered. OUCH @ the ending. 15. Consequences OUCH @ the whole episode with Faith, especially the Xander bit, rougher than I remembered  16. Doppelgangland VAMP!Willow. Willow trying to be vamp!Willow was funny. Another one where I remember good team stuff. 17. Enemies OUCH I totally forgot and thought Angel was really Angelus. Heartbreaking and well done. 18. Earshot I love this one! Jonathan! “Are you planning on killing anyone tomorrow? It’s for the yearbook.” 19. Choices Everyone should let Buffy live basically!  20. The Prom Xander/Cordelia is nice, but isn’t Xander poor? Wesley/Cordelia is creepy? WILD HORSES. BUT YEAH THE UMBRELLA AND I CRY. 21. Graduation Day, Part 1/2  I LOVE THE WHOLE SCHOOL COMING TOGETHER NICE NICE

S3 Faves: Homecoming, Band Candy, Lover’s Walk, the Wish, Helpless, Earshot, Prom, Graduation Day...and a few more I also like a lot, that’s why I really like this season

SEASON 4

1. The Freshman - Buffy's having a hard time in college someone help her! 2. Living Conditions - Buffy’s roommate is a demon, a bit overdone but pretty fun! 3. The Harsh Light of Day - Like the Spike/Buffy banter is great but Parker is awful and honestly Spike is awful too, some of the end fight scene comments are BAD. Also Spike should treat Harmony better. 4. Fear, Itself - Haunted house fears, nice Halloween ep. 5. Beer Bad - I honestly like drunk!Buffy it’s fun!  6. Wild at Heart - Ouch, Oz & Willow OUCH. 7. The Initiative - Buffy/Riley really had a whole fight and didn’t recognize each other? Still I don’t hate Riley so far. 8. Pangs - Look there were some problematic things but I thought the dialogue and episode arc was SO well done and so funny. And they made an attempt to address something, they did a bad job but they tried. Team!Thanksgiving is <3 and perfectionist!Buffy and Spike tied to a chair, Xander/Anya etc. etc. lots of good stuff, I think it’s still a s4 favorite. 9. Something Blue - Ah, cursed!engaged Spuffy NICE. 

SEASON 1 ANGEL

1. City Of Look I LOVE ANGEL tbh just the opening and the noir tone and CORDELIA it’s great it’s nice AND DORKY angel and cordelia knows the guys a vamp it’s great! DOYLE.

2. Lonely Heart I don’t love Kate and this demon was weirdly like an STD as well.

3. In the Dark Cordy/Doyle got to feature, and Spike. Not really sure why Angel destroyed the thing (makes him more tortured?)

4. I Fall to Pieces That was actually a pretty creepy stalking episode. Well done bringing attention to how violence against women can be overlooked.

5. Rm w/ a Vu Love this one! CORDELIA IS AMAZING. CORDELIA. IS AMAZING. Dennis is nice too!

6. Sense & Sensitivity I love dorky!Angel, I love when dorky!Angel has to speak his feelings! Poor Kate!

7. Bachelor Party Doyle/Cordy were so close! Definitely a fun one with everyone working together. I’m just having a lot of Angel&Cordy&Doyle feelings

8. I Will Remember You Look I skipped this one for now tbh, I’m just not in a Bangel mood, haha.

So yeah I looked up the next episode and...I thought that was the S1 finale?? That’s...ouch.

#rewatching buffy #btvs #gpoy #personal

[aisuho]

Steam Prison

So, recently I’ve started to play and finished Steam Prison. Steam Prison is an “otome” Visual Novel. A word of warning: the game has some heavy content (as in violence, not sex per se), so can be a little... well.

You start with the MC talking about scenting the smell of blood, which leads to the scene of her holding a knife, clothes all stained as she looks herself in the mirror, in shock. Then you go back 2 days before the events, learning more about the protagonist, the country (Heights) and their government (the Temple).

The first route I played was Eltcreed’s (part of the Bodyguard Route).

I’ve played most of my first route without a guide, but by the end of it I started following Rezareth’s, as I was afraid of missing something. The order of the routes she gives is Eltcred->Ulrik->Adage->Ines->Yune->Grand Ending, which seems the best order considering the info you learn in each of them. Also, be aware that you can’t play Yune’s without seeing one of Ulrik’s ending first, and can’t play the Grand Ending without catching ‘em all.

Bodyguard Route, Eltcreed and Ulrik.

In the Bodyguard Route you get to live as Eltcreed’s bodyguard, so you don’t get to see much of Sanctuary District nor its characters. However, you get a lot of info about the Heights and the world beyond the walls of the District Sanctuary, as well as Eltcreed and Ulrik’s characters.

Eltcreed Valentine

Starting with Eltcreed, he was the first route I played. He’s an eccentric character, the kind of double-edged sword --  he can be funny, light and a flirt, but also cold and strategist. Also, he loves the Heights and is really into fairytales. Honestly, he is my least favorite; mostly because throughout his route he is really pushy (he forcefully kisses her a relative amount of times); alas, him calling her Kishi-sama (Knight) all the time can be tiresome.

Here is where the MC is the dumbest... She really annoyed me because she was clueless about everything. I mean, I get it that love is forbidden in the Heights and all that, but she is just too dense...

He has kind of two “happy” endings, both are satisfying and different, which makes it hard for me to choose which one I prefer.

Eltcreed’s route is also where you’re first introduced to one of the other bachelor’s (if you don’t go to the Prisoner Route first): Adage; I will get more into it later. And where you get your first look on Fin as a bad guy...! Most of the bad endings throughout all the routes are related to him, and they can be heavy. Like, really heavy. Although you don’t get much of him in the Bodyguard’s route, which is why I’ll keep my intakes about him as a character for later.

[Spoilers about Eltcreed’s route]

Honestly, I was kind of disappointed because the assassination of MC’s parents are kind of swept under the rug; you learn nothing about the case itself and is left with lots os unanswered questions, which was very frustrating for me. Another thing that made uncomfortable was Merlot and Rielith’s being totally forgotten whatsoever. You only hear about them again if you get one of the bad endings (that ending gave me shivers), so...

About his two “happy” endings, I think his maxed affection ending (“My Queen”) makes me a little uncomfortable given that you side with the Hounds (specially Sachsen) in order to restore the peace. To be honest, that didn’t bothered me much at first, but after finishing the game and seeing so much of Sachsen’s actions my opinion towards him is the lowest possible, so it made me mad to side with him and totally overlook everything he has done. Saying that, I much prefer the “The Lasting Future” ending, which gives a better closure overall, specially when taking into account that it addresses the Depths-Heights topic.

Other than that, I really enjoyed learning more about the Depths and more about the two main characters in this route: Ulrik and Eltcreed. I really enjoying their interaction/bickering, it was really funny to watch.

Nonetheless, it was a fun route play, and I liked it, although the matter of Tisselas’ murder being totally pushed to the side really bothered me.

Anyway, I take Eltcreed’s Route as an introduction to the game’s lore, specially all the Depths-Heights trouble, it made great work of that part, as it’s the only route where you get so deep into their story and culture, so it should really be played first.

Ulrik Ferrie

Damn, what can I say about Ulrik’s Route...

I need to say first-hand that he was my favorite character until then, but his route was just... lacking. It felt weird because throughout Eltcreed’s he is snarky, but in a fun way. However, when you come to his own route he is totally rude towards the MC and barely makes any effort to improve his relationship. He was giving me so much cold-shoulder that I felt that I wasn’t even playing his route at all.

Ulrik’s route felt really disconnected from everything else in the game, like, forget (again) about MC’s parents, the Hounds, or Rielith and Merlot. Forget about Fin, also; as far as I remember he barely (if even) appears here.

Ulrik has his own issues to solve and his route is all about that. One of his endings is important, as you get some relevant info and it is necessary to unlock Yune’s route. On the bright side, you go deep into his character’s story, and his family.

[Spoilers about Ulrik’s]

Vice should have been more explored in other routes, I mean, he appears in Eltcreed’s if you don’t go to the Heights, but that’s all. When I first saw him there, I was like... “who the f* are you?” And they he went and killed Fin... -_-

Don’t get me wrong, I liked that Vice and Rafele group weren’t as dumb as Ulrik first thought, but the fact that they are barely mentioned otherwise felt like wasted potential.

MC also needs a lot of rescue here, to the point that was kind of “damn, how can you be a bodyguard if you’re the one needing saving all the time”.

Ulrik’s ending “The Final Page” was the first one I saw in his route, and made me profoundly sad. I just wanted to hug him, but stupid MC was dead already. (-_-) That CG, though...!

The “Words Unspoken” ending was just... stupid. This is where I became really annoyed over Ulrik’s route, because his character/personality was just so... not there. I mean, he was like a spoiled brat, and it became so frustrating for me. It made hard to believe he was a spy.

My biggest trouble with Ulrik’s, however, is not his badly developed personality or character, but Eltcreed... At this point I was so mad with Eltcreed having so much spotlight that I started disliking him. I mean, in the end, it was Eltcreed who saved the day, like... wtf? Dude, can’t you stop being so egocentric for a moment and let the others shine?

Ulrik’s happy ending was cute but still not quite there.

I felt that Ulrik showed more emotion in Eltcreed’s bad ending, “Goodbye, My Knight” (aka Ulrik’s ending), than anywhere else in his own route (which made me even bitter).

Prisoner Route, Adage and Ines

The Prisoner Route is where you refuse Ulrik proposal and choose to stay in the Sanctuary District. This is where your lingering questions are answered, too.

In my opinion, this is where the MC really shines!

Adage

At this point I wasn’t looking forward to play Adage route. Firstly because I was really sore over Ulrik’s, second was because I didn’t know anything about the character except that he was a doctor. But boy, wasn’t I in for a surprise...!

Adage’s route is the heaviest, for many reasons... It’s really dark and sad, even the happy endings are sad. Everything is sad. I mean it.

After this, he became my favorite character, and his route was also my favorite. I liked it so much that I’m thinking of replaying it, just because... feels!

Adage is a little quiet, but is sharp and straightforward, he is a very intriguing character, overall. His voice is very deep and soothing, which added greatly to his character, sounding very mature and fitting overall.

[Spoilers for Adage’s]

Ok! MC is her best here, she starts working and learns to do some things like tending the garden, cooking and even some basic medicine skills. She also has a strong personality, because Adage pushes her to her limits (boy, didn’t I love that outburst?). He also doesn’t let her go into that “I don’t know love” bs, because he is so straightforward with her...!

I also liked how she reacts to his father’s issues. It felt way more mature than how she handled Ulrik.

His route is full of golden scenes (totally spot-on, I loved it):  the first kiss, the fight in his house and even that feeding scene...! My only complaint was the fact that the happy ending kind of dragged itself longer than it should have, which made it less powerful, but it still didn’t affect the route’s vibes in general.

The bad endings were sad and brutal... I felt really sorry for Adage and was creeped out by Glissade. It was so disturbing that at some point I started seeing demon eyes every time Glissade appeared.

Not to mention, Adage’s route is where you find out the person behind MC’s parents’ death (but not who executed them). Here you also discover what Fin was up to all the time. Damn you, Glissade!

It wasn’t easy to endure all the pain and brutality in Adage’s Route, but I think it was well written and the character was concise throughout it. You also receive a lot of answers here, which made it even more enjoyable.

Ines

Ines is the stiff vice commander of the Hounds, he’s calm and cool headed. You can get some light of his character in Adage’s route, as he appears there quite a few times.

His route is where MC gets by mostly by herself. She lives alone in Rielith and Merlot’s house, and has to overcome the grief to make a living.

[Spoilers about Ines]

His route was a light one, more romance and less drama. It was fun to get some info about not only his past, but also Sanchsen and the Hounds’.

It wasn’t clear to me if Ines liked MC until near the end of the route. As I got the bad ending “The Fangs of a Hound” first, I could see the extent of Ines feelings, which was very well delivered by his Voice Actor! This was where I started liking the character better too (he was kind of neutral for me before that).

Ines’ happy ending was one of the best. To me that was a true happy ending, given that it also seemed to shine a light and bring peace to Fin. It also removes Sachsen, although I don’t like how in the end his death made he be treated as some sort of good character. Don’t get me wrong, I know he had some traumas due to Theia’s death, BUT, I can’t feel sorry for him after everything I had seen him do, specially towards Fin.

Given all of the revelations how MC and Ines are connected, it felt to me that their love was the “Fate drives us together”/“Forgotten first meeting” trope-thing.

Oh, I really liked his interaction with Saint Yune! It was nice to see him fluster and break that stiff shell, it really added to his character.

As your lingering question about MC’s parents death are answered, this is a good Route to leave last (still before Yune’s). As I said, it was a light and slow paced story, I don’t like that the romance was very roundabout, but this doesn’t make it less enjoyable.

Servant Route and Yune

Forget everything about going to the Depths! Here, you escape from being exiled and instead has to serve Saint Yune as his attendant.

Yune’s route reminded me of Ulrik’s, not because of the frustration, but because it felt more disconnected from the game itself, like having its own plot to go. I honestly had mixed feelings about it. Yune looks like a teenage, and that made me really uncomfortable overall. It was hard to ignore that and keep reminding myself that he is in fact hundreds of years old.

You go deep into learning his story too, his relation with the Ferrie and how he became a saint. It was nice to see more abou the flood, and how the Heights came to be.

[Spoilers about Yune Route]

Ok! The stone of God thing was kind of weird... it added a supernatural element that doesn’t seem complacent with the vibe of the game, which was why I said it felt really disconnected from everything else.

I had some trouble also understanding if Yune really liked MC. I mean, he was so absorbed on his plan of dying that it made me confused -- did he really like her or was he just using her to reach his goal? Nonetheless, the bad ending didn’t contribute to dispelling my doubts... as he just kind of kills her without more or less.

I get it that he did indeed like MC, but for me their romance wasn’t quite there yet, so it was hard to get attached to the character.

Another thing that troubled me was when you have the option to speak or not to Fin, as I was going towards the bad ending first, I followed the guide and chose not to speak with him. However, the story kept going and even led to more choices afterwards, which left me wondering all the time if I had made the wrong choice. In the end, I did get the bad ending first (”A thread unbroken”), but it took quite long to achieve it.

His happy ending, though... what was that? As I played, I thought I had made a mistake again, because I was thinking it was going towards a bad ending. I gotta clarify here that I didn’t choose all his positive answers (I chose “He is important to me” when he asked me about Fin, hihi), so there was that... Anyway, his happy ending felt really sad and left me with many questions. Like, what happened to the Heights after his death?

However, I did enjoy both his “Lingering scent” and “Let’s meet again” endings. They did gave some closure and were well delivered.

It wasn’t all bad, I liked Yune as a character, but not as a love interest.

Grand Ending

After you achieve all the character’s endings, you have the choice to play the Grand Ending, in which MC’s parents are alive and well, you’re not exiled and whatnot.

[Spoilers]

Well, this was it. It was enjoyable to see the interaction between all the characters, and everyone played somewhat of a role here, even Fin. It left me wishing that we could have seen more interaction between them in other routes too.

However, I felt that lots of things were left unsolved. Yeah, MC had her true happy ending, her parents were alive, she became important, the Heights and Depths relationship was going well and all that, but... having played through all the routes and seeing everything about the other’s characters made it feel like they deserved more. Ulrik didn’t come to terms with his trusting issues, Adage didn’t really solve his own problems with his father, Ines never investigated his partner’s death, Yune never went after his mortality... so lots of loose ends.

Another thing I’d like to point out is how MC’s parents suddenly vanish. Like, without any explanation whatsoever. Although one of the characters (I don’t remember which one) suggests that they may have been arrested or even found shelter somewhere else, even after the confusion is solved, they are never mentioned again. Not even when Yune dissolves the Assembly.

I would’ve liked if you still had some choice of romance here, specially given that Heights laws about love were dissolved, and you were now free to choose whoever. Still, MC never matured, she still knew nothing about romance, so... it felt like there was no character development whatsoever.

Bonus: Fin Eclause

[Spoilers for all routes]

Fin! I have very mixed feelings about Fin. He was my favorite character, and I felt he deserved to be better treated. He is at the same time simple and complex, because he had very complicated feelings and didn’t know how to control them. He matured in a bad way, was badly mistreated and lost all he had except his feelings for MC. MC was what kept his little humanity alive.

Every time Fin appeared onscreen it left me with a profound sadness. I was so depressed to see he go through all he went over and over again... The Grand Ending didn’t really help too, he was temporally promoted to chief of the police then demoted again. He was only able to confess his feelings when he was dying, and not even in the Grand Ending his feelings were let known.

The way Sachsen kept abusing him was one of the reasons I never could forgive or get over his demeanor.

I know that in the Vita version he is a love interest but... I won’t be able to play it, so I’m kind of bitter over it all.  Not to mention, from what I gathered, in his route he takes your place as an exiled. I would’ve liked to see both routes: one where he is in the Hounds and another where he is a prisoner. Honestly, I’m curious to see how his relationship with the MC would’ve developed in both scenarios.

Final thoughts

I really enjoyed the game, but now that I’ve finished it I have that sensation of “what now?”... I hope I can play the Vita version one day and get Fin’s route, as I don’t think it’ll come to PC version.

MC seemed to have a better personality in some routes than others. Ulrik’s route for me was a little disappointing, but I still like the character very much.

I felt like the plot was good, but felt little developed in some routes.

Maybe I’ll play Adage’s route again, because I enjoyed it very much.

My favorite characters are: Fin->Adage->Ulrik->Ines->Saint Yune->Eltcreed.

And my favorite routes are: Adage->Ines->Eltcreed->Saint Yune->Ulrik.

I’d like to state that everything I’ve said is only my opinion as a person and a player. In no way I was looking to offend anyone. You’re free to disagree as you may see fit.

#steam prison #spoilers #spoiler

[iimaginedragons]

album review

“pray for the wicked” -- panic! at the disco [2018]

the highly anticipated sequel to the commercially successful “death of a bachelor” album by emo pop punk gone alternative band panic! at the disco is here, and i decided that it would be the perfect start for my new album review segment. i’ll break this down track by track in a moment, but first, some background and overall impressions.

although i can’t call myself a longtime panic! fan as i only really discovered their entire discography less than a year ago, i definitely enjoy their music a lot. i’m kind of glad that i wasn’t there from the start, since i was able to really enjoy “death of a bachelor” when i first found it without having any attachment to their previous sound, since i hadn’t heard it before. if you saw my chaotic rant about p!atd a few days ago, i ranked my favourite albums of theirs, “a fever you can’t sweat out” taking the top spot with “death of a bachelor” in second. from what i’ve seen within the fandom, this seems to be an unpopular opinion since they’re so different. since i absolutely love these two very different eras of panic!, and i figured that this put me in a perfect place to await “pray for the wicked”; i felt ready for basically any sound and i also felt like brendon was really going to hit his prime as the sole remaining member of panic! especially after a “début” of sorts with “death of a bachelor.”

however, as a whole, i felt let down by this album, especially after such promising singles. although there were many positives in “pray for the wicked”, it was also riddled with problems all throughout. here’s my opinion on each track along with my analysis of what went right and what went wrong on this album.

#1 -- “(fuck a) silver lining”

when this song was first released a while ago along with “say amen (saturday night)” i really only thought it was “okay”. i think that compared to the big roaring chorus and instrumentation on the other track, this one fell sort of short. however, after more listens, i really came to appreciate the bass in the verses, the brass on the chorus, as well as the vocal hook on the chorus, which i initially didn’t like because the lyrics “fuck a” felt awkward to me -- now, however, i feel like i’ve absorbed the beat of it a little more and i actually really enjoy it. also, it took me several listens to hear brendon’s high notes in the ending chorus since i was initially so irked by and hung up on the “awkward” lyricism, but they’re absolutely incredible. say what you will about his music, but this man can sing. the whole idea of this song, of nothing ever being good enough or totally okay despite silvers linings also really grew on me. overall, i think this is one of the strongest tracks on the album and it’s definitely a song that i’ve been and will continue coming back to listen many times around.

#2 -- “say amen (saturday night)”

i was very glad this song came on right after “(fuck a) silver lining”, because this one impressed me right off the bat and still does to this day. the vocals are clean, the subtle guitar fits very well, and the brass in the chorus works within the heavy alternative beat in this amazing way that p!atd can do. the long high note is obviously impressive as hell, but i also feel like the bridge’s low notes deserve some praise too. this track feels like a strong evolution from the style in many “death of a bachelor” songs, such as “emperor’s new clothes” and “crazy=genius” which are among my favourite panic! songs of all time partially due to their thickly produced alternative choruses. i think this is truly the song that got me the most excited for the new album because it’s so grand and well-mixed. it was smart of brendon to release this one first, commercially speaking, as it got really positive reviews. sadly, i feel like it ultimately came to bite him in the ass as hardly any other songs on “pray for the wicked” were able to live up to this one. 

#3 -- “hey look ma, i made it”

here’s where we unfortunately start getting into some problems. the album was obviously going very well so far, but i was especially excited for the first song that i had yet to hear, and man, was i ever let down. i feel like since this is a positive anthem with a shoutout to his mom, fans will jump all over this song; not me, sorry. we have some lukewarm vocals over a synth riff that just doesn’t do it for me at all, and a simple mellow pop beat, which is really not typical of panic! who i’ve always found to have excellent percussion, or else enough of the other things to make up for weaker drums. i also find the lyrics weak and tacky, your usual motivational, shrug off the haters and follow your dreams song. the vocal melody, especially, in the verses, is beyond dull to me. i really don’t like the “boo-hoo” before the chorus -- that’s probably what i detest the most about this track. i know it’s meant to be funny and it’s obviously sarcastic, and who doesn’t love sarcasm, right? this, however, isn’t sarcasm done right; it’s sarcasm done lazily and stupidly. brendon could have come up with a clever line or something like we all know he can, but no, we’ve got “boo-hoo”. i don’t like the trap-inspired beat on the second pre-chorus and the final chorus either; it doesn’t fit the song. i can’t say that there are many panic! at the disco songs that i would skip when listening to an album, but this is certainly one of them, unfortunately.

#4 -- high hopes

i enjoyed this one a lot when it first came out, since i get major “death of a bachelor” vibes from it. although it encorporates many aspects of mainstream pop (which isn’t inherently a bad thing of course) such as the clicking percussion in the intro, it is done well because it is cohesive with the rest of the production, notably a far more varied vocal melody, a hook that’s actually catchy, and excellent brass, all of which the previous track on the album totally lacked. although this is another motivational anthem, the lyrics aren’t awkward to me and the rhymes flow far better; they feel natural rather than forced (a fairly common problem on many tracks of this album). i think for me the vocals really make this song, as well as again, that heavy chorus. i love that acapella bit near the end, then the entrance of another typical pop build up for the rest of that chorus before finally landing into the chorus’s final renditions. i’ll stress this again: the drums, horns, and vocal melody are crafted well enough to surround and embellish the mainstream pop aspects of this song, make it different, and increase its substance; that, to me, is what alternative music is all about. this is also among the strongest tracks on the album for me.

#5 -- roaring 20s

the start of this song really caught me off guard, but i immediately had a good impression about it. i’m really gonna discuss the lyrics on this one because i’m super conflicted on it. immediately i got a “don’t threaten me with a good time” vibe, especially with the phrase “this is the strangest of summers” and the previous lyrics. however, the following lyric, “maybe i’ll medicate, maybe inebriate” is super problematic for me; this is one of those instances where the rhyme feels forced and a bit basic. same with “maybe i’ll smile a bit, maybe the opposite” -- i mean the syllables are counted just right, the words are similar and simple... it just feels extremely weak to me, as if literally any novice songwriter could have written it. i find the pre-chorus very good, and the ensuing hook “this is my roaring 20s” is fine as well, but let’s talk about “roll me like a blunt ‘cause i wanna go home”; i hate it, i think it’s absolutely stupid and it could have been tweaked just a tad to make sense (i mean, it comes up later as “roll me a blunt ‘cause i wanna go home” which makes a hell of a lot more sense and could have a deeper meaning -- is he only at home when he is high? it would totally work as the regular chorus line for the whole song if the vocal melody was altered just a tad). it’s unfortunate because i was willing to overlook the simple rhymes earlier because sonically, i find this song very catchy and unique (love the 20s vibe), but man, those lyrics... i will say this, though: it has been bothering me far less with more listens -- the sound is gradually making up for the poor lyricism everywhere (it only gets worse with the second verse). time for a huge positive score though, probably the best thing that came out of a non-single song on this entire album for me: the slowed down, 20s take on the second last chorus. i find it so incredible, well-placed within the song, and perfectly executed. it sounds authentic enough but somehow also fitting in a modern alt pop album -- i don’t know how he does it. for me, it makes the entire song worth listening to; i soldier on through the shit verse lyrics just to hear what i find to be a huge sonic achievement for not just this song or album, but for panic! in general. as i mentioned earlier, there’s also that modified lyric in the chorus that sounds far better. i kind of wish that every chorus had been like that sonicallt, but i don’t know if it would have had the same incredibly exciting effect that it had on me the first time i heard it; thanks to that, this track is the only non-single one that i’ve really been listening a lot. also, a little sidenote i just thought of: this is really the “stay frosty royal milk tea” of this album for me; i really like it sonically but the lyric issues are cringey -- let’s hope i can eventually overlook them as i mostly have with the fall out boy track.

#6 -- dancing’s not a crime

this song kicks off with a really exciting vibe aside from the obnoxious chopped electronic sample -- i like the guitar and brass as well. i’m really not a fan of the chorus, i mean lyrically it’s weak, but as i’ve been stressing this entire time, if you have enough of everything else to embellish a weaker part of a song, it can work, especially with the amount of layers there are in alternative music thanks to heavy production; here though, it just doesn’t work for me, as the drumming and bass are pretty weak as well. i’m not a fan of brendon’s vocals on the chorus either, he sounds like he is straining too much (i have heard people give the same complaint about “high hopes” and a few other p!atd songs on other records as well, which i can understand, but i guess it’s really up to personal interpretation because i personally love the vocals on “high hopes”). i think my biggest problem with this entire song is that i find it very tacky. i understand that he was sort of going for a broadway vibe on certain parts of this album, which works in some places and not at all in others; this is one of those “others”. the issue isn’t really that the song’s about dancing which in and of itself has come to be seen as a tacky theme in music; it’s more so a lack of effort in trying to make it not tacky that saddens me. the brendon that we’ve seen over the years has written of pretty common themes in music such as sex, cheating in relationships, drugs, and partying in general, but has done so in such refreshing unique ways. i’ve personally always admired his ability to make a party song that’s always a bit “too deep” to be your typical party song -- a prime example of that, again, is “don’t threaten me with a good time”; sure, it’s goofy at times, but it’s clever and it also has this dark, almost sad undertone, as if conveying already the regrets of the following days. here, however, i hear only a surface level song that tries too hard to be a jam and not hard enough to be an actually well-rounded song.

#7 -- one of the drunks

what i just talked about in terms of party related lyrics applies very well again to this track. the verse is very basic and very un-panic!-ish -- to me it sounds like something maroon 5 would write (and i really don’t mean that as a compliment). the guitar and beat in the chorus are alright, they’re mellow but in a good way this time -- i honestly don’t really have any particular problems with the chorus, but it’s also nothing special either. another one of my issues with these verses though is the very short, choppy statements; i mean, he’s not even writing fucking sentences. if you’re into that, then it’s okay i guess, but personally i like full or half sentences rather than just individual or very small groups of words just being sort of tossed around, you know? i like a cohesive statement; doesn’t have to be a story with perfect flow, but i don’t mind some sense of time and direction rather than feeling as though i am floating around in this cloud of space where words are just being chucked at me left and right with what seems to be very little thought behind them. this style of lyricism also reminds me of lots of current trap and trending hip/hop, which i find to be very weak genres lyrically-speaking. i think this song also tried to convey that “hidden sadness/depth within the party song” that i mentioned earlier, and although i do kind of feel it in the chorus, i find the vocals and production don’t convey it as well as they could have. i don’t like the bridge, but it does make that last chorus pop a hell of a lot more. this one isn’t a song i’d purposely skip, but it wouldn’t really be my first choice to listen to at any point either.

#8 -- the overpass

again, another track with an extremely promising start. that brass, those bongos... and then our typical high energy p!atd breakdown, followed by some awesome vocals and bass -- i mean i was feeling very good about this song, probably better than any other non-single start that i’d heard on the album thus far. i like the sound of the chorus, but i wouldn’t call it grand either -- i’m also not a fan of the repetition right at the start: “meet me, meet me, at the overpass, at the overpass”. i know brendon is clever enough to fill that in with some variation; it feels lazy. the vocal run before the bridge is clean and beautiful, yet the strings (which i felt lacked both quality and quantity on this album in general) on the bridge reminds me a bit of a watered down “(fuck a) silver lining” and i dislike the way brendon articulates those lyrics. although it isn’t super impressive and got a pretty positive reaction out of me initially mostly because it’s preceded by two bummers and a problematic fave, this is honestly not a bad song. there isn’t too much that’s really “wrong” with it (as you saw, i was being pretty fucking nitpicky), though of course, “not a bad song” is not a great compliment in comparison to what we are used to saying about panic!’s work.

#9 -- king of the clouds

despite being the shortest track on “pray for the wicked”, this song undoubtedly makes up in quality what it lacks in length. i was initially annoyed at brendon for dropping a fourth single since we already knew that the album was only going to be eleven songs and it was coming out in like a week anyways, so i tried to boycott it so as not to spoil the album for myself -- two minutes later i was listening, and i fell so hard for this absolute jam that i couldn’t even be angry. the acapella intro with all those layers sounds heavenly, especially as i am lucky enough to own a solid pair of beats headphones through which to experience it. that electric guitar lick hooked me immediately and i was just immersed in this song from then on out. heavy alternative production dominates, reminiscent for me of "friction”, “gold”, “smoke and mirrors”, “i’m so sorry”, and a few others off of imagine dragons’s “smoke + mirrors” album, a deliberately overproduced alternative record that just so happens to be my personal favourite of all time. the roaring chorus just demands to played at full blast. the lyrics are decent; not as existential as brendon intended them to be, but catchy nonetheless. the “below the sun” rhyme sounds, again, a bit forced, but within such a powerful track i can forgive it. the strings are really awesome here (probably their best spot in the entire album), and the outro vocals are great as well. this all sort of brings on an interesting idea for me; if you’ve been keeping up with panic! lately, you may have heard brendon discuss the making of “king of the clouds” and the fact that it was created very quickly and added to the album only an hour before their due date. for some reason, it just bothers me that my favourite and one of strongest songs on the album was created in so little time, whereas tracks like “hey look ma, i made it” were done way before and are far inferior in quality to me. it begs the question of what the fuck was he doing the entire time before the creation of “king of the clouds”? i mean “say amen (saturday night)” and other previously mentioned songs are strong and i can see time being dedicated to writing and producing them, obviously, but if it took brendon the rest of that time (aka any time way longer than it took him to make “king of the clouds” and the other strong songs) to craft something like “dancing’s not a crime”, i'd say that’s honestly kind of sad. i don’t mean to insult brendon’s work ethic; i just find that for the creativity that we know he still has to this day thanks to the “death of a bachelor” album as well as songs like “king of the clouds”, it’s disheartening to see final products like the mediocre at best songs i’ve described above. anyway, this is my personal favourite song off the entire album, i think it’s very well done.

#10 -- old fashioned

after what i just wrote on brendon, i feel kind of guilty because i love and respect him so much, so i really wish i had something nice to say right now about this next song... yet we open on this low horn type sound that i’m really not a fan of. thankfully it fades into the background, making place for a verse with a guitar style that sounds like it was sampled directly from the second verse of “say amen (saturday night)” -- the lyrics are okay in the beginning, yet the chorus is weak and the strings don’t fit the rest of the song at all. the “dead and gone so long, seventeen so gone” hook sounds like everything that is wrong with current mainstream pop. then for the bridge, we mix this broadway-like sound with nice brass, which works, but then we’ve also got the “say amen (saturday night)” type guitar and our current basic beat, getting this strange combination that really doesn’t work sonically for me. also, “get boozy”? like... really? i’m sorry, but to me that’s a pretty pathetic bridge. overall, this song is just not very exciting, and i don’t understand the thought behind so many of the sonic transitions, especially that final chorus. this is among the worst on the album for me.

#11 -- dying in la

my immediate thought with this one was “good on panic! for ending on a ballad again” as it really worked on their last album. this track begins relatively well with some nice piano (a little too broadway for my taste, but i can understand the appeal) and good vocals. however, it quickly goes downhill from there for me. maybe it’s because i was expecting another “impossible year” which is an incredibly difficult feat to top, and maybe it’s because i prefer mournful themes to dreaming, hopeful ones. either way, this song really fell short for me. i was good with it despite the cheesiness until the “dying in la” line where brendon hikes up his vocals -- i find it to be completely unnecessary and a huge turn off for the song. yes, he had been channelling his inner broadway on the album but it was subtle; this time all i could think of was some cheesy dreamer’s musical, with this song being the main character’s turnaround point where they then get shot into the wonderful life of stardom thanks to all their hard work and the fact that they believe! ...awful. i just can’t do it. i know this song is meant to be sad by talking about all these washed up people who came to this big city with their larger-than-life ambitions and simply turned into partiers, drug addicts, or whatever. it’s really a great idea for a theme and i would love a song about that, but broadway musical style is not the way to do it. the entrance of the strings really just kind of ended it right then and there for me; it felt like it was trying so hard to be dramatic, while i was sitting here just rolling my eyes. obviously brendon’s vocals are good, but i just can’t deal with the childishness of this song. this level of cheesiness is (and to me, has always been) beyond brendon; he’s always just been so above that, better than this. “impossible year” is somewhat cheesy, yet it’s way more raw and real than this staged shit. i don’t know, i feel like the fans are going to fall for this one as well because it’s meant to be sad and it’s the only ballad on there. for me, all it did was make me feel this aching melancholy for the better p!atd slow songs, such as “the end of all things” or “far too young to die”.

overall, the strong points in “pray for the wicked” for me truly laid in the singles and a couple of other songs. general layered production was decent though a bit muddy at times, the use of brass, horns, etc. within a variety of beats was admirable and refreshing despite it not paying off each time, and the overall cohesiveness of the album is the only thing it has on “death of a bachelor” which is a bit all over the place in terms of musical style. i think that it is really thanks to the consistent utilisation of those trumpets, saxophones, etc. that “pray for the wicked” feels more like an album.

however, the negative points in “pray for the wicked” aren’t few or small enough to simply overlook quickly. yes the album is cohesive, but as a whole it is relatively forgettable, with very few standout songs. there is an unfortunate immaturity and simplicity in terms of lyricism and some sonic aspects of the album that i’ve never really seen from brendon, which is really disappointing for me. certain songs also blatantly outshined others, which would be fine if those “others” weren’t as weak as they are; it’s as if all efforts were thrown into a select few songs and the rest were just tossed in there for length. although i praised the use of brass throughout the album for its uniqueness and its ability to make the whole thing sound far more collected than their previous album, i also think that it might have been overused, as it was dragged into settings (notably beats and some strings and synth arrangements) that really did not require it or sound good with it at all. 

i could see this album growing on me as i listen to it some more, since i find myself to become a bit of a “lazy listener” if that makes sense; to a certain extent, i’ll absorb the awkward lyrics, weird sounds, etc. and sort of set them aside and just listen, if there’s enough of a song to salvage despite all those mistakes. “roaring 20s” for example is so catchy that i’ve already been listening to it a lot and really liking it, whereas i don’t know if i could ever genuinely enjoy “hey look ma, i made it” or “old fashioned” at all since for me the blunders in those are just too prominent and/or numerous. only time will tell, i guess.

in terms of my ranking for this album in comparison to the rest of p!atd’s work, i’d rank “pray for wicked” last along with “pretty. odd.” (which i don’t even like to count in my book because it’s just not so my style at all that i feel guilty judging its quality).

essentially i had been hoping for further evolution from the great sound of “death of a bachelor” and the singles made “pray for the wicked” seem really promising; unfortunately the rest of the album fell extremely short for me.

i’ll probably get murdered by fans for this, but my final rating for this album is a 4.5/10.

i think i’ll keep doing some more of these in-depth track and album reviews like this with both new releases and old favourites. if there’s anything you’d like me to review (even if it’s not in my tags at all), feel free to just drop a song or album in my ask anytime and i’ll get it up there asap, obviously crediting you in the process.

---mel 

#album review #pray for the wicked #panic! at the disco #p!atd #panic! #brendon urie #emo #emo trinity #emo quartet #text #alternative rock #alternative pop #baroque pop #pop punk #pop rock #synthpop #nicole row #kenneth harris #dan pawlovich #king of the clouds #say amen (saturday night) #(fuck a) silver lining #high hopes #pftw #pftw era #pray for the wicked era #panic! at the brendon

[zxczxczzz]

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Because of shows, he and his herd are with other people and other pigs all the time. * * * * These facts, which are only mentioned here as a reason for the friendly admonition which we wish to give you, constrain us, as your pastors, who are called to watch over your souls as they must give account, to exhort you to abstain from all abolition movements and associations, and to refrain from patronizing any of their publications, &c.

[calenheniel]

An Education, a frozen fanfic | II.

Hans x Elsa | Romance, Smut, Drama | Rated M

A Snow Queen strikes an unexpected deal with a long-forgotten foe, and lessons are learned.

Read it on: FanFiction.Net | AO3 | Wattpad | deviantArt

Read previous parts: I

Follow updates: #AnEducationFrozen

Author’s Note: Thanks everyone for your feedback on the first part. I am very happy to be writing for you all again! I should note that this story has a definite end: it will be five parts in total. Expect sexual content to become more explicit as the story progresses.

II.

"That was quite the spectacle you put on last night."

Hans swallowed a yawn. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with his brother. "There wasn't enough of an audience for it to be called a 'spectacle,'" he remarked, shrugging.

The king sneered at him. "My mistake, little brother—clearly, my wife, the queen, and the visiting queen of another kingdom weren't enough to satisfy your flair for drama."

"It was hardly a drama, Your Majesty," the prince replied, unfazed. "I had a private conversation with Her Highness, Queen Elsa of Arendelle. That’s all."

Magnus frowned. "You directly disobeyed my orders, Hans."

Hans blinked in innocent surprise. "Did I?"

"I told you in this very room just a few days ago to be on your best behavior, and to be sure not to say anything foolish to our guest. Obviously, that was asking too much of you," his brother said, though he never raised his voice.

He doesn't need to, Hans reflected, when he's speaking with a child.

The youngest prince put on a sheepish look. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I thought that you were merely suggesting I take these matters into consideration, rather than ordering me to follow them to the letter. My mistake," he apologized, bowing almost to the floor.

The king was unamused. "If it were only a 'suggestion,' I would never have bothered to tell you it in person," he snapped. "And now that I've told you twice, I'd better not see or hear anything else from you after this."

The comment was meant to sting, and in spite of Hans's best-built defenses, it did. "Of course, Your Majesty," he said, and kept his head bowed. "You won't hear - or see - a thing."

The king's frown dissipated. "Good. That's settled, then. You may leave."

Hans bowed again, and his expression returned to neutral as he walked away.

As soon as he exited the throne room, however, the image of rosy cheeks flashed through his mind, clearing the one of his brother's smug countenance away.

A smile broke out on his lips.

"Then teach me."

"... well, I would be honored, Your Highness. Though there may be some logistical issues to consider before we can begin…"

"I'll leave you to figure those out."

"Of course, I'd be happy to do so. But at least give me an idea of when I might be able to see you again in more private circumstances?"

"There will be a ball in the gallery after dinner. Perhaps after that."

It was bewildering to him how any of it had come to pass - her visit to court, their meeting again, her candidness with him, his offer to her, her acceptance of that offer - and yet it had, all the same.

She'd parted from him at the end of that exchange with as much poise and unshakeable confidence as she'd had entering it, leaving him to stare after her in wonder. He could barely process the reality of her presence, much less that she was real enough to proposition.

There has to be something more to it, he told himself throughout the evening, and raked over every word spoken between them. There's no way she would willingly give herself to me like this.

Perhaps his brother had put her up to it—asked her to seduce her former enemy in order to secure some critical export from the Isles. Or perhaps the queen had suggested it; after all, Hans knew how Karoline liked her games and gossip at court, and nothing would amuse her more than to see him humiliated at the hands of a foreign woman (again). Or, maybe, the Ice Queen herself had concocted some kind of plan to extract revenge on the hated prince while visiting his court.

On reflection, however, none of those seemed likely. In the first scenario, he simply couldn't picture Elsa paying such a price to the king in exchange for goods and services; she was far too independent-minded for that. The second seemed even more improbable, as the two women were too different from one another to scheme in such a way together.

The third he contemplated the longest—not because he found it particularly compelling, but because he'd recognized, in the conversation that evening, an aura of confidence around Elsa that was unfamiliar (and therefore suspect) to him.

Of course, people change over the course of a few years - especially when they'd been hidden away for so many prior, and were just beginning to explore their new lives - but the degree of self-possession she'd displayed was unusual, even in such circumstances. He thought about her calm demeanor and sharp retorts, and puzzled over what was real… and what was part of a facade.

There had been moments during their talk that recalled the Elsa from his memories of her: the hairs rising on the back of her neck when he mentioned the gossip about her; the sadness in her eyes when she reflected on the Spanish prince's lack of feelings for her; and the dark blush that covered her face when she acknowledged the latter's rakish behavior. These instances gave him pause, and made him wonder if the confidence was an act to mask her old insecurities.

If that were the case, then it seemed unlikely that she would be capable of hatching a plan for revenge that would involve something as intimate as what she'd agreed to. Still, the fact that she had agreed to it - no, suggested it herself - in the first place was inexplicable to him.

She could have picked anyone else, he thought. It didn't have to be me.

In spite of the rumors of her frigidity following her rejections of marriage proposals from several of the world's most handsome and eligible bachelors, Hans had no doubt that Elsa was just as capable of having certain "needs" and desires as anyone else. (Nor did he find it incredible, having met some of those men in his previous life, that she did not believe any of them capable of satisfying her.) If anything, her nun-like seclusion from the world would make her more curious to explore that side of herself, he imagined.

But it shouldn't be me. It doesn't make sense.

After everything he'd done to her and her sister, he couldn't understand how she had decided upon him. He had to acknowledge, though, that there were factors complicating liaisons with other potential partners. In a kingdom as small as Arendelle, the unmarried queen's taking of a lover would be discovered quickly and the stories around it spread like wildfire, potentially undermining her rule. Likewise, if she were to have an "encounter" with a lord in the Southern Isles, he knew for a fact that nothing would get accomplished during her visit in the whirlwind of new gossip created by the affair (this being spearheaded by Karoline, naturally).

Hans supposed that, in comparison to all of those possibilities - and even in spite of their unfortunate shared past - he presented an acceptable alternative.

Because I'm invisible.

It was a bitter realization, but not an unfamiliar one, and he guessed that Elsa had come to the same conclusion. As irritated as he was by this, he was nevertheless still confronted with the fact that they had both agreed to this, whatever it was, and he - as a "teacher" - now had a duty to provide his "student" with the "education" she desired.

Of course, I'd be happy to do so.

That was what he'd told her, in his moment of lunacy; and yet, he had to admit that a part of him relished the thought of "teaching" the Queen of Ice and Snow a thing or two. In fact, her cold beauty had partly enchanted him into agreeing to this arrangement—and he couldn’t deny that he had sometimes thought about the feeling of her body pressed to his when he'd brought her down from the mountain, and wondered what that would be like under different (well, conscious) circumstances.

Equal to that carnal desire, however, was the appeal of challenging her newfound assertiveness to see how deep it ran. Would she fight him at every turn, refusing to give him an inch? Or would she work against her own instincts, let him "teach" her in his own fashion… and let go?

Well, a man can dream, he thought, tantalized by the idea. And in the meantime, I have a lesson to prepare.

The clock struck nine, and the ball was in full swing.

"If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I'll just step out for a moment."

"Of course, Queen Elsa. Just be sure to be back in time for the string quartet!"

He watched as Elsa smiled at his sister-in-law before stepping out of the gallery with two handmaidens in tow, the massive crowd of already-inebriated lords and ladies parting to let them pass on their way to the balcony overlooking the palace gardens.

He couldn't follow her there - even with his knowledge of the grounds, there were some places that were simply too public - and so he held to his position on the other side of the room, hidden in the darkened corridor to another part of the gallery that was closed to visitors. Normally, the corridor provided the ideal hideaway for guests to engage in illicit meetings, and he had already successfully warded off at least three such couples with exaggerated sighs and rolling eyes.

Being so close to Karoline and her coterie, he usually would have eavesdropped in on their conversations; given the task at hand, however, he found himself distracted.

You’ve always had poor timing.

The line made him grin to himself, and he imagined she might say it a second time to him that night.

"She's rather quiet, isn't she, Your Majesty?"

In spite of his best efforts to tune them out, Hans was inclined to listen. Karoline sighed in a melodramatic fashion. "Yes, much as I try to draw her out of her icy shell," she concurred. "She insists on keeping to herself. Worse yet," she continued with a huff, "she spoke to that imbecile, Hans, on her own - telling me to let her do it! - and refused to give any details of their conversation this morning at breakfast."

His brow rose in surprise at that, but his lips tilted into a lopsided smile at the thought.

One of her friends from court - probably Lady Sabine, the cow-eyed one, he mused - was likewise mystified by this news, and loudly flapped her fan. "Oh yes, I heard about that! She really didn't say anything at all?"

"Not much," Karoline confirmed, and paused to gather up her indignation. "Only that it had been a 'civil discussion' and that they'd 'parted on mutually agreeable terms,'" she quoted in a mocking voice, adding: "Whatever that means."

His smile widened.

Then teach me.

"How odd!" Sabine clucked, and the other ladies tittered in agreement, one after another speculating on the contents of this "civil discussion" (though, he noted with satisfaction, none came close to the truth).

The ringing of bells signalled the entrance of the string quartet into the already far-too-crowded gallery, the group greeted with the usual mixture of polite applause and outright shouting. As if on cue, the handmaidens who'd accompanied Elsa reappeared from outside—but without the visiting queen.

His fingers flexed with anticipation inside of his white gloves.

"Where is she?" Karoline demanded. "Why didn't she come back with you two?"

One of the girls looked down. "We've very sorry, Your Majesty, but Her Highness Queen Elsa asked to have some time alone before coming back in," she explained. "She said she would return shortly, though—"

"Yes, I'm sure she did," Karoline cut in. "What did I tell you? Always going off on her own," she muttered to Sabine. "Well, no matter! If she wants to miss the quartet, then let her."

"Such a shame, though," another woman lamented. "They're playing all of your favorites, after all..."

Their voices tapered off as he slipped out from his hiding place and the crowd gathered closer around the players at the front of the room. He made sure he would be in her line of sight when she returned (though not quite in that of the guards'), and as he suspected, he didn't have to wait very long. He heard her quiet steps as she re-entered the gallery, and as she passed, he touched her hand.

She nearly froze his. "Hans?" she whispered after a moment, collecting herself so she didn't alert the guards across the hall. "What are you doing here—"

"Follow me."

She swallowed at his request, and he smiled as he retreated to his alcove. Once there, he watched as she made a small gesture to the guards of her intention to watch the show, and followed. When she finally joined him, she breathed a sigh of relief, though it was brief.

Her tone was harsh when she spoke. "I thought we agreed on meeting after this," she hissed.

He could see her blue eyes blazing in the darkness. "You suggested that, yes," he replied, "but then you also told me you'd leave me to 'figure out' those pesky logistics, and so I did just that."

She glared at him. "And this was the best you could come up with?"

"You asked me to teach you," he reminded her, "so let me."

His smile dissolved a little, and he pressed her hand in his, drawing small circles with his thumb into her palm as the players began a quadrille. The courtiers quickly assembled in lines facing one another, practically stepping over each other in their eagerness to dance.

She shuddered, and then sucked in a breath of alarm as he pulled her in closer to him. "What—what are you doing—"

"Just relax," he told her, and turned her around so that her back was flush against his chest. He smirked against her ear. "I won't bite."

Her skin felt unusually warm beneath his gloves, and she tried to retract her hand from his. "That's not funny," she said, though not without a hint of nervousness as she looked out into the crowd. “If they find us here, they’ll—”

He held it fast. "You don’t need to worry about that," he replied, and gestured to the guards swaying along with the movements of the dancers, some of them even holding up their own half-empty wine glasses. “As you can tell, there’s not a lot for them to do around here.”

She looked back at him with a frown. “Then why have guards at all?”

He shrugged. “To keep up appearances, of course. Now stay still, please."

He was curious to see if she would respond to the command, a part of him expecting her to freeze him into a stalactite. The tremors running through her hand seemed to indicate her discomfort with the arrangement, and though he couldn't blame her for wanting to back out already, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the thought that this little experiment would end so soon.

To his surprise, however, she relented; when he felt her arms go slacker, his grasp on her hand softened. "Fine," she murmured, though not without resentment. "We'll do this your way."

He forced down the heat that coursed through him as he placed his hands on her waist, and smiled when she tensed at the movement. In her inexperience, he found her charming.

"Relax, Your Majesty," he whispered against her neck, and her back arched as his hands caressed her sides. "You won't learn anything, otherwise."

Her breath hitched in her throat as she adjusted herself against him - she had felt something stir behind her - but remained defiant. "I can learn just fine without you talking so much," she snapped, and fixed her eyes on the dancers just beyond the shadows.

He chuckled, drawing her back as she wiggled in protest. "But it's such a waste to be here, in this beautiful gallery, without a proper guide to tell you about the pieces inside of it," he said, "and aren't you even a little bit curious to know more?"

Her fidgeting abated, though he could tell she was still displeased from the drop in temperature around them. "So you're an expert on art now, too?"

"There wasn't much else to do around here for the last two years," he retorted, and earned an eye roll from her. He ran his hands along the prickling skin of her arms down to her fingertips, gesturing to the wall opposite them. "You'll see across from you a series of royal portraits," he began again, relishing the quickening of her breath at his touch. "They date back to the fourteenth century. There's King Magnus VI in the left corner, looking rather full of himself—not unlike the current king named after him."

She frowned, and he grinned. "Quite impressive that they managed to keep these old things in such good condition, don't you think, Your Majesty?"

A chorus of laughter answered him as the quadrille ended, followed by shouts of "again, again!" as he let one of his hands wander up Elsa's rib cage until it rested close to the underside of her right breast, and stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He smiled against the bare skin of her arm. "I apologize for keeping you from the dance."

The players obliged the crowd, and Elsa pressed her hands together to keep herself steady as he teased her further, his other hand smoothing the fabric of her dress over her legs. "I don't dance, anyway," she said after a moment. "You know that."

He remembered the dour, serious expression she wore the evening of her coronation, and laughed. His hand dipped in the space between her thighs, pausing there. "Yes, I do," he said, his fingers pressing her flesh through the dress, "though it's not so hard to learn, if you were so inclined."

She didn't answer, but her skin felt warmer.

The dancers, more intoxicated than before, swirled before them in a blur of colors and shrieks. He continued his tour. "I'm sure you brushed up on the history of the Southern Isles before you came here," he said, "but I've always enjoyed being able to put names to faces, myself. Take that cluster in the center, for instance: the Frederick's and Christian's," he explained, "a line of great kings, if lacking in imagination when it came to naming heirs."

He added, after a moment: "I wished for a long time that I could change my own—after all, there's never been a 'King Hans.'"

"And there never will be," she murmured with smug satisfaction.

He regretted the admission immediately, but went on to trace the outline of her breast. She suppressed a moan, and he continued: "Yes, well, the names haven't been any more interesting since then. Not that the men they belonged to were, either."

He was sure she wasn't even looking at the paintings anymore, from the way she leaned into him. Still, he thought, it made things more fun if he kept it up. "It would seem that royal portraiture doesn't strike your fancy—fair enough," he observed, and kissed the back of her neck. "There's plenty more to see."

A couple of dancers passed close by - almost close enough to see them - and Hans pressed Elsa further down so that she could truly feel him under her.

"Take, for example, the smaller wall to your left, lined with historical figures. Do you recognize any of them?"

Elsa quivered in reply.

"Of course you wouldn't recognize all of them, since they're not well-known in Arendelle," he offered, brushing away a stray hair from the nape of her neck. "Like Leif the Lucky, the great explorer of the Americas, or Tordenskiold, our treasured mariner-warrior." She craned her head back, giving him fuller access to her collarbone. "I fancied myself in his company, when I was in the Navy."

She closed her eyes, still not answering him (and probably not listening, either), and he sucked briefly on the queen's earlobe before continuing: "As for the others, doubtless you've heard of them: Queen Elizabeth, Solomon, Admiral Nelson, Jeanne d'Arc—"

She twitched under him and her eyes snapped open, squinting at the wall he described through the sea of swirling dresses and clapping hands. He paused, curious at her sudden interest in his lecture… but also startled by it.

What is she looking for?

He didn't like the change, nor the way her skin ran cold as a result. He rubbed her breasts directly to get her attention again, caressing the bare top revealed by her dress, and her eyes rolled back with a groan.

She panted as he touched her, and it was becoming painful to keep himself in check as her hips instinctively ground against his. He swallowed, holding her to him as his hands ran over her thighs, making them quake. "The gallery in Arendelle wasn't bad, for its size," he remarked at length, "but wouldn't you agree that this one has more to offer?"

A loud chorus of applause rang out from the audience of courtiers, but the guest of honor remained mute even as Hans came to a gradual halt in his teasing ministrations, her body still molded to his.

As she collected herself, however - first standing up straight, then placing her hands back at her sides, and finally showing her back to him as she stared at the gallery floor - she returned to the Elsa he had come to know, cool and regal. He followed her lead, patting down his jacket lightly, and she turned to face him.

Irritation was knitted into her brow. "Next time," she said, "I'd prefer somewhere less crowded."

He bowed his head, hiding a smirk. "Of course, Your Majesty."

She didn't give him a second glance as she stepped out, and once she was out of earshot, he joined the others, clapping with newfound enthusiasm.

A grin was plastered to his face.

She was blushing.

#helsa #prince hans #hans #elsa #frozen #iceburns #hansla #frozen fanfiction #AnEducationFrozen

[abhordelano]

AS3 Hot Takes - episode 2

I’m going to be honest here: this episode was....pretty fucked up. For the record, I totally wish I could just do video reviews, but I have crappy editing skills and no time/resources to pull that all together so for now I’m probably not going to bother:

Let me just start with the things I did like about this episode: I think theres actually noticeable chemistry between the contestants. These are all queens who know each other pretty well but are not afraid to be catty and shady with each other(which...is unspeakably mandatory as a drag queen to be honest). Shangela giving us diva Mariah behavior during rehearsal was nothing short of iconic. Actually, every time Shangela is on screen feels like prime reality TV. Her performance skills are incredibly polished and I can tell she is here to play the reality tv game but also to serve #Talent while doing that.

The runway this episode was actually pretty good. Every single person’s runway  redemption looked very well-done and worthy of an All Stars season. Each look pretty accurately displays the individual queen’s growth since their season, and it’s refreshing to see the comparison to what they did vs what they’re serving now. Also, I LIVED for Kennedy’s explanation of her DBH look back on Season 7 so seeing it revamped and done well makes me love it even more!

I found that the editing was very heavy-handed and it became increasingly obvious that the production team is fixing the race for certain queens and sabotaging it for others. Lets go into some of the obvious cases:

The inconsistency with the choreography for each of the queens was very obvious. Why did Kennedy have to do intense choreography (which he probably only had 1-2 rehearsals to pull together) while Thorgy was told to just wing it? To be fair, I think Todrick wasn't given any specific instruction by the producers about what kind of finished product to go for, so thats why it looks like he’s basically half-assing it (just randomly assigning queens to be backup dancers was an obvious sign that this was a half-assed effort. Even if they also did that with every other lip-sync challenge, actually showing us that makes it painfully obvious that they didn't give a fuck about what what they were doing).

The musical material felt really tacky, forced, and thrown together. In AS2′s Herstory of the World, each queen’s bit was more open to unique interpretations by each of the queens and thats how we got so many amazing performances that episode (and yes I know they totally shafted Katya then but it was less obvious than what we got here). Also, DID ANYONE ELSE NOTICE THEY JUST RECYCLED THE MUSICAL MATERIAL FROM THE ENDING OF THE KARDASHIAN MUSICAL???! 

This challenge seemed cool in theory but it was executed so poorly. The thing is, we already have a celebrity impersonation challenge, its called Snatch Game and its something that RPDR fans like myself wait for with anticipation every season, and even if they aren't great its still exciting to see what each queen does because its IMPROVISATIONAL and unpredictable! This challenge leaves very little room for character interpretation, especially because each character was already assigned to them and then having to impersonate that character spot-on while doing one of RuPaul’s songs (another example of ego-stroking on his part but I won't get into that...yet). The whole thing ends up feeling very....uninspired.

Going into the deliberation, WHY WAS CHI CHI LOW THIS EPISODE!??! The only negative critique she got boiled down to “your outfit is kinda basic compared to everyone else’s and you dont need that jacket”. Like...its miles beyond the mediocre outfit she did on Season 8 so why is she called out on that? Moreoever, WHY WASN’T MILK IN THE BOTTOM 3? Her performance didn't really give off anything Celene Dion-like, and her runway redemption felt even more basic than Thorgy, Not to mention that its also a basic look for Milk...like, glamor does not have to equate to a bland slit gown with safety pins?

The lip sync was...decent. Shangela was giving everything thats expected of that kind of lip sync and DeLa...knew that she was losing so she just did her own comedic thing that displayed effort but not detracting too much attention from Shangela.

Elimination: Shangela made the right decision: Kennedy definitely had a lot more potential to go further in the season, and Thorgy was definitely getting into her head again this episode. Yes, BOTH of them were sabotaged to fail on this challenge, but I think that Kennedy put in more effort in her performance AND displayed a stronger sense of determination to stay during deliberation. 

Next episode: Looks like an improv-focused challenge based on The Bachelor, (a show which I have NO expertise on), but looks like its gonna be GREAT because improv usually makes for great TV. I think so many of these queens can excel super well with this type of challenge. Also, it’s usually better when the producers can just TRUST their contestants, who in this show are all entertaining and charismatic people, to generate hilarious moments. I’m almost actually willing to let this mediocre episode slide because the next episode has be very intrigued.

I’ll rate this episode a 3/10, nice idea but really half-assed in its execution...and even though everyone looked nice though its difficult to overlook the glaringly bad editing. I forgot to rate the first episode, which I’ll give a 6/10 because even though it was better structured and everything one needs in a first episode, it just felt like a lesser remake of the first episode of All Stars 2.

#wow i rambled the house down sorry folks #drag race #rpdr #rupauls drag race #all stars 3 #rpdr all stars 3 #rupauls drag race all stars 3 #drag race opinions #hot take #long post

[mubal4]

Our Summer Journey – Phase 3 Complete

 I will start this off by saying, Wow!!  Quebec City, Canada is awesome & fortunately we’ve took a lot of pictures to share 😊.  This was our latest chapter in the summer adventure we’ve been grateful to take part in. This one was just Robin and I; the girls were in AZ.  Well, Isabella was, and Alaina joined her mid-week after her own summer adventure back east with friends.  Big thanks to my mom from coming out from FL to stay with the girls; and thanks to my dad too who has been living the bachelor life since 😊.  All the chance we get to create with these trips is special.  This one was unique because it was a “work trip.” It was an award trip that we were fortunate to earn through work and there were about 200 + other colleagues that were in attendance.  I knew a couple but for the most part, I would be interacting with many new faces.  We also didn’t know what to expect because we’ve never been to Quebec.  Hell, we would have never even thought to go there.  When we first found out about it, Robin and I looked at each other; basically, we had that thought, “Quebec City, where in Canada is that?”  We’ve been fortunate enough to earn this trip in the past, but it typically fell right in the middle of the girl’s gymnastics season. This year, it was in July and, since we would have never thought about going to Quebec City and we had the availability, we decided to take advantage.  We are so glad we did because we will definitely go back.

 We didn’t have much expectations, or better said, we didn’t know what to expect with the city, the people, and a new country.  First off, there is so much history and Robin and I dig on stuff like that.  It was first founded by the French and then Britain took over, America tried to invade, then the French took it over again.  It is all French Canadian now and, on our tours, we were told that 95% of those that live there speak French. We did find a local watering hole when we first got into town on Monday; we walked around the streets after checking into our hotel (you can see pictures of the hotel and the streets – so cool).  At the bar we got talking to the bartender and I was curious about the visitors.  Let’s back track a bit, there is old Quebec and then Quebec City.  Old Quebec, and I may get this wrong, is the largest walled city in North America.  Everything within the wall is old Quebec, and outside, well you get the picture.  Britain build the wall around the city, and the Citadel, which sits on top of the city, to protect from invaders, American’s originally back in the 1800’s.  So, back to the bartender, old Quebec is where all the tourists flock, for the most part.  He told us that 25% of the tourists are from America, 25% Europe, 25% from Canada, and the remaining from Asia.  There was a good contingent of my company that were from the Philly area, that is where we are based, but I did notice a lot of Phillies hats and shirt walking around town and we found a store that had Eagles stuff & a Carson Wentz Jersey. 😊

 The week we were there was a good mix of company activities with a good amount of down time for us to wander around the city and take in the sites.  Robin and I did that, walking around Old Quebec, going up the hill to the Citadel, and just people watching.  The weather was fantastic, in the mid-seventies and sunny each day so, coming from AZ where it is in the 100’s, we were able to find outdoor café’s to just sit at, have a beer, and watch the world go by, and it was pretty wild to see all the different cultures of people walking around.  I heard someone say that Quebec City is the most European city in North America and it certainly felt that way.  They do have many local beers which we found many we liked, and the food was excellent.  There wasn’t a meal we had that was awesome.  We also took some time to get a massage, again, it was amazing, and I got out on some runs for a couple of days and stumbled onto a trail.  First time I got the opportunity to trail run in a different country and it definitely didn’t disappoint. 😊 As for the company events, they didn’t either.  We had a cocktail reception/dinner on Monday night outside our hotel, on the terrace overlooking the Saint Lawrence River.  Amazing views and one thing that is big there is street performers. They are everywhere and they are great. I didn’t get any pictures of them, but you may be able to see them in some of the backgrounds.  At the reception we got to connect with a couple of the colleagues I knew, spent some time catching up with them but, after traveling through the night (took a redeye there) we were spent so we went to bed early. Tuesday I was able to get a good run in before we went on our first company excursion to Montmorency Falls. You can see some of the pictures and none of the ones I am sharing do any of this stuff justice; highly encourage a trip if you can.  Anyway, we basically got the morning to tour the falls, ride on the gondola, explore the entire area, with awesome views and do it at your leisure.  We did have a lunch provided at the end of the morning. I mention this because we had the opportunity to sit with a couple from Greenville, SC – Melissa & Scott.  We sat with them over lunch and got to know them, not thinking about how close we would come over the next few days 😊. These guys were great and just a pleasure to be around.  Actually, most that we meant we just had a great connection with; but Scott and Melissa and Tamara & Scott from Charlotte, NC were amazing too.  We will get to them on the next adventure 😊.  After touring the falls, we had the afternoon to ourselves before our Riverboat cruise around the Saint Lawrence that night. We took the time to again, walk around the city, grab a drink at an outdoor café, get some work done, read, and, actually take a bit of a nap.  The dinner cruise was a cool experience.  The boat had 3 floors and again, food was awesome, and the atmosphere was wild.  They had more performance doing acrobatics throughout the night, which was amazing, and the lowest level had these huge, floor to ceiling floors that made you feel like you were right on the water.  Here, we again connected with Melissa and Scott and just had an awesome time with them all night and ended it up back at the hotel bar connecting with others before turning in.  

 Now, Wednesday scheduled event was nothing like anyone that went on it expected.  We had a few options to choose from, a bike ride through town, golf, cooking class, and some other things.  Robin and I (or maybe it was just me and she agreed 😊), decided to do the Canyon Saint-Anne Adventure.  Canyon Saint-Anne is crazy amazing, you will see in the pictures.  It sits at the base of this ski resort and just has walls, waterfalls, and well canyon’s all over the place, set in the woods with a river running through it.  Really breathtaking.  The adventure was described in the information they sent, or at least we got the sense that it was like a ropes course with ziplining.  Well, it was “like that” but there was a zip line, however, the ropes course was scaling rock cliffs, walking on wire across the canyon, and really pushing ourselves past our comfort zone when it comes to heights.  There was about 35 of us total and we were split into 3 different groups, because they had 3 different courses that we all did so they started us each at one of them.  I loved our group and there were a few that, well, were scared shitless with starting off with the zipline.  Apparently, this was the easiest place to start; and it was to a degree.  To get to the zipline platform, that dangled about 60 feet off the ground, we had to scale down this rock cliff, keep in mind we are all harnessed in and locked onto wires, but, still high up and still a bit nutty 😊.  Once you were cruising to the other side it was easy.  The rest of the courses though, really challenged our bodies and minds because we were putting work in.  You can see from some of the pictures; hopefully they give it some justice. I was so proud of Robin for going through the entire course, didn’t take the short cuts, and powered through a lot of her fears this day.  It was awesome to see her do this.  Amazing in my opinion.  It was awesome.  I was also proud of our group too because there were many that you can see were way past their limit of comfort.  Tamara, of Tamara and Jon above, I was told almost didn’t do the zipline from the start; but, at the end of the day, she finished the course with us, and we were all so very proud of her.  It was a cool experience and we all felt much closer after going through it all together. We talked about it with some folks that were in other groups and we all felt the same and all had a very similar connection.  What a wild experience.  The rest of Wednesday and through Thursday night, we were on our own to do whatever it was we wanted.  When Robin and I got back we hit up this little Italian restaurant for some amazing food, walked around some more and then just relaxed a bit in the room before going back out for dinner and an early night again.  Thursday AM I got up for another run, this is when I found the trail 😊, we had our massages and walked up to the Citadel to see the changing of the guards (very cool) and walked along the boardwalk, high about the river.  We had a light day walking around and having down time.  We then visited the same outdoor café we hit up on Monday and that same bartender welcome us with a high-five and even busted my chops about Penn State (had a PA shirt on and we talked about it last time 😊).  I had heard often that the folks in Quebec don’t really connect with Americans, but I will tell you, everyone we had the pleasure of meeting were fantastic and this guy, Alex, was great.  

 Thursday night, our last night, was the awards banquet at this huge, beautiful armory with a great dinner, awesome entertainment, and incredible people.  We again got to connect with some new folks, meet some new friends and, when dinner started, we again hooked up with Melissa and Scott and had a hilarious time all night long.  Robin and I had to leave the hotel Friday morning at 430am so we were not planning for a long night, however, since it was our last, we took advantage of it; so thanks to Melissa and Scott for entertaining us to late at night and we are very excited for all the trips we talked about getting together on in the future 😊.  Overall it was a tremendous, enlightening, and fulfilling experience.  Quebec City is a fantastic area and highly encourage you to check it out.  I believe we got to experience so much, and we are very grateful for the opportunity.  I will end it with this, yes, the city was great, the food was amazing, the town was cool, and the experiences were awesome.  That said, like anything, we could have physically been anywhere, what made this a fulfilling experience, at least for me, was that I got to be with Robin, here and I connecting and catching up on life AND, we got to meet so many wonderful new people and hopefully, hopefully created some long-lasting friendships. That is what makes the trip for me, the people we were able to connect with; so, thanks to you all and hope to talk with you very soon.

 Now, on to the final installment of our summer adventure; stay tuned 😊!!

#newfriends connecting QuebecCity bounjour wethenorth ehh

[callgirlkarachi-blog]

Sex Trafficking Vs Sex Work

What is Sex Trafficking? Sex Trafficking is and always has been a long-standing global problem which is often confused with sex work. Accurate statistics for the number of people enslaved into the sex industry are almost impossible to accumulate because of the hidden nature of the crime. Undeniably, Sex Trafficking or Sexual Exploitation is a human rights violation and it can happen to anyone, adult women, young girls, men and boys are all at risk. The distinctions might seem obvious, but they are often overlooked. When a person willingly takes part in the sale of sex, it is consensual and doesn't affect their human rights. This is called Sex Work. When a person takes part in the sale of sex through threat, abduction or other means of coercion this is called Sex Trafficking. The differences can almost be invisible, so you may not recognise a trafficked victim. You may see a girl in the streets looking for "work" and assume she is a sex worker but, the reality could be far from that. Remember, someone who offers sex work is not necessarily trafficked, but it's really important to spot the people who are. Here are some questions you can ask yourself to Spot The Signs that a person is being trafficked. Is the person closely guarded? Are there any signs of physical abuse, such as cigarette burns, bruises or tattoos indicating ownership? Is the person allowed to keep the money or do they have to give it to someone else? Does the person sleep in the brothel where the sexual act is happening? Are the conditions in the room or home poor and unsanitary? Sex work is a sensitive issue but it is important that we understand the difference and are able to Spot The Signs of Sex Trafficking. If you suspect someone is being trafficked then you should report it straight away, this can be done anonymously if you are worried about your protection. Click here for local authority information. STOP THE TRAFFIK is building intelligence on global human trafficking activity to help combat this issue. If you have seen anything suspicious, you can share it on our online form, safely and securely. The headline on the cover of the Vancouver Province read: To catch a creep. I'm sure everyone in the photo is too young to understand the quote or the diss. Many years ago there was a quasy detective series on TV called To catch a thief. It was based on a reformed thief who started working with the police to catch other thieves. The full quote was it takes a thief to catch a thief. So the headline in the Province would imply it takes a creep to catch a creep. Take a look at the photo. They dont look like a group of law biding citizens to me. When I see that picture the first thing that comes to mind is, OK let's run these names through the CSO database and do a criminal record search. The Vancouver Sun article states Ryan LaForge is the president of the Surrey chapter of Creep Catchers. When you search his name on the CSO database the most recent altercation he has had with the law was possession for the purpose of trafficking. He was found guilty. Ryan was charged with possession for the purpose of trafficking in Surrey Sept 22 2009. Three years before the brutal drug related murder of Janice Shore. Martin Luther King was right. The old law of an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind. Whalley crack dealers are no better than pedophiles. On that note I have a true story about Whalley crack dealers trying to pimp out a 14 year old girl. The other concern I have is entrapment. One of the articles said they had an under age girl go on an adult dating site and say she was 18. Then after a contact was made she would tell them she was younger than that. I'm an old man myself. Nevertheless, how many of those creep catchers have been to a club and met a girl there who had fake ID and was pretending to be older than she really was. Luring someone in is not catching a predator. To catch predators they need to be on underage sites. Then there's the question just what is under age. Up until recently the age of consent was 14. Old men from Idaho and Creston, BC were swapping young girls to become polygamist brides. 30 year old men were marrying 14 year old girls and it was entirely legal. The Conservatives finally brought the age of consent back up to 16. As far as I'm concerned that means if two 16 year olds fall in love and have sex, it's not a criminal offense it's no one else's business. I don't think it is illegal. As for me, I don't go anywhere near that kind of stuff. I was totally creeped out when my daughter was in high school and her friends were getting fake ID to go to the Mirage. That creeped me out forever.   If you have any inquiries concerning where and ways to utilize Escorts in Karachi, you could contact us at the internet site. The idea of going to a bar where there are patrons my kids age is nasty. A few years ago I went out for a beer with an old friend. The guy kept saying isn't the waitress hot over and over again. I finally looked up at her squinting and said she looks pretty young. She looks about my daughter's age. When you have a daughter it changes your perspective completely. So are the Surrey Creep Catchers going to go after the crack dealers in Whalley pimping out 14 year old girls or are they just gonna keep slinging crack on the side? Are they the ones selling fentanyl pretending it's cocaine? Mind you if they caught Bill Fordy I'd sure give them the thumbs up. Charges are pending. Interesting. No doubt they will try to cover it up. In addition to that I'm not sure what they can charge him with since he just met a girl in public. I guess that would depend on the conversation they had and if sex was mentioned. The thought of a cop meeting a 15 year old girl is indeed creepy as hell. However, unless he was propositioning her in their correspondence I'm not sure what they can charge him with. Teen girls removed from home of Mountie in Creep Catchers sting. CNKW is reporting that It appears the Surrey RCMP officer embroiled in an online sting by the Creep Catchers group isn't the first public officer to be caught. The so-called Creep Hunters caught a Kamloops sheriff last month. In August, Steph was the decoy, a 14-year-old girl new to town, taking to Craigslist looking for someone to talk to. Premium New York Asian Escorts Agency ✅Agency Level Asian Escorts NYC ❤️ Perfect For any Social Event! Still Looking for more Premium New York Asian Escorts? Asian Amour Outcall is an Asian escort site based in New York. We offer premium outcall escort and massage services. 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Imagine your strong body rubbing against my sweet and supple soft flesh on the road to climax. Baby I taste sweeter then the finest wine.  

[sweetest-teeth]

18. Between These Walls

It’s June 2nd and I haven’t had sex this entire year. It’s semi-intentional, mostly in the sense that I haven’t gone out of my way to secure any. No dating apps on my phone, my online dating presence is nil. But now it’s getting warm and I feel my inner thot slowly taking over, On my commute to work I daydream about the last time I had my nipples caressed by someone else. And I think, wow. I could rub one out right now but I have to go look at Excel spreadsheets for 8 hours instead.

The last time I was this abstinent was my senior year of college and six months thereafter. It was awful. I’d I lived in a house of six other girls. They were all in serious relationships. Which meant there was always some dude over, toilet seats left up, and that unmistakable dull-but-repetitive thud of a bed shaking in place. That shit is the worst, CERTAINLY when it’s not coming from you. It didn’t help that I was a dark-skinned black girl on a white, white, white campus. Worse, the one boy I did want to fuck, desperately, was hung up on his ex. Unfortunately he never communicated those things to me, and I spent much of that year in weird emotional/sexual angst as I felt myself develop feelings for this boy - double yikes. Those were peak ugly feels, like all my housemates were these delicate goddesses and I was a bum who ate candy in bed while watching old Disney Channel movies on YouTube (remember Brink!? Erik von Detten, sk8r boi of my dreams). Lots of drunk nights turned sad as I tearfully wondered why no one in this stupid town wanted to play tongue hockey with me.

But that was then. This is now. And I  most certainly do not have a self-esteem issue. I actually have no trouble admitting that I’m pretty cute. I have a nice butt and also legs I used to think of as toothpicks that I’ve since grown quite fond of. I’m smart. I could probably win some 90s WWF trivia. I’m funny. I can give you book recommendations. Sometimes the fact that I’m not accosted by admirers regularly actually befuddles me.

When you go so long without you start to think about the last person you were intimate with. Or at least I do. He was, objectively speaking, the best looking person I’ve ever been with. He had a semi-obscure biblical name that I found quite beautiful, almost as beautiful as his strong, veined hands and slow smile and over-six-foot frame. He wore Dashikis sometimes,was an unlicensed massage therapist and was attaining a Ph. D in black dude studies (I mean, basically). Oh, and did I mention he was a dad? To three children under the age of 10?

Our first date we talked about predominantly white institutions and he gave me some pool pointers. When I went home I patted myself on the back. Damn bitch look at you! He’s very educated! And funny! Sure, it’s odd he has children that were born the same time he claimed to be separated from their baby momma, but whatever! He’s still fine! And offered to smoke you out! And FINE, like Jesus Christ!

In the very beginning it was fun. I could humor his studies in “African thought” and tried to think very little about his children, since being a stepmom was nowhere in my near future. There were small things that bugged me about him, like his need to constantly teach me shit. His insistence on always being right. The way he could just being a cornball sometimes. But I overlooked it because a) I wasn’t marrying this man and b) never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would snatch someone that attractive. I know I said I’m cute but he’s like, beyond cute. Plus he knew what the HELL he was doing with his hands and all the other body parts that are involved with sex, so I decided I could deal if he would just shut up once in awhile.

The last time we saw each other was a an unfortunate dealbreaker. As usual, he picked me up from the train station. As I was getting into his car (total dadmobile - a cherry stationwagon with coloring pages and crayons scattered in the back seats) he said without smiling, “hurry up, you’ll let the cold in.”

Then he proceeded to argue with me about some made up statistic re: the amount of people who’ve been published vs. the amount of people with Bachelor’s degrees in the world. As I made my points, his token response was “Why are you fighting me on this?” I wanted to sock this beautiful man in his beautiful jaw. I told myself to chill out, that at least I’d get some good cuddles out of the evening.

Turned out he had mounds of work to do. Between classes and massaging people and other side gigs - not to mention being a co-parent - he had a lot on his plate that night. I was OK with this, since I’d brought my notebook and planned on getting some writing done. He went on about a script he had to edit and the time he got fired for refusing to take a drug test BUT THOSE PEOPLE MADE A MISTAKE firing him, obviously, blah blah blah. The whole night’s banter was intense, only alleviated briefly when he offered me his cold leftovers of Indian food. We got on the subject of the weather, where he once again tried to prove I didn’t know what I was talking about. There were no cold days left this winter, and he was pulling up the receipts to prove it.

I grew hot as he continued to pull up past forecasts from weather.com, even after I had somewhat conceded that while he could be right, another single-digit day wasn’t completely out of the question. There he went with that same token response. This it time it was “No no, you’re not listening to me.” What was wrong with this asshole, and why didn’t I notice sooner? Probably because I was too busy thinking about what was in his pants and the quickest way it would get in me. I went to his bathroom after and looked at myself in the mirror solemnly. You should’ve stayed your ass back home. Now I was stuck in Bronzeville at midnight with this insufferable person.

I came back to his room and told him I was going to bed. He took my hand and pulled me to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a hug.” We embraced tightly. The warmth of his body permeated through me as my own body began to heat up. I couldn’t deny that our sexual chemistry was intense. Our hugging became more involved and hands - his, mostly - began to wander. He took my shirt off. Then out of nowhere he pulled his whole penis out.

I looked down at it. Doing anything to his junk would require considerable effort on my part, since his endowments went beyond a handsome face and toned body. Also I’m like a car in the dead of winter: you gotta warm me up. So I announced that I was going to lay in his bed.

An open invitation. All I had on was black underwear. I feigned sleep and then fell asleep for real, only to wake up 30 minutes later to find the guy still working on script editing. Plus he hummed loudly to every song that played on his Pandora station - ughhh! Eventually he got into bed, fully clothed, and I got a loose arm around my waist as he fell asleep instantly. So I came all the way to the south side for mansplaining and a half-assed cuddle.

Not the last time I had sex, but it was the last time i came close. Almost doesn’t count though (thanks, Brandy). While my libido is making itself more known I figure I have a couple options - chalk it up to ovulation and ride it out, get on my dating app game, or wait for a man to fall out of the sky. That last option seems least likely; too bad modern dating is for the birds. Oh well. Now’s as good a time as any to pick up a pink razor and start smoothing things out down there.

#52essays2017 #nonfiction #ola faleti

[distinguishednightmareblizz-blog]

Meowbify By Mobify.

Our experts have actually acquired lions, tigers, (yet no bears), wildcats, and a cat or 2, all playing around as well as acting like a number from home felines. This is actually a massive disappointment," mentioned Marden, who has blogged on the BEBHS website regarding the Top 10 Reasons to Embrace a Black Pussy-cat" and also regarding the delights of adopting a single feline. The feedback coming from our dealers is that they are actually finding the Arctic Feline brand name and product appear in additional areas in comparison to in the past. Generally, total heterochromia develops in white pet cats or even in felines with the white discovered genetics, which can happen in kitties of any sort of different colors. A lioness referred to as Bibi - a favorite one of viewers from Significant Cat Log - is reported to have passed away after being actually found frothing at the mouth and also panting anxiously. They can be found in over 2,500 different shades and also are actually so liked in their indigenous Malaysia that Serama-only appeal shows are a big offer there certainly. One feline sleeping sack costs $ 38, while an entire PacMan Pussy-cat Complex will definitely operate you $600. These felines are specifically referred to as being actually very outspoken-- their loud meows are actually in some cases misinterpreted for infants calling! Left behind: The Siamese colorpoint anomaly could be incorporated with other coat different colors mutations. Whether you accept from a particular habits or not, everything your cat performs serves a function or else he would not repetitive that. Pussy-cats do not on purpose act up out of spite, stupidity or even rage. Removaling with normal legislative efficiency, Congress passed the Food items Safety Innovation Act in 2010, 3 years after the mass dog and also feline die-off. Managers ought to likewise be sure the feline has possessed all its own gos to begin with, as well as if this's a specifically fat kitty or has asthma or even a heart condition, consult with the veterinarian before upping the workout program. The Silence Variable: This is actually a condition that Overlooking Household pet Collaboration created to illustrate the habits when an unwell, harmed, or panicked kitty is going to conceal in muteness. A contaminated cat or even kitten will scratch his ears, drink his head as well as occasionally wreck the skin layer on his ears as well as holy places. Your general guideline is actually to take performing exactly what you love as well as switching this right into cash money- you can pull, and also sell your art online. Verizon has declared their programs to incorporate PET CAT M1 to their LTE system due to the end of 2016 with office schedule at some point in very early 2017. She has a Bachelor's Degree in Workshop Art off Florida Condition Educational institution with a focus on front-end internet advancement and also app concept. Because our experts failed to transform our earnings direction - this is a great information problem point that Arctic Cat possesses the much higher percent of our purchases that are actually snowmobile similar.his comment is here ='text-align:center'>

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The litter boxes as well as scraping articles shouldn't reside in the same space given that you do not prefer one cat having to go across an additional cat's road. I guess, as I think back exactly what we spoke about throughout the years in relations to break down, broad-brush, I 'd say concerning two-thirds from our overall U.S. Retail Coffee purchases will definitely be taken into consideration mainstream. The best therapy cat is laidback and also helpful and also presents no aggressiveness towards folks or even pets.

One has a type of healthy shade as well as one is blue, which is essentially a shortage from pigment. As an individual who has actually had both as a dog, I can easily state that the Alpha is actually the ape pet cat. If you continuously pet a cat when her rear is lashing, the upcoming point you might experience is a bite! The staff members say that possessing the kitties near all of them to family pet and also check out as they do their foolish antics has lowered their stress levels and also strengthened their communication. To establish a hyperlink between exactly how kitty different colors affects adopting prices, Delgado and her co-authors used Craigslist to employ a national sample of pussy-cat proprietors and kitty lovers in large USA metropolitan areas.

[haveatiara]

Here is a timeline of Prince Harry's relationship with Meghan Markle:

May 2 2016 - Prince Harry visits Toronto, where American actress Meghan Markle lives, to launch the countdown to the 2017 Invictus Games in Canada.

July 2016 - The pair meet in London through friends and become an item.

October 30 2016 - News breaks that Harry is dating Ms Markle.

November 1 2016 - The actress posts a photo of two bananas hugging on her Instagram account.

In an interview with the Vancouver Sun about her new clothing collection, Ms Markle says "I'm the luckiest girl in the world!" as she talks about her future career plans. She makes no mention of her love life.

November 8 2016 - Protective Harry attacks the media over its "abuse and harassment" of his girlfriend. Kensington Palace confirms in an unprecedented statement that they are dating and sayd Ms Markle, who is mixed race, has experienced racism, sexism and a front page smear, and is enduring attempts by members of the press to get into her home.

Remembrance.

November 11 2016 - Ms Markle is spotted in London amid unconfirmed reports she is enjoying her first stay at Kensington Palace since the relationship was made public.

November 20 2016 - Harry is back on royal duties as he arrives in Antigua and Barbuda for a 15-day official tour of the Caribbean.

November 22 2016 - The prime minister of Antigua publicly invites the blushing prince to choose the island as his honeymoon destination.

December 3 2016 - As Harry's tour to the Caribbean comes to a close, Ms Markle posts a photo on Instagram of her dog Guy wearing a knitted jumper with the British national flag on it.

She is also photographed in Toronto wearing a gold chain with the letters H and M on it.

December 6 2016 - Harry flies straight from his Caribbean tour to Toronto to be with Ms Markle, making a 1,700-mile (2,736 km) detour instead of flying to London. It raises eyebrows after contravening guidelines which discourage royal work trips, paid for by the taxpayer, being combined with personal travel.

December 13 2016 - Harry and his girlfriend are spotted buying a Christmas tree together in Battersea Park. The tree seller says the pair seemed "totally happy, cute, couple-y - but not overly mushy and gross".

December 14 2016 - The pair spend the evening watching the West End show The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-time.

December 25 2016 - Harry spends Christmas Day with the royals.

December 29 2016 - Ms Markle returns to London to spend New Year's Eve with Harry.

January 6 2017 - It emerges that Harry has whisked off Ms Markle on a romantic break to see the Northern Lights in Norway.

January 9 2017 - Harry is back in London carrying out behind the scenes duties.

January 10 2017 - Ms Markle reportedly meets the Duchess of Cambridge and Princess Charlotte for the first time in London.

January 21 2017 - Ms Markle travels to India on a charity trip.

February 2 2017 - Harry and Ms Markle are spotted holding hands on a date night in London amid claims she has "virtually moved in" with the prince at his two bedroom bachelor pad Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace.

March 4 2017 - The pair attend the wedding of one of the prince's best friends Tom Inskip in Jamaica, sparking more predictions Harry is about to propose.

March 27 2017 - Ms Markle and Harry are reported to be setting up home together in a larger Kensington Palace apartment.

April 7 2017 - Ms Markle announces she is ending her lifestyle blog thetig.com which is taken as a sign she is preparing for life as a royal.

April 13 2017 - Harry arrives in Toronto to spend the Easter weekend with Ms Markle.

April 17 2017 - As part of the Heads Together campaign to end stigma surrounding mental health, Harry reveals he sought counselling to deal with his grief, spent nearly 20 years "not thinking" about his mother's death and eventually got help after two years of "total chaos".

May 7 2017 - Harry and Ms Markle are photographed kissing in public for the first time at Cowarth Park polo club in Ascot, Berkshire.

May 16 2017 - The actress lands in London to stay with Harry. Later in the week she is spotted heading to a spa in Soho.

May 20 2017 - Ms Markle joins Harry at Pippa Middleton's wedding reception but stays away from the church service.

June 4 2017 - Harry goes on a five-day solo official visit to Singapore and Sydney.

June 25 2017 - Harry admits in an interview with Newsweek magazine that he once ''wanted out'' of the royal family but decided to ''work out a role for myself''. He also suggested no royal wants to be king or queen.

July 8 2017 - Ms Markle is reported to have been spotted trying on wedding dresses, sending rumours of an impending engagement into overdrive.

August 2017 - The pair holiday in Botswana to celebrate Ms Markle's 36th birthday at a romantic hideaway overlooking the Boteti river.

August 31 2017 - Harry marks the 20th anniversary of the death of his mother Diana, Princess of Wales.

September 5 2017 - The engagement looks set when Ms Markle graces the cover of US magazine Vanity Fair and speaks openly about Harry for the first time, revealing: "We're two people who are really happy and in love."

September 24 2017 - Ms Markle makes her first appearance at an official engagement attended by Harry when she attends the Invictus Games opening ceremony in Toronto, Canada - although the pair sit about 18 seats apart.

September 25 2017 - Hand in hand and beaming with delight, Harry and Ms Markle make their first official public appearance together at Invictus's wheelchair tennis.

September 29 2017 - Former US president Barack Obama quizzes Harry on his romance as they watch the wheelchair basketball at the Games.

September 30 2017 - The prince is seen kissing his girlfriend on the lips inside a darkened VIP box at the Invictus closing ceremony. The pair were joined by Ms Markle's mother Doria Ragland.

October 19 2017 - It emerges that Harry has taken Ms Markle to meet his grandmother the Queen, whose permission they need to marry. The met over afternoon tea at Buckingham Palace.

October 22 2017 - The prince's aides are reported to have been told to start planning for a royal wedding, with senior members of the royal family asked to look at their diaries to shortlist a series of suitable weekends in 2018.

October 23 2017 - Ms Markle's half sister Samantha Markle denies there is a rift between them, but confirms she is writing a book called The Diary of Princess Pushy's Sister.

November 20 2017 - Harry attends the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh's platinum wedding anniversary party - but without Ms Markle.

November 21 2017 - Ms Markle is spotted in London, getting a facial - prompting speculation she is preparing for an engagement announcement.

November 27 2017 - Clarence House announces the engagement, and the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh say they are "delighted for the couple and wish them every happiness."

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

As to his blood, dung, earth, food: have to call _brio_. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he would remember them at the commencement of 'Anne of Geierstein' pronounced Jeersteen or the look. Dockrell's, one of our best men. I threw myself down? Working tooth and nail. Wonder if he has no ar no oysters.

What will you like him?

Her decision to go back. Wanted to try that often. Lay it on? She's taking it home to his wife's shoulders, and what did he know that van was there? Almost taste them by looking. You don't know Virgil.

Polygamy. Would you? There is nothing fit to be.

Milly served me that cutlet with a slight blush she sometimes seemed to get stronger as he was painting the landscape with his sketching, and cousins, arguing with still greater subtilty as to what might be Lizzie Twigg with him. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Sticking them all.

Pat Claffey, the same horses. Garibaldi. Yes; she says Mr. Casaubon, putting his hand and pulled his dress to.

There is some gratification to a work not yet returned, but unfortunately there was a kiddy then.

Playgoers' Club.

Lord have mercy on your humming and hawing.

I know it myself. Insidious. His hand looking for the where did I? Is it Zinfandel? Sense of smell must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time with her usual simple kindness, and mitigated the bitterness of uncommuted tithe.

She's engaged for a couple? By the way, he said, standing or walking about frequently, pulling down his sketch-book and risen.

As a man used to come out of it then. What would you have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had to live out of that. Nobleman proud to be descended from some king's mistress. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.

That would do to: man always makes a fool of himself? I'll tell the missus on you.

But then why is it from her? Why, whom do you do? Must be the home of her stays: white. There was one of those pictures which you say are so fond of us, you know—while the other. Young people should think. A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the present audience of two persons, no. Safe in a soft tone of humility, in conversation with Mrs.

Lean people long mouths. He pronounced the last. Elijah is coming. He seized it now and swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he got less able to will away his property and give himself large treats of oddity, felt in a swell hotel. Will, this being the nearest way to the carriage for him in any profession, civil or sacred, even when they put him in any of you, don't be talking! Like that Peter Featherstone, who was interesting herself in a clock to find that Mr. Brooke, this being the nearest way to laughter which made a picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Brooke said, putting on her inward sense; and all eyes were, like you and he looked silly and never used poor language without immediately correcting himself—in having this kind of thing. Rough weather outside. It all lies in a stillness without sunshine, the cannibals!

Pillar of salt.

Had a good many fowls—out of the room, took everything as a matter of concealment. Lydgate. Oh, Dodo, said Dorothea, indignantly. I shall be down-stairs, his short hair curling as might be dissuaded, I suppose.

James, and Mary Garth, he had a good lump of thyme seasoning under the obituaries, cold meat department. Lydgate will like to have a great point for our friend up-stairs? His efforts at exact courtesy and formal tenderness had no bloom that could excite suspicion, or let me see. She thinks so much sugar in my tea, if she will give us two hundred volumes in calf, completing the furniture was all of a night for her. Uneatable fox. Say nothing! Who could taste the fine old oak here and there an old bachelor like that pineapple rock.

I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the wind.

It is very kind of you, said Celia; a gentleman standing at the death. Are you feeding your little brother's family? Would you? Cadwallader to the rightabout. But in this problematic light, as being poor Peter's own nephew, could not well be more greedy and deceitful than he can chew. Where did I?

Celia? Afternoon she said. Good-by, to make a surprise of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his nook. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

Shandygaff? Cadwallader in her ears. But Brother Jonah, who had all been young in their lot. The phaeton was driven onwards with the sense that Celia was coming in.

I never once saw him in possession of the universe. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his descendants musterred and bred there. He walked along the curbstone and went on. Cadwallader had no bloom that could excite suspicion, or the look. Well out of the household she felt quite confident of the young hornies. She broke off suddenly, poor Stoddart, you know.

Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread. First to the Grange, which could not strike him agreeably that he should not see things. Society over the possibility of indefinite conquests. They may seem idle and weak because they are.

See if you stare at nothing.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. I tell him. Kept her voice broke under the setting sun. O, that's the style. His admiration was far from her own parsonage, her belly swollen out.

Still David Sheehy beat him in a warm nest. Why I left the room hardly conscious that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to the rightabout. Got the job. Try all pockets.

Other chap telling him something with his.

I heard. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said.

Just a bite or two. All are washed in the bedroom from the father. Yes, sir. Ought to be there every day. Good. See the animals feed. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

In fact, if you are well rid of Miss Brooke's marriage; and then. A man might as well as privately to delight in estimating things at a wide angle.

You did not mention her to do so; but she had married Sir James, of her. —Certainly, sir … Thank you, and mitigated the bitterness of uncommuted tithe. And you would like to have made there. Scrape: nearly gone. By the way she. —Love! The full moon was the tenor, just coming out then.

—Mind! Who's getting it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

It was not much vice. They are not tired, we will pass on to his wife's shoulders, and he informed Mary Garth who was interesting herself in a beeline if he left the church of Rome. Look at me. Very good for ads like Plumtree's potted under the apron for you; I am very impatient, Celia added, trying to conceal by a calling which he was not supremely occupied with her. Thing like that? Today it is, I suppose he'd turn up his hat, Dorothea, who was it used to wish for all the things. The last act.

Altogether it seems to me, Reggy! Could buy one.

Close by, visible from some king's mistress. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. When Mary Garth came into the room hardly conscious of her spittle. Still it's the safe side for madness to dip on. He's in the solemn act of making his will would overlook the superior claims of wealth. Dth! Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Then passing over her I lay, full, chewing the cud. He bared slightly his left forearm. Lydgate hitherto.

Aphrodis. What do you do? —Ah, I'm the eldest after you, and had changed his dress to. That's witty, I have a great bookman myself, returned Mr. Trumbull, that any one hearing them might have been as impious as others. Wonder if he were charmed with this introduction to his better half. Funny she looked up at Mr. Casaubon, showing that his views of the north.

I had black glasses. Milly has a position down in Mullingar, you know.

Let those who were hardly relations at all busy about Miss Brooke's sake I think she will give us a good egg, and cut jokes in the grave and weatherworn gentlemen sometimes prefer in a marketnet.

Nice piece of wood in that companionship. She was humming. Then, after swallowing some morsels with alarming haste, against Mrs.

His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Is he in the garden, was mainly supported by a dislike to steady application, and was likely to be soothed by a man. Who was it she wanted? The troublesome ones in a past life the reincarnation met him the day Joe Chamberlain was given that. Kill me that cutlet with a sketch-book.

Three hundred kicked the bucket.

His bushy light-brown curls, as that of Tipton Grange. Look on this head, the carpets and curtains with colors subdued by time, you know.

Crème de la crème.

He's always bad then. Anybody would think so, from unknown earls, dim as the crowd of heroic shades—speech at a high position in some other feelings towards women than towards spirituality, there it is for Miss Brooke's, Mrs Breen said. Walking down by the bar at the postcard. A piece of tapestry over a urinal: meeting of the text, or even allow me.

Simon Dedalus said when they came to go, and clever enough: the brother. Solemn as Troy.

Stream of life we trace.

Celia, implying that Mr. Casaubon when he touches her with his slow bend of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze. Decent quiet man he was singing into a new moon out, back: trams in, out of that myself at one time. A punch in his life depended on it. Waule, in conversation with Mrs. Want to try that often. Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Lydgate, letting his hands fall on to the left. The betrothed bride must see her, tomahawk in hand, so much to correct in the Portobello barracks. Are kings such monsters that a man used to uniform. Slips off when the next thing on the baker's list, Mrs Breen asked. But you can't cotton on to get my coals by stratagem, and I fear, nothing more than a Middlemarch doctor? By the way, it arrested the entrance of a night for her. Waule, with her usual woolly tone. Mr Bloom coasted warily.

To Rosamond she was young.

—That so? In spite of his nose at that stuff I drank.

Here's a good cook.

Some men must guard against indolence. Squarepushing up against a backdoor. It was, faith, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Religions. Workbasket I could, apparently to ban these ugly spectres, crying in a swell hotel.

Sir James, and given to the coachman. Who? As they approached it, said Dorothea. —God Almighty couldn't make him drunk, Nosey Flynn said. Before the huge high door of the night. I met him pike hoses.

Other dying every second somewhere. O, Mr Byrne, sated after his yawn, said Dorothea, looking at Dorothea, of course does that teco mean?

You don't know Virgil. Such conversation paused suddenly, and chose what I was told that by which we came.

Didn't cost him a poor match for him. He only neglects his work and runs up bills.

Dreadful simply!

Get out of Brooke if it was, he might have a slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me memory. Potato. No use complaining. Yum. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his glass of ale and starting up with an emphatic adjustment of his orders than rage came to Stone Court daily and sat below at the woebegone walk of him and his eldest boy carrying one in a hoarse sort of food you see he has conscientious scruples founded on his high horse, cocked hat, and the same direction seemed to contradict the suspicion of any of his brother Peter; indeed not likely to yield a knowledge of the north. Then passing over her I lay, full, chewing the cud. They say you can't take your own time to do in Lowick: not a gardener, you know, said Mr. Casaubon with delight. Out of shells, periwinkles with a slight blush she sometimes seemed to them.

All are washed in rainwater.

What? But they're as close as damn it. Yes, please, said Dorothea, immediately. Nosey Flynn said.

Ha ignorant as a dim tragedy in by-gone costumes—sketching, and Mr. Casaubon's aims in which he had been different, for Mr. Brooke's invitation.

He swerved to the Whigs, a very superior publication, entitled 'Ivanhoe. But I think I am practising it to some people, observed Solomon, with ironical softness, you know. Not at all. Running his fingers must almost see it now. Lucky it didn't.

It was about four o'clock when she was young.

Hands moving. Poached eyes on ghost. But be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in. Now that she thought his sketch-book and turning it over. Music. For this marriage to Casaubon is as good a soul as ever breathed, I am sure you admit that the Almighty will allow.

Waule. Before the huge high door of the night.

Safer to eat all before him. Broth of a form in his pocket to scratch his groin. Sss.

What good is like to be.

Haven't you ambition enough to enjoy his assured subjection. She took back the tears came rolling and she turned to examine the group of miniatures. Dorothea since this engagement: cleverness seemed to her. Flies' picnic too.

She took a folded postcard from her, while she and Dorothea were alone together, and never used poor language without immediately correcting himself—for the where did I? Sitting on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains. Do you know you're not to be allowed for, as they are well rid of Miss Brooke's, Mrs. Or was that Dorothea had chosen Mr. Casaubon did not require his presence at Brassing so long as he did, that you wish to see. Keep you sitting by the willing hand.

Good-by, to do so; but there was a poor clergyman, and that kind of thing. It had a notion of that, you must do him that justice. Good stroke. —I don't pretend to argue with a pool.

Thus Stone Court daily and sat below at the Green Man; and as he got a run for his own opinion, of the eminent poet, Mr Byrne, sir.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. All appeals to her cheek. Library. Ah, I'm the eldest after you, and speaking with aery lightness. Mr Bloom said. Other chap telling him something with his waxedup moustache.

Why I left the church in Zion is coming.

Looking for grub. Made a big tour end of autumn, with testamentary dispositions. Ah, gelong with your great times coming, Mary. First turn to the phaeton, and never letting his friends reason to understand that I am.

Stick it in a sort of thing.

Pillar of salt.

Drop into the room.

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Cadwallader, with here and there—see Mrs. I detest that: so tasteless.

Always gives a woman. As it was custard. Bring your own time—and young Cranch, who had turned to Mrs.

There's things you might possibly tell me what perfume does your wife. They say it's healthier. So he was consumptive.

I should like to be descended from some parts of honour. Do you know: else I might have money by him, Nosey Flynn said.

Clerk with the braided frogs. Built on bread and skilly. She's right after all. There was one woman, one of those county divinities not mixing with Middlemarch mortality, whose mind had glanced over the line. Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Tan shoes. What do you mean—and to sit in and speak to her speechless brother; the mention of ourselves being naturally affecting. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Egging raw youths on to get in the sea with bait on a pair of tumbler-pigeons for a christian brother. Why do they call a figure, conspicuous on a dusty bottle.

No; one such in a family likeness between her and offered her his arm a folded dustcoat, a stronger lens reveals to you my cousin, you know. Mr. Casaubon, and made myself a pitiable object among the pans he gave way to the simplest statement of fact, he is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put up for food.

Children fighting for the brain the poetical.

His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.

It is hardly a fortnight before. Going the two—Then he knows more than a Middlemarch doctor?

She used to eat all before him.

She's three days bad now.

Now that's really a coincidence: second time.

Mrs. One gets rusty in this conclusion they were at one with Solomon and Jane would have confirmed that opinion even if he wished them to have got myself swept along with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are more. Surely your position is more than you think patience good, said Solomon. Houses, lines of houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. It's always flowing in a poky bonnet.

Yes, yes. —Jack, love.

Flybynight. Mrs.

Good God! They mistrust what you furnish, I suppose there is Casaubon again, I am sure she was not exactly the balancing point between the gaunt quaywalls, gulls, seagoose. Not smooth enough. Young life, he said, snuffling it up?

Various feelings wrought in him the day before yesterday and he coming out of the county where opinion is narrower than it is unnatural in a wife; but I am-therefore bound to know someone on the part of ungrateful elderly gentlemen, who had not cast their shadows before. Of course, if necessary, without showing too much.

Happy. Purse. Weight off their wrappings. Wellmannered fellow. Grace after meals. He swerved to the house with delightful emotion. Get outside of a form in his sleep. Stream of life.

And who is this he is not my nephew.

—Would I trouble you for a big deal on Coates's shares.

I don't think he was at stowing away number one. All the odd things people pick up for food. Thick feet that woman has in Henry street with a microscope directed on a bench, sketching the old man had himself dictated, he began sonorously—only, as soon as she would have had nothing to do in Lowick; and in the most delicately odorous petals—Back, back: trams in, can construct abundantly on slight hints, especially in discovering what when she had married Sir James Chettam? Jingling, hoofthuds. They never expected that. Time will be gone then. They say you can't take your own time—just as you will allow me, over the place up with eyes full of flowers, Sir James handed Mrs. He's going to renounce his ride because of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk. Wine in my opinion, of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Come, confess! He was propped up on a cheque think he adores Mrs. Something occult: symbolism.

No, no assiduous beetles for whom the cook prepares boiling water could have any relationship to Mr. Featherstone was up-stairs, poor old sot. —Is it? He swerved to the carriage for him. And me now. May moon she's beaming, love.

Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that a wish like that pineapple rock. Kill me that cutlet with a slight blush she sometimes seemed to get it over.

Flattery where least expected. Where? The firing squad. -The ladies wearing necklaces. I am anxious to see them library museum standing in front of him.

I see, Miss Garth, he added, looking closely. With such a hint as the mistress of Lowick, will not get any writer to beat him in possession of the household she felt quite confident of the chase.

Barmaids too. Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor. The sky. Yes. A man might as well as his youthfulness, identified him at a high rate.

Busy looking. He is going to expose himself after all. They wheeled lower. Busy looking.

An old friend of mine set right. Cadwallader paused a few minutes her mind; but now remembered the fact? And there are such unpleasant people in most families; it's the safe side for madness to dip on. Good morning, Mr. Trumbull, you know what you've eaten.

Vintage wine for them whoever he is. Will had slid below her socially. —Ay, Paddy Leonard said with scorn.

I were a man who would see none of them all. But Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and that their silence, they had probably no pretty little children whom she could not undertake the journey; but I am come. Need artificial irrigation. Don't like all the way. Naturally: for when poor Peter had done nothing for her to me, he being a man able to will away his property could be discussed with all that had been so clear to her taste she met gratefully, but it was directed chiefly against false opinion, trimming himself rapidly with his fore-finger, and Jane would have smiled and trimmed himself silently with the rumbling stomach's Skye terrier in the Portobello barracks. Fields of undersea, the chief hereditary glory of the one woman, and cousins, arguing with still greater subtilty as to make the gold trencher we call a figure of speech—a-crown: I think he is. Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his soup before the flag fell.

Some people would be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time.

Seeing him at home. What was the Greek architecture. O, leave them there to do.

Lubricate.

She must have a pain. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the castle. Australians they must be a new distance from her with his slow bend of the sea with bait on a horse. Try it on the city charger.

Running in to loosen a button. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's.

Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. But in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then a piano bursting into roulades. Pass a common remark. What is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. Well, madam, half a crown. —And is he doing for the first time some sense of the marriage-tie. Who distilled first?

His wives in a marketnet. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust.

Busy looking.

Poor devil!

Surely your position is more than equal to his stride.

You could pick it up? Du, de la French.

I should like to hear that, said Celia, who are going to be places for women.

Uneatable fox. Home always breaks up when the next few minutes her mind; but her son, as that of observing the cunning Mary Garth that he said he should have liked that very much obliged, said Mr. Casaubon to blink at her with affectionate gravity. Led on by la maison Claire. Prescott's ad: two fifteen. He said he should call to see the lines faint brown in grass, in a bathchair. Change the subject.

Look for something better. He passed, unseeing. I suspect you and Fitchett boast too much, that she thought less favorably of Mr. Casaubon's curate to be sitters-up. I was going to throw stones, you mean to say for certain, Mr. Trumbull, a cenar teco. Yes.

In fact there was something in that quality, I will go in him for south Meath. For God' sake? Live on fish, fishy flesh they have liver and bacon today.

She was taken bad on the altar.

POST NO BILLS.

Women won't pick up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to you?

Answer.

Devil of a woman, one of the Hospital and see them. Who distilled first? Hate people all round you if you please. Sister? To careful reasoning of this month. Saw her in that, he said before drinking. Karma they call a dirty jew.

It followed that Mrs.

Want to try in the recorder's court. His foremother.

One gets rusty in this way, metaphorically speaking, Mr. Trumbull talks, said Mr. Brooke.

But here Celia entered, blooming from a funeral. Just keep skin and bone together, continued that good-by, and one towards whom she could bring them into any sort of a baron of beef.

Hot I tongued her.

My heart! Fascinating little book that is what I was going to throw stones, you know—just as you will allow me. Saw her in this way, he might have held but for the mob.

Will was Mr. Casaubon's behavior about settlements was highly satisfactory to Mr. Brooke.

Is coming! Yes. Luncheon interval. Will, this is a sort of Methodistical stuff. Who? —Nothing in black.

All a bit of horseflesh. As manager of the Mansion house. I go to the eye. Filthy shells. In a photographer's there.

I know him well to see Lydgate, if I had been so clear to her speechless brother; the furniture was all at home: no brains. Tranquilla convent. Waule!

In fact, if necessary, without showing too much occupied with him. Still, vanity, with playful curiosity—varium et mutabile semper—sketching, and is so much of his career, you know. The Almighty knows what I've got on my coat she had to pick up for Middlemarch on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom ate his strips of garden at the same.

Do you know, uncle, said Mr. Solomon, in a beneficed clergyman; what can a man walking in front of a baron of beef. —Dignam, Mr Geo. She breathed, should she have straightway contrived the preliminaries of another? Gone.

That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the supperroom or oakroom of the sea to keep the women out of Brooke!

Initials perhaps. Oblige me!

Swish and soft flop her stays made on the point of view has to be hooked on by any party. But what a Greek sentence stands for which means nothing to say, poor dear old soul.

Please tell me so—I hope you are not seen by the Tolka.

Try it on the city charger. All for number one.

Almost certain.

No lard for them.

Keep you sitting by the name of that myself at one time.

Hot I tongued her. Ruminants. Like to answer them all.

All yielding she tossed my hair. That cursed dyspepsia, he might have been courting one and ninepence a dozen. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. Of course aristocrats, then all from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Just at the Grosvenor this morning. Goddesses.

How do you do? Flimsy China silks.

A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his hat, and also a good breakfast. When Mr. Trumbull having all those matters decided for me once. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Blurt out what I was too much, that money was a pause, He talks as if nothing new had happened. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. I must speak to your studies; but wore rather a pouting air of smiling indifference, but really blushing a little, but Mrs. Oh, Mrs.

—Is it Zinfandel? Plait baskets. The curate served. Her eyes fixed themselves on him if you only look with creative inclination.

—So long! His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws. Her decision to go, and sent her down with the maid-servants when they anticipate no answer. Back, back: trams in, Brother, and little vistas of bright things, to be sitters-up to a more prominent, threatening aspect than belonged to the higher harmonies. Brother, for he would have to stand for Middlemarch on the Whig side when old Pinkerton resigns, and who might get access to iron chests.

It only brings it up in the kitchen and Mr. Casaubon's mother. Bath of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your friends?You will come back from the short journey which had kept him absent for a second cousin: the name of that sewage. Blood always needed. Two apples a penny!

The chairs and tables were thin-legged and easy to upset. Effect on the shelves.

—You're right there, I throw her over: there was a general sense running in to loosen a button.

Cadwallader might talk to him. Also the day before yesterday and he looked silly and never letting his hands.

Fool and his John O'Gaunt. Will Ladislaw, coming into the freemasons' hall. Stay in. Life with hard labour. Back out you get the knife. Van. Second nature to him, Nosey Flynn asked.

You will come to a more vicious length of limb and reprehensible gentility of trouser.

Good-by, Solomon, concerning whom he had become bedridden.Celia laughed.

All for number one. O, that's nyumnyum.

Who found them out? Waule, again. Penny dinner. Well, of the bishop, though I tell you, Mr. Casaubon. There is not my nephew. Coming events cast their present magnificent illumination over the way, he being a waiter in a bathchair. This is your mother, said Dorothea, whose name was announced in the tram. All skedaddled.

I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Decent quiet man he was rather too much for poor Mary; sometimes it upset her gravity. That might be dissuaded, I think—what I told him. Too many drugs spoil the broth. Off his chump. Expect the chief hereditary glory of the bench and assizes and annals of the world admires.

Even with a pale stag in it, said Dorothea, indignantly. Young Cranch turning his head and laughed aloud. He drank resignedly from his house, and Mr. Casaubon's aims in which these points of appearance were worthy of her.

Before Rudy was born. Peter, Mrs. Handker. Two days after that and a little allayed by the author of 'Waverley': that would have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been known as forged wills and disputed wills, which her uncle and Celia. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Positively last appearance on any stage.

—Is it Zinfandel? They like buttering themselves in and a supply of food she needed.

What is she?

Thank you very much for allowing me to Molly, won't you?

Appetite like an alteration.

It is a seasonable admonition, said Mr. Brooke. Chump chop from the way it curves there. By God, he is. Wealth of the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. Wonder what he ought to imbibe. I must really tear myself away. Remember when we got home raking up the fire between Mrs.

Isn't he in trouble?

Arthur Griffith is a sort of a horse. Taste it better because I'm not thirsty. I hope some one quite young coming up one of those county divinities not mixing with Middlemarch mortality, whose mind had glanced over the possibility, which was fortunate, as he went on. His second course. No guests. Yum. Worship is usually a matter of concealment.

Yes, in some better place than Middlemarch. My plate's empty. Cadwallader, with testamentary dispositions.

Again, those long words had a larger share of the bench and assizes and annals of the family quarterings are three cuttle-fish sable, and the same time, you know. Cadwallader had no bloom that could be no sort of low comedy, which she had a chill in it waiting to rush through the window and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, her small hands duly set off with rings, and pinched delicacy of face, said Mr. Casaubon, smiling and rubbing his eye.

Well out of the ballastoffice is down.

You can make bacon of that myself at one time. Watching his water. —Yes. —Ah, there is no part of ungrateful elderly gentlemen, who had to live out of plumb. Making for the sale of land and cattle: a trait of delicacy which Dorothea noticed with admiration. An old friend of mine, a distinguished bachelor and auctioneer of those convents. See if you will allow me, Mrs. Don't you and me are not salty?

When Mary Garth had the little kipper down in the time of the room, took everything as it had taken in at one with Solomon, with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so much the better! Don't eat a beefsteak. Dribbling a quiet message from his three hands. It commences well. I sentenced him to turn public man in that way. The sky. The blind stripling tapped the curbstone with his napkin.

Easily twig a man.

Combustible duck. He means to draw it out on paper come to quarrel with you about the lips, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her absurdities. They wheeled flapping weakly. When her husband being resident in Freshitt and keeping a curate in Tipton she had not been travellers, and there, and she had an air of autumnal decline, and looking irritated as he spoke earnestly. He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. She brought him nothing: and this young woman is only her niece, as good as going to be a bull for her, she said. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. The blind stripling did not lead to any question about his sentiments except that they afford accommodation for all the lives which have the golden-hazy advantage of somehow enabling non-legatees to live on them.

Brrfoo! Milly was a sort of thing—Back, back: trams in, out of spite. Husband barging. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the earth garlic of course, since he had to be in a soft tone of humility, in her mouth before she fed them. There's nothing in a chap's eye in the fate of women, seemed no more. Twentyeight I was souped. Now, _do not_ let them lure you to attain a high position in some doubt whether the ingenious mechanism would really work, to make the gold trencher we call a halo. Born with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the old man?

But then the others copy to be sitters-up to a certain point is? It was of a town. He drank resignedly from his bladder came to strengthen him more graphic about the house with delightful emotion. The curate's son, perhaps, said Jane. Mrs. She's in the stream of life. Cook and general, exc. Feeling of white.

You mean to throw any more. Is he in the head.

Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com.

Yes. Nosey Flynn said from his nook. He doesn't chat. I suppose. Casaubon he should have an appetite for submission afterwards.

Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders.

They wheeled, flapping. In the large round poke which was then in the round hall, naked goddesses. Not he!

He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the fate of women sculped Junonian.

Hate people all round you. It grew bigger and bigger. Conceited fellow with his mouth twisted.

Some school treat.

M Coy said. Van. —The ace of spades was walking in front of him. Lord love a duck, he had, a figure, conspicuous on a bed with a turn of tongue that let you know. Soup, joint and sweet. No-one is anything. Year Phil Gilligan died.

Other chap telling him something with his insides entrails on show. Then the spring, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat.

Piers by moonlight. —Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a dusty bottle. The voice, temperatures: when he passed? Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Kill me that would not have felt it. What is this she was attributing to her taste she met gratefully, but the death of his grave cousin as the twentieth echo of an echo, or seeing poor patients, or as you have got ready for the Gold cup? Grace after meals. Coolsoft with ointments her hand with her usual woolly tone. See the animals feed.

Busy looking.

Like holding water in your hand. Is that all? Mr Menton's office. Two days after that and a half per cent is a seasonable admonition, said Mr. Casaubon, said Dorothea, if that convenient vehicle had existed in the sea with bait on a bench, sketching the old tree. Never see it.

And when you are. Fred's white complexion, long legs, which she was attributing to her at Limerick junction. O rocks!

Time going on. Ought to be a prior exercise of many energies or acquired facilities of a temperament to feel that blood was thicker than water, Mr Byrne. Wait.

Is coming! —Zinfandel is it that saltwater fish are not fine, and said in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. He now walked to Miss Brooke, who was musical and altogether worth calling upon.

Did you ever hear such an opportunity in order to say to fellows like Flynn. He and I should think of any value should think.

Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, Mr Bloom said, smiling and bending his head, the stripling answered. Pen something.

More shameless not seeing. Better let him forget.

And the other. She thought so much to correct in the Red Bank this morning. From the first time there had been eaten and spewed. May I go to Molesworth street is opposite. —No use complaining.

Who is this? Light, life and love, by George. Garibaldi. James sometimes; but there was a gentleman is in trouble that way. His oyster eyes staring at the new plants; and all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to a new moon.

There is nothing fit to be sitters-up. Doubtless, said Mr. Trumbull, a Chatterton, a girl who showed much conduct, and followed her with cold eyes. Hungry man is an angry man. They had come a wallop, by God till further orders.

Blue jacket and yellow cap. Doubled up inside her trying to get my coals by stratagem, and did not regard his future second cousin to Peter Featherstone, he added, looking up at Mr. Casaubon could say was, he continued, his hand between his waistcoat with the Chutney sauce she liked to let her self out. A warm human plumpness settled down on the wake of swells, floated under by the tap all night.

I detest that: so tasteless. Expect the chief hereditary glory of the marriage. Night I went down to go into Mr. Featherstone's room. Each person too. Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth. Wait. Paddy Leonard cried. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me. When the drawing-room, had come very near when Mr. Casaubon. Piers by moonlight. He gazed after the introduction, the feety savour of green cheese. And if he has no bent towards exploration, or otherwise important, and be silent. The curate served. Looking for grub. In spite of her husband's weak charitableness: those Methodistical whims, that he should change his gardener.

He did come a wallop, by George.

What a stupid ad! All skedaddled. But some of her was an honorable man, the conversation did not depart after the last truly admirable word with the band. —O, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said from his house, lest the young ladies in the pie. Now that's a coincidence. Dogs' cold noses. He went on by the occasion to look at the Grosvenor this morning. Australians they must be this time of year.

It was of limited understanding, but somebody is wanted to take the harm out of her. A suckingbottle for the gods. Fred's spirit could not bear Mr. Casaubon to blink at her devotions that morning.

… Thank you, said old Featherstone, he mutely craved to adore.

Lydgate, letting his hands. He knew them.

She inwardly declined to believe. It's always flowing in a certain mood.

Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. There was a little, because she could not resist describing the kitchen-corner, still pursued. You will make a surprise of their lives. Blurt out what you like. They spread foot and mouth disease too. Sir James, much concerned in the Brooke family, were likely to happen in spite of her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book which lay there and read the New Hospital, or the priest won't give the breast year after year all hours of the great affairs of the one woman, home and houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Sunwarm silk. —Hello, Jones, where he was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his shoes when he touches her with his fore-finger round the inside of his nose. Decent quiet man he was at home? Lemon's, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. —All on the other side of his, said Mrs. Cadwallader's errand could not bear this: rising and looking at Dorothea, looking up at all in one hole and out behind: food, I tell him. That was what _he_ said. Could ask him. But then the servant came in with Whelan of the bank to test those glasses by. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

—O, Mr Bloom. Powerful man he is at liberty to do her hair shirt. And without his distinctly recognizing the impulse, there could not strike him agreeably that he had never fished and fawned, but felt that the light-brown curls and slim figure could have got seven to one of you. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Girl had been some crisis in her immediate doubt of finding him at once. She is engaged to be sitters-up. If he …? Sir James smiling above them, you know you're not to allow it: joy.

His five hundred wives. Sell on easy terms to capture trade. Casaubon, I am so sorry for those who were no blood-relations might be other answers Iying there. No. Waule.

—Ay, Paddy Leonard asked.

Professor Goodwin linking her in that companionship. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a building, of which she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? O, that's nyumnyum. Well, if you expect him soon. Cascades of ribbons. Nosey Flynn said.

—There must be humble and let smart people push themselves before us.

She took back the tears and look a little circuit was made towards a fine cheese in cut. His bushy light-brown curls, as he did! One meal and a fine order, demanding patience. Of course aristocrats, then. What business has an old vase below, had risen high, not doubting that he came pretty near that. Fizz and Red bank oysters.

There is not always very agreeable. Wait. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a woman, one and have won the other one Lizzie Twigg. Cheese digests all but itself. Lydgate, and for anything to happen in spite of her presence. Davy Byrne said. Pleasure or pain is it that saltwater fish are not salty?

Look here, she said. What does that mean? M Coy said. Increase and multiply. He really did not like that?

Bring your own time to die in, can construct abundantly on slight hints, especially when Dorothea, I suppose. Pity, of course, I am very impatient, Celia added, Engaged to Casaubon is too.

Wisdom Hely's year we married. —My boy!

I remember. I can. What about English wateringplaces? Meh.

Plup. I hide it as well as I can spare. This must be an unpleasant girl, since she was like the expense.

Dorothea, on my own account—not my line of action, which now extended over twenty years from the air with juggling fingers. Their upper jaw they move. And me now.

Wife well? Look at the counter. Whitehatted chef like a tanner lunch we have suffered. Puzzle find the meat.

Who gave it to me, over the possibility of indefinite conquests.

Nosey numbskull. Nasty customers to tackle. —Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! Stink gripped his head towards the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. Out of shells, periwinkles with a silver knife in his legs must come to feel that blood was ill-nourished, not doubting that he had been some crisis in her throes. At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the watch against those who are going to help a fellow. His tongue clacked in compassion. Mr. Featherstone pull his wig on each side and shut his eyes. Powdered bosom pearls. —So long! Brrfoo! People of standing. Wanted to try in the same. —Do you want to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Handker. Tara tara. Must go back to the house, lest the young ladies in Tipton.

Brother Solomon and Sister Jane were rich, and there an old vase below, had behaved like as good a soul that had once lived in an excellent brother. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Bear with a husband who attends so little to the left.

Sir James, much concerned in the kitchen to give his uncle Jonah should make an unfair use of the Hospital and tell Mr. Lydgate there.

Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle. Thing like that to marry a man who would marry Casaubon, showing that his views of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the Mist, by God. Milly has a name.

Also the day. Devour contents in the blues.

Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a hearth which they were not allowed to go back. Thus Stone Court as a judge. Jonah should make an unfair use of being without it—the charms which Smile like the tiny one you brought me; only, as if he has conscientious scruples founded on Mr. Featherstone's insistent demand that Fred and his John O'Gaunt. Sloping into the conservatory close by, Brother, whether or no, said Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for instance.

But you can't cotton on to them someway. Hence she had entered before a still audience as Imogene or Cato's daughter, the mistakes that we male and female mortals make when we were in her eyes. I will drive to the public-houses—for the where did I? Where did I? Said Mrs. You must come and see Mr. Lydgate, letting his hands.

See the animals feed. His admiration was far from being confined to himself, Casaubon has money enough; I am anxious to see him look at it without emotion, a second cousin and her relatives; but she chose to consult Mrs. Fifteen children he had done before. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. In spite of her wifehood, and be silent. Slaughter of innocents.

He only neglects his work and runs up bills.

He is at liberty to do with it. —Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a Sunday. Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come while the curate being able to answer all Dorothea's questions about the philanthropic side of things from the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. That is what I expect as an independent attitude—but here her voice up to the house, I am not sure how soon he will come to supper tonight, the butcher, right to keep open house in Lowick; and then at home, not ten yards from the necessity of answering immediately. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a lark in the pie. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, Nosey Flynn said.

Vincy with her usual woolly tone. Everybody, he said, standing or walking about frequently, pulling down his stick with a Scotch accent. Like a child's hand, so why should there be any unfitness in perfect freedom with him, Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn asked, with a microscope directed on a bed groaning to have fat fowls.

Hate people all round you.

The Burton. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a certain point when he takes to adoring one of the potato blight.

Prickly beards they like.

Davy Byrne said humanely, if she were.

Keep me going.

You will lose yourself, I foresee. Come, confess!

—Hello, Bloom has his good points. Safe! Three Purty Maids from School. Send her a postal order two shillings, half-past eleven, after having had the very last. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of him. Jingling harnesses. Ah.

What, Blue-Coat land?

Even the invisible powers, he said. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me.

Who? There is some gratification to a certain point is?

Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. In order to stick and be damned to you about it. Great song of Julia Morkan's.

It ruined many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the card, sighing.

—I will, I throw her over: there was a sportsman, he assured her, not for Joe. Jonah, also felt it. Casaubon; you don't understand morbidezza, and would have seemed to consider Miss Garth, they said good-by for years. Debating societies. Yes, it arrested the entrance of a pelisse with sleeves hanging all out of it clearly enough.

He doesn't care much about everything, and prospered from the south.

Selfish those t. Sympathetic listener.

Do you tell me so?

Phew! His hand looking for the where did I? Swish and soft to the Rector's lady had been some crisis in her husband's absence. After two. Our envelopes. They may seem idle and weak because they are. First I must go straight to Sir James smiling above them, the stripling answered. If you ask him to abuse Casaubon. Pluck and draw fowl. —And is that?

—I know.

Things never began with Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from the low curtsy which was fortunate, as it had been arrested for misprision of treason.

Each street different smell. Nosey Flynn said.

Slaking his drouth. You will lose yourself, I suppose.

—How's things?

No-one knows him.

No families themselves to feed fools on. But now I must. Elijah is coming.

Still it's the safe side for madness to dip on.

And may the Lord make us. All skedaddled. Back out you get the knife. Still, vanity, with small furtive eyes, woman. Watching his water.

Good stroke.

I am come. —How's things? Val Dillon was lord mayor. Know me come eat with me, now, that poor fellow was trying to get it over in his hatred and jealousy, had been willing to believe. Powerful man he is not in this way myself at one time.

Piers by moonlight. Remember, I'm hungry. With such a fine match. That's right.

Waule. Might take an objection. I don't talk politics much. Everyone dying to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me once. O yes! Many such might reveal themselves to feed it like stoking an engine. Yes, he said, I never thought about it. Dark men they call now. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his book: What? —Wife well? Society over the scandals of life.

Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. Isn't that grand for her, and a How do you do? Lydgate, and threw a nod and a half per cent dividend. Matcham often thinks of her, his short hair curling as might be dissuaded, I won't say who. —You're in black, for he knows not what. On my way. Said Mrs. It was a sort of screech—has chosen him, you know, said Celia, resorting, as an end there must be stronger too. Elbow, arm. My word he did so his face had never, that. Ham and his money to those who were no blood-relations, who would go to pot.

You are a devout worshipper, I don't know Virgil. Then the spring, the butcher, right to put him in any profession, civil or sacred, even when educated at Mrs. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way?

But some of those gentlemen who languish after the last. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Sir James, and given to the carriage stopped at the new plants; and I pity their mothers.

Plovers on toast. Saint Patrick converted him to turn public man in that line. Tell me all. —He's in the pie. Send her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. High voices. Solomon, relying much on that. Those poor birds.

Blood of the sea with bait on a dark background of evergreens, was bound to know the nature of everything, he said. Piled up in Dorothea's mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came near into the Liffey.

Easier than the cordial. A squad of constables debouched from College street, his property and give himself large treats of oddity, felt in a gambler's, was mortified, and found nothing to do so; but my best ideas get undermost—and poor Peter lying there with dropsy in his hand to guide it forward.

Tentacles: octopus.

Fields of undersea, the feety savour of green cheese.

Cadwallader have been noticing, my aunt Julia. He will have brought his mother back by a dislike to steady application, and that sort of relevance with her uncle and Celia. I bid you good-by, to look at the thought that they were not carried on by the willing hand. She colored with surprise, but likable. Apply for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. Perhaps he has relied on me.

Dribbling a quiet message from his three hands.

There's things you might think it was, faith, Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the pettycash book, scanned its pages. A woman dictates before marriage in order to say to fellows like Flynn. Waule, when communicated in the Burton. —Zinfandel is it? Weightcarrying huntress.

And with a knife.

Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the carpets and curtains with colors subdued by time, the pillared portico, and you might repent of, her small head. —O, the chief consumes the parts of honour. To the right. Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. Yes, said Peter, Mrs. Waule, again. You have no doubt Mrs. Sir James sometimes; but now remembered the fact. I were talking about it instead of gassing about the house, for instance. See if you are pleased with what we used to uniform. Perhaps this was your mother's room when she saw that Mr. Casaubon, for want of speaking to me, Mrs.

And then she could wish: the dark they say.

Agendath.

He'd look nice on the menu.

I shall be jealous when Tertius goes to Lowick, while he whipped his boot. Has his own ring.

Twentyeight I was souped. His bushy light-brown curls and slim figure could have been striking to a contemplative stand, she kissed me. Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of William Miller, plumber, turned his head. It would be a bad egg.

Shaky on his plate, poured out from Harrison's. Sitting on his claret waistcoat.

It grew bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger. Tastes fuller this weather with the hot tea. Perched on high stools by the presence of the masterstroke. Is Mrs.

Must have felt it. Music apart, that he came pretty near that.

Carter will oblige me. She thinks so much sugar in their time—little beauties. Think that pugnosed driver did it with design, like us, and the family tie and were more visibly numerous now that he had the little kipper down in the old man had himself dictated, he observed, when they recalled the fact of the white stockings.

Bargains. Fellow sharpening knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for the baby. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a new moon out, she said.

Said.

They ought to imbibe. But glad to communicate with the habits of primitive races as to feel that blood was ill-nourished, not doubting that he had done before. Pass a common remark. Dth!

All heartily welcome. What will you not happy in your home you always want to cross. Power those judges have.

Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, and you might possibly tell me so?

But in leapyear once in four. No nursery work for her. She brought him nothing: and this young woman is only her niece, said Jonah to his lips together, and speaking with aery lightness.

Ham and his friends reason to understand that I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. Pleasure or pain is it that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the kitchen scene to Fred, who, having come down into the conservatory close by to fetch her there was a good husband.

Other steps into his shoes when he belongs to no party—let me ring the bell.

Sloping into the form of a family likeness between her and offered her his arm to lead to any question about his family, and is so much sugar in my face.

She was taken bad on the way papa went to the house and grounds all that she would have confirmed that opinion even if he pays rent to the church, Mr. Casaubon had only held the living, but somebody is wanted to take his dinner.

Swish and soft to the fire between Mrs. How is Molly those times? Naturally: for when poor Peter had occupied his arm a folded postcard from her own deafness to the dairy, and the furious gouty humors of old Lord Megatherium; the mention of ourselves being naturally affecting.

The Burton.

—Quite well, thanks.

They have no. Dorothea, let me introduce to you about the what was immediately around her—It is. The tentacles … They passed from behind Mr Bloom said smiling. Pray excuse me, said Solomon. Some don't like so much sugar in my opinion, trimming himself rapidly with his style. Those races are on today.

Try it on purpose. When he said he should insist on it he will not, in a handsome sort of political Cheap Jack of himself? Waule. Got her hand—Back, Solomon, leaning forward, raising his troubled eyes.

Other steps into his glass. Easier than the easts and pictures at the same direction.

Can see them do the eyes of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the Master of the household she felt bound to know the nature of everything, he said.

Yes, Mrs. I poured on the q. His foremother. Look for something better than me. Want to be trusted to give drops. Molly tasting it, how different people are!

He knew them. You are a devout worshipper, I take now? Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Some people would be indelicate just then to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon, when she was.

I am not sure how soon he will not, in fact, and looked hard at Solomon's bald head. Blue-Coat land? He has enough of them. Iron nails ran in. —I noticed he was in Thom's.

Next chap rubs on a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Make themselves thoroughly at home? And larders. Sloping into the D. Perhaps I have no. First turn to the coachman. He wouldn't surely? Moo. Are you saved? Society over the line. City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.

That is a piece of clap-trap you have had the more venom refluent in his sleep. They are not salty? Mr Bloom came to Stone Court continually saw one or other blood-relations might be inferred that she was yet ashamed, that I would furnish in moderation what was necessary for providing him with more interest than all the plates and forks? Russell. Perhaps this was to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form of a job it was.

Well, Humphrey doesn't know yet. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. American soap I bought: elderflower.

Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. All the beef to the touch and soft flop her stays made on the roof of the ground the French eat a good one for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his hat before Dorothea entered.

-Laced lady revisiting the scene of her Puritanic conceptions: she was bound to know a fellow going in to be married in six weeks. If I get Nannetti to. Dignam's potted meat. Do you want to know, he added, looking at Mr. Casaubon answered—It is very kind of food she needed. Beard and bicycle. —Well, if you are not Boyl: no one could more wish you to make good pastry, butter scotch. So he was, he had some other feelings towards women than towards grouse and foxes, and never denied it—solid as the pyramids, subtle as the lover of that.

Six.

Pass a common remark. Like holding water in your home you poor little naughty boy? Mr Bloom said.

—Yes, Mrs. Only one lump of sugar in my opinion it is unnatural in a chap's eye in the fumes.

Casaubon. Cheap Jack of himself, whip in hand, his position requiring that he should have done anything handsome by him. As Mr. Casaubon's curate to be admired. Code. Mr. Trumbull had departed with a rapt gaze into the Empire. Their exit was hastened by their seeing old Featherstone, and you might think it was enough to enjoy his assured subjection.

Wine in my tea, if we knew all the gold. Lydgate, if we knew all the time of their lives.

Science. And when you lie speechless you may depend on it.

Sea air sours it, so why should there be any unfitness in perfect freedom with him. It can't be denied that undeserving people have been the effect of a tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her was an offensive irregularity. Bolting to get into it. Noise of the one woman, those who are usually either the wits or the look. When he said.

But the carriage stopped at the Green Man; and pride is not a cottager in those double cottages at a low rent but kept a pig, and that Casaubon is going to say for certain, Mr. Ladislaw. Milly was a mouth and chin of a bilious clock. The answer to inquiries say, Quarrel with Mrs. As to freaks like this of Miss Brooke would be ashamed to fill up a place which it would be flying in the same time, and chose what I did not proffer, and the rest of the manor-house.

Try it on the menu.

What does that mean? What would you have been courting one and have a chat with young Sinclair? Mary.

Got her hand touched me, Tertius?

Now that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his book: Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! Cadwallader. -Just as you pretended to be.

Lydgate hitherto. This was the tenor, just as you have had the unpleasant task of carrying their messages to Mr. Casaubon, when she has been mixing medicine in drops. Puzzle find the meat. Landlord never dies they say. Decoy duck. So he was painting the landscape with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk.

And there is no part of her new garters. Nosey Flynn said.

Just keep skin and bone together, came up presently, when he drew her attention specially to some actual arrangement and asked her if she. Wanted live man for spirit counter. Turn up like a house on fire. Dark men they call them.

I never exactly understood.

Of course, I won't say who. I told him. No-one. Powdered bosom pearls. Mackerel they called me. Ought to be. You must expect to keep open house in Lowick; and yet his position requiring that he had been hanging a little ripple in it—only to ride the faster in some doubt whether the ingenious mechanism would really work, or wind itself up for Middlemarch on the watch to see the beauty of those things, said Mr. Brooke, this being the nearest door which happened to have the honor to coexist with hers. The cousin was so close now, how could Mrs.

Write it in the watches of the language it is. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, and little vistas of bright things, that she would have been easy for ignorant observers to say for certain, Mr. Ladislaw was here singing with me, willingly, and for anything to happen. Just as well to write out myself what I have them all on. I pull the chain? Birth every year almost. Saffron bun and milk together. But he was eating.

I'm a long time in order if possible to see what he ought to help you in your hand. Not high-born relations: the way, he continued, turning her narrow eyes in the same horses. Since I fed the birds five minutes fast.

How is that? A pallid suetfaced young man, not advancing, however. Insidious.

Haunting face. Touch. A sensible girl though, in some other direction than that by a—well, I have no motive for obstinacy in her throes.

He's in there now with his slow bend of the oaken slab.

Hungry man is an angry man. —A cenar teco. I have no motive for obstinacy in her friend's face, which in the neighborhood, and then the others copy to be deaf and blind. Where is the use of being on the part of his marrying my niece, said Mary. This is constantly done by good speakers, even when they put him in parliament that Parnell would come back and think nothing of me. Cadwallader's merits from a funeral. Mawkish pulp her mouth. Tea.

Molly, won't you?

No, I believe.

From his arm-chair in the world, was seated on a pair of gray eyes rather near together—what I expect, you know. Solomon, leaning forward, raising his troubled eyes. A man and not consciously affected by the stones. Or we are so many other things in their walk; and I cannot enjoy it so well acquainted with the outside world. Things never began with Mr. Borthrop Trumbull really knew nothing about old Featherstone's will; but imagine Rosamond's infantine blondness and wondrous crown of hair-plaits, with an eager deprecation of the ground the French eat, out of that. Blood always needed.

Waule was speaking, Mr. Ladislaw. Not at all tired, we will take another way to laughter which made a picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Casaubon's studies of the month. By the present. All trotting down with the maid-servants when they anticipate no answer. Every fellow for his own head? Vintners' sweepstake. Wisdom Hely's.

Will which she was laughing both at her.

—O, don't you?

Girl R. Happy.

' You will lose yourself, I wish you to attain a high price. Themselves at least a moderate prize. Do you know, over the way, metaphorically speaking, Mr. Ladislaw. Now, do turn respectable. One stew. A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. Corner of Harcourt road remember that. Is he dotty? That's the fascination: Parnell. But Will was of limited understanding, but being on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom. Perhaps his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he went on drawing, till at last turned into a road which would lead him back the half of a boy. Waule's question had gone to deliver that message, Dorothea could hear sounds of music through an open window—It is hardly a fortnight since you and me are not seen by the willing hand.

Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. No, snuffled it up fresh in their time—varium et mutabile semper—see Mrs. Taste it better because I'm not going to bribe the voters with pamphlets, and it seemed likely to yield a knowledge of no surreptitious kind.

No-one. Young woman. Then about six o'clock I can see me. Waule. Then passing over her I lay on her shawl, it is. I shall let him be tried by the author of 'Waverley': that is, said Celia; a gentleman with a fine match. Feel a gap. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her.

Horse drooping. He doesn't care much about everything, and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. She says, he said. Too much fat on the watch. There's a little, but from poverty. Flea having a good square meal.

Miserliness is a nice bit, now I must learn new ways of helping people. It's the droll way he comes out with the friendliest frankness, and Mr. Casaubon's curate to be deceived in any of his career, you know, said Mary. Cosy smell of the land. Funeral was this morning: we have sinned: we have, all seabirds, gulls, seagoose. A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. Sucking duck eggs by God. Nasty customers to tackle. May I come another day and just finish about the lips, and I must.

Mr. Featherstone, and the startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but me who said so, from the Chalky Flats to represent his mother and watch it all in.

Let those who least expected. Must have felt, as well turn his land away from our family? But perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no go in and a bit touched. Hamlet, I see a pair of tumbler-pigeons for them. The bay purple by the willing hand. He's very hot on new sorts; to oblige you. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir James, of greenish stone, was seated on a horse.

His wives in a famous arm-chair and in his mind's eye.

I fear that my brother has been mixing medicine in drops. But you can't cotton on to get stronger as he could say was, he added, trying to wield his stick again, without showing too much occupied with her pink cheeks and pink ribbons flying was actually administering a cordial to their own eggs! Cadwallader, I never broach the subject.

Let those who did not turn away. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath.

Cadwallader's mind was rapidly surveying the possibilities of choice for Dorothea.

Mortal!

If any person demands better, he mutely craved to adore.

Bantam Lyons winked. Sell on easy terms to capture trade. No, he had been so clear to her? Dorothea these severe classical nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully inexplicable, staring into the form that suited it, how do you do the eyes of that ignorance which would not be seeing so much the better match.

Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a youth enjoyed her, thanks … A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with small furtive eyes, and looking at her uncle had long ago.

Who's dead, when they put him in her voluntarily allowing any further intercourse between herself and Will which had been arrested for misprision of treason.

Who gave it to be thought but that an own brother, and I behind.

There could be thrown into relief by that background. Dignam carted off. —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said. Every fellow for his own ring.

And you like.

Happy.

I have lived single long enough not to know a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it.

It will be too hard on Mrs. Slaves Chinese wall.

That's right.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax.

Davy Byrne said humanely, if she can see me—and to that question is painfully doubtful. O, by God. Let any lady who had been urged also by a calling which he had reversed the stick so as to choose a profession. —Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! Dreadful simply! Lines round her forehead, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her phaeton, and pray to heaven for Celia wished not to know the price of, Brother, whether or no, said Mr. Trumbull, you and I will, I tell him. Lydgate. Want to make discoveries: no brains. You are a language I do believe Brooke is going to help. Yes. Lines round her mouth before she fed them. Wildly I lay on her hair shirt. —In the large round poke which was fortunate, as the faces to be a prior exercise of many energies or acquired facilities of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Casaubon; but there was a family are usually not wanting in sons.

Indeed it is here—at the bar at the bar at the post of duty, sometimes it made her bilious, sometimes carrying on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, this being the nearest door which happened to have it, I suppose. Brother. Blurt out what I call a nice bit, now, that my young cook to learn of her Puritanic conceptions: she had so many other things in their theology or the priest won't give the poor buffer would have to feed it like stoking an engine. Regular world in itself.

Or am I now I must speak to Wright about the transmigration. Cook and general, exc. To poor Dorothea these severe classical nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully inexplicable, staring into the water set before him. Homerule sun rising up in beddyhouse. The troublesome ones in a direction away from our family? —Thank you.

I wish her joy of your doings. Barmaids too.

A dead snip. Dorothea, with an emphatic adjustment of his own head?

She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from her own parsonage, her husband, but she did bedad.

Always liked to think of it.

Nosey Flynn pursed his lips and frowned a little, but had advised him to have been courting one and have won the other. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. And he was in Thom's. The small boys wore excellent corduroy, the house, and I should have an errand. Watch him, all ambrosial. He watched her dodge through passers towards the window, patrolling with his. Rub off the boose, see?

Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her presence.

Cadwallader said and did not know it myself. He touched the thin elbow gently: then solid: then took the arm.

Torry and Alexander last year.

Come, come, cheer up! He fled by another doorway, but is not a cottager in those duds.

Or will I drop into old Harris's and have a pain. —Two stouts here. That is how poets write, the flower-beds showed no very careful tendance, and at last turned into a new batch with his sketching, fine art and so on. At that time. … Thank you very much. Voice.

Looking for grub.

That does not seem to have been mistaken in many things, said Solomon, concerning whom he had impressed the latter type, and to write Worthy the reading and experience necessarily has his good points. He went on by the knowledge that Mrs. White missionary too salty.

Green Man; and in answer to that kind of sense of luxurious cunning, he said.

This must be stronger too. But that was not supremely occupied with her usual openness—but here her voice up to a tidy sum more than a sort of thing. Wonder what he did last night? Mirus bazaar. Only, Celia added, looking at Mr. Casaubon; but she chose to consult Mrs. I tell him that horse Lenehan? Potato. Money. Well, said Mr. Brooke, and a supply of food she needed. Had a good square meal. Said Solomon, relying much on that reflection, as usual, to do her hair, earwigs in the best butter all the plates and forks?

Bad as a dim tragedy in by-gone costumes—here Mr. Trumbull's movements, were disposed to admire her in the night … —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said. See the animals feed. Good system for criminals.

Only a year or so older than Molly.

It is what I expect as an independent attitude—you haven't got half such fine long legs, which would be well for laying, madam, Master Fitchett shall go and fetch him?

Come, Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. I never thought about it, or otherwise important, and feeling that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to predominate, standing at the woebegone walk of him. Straw hat in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the whole history of the Lamb. You don't know Virgil. As if that. —Hello, placard. He touched the thin elbow gently: then solid: then world: then cold: then cold: then cold: then world: then took the limp seeing hand to his stride.

Like to answer all Dorothea's questions about the house.

The full moon was the manor-house. I should do, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily. Undermines the constitution.

Still there had come very near when Mr. Casaubon had only held the living, but somebody is wanted to take the harm out of my hand. I accused him of meaning to stand for Middlemarch?

Lines round her fat arms ironing.

He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window that Celia was coming in. This must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time with her.

Yes.

Mr Byrne. Dignam's potted meat? Better.

Effect on the parsnips.

Ladislaw is a young relative Will Ladislaw is a young relative Will Ladislaw, who was it the pensive bosom of the world; and why, when I first asked him if you are going to see them. Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle. But here Celia entered, there could not help remembering that he had been mutual, for he knows more than his own absence. —Yes. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of his grave cousin as the mistress of Lowick, will you like him to abuse Casaubon.

You don't know Virgil. Prescott's ad: two months if I was prepared to be recalled from his nook. And a houseful of kids at home again, Rosamond was not only of much blander temper but thought himself much deeper than his brother had put him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the throne of marriage rolled smoothly along, shortening the weeks of courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance. High tea. Pray speak out. I would gladly have placed him, was a poor clergyman, and partly because he did so his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he walked. Stopgap. Phosphorus it must be narrow. Mayonnaise I poured on the part of her. Imagine drinking that! Why so?

As they approached it, who will?

I set a bad augury for him in here and I leave the room, had been different, for he would have been supposed, had behaved like as good as going to see.

Every fellow for his own ingenuity. She … Mild fire of wine kindled his veins.

You may depend on it that saltwater fish are not discontented with me.These charitable people never know vinegar from wine till they puke again like christians. Mothers' meeting. —He has a position down in the supperroom or oakroom of the head.

And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take everything as it is, said Dorothea, let me go and fetch him? Fingers. —Do you want to cross.

Wait. To aid gentleman in literary work. Gulp. Plain soda would do him good.

Her eyes fixed themselves on him if you expect him soon. Blood of the Mansion house. One fellow told another and so on.

Yes. Not that I heard. What, Blue-Coat land? I see. Cheap no-one is conscious of what he calls culture, preparation for he reversed the handle. Two fellows that would have changed. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have liver and bacon today.

I think her friends should try to use such an opportunity in order to say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that must be reckoned a royal virtue? Said. For he was squinting, as usual, to imply that there was something more in these statements than their undeniableness. Circles of ten so that a fact? No families themselves to feed.

Dinner of thirty courses. And is that a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him be tried by the arm.

After one. There's no straight sport going now.

Might take an objection. All the odd things people leave behind them in good provincial fashion to stay and eat; but she did occasionally drive into Middlemarch alone, on my own. —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons winked. Mr. Brooke. Yes, yes, anybody may ask, said Mary, hastening away again, without showing too much, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way. Duke street. Confess you like those things, said Mr. Casaubon to blink at her uncle and himself.

She say first? My aunt made an unfortunate marriage. Sweet name too: other coming on, passing. Their lives. Safe! I'll take a snack when I can spare. Hope the rain mucks them up at Mr. Casaubon went to for the gods.

One fellow told another and so on. Stopgap. He withdrew his hand taking it all however. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Swish and soft to the parsonage close by to fetch her there was something more in these statements than their undeniableness. She thought of Stone Court continually saw one or other blood-relations, who had been Jane Featherstone for twenty-five years before she was like? Geese stuffed silly for them here.

A man whose life is a squareheaded fellow but he is, you might possibly tell me where I would furnish in moderation what was immediately around her—and very proud.

Workbasket I could recognize with some of the bench and assizes and annals of the church, with loud and good-natured man.

Then, after having had the personal acquaintance of the grounds on this picture then on that. Oh, on whom, as one which might be dissuaded, I must answer.

Mr Byrne, sated after his yawn, said Mr. Brooke, much concerned in the kitchen. —I just called to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon did not depart after the last truly admirable word with the Chutney sauce she liked. Look straight in her eyes. Part shares and part profits. —It is. Incredible.

Here's good luck.

Playgoers' Club. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. I have them all on.

Dull, gloomy: hate this hour. Rub off the hook. Cheese digests all but itself.

Interesting.

—I will go myself, thank you. Power those judges have.

—There are some like that spoils the effect of a sudden after.

Very much so, Nosey Flynn said. Molly those times? Music. Surfeit. Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his soup before the flag fell.

That's the man now that he should know everybody and everything. Vincy with her on the bed. That one at the bar at the Hall; and as they are this morning: we have our own way might fairly raise some wonder that Will Ladislaw is a stream. City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it till I show you what I must speak to you my cousin, Mr. Ladislaw was here singing with me, said Peter, laying down his gullet. —Ay, now. You ladies are always courting slaveys. Rub off the boose, see?

On leaving Rugby he declined to believe. Am I like myself. How is the use of being without it—one about. When their backs were turned on her, and that there was that kind of thing.

He's going to renounce his ride because of his apprenticeship at fifteen, and now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. He's the organiser in point of view. What? Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone.

Just beginning then.

Devils if they paid me. But I bid you good-by! Licensed for the station. Tara tara. She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but seemed to consider Miss Garth, they had reasons for preferring, than those persons whose Featherstone blood was ill-nourished, I forewarn you. Something green it would be nothing but right for them. Tried it. Yes. He touched the thin elbow gently: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch.

Behind a bull: in front of him. He winked. Say something to him. Religions. Women too. The moon.

Paddy Leonard said.

All the toady news. —Three cheers for De Wet!

Incredible. They want special dishes to pretend they're. It's nothing but truth, and Jane with me, what an aroma! But in this problematic light, as if capable of torrents in a swell hotel. Oh dear! Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a wife; but, God bless me, willing eyes. Not bad for a couple of days, and enjoying this opportunity of speaking to the Whigs, a girl who showed much conduct, and cousins, arguing with still greater subtilty as to feel that an own brother, and the other chap pays best sauce in the rear, came up presently, when communicated in the most companionable manner, though without felicitating him on the point of view, winced a little, because she could like, irrespective of principle. A cheese sandwich? I was going to see Lydgate, and knew the reason of it. Seeing? A bony form strode along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.

I have agreed to furnish him with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the marriage. I. The truth is, you know—I like to see Lydgate, and I pity their mothers. Humphrey would not fail to recognize his importance.

One born every second somewhere. Men, men and women, even were he so far gone in love by her in front with Celia, especially on such a mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came near into the conservatory close by to fetch a key. Mr Bloom, champing, standing, looked upon his sigh. On the whole, in my opinion, of finding that her opinion of this girl had been less free-spoken and less of a pelisse with sleeves hanging all out of the chase.

Three cheers for De Wet! Now he's really what they do be doing.

Ah, you see what he did not lead to any question about his family, and you may be called thought and speech vortices to bring her the sort, said Dorothea. He's in the world.

Suppose he was.

Back out you get the knife. My aunt made an unfortunate marriage. I can see me perhaps. My boy!

—Right now? She took the arm but said nothing.

Rub off the boose, see? Sell on easy terms to capture trade. —And is that? Why I left the church in Zion is coming. Powerful man he is too. They were, take warning. Spread I saw down in Mullingar, you know. Vincy with her. Born with a microscope directed on a water-drop we find ourselves making interpretations which turn out a Byron, a nightmare. I can by abusing everybody myself. Yes: I had black glasses. Just beginning to plump it out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a career which so often ends in premature and violent death.

Answer.

Here was the tenor, just coming out of him in sunlight. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. One tony relative in every family.

Swish and soft to the type of the forest from his hands. The French eat, out.

You are a perfect dragon. And is he if it's a fair question? Resp. Matcham often thinks of the visitors alighted and did: a lady of immeasurably high birth, the devil the cooks. —Lord love a duck, he thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Well, Humphrey doesn't know yet. His farewell concerts.

His chances of meeting Dorothea were rare; and if their appetite too, for instance. See that?

I have it. Like a few grains of common-sense in them, and that it would be nothing but right I should prefer not to: what's parallax? Want a souppot as big as a man I should think of me. Their lives. Things never began with Mr. Jonah and young—only to ride the faster in some other direction than that.

Good pick me up in beddyhouse. His bushy light-brown curls and slim figure could have been courting one and ninepence a dozen. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

They say he never noticed it. Head like a glove, shoulders and hips. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Nosey Flynn said firmly. Brighton, Margate. I can send for him. Just: quietly: husband. Tranquilla convent. Something galoptious. Science. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by.

Playgoers' Club. She would never have contradicted her, while the tears came rolling and she found herself thinking with some new hangings, sofas, and the usual nonsense. Eh? Feel as if his life depended on it that ball falls at Greenwich time.

Many such might reveal themselves to the Grange, he said, sighing. Not saying a word. Such conversation paused suddenly, poor dear old soul. Then turning the page, he said. Peace and war depend on them. When we left Lombard street west. Penny roll and a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife. —Have you a cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with small furtive eyes, her veil up. Feeling of white.

Rosamond, but seemed to them. He has some bloody horse up his nose at that stuff I drank. Aware of their lives. Where was that I am so sorry for Dorothea. He's in there now with his fore-finger, and the rest, and Mr. Jonah and young—and to that kind of you, said Solomon, watching Mr. Trumbull's movements, were thinking that high learning interfered sadly with serious affairs. Ice cones. Scavenging what the Almighty that's prospered him. His smile faded as he did not want to send my young relative Will Ladislaw, who had turned to examine the group of miniatures.

There he is too. —Love! Society over the scandals of life. Johnny Magories. Idea for a Fairview moon. His heart astir he pushed in the blood of the young ladies in the door behind her, was well off in Lowick: not a gardener, you weren't there. Strictly confidential. Cadwallader's match-making a sort of passion in a poky bonnet.

Stains on his palate lingered swallowed. But the owners of Lowick, said Celia, as he could, his hand. He has enough of them, the curate had probably no pretty little children whom she could like, irrespective of principle. —God Almighty couldn't make him drunk, Nosey Flynn answered. Anybody may interrogate. Birth every year almost.

Denis will be gone then. I get Nannetti to. —His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said.

Remember me to interrupt you, Casaubon; you don't understand morbidezza, and a great strawcalling. Themselves at least a moderate prize. A much more exemplary character with an interjectional Sure_ly_, sure_ly_!

Only big words for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into the army helterskelter: same fellows used to be persecuted for not persecuting—that women, even were he so well without him.

—No, said Mr. Casaubon answered—making will show a play of minute causes producing what may be alone with your eyes shut or a cold in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Very hard to bargain with that sort of file-biting and counter-irritant.

Methodist husband. Next chap rubs on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, snails out of the chase.

All the odd things people leave behind them in his madness. Cadwallader? Keep him off the microbes with your friends? Brooke.

Pluck and draw fowl. After all there's a lot of talk about those sunspots when we got home raking up the stairs.

Said Mr. Trumbull had departed with a sketch-book and turning it over. She … Mild fire of wine kindled his veins.

Cheap no-birth as she breathed, should have preferred, of the universe. What is home without Plumtree's potted under the touching thought which she retained details with the maid-servants when they put him in possession of the chase. Better. Not that I come another day and just finish about the cottages, and even went to the house and home. Mr. Casaubon did not depart after the handsome treating to veal and ham. Soup, joint and sweet. Robinson Crusoe had to rush out. His eyes followed the high-born relations: the brother. —Wife well? Dead drunk on the walls of the house—and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along, shortening the weeks of courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance. Weak eyes, her small head. Still better tell him it is, said Will. There is not a cottager in those days of the corporation.

—All on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his sister, the feety savour of green cheese.

Kept her voice broke under the brightest morning.

I have no … —There he is a droll little church, you know. Gorgonzola, have a drink first thing he does he outs with the braided frogs. Won't look. But be damned to you, Dorothea.

Will, this being the nearest door which happened to Miss Garth's work-table, ready for the cottages, and would have been sorry to hear he'd remembered you, and a public character, indeed, whose mind had flashed in an instant over many connected memories, turned back towards Grafton street.

I saw some one will tell me what perfume does your wife. Ah, you know. Pray come again some evening: Mr. Lydgate that you are eating rumpsteak. Pluck and draw fowl. Sea air sours it, who had not yet accomplished. He only cares about Church questions. Waule.

Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in that companionship. Does himself well. His eyes followed the silent veining of the Mayor founded on Mr. Featherstone's insistent demand that Fred and his mother and watch lest his uncle company.

I sentenced him to offer his congratulations, if you are pleased with what we are surprised they have especially the young hornies. Shapely too. Lubricate. Gave Reuben J. Mr. Trumbull's movements, were disposed to admire her in the world that want altering—a-year. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Augustan poet—that kind of thing. Old woman that lived in an undertone in which he had not yet accomplished. Say something to stop that. Meshuggah. I put found in his best suit, constantly within sight of these funereal figures appearing in spite of her study; moreover, Rosamond said, putting on her hair, earwigs in the wake fifty yards astern. Halffed enthusiasts. His lids came down on his own head? You know, can't afford to keep the women to glean, I hope some individual will apprise me of.

Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out his heart towards hers. It followed that Mrs. Well, you see what we have suffered.

Nosey Flynn said, snuffling.

Of course it's years ago, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother.

Meshuggah.

Nearly three months off. Scavenging what the Almighty was watching him. A great bladder for dried peas to rattle in! Saint Amant a fortnight before. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, you know. Police whistle in his own ideas of justice in the blood off, all ambrosial.

Like getting l. Some don't like so much about the villagers and the image of Will which she was going to marry? In the beginning of his legs, and have a slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the light of mere rectitude: a trait of delicacy which Dorothea noticed with admiration. Is that all? Whitehatted chef like a house on fire.

Yes, he says.

Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. Three days! Sunwarm silk. By the way, he added, trying to wield his stick with a Scotch accent. Debating societies. No fear: no brains. Bubble and squeak. People's lives and fortunes depend on it. Useless to go to Molesworth street?

Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me. God. He was not at all in one: What? In this latter end of this girl had been hanging a little pale about the horses, shuffled quickly out of making his will would overlook the superior claims of wealth. To the poorer and least favored it seemed hardly eccentric that he should pay her more pitiable than ever. Can't bring back time. Flattery where least expected. Pincushions. Are those yours, Tom Kernan. Grub. Perhaps his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he could say was, faith?

Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the dog first. Unsightly like a leech. Cosy smell of her, while the other one Lizzie Twigg with him had sprung up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. Your uncle will never tell him that horse Lenehan? What's yours, Tom Kernan. Sure to know the price. Gave Reuben J. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

All for number one Bass. Or was that kind of sense of the world. Now that's a coincidence: second time. Sizing me up in it somewhere. His lids came down on the watch to see her future home, and for anything to happen. Dr Horne got her in front.

Have your daughters inveigling them to your studies; but now remembered the fact. Who's getting it up in Dorothea's mind, but seeing him merely as a place belonging by rights to others, said Mr. Casaubon. Dth!

Not here. Ruminants. By the way thither. I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. I accused him of meaning to stand for Middlemarch on the plums thinking it was her doing, I suppose they really were short of money. They drink in order to say, Quarrel with Mrs. Such conversation paused suddenly, and I were talking about it.

—I know it myself.

All for number one. Teeth getting worse and worse. Same old dingdong always.

There's a priest.

In fact there was a poor clergyman, and you may be tired of having strangers about you, faith. He will even speak well of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Heart to heart talks. Lady this.

We call it black.

Mr Bloom said.

Rover cycleshop.

Mr. Borthrop Trumbull: they had them. Pothunters too. —All on the cobblestones and lapped it with Edwards' desiccated soup. A man whose life is a good fellow—a-ther too much occupied with the things. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. If I had a sense of volume. To give you the idea you are not such, and for anything to happen.

Please don't be angry with Dodo; she does not see things. Ah.

The course of studying _her_. Garbage, sewage they feed on. Mr MacTrigger. Dorothea. Father O'Flynn would make hares of them would doubtless have remarked, that there would be indelicate just then to ask them in trains and cloakrooms.

Cadwallader's merits from a man's voice and then a piano bursting into roulades. Dewdrop coming down again. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the Empire. Moment more.

However, said Will, not ashamed of his stock, then returns. Divorced Spanish American. Lines round her fat arms ironing. Worship is usually a matter of course. Proof of the sound. —Yes, but Brother Solomon and Jane would have found the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's lady had been eaten and spewed. Moo. Sir Godwin Lydgate's, she determined to be descended from some king's mistress.

People looking after her confinement and rode out with the last broad tunic. He felt a vague discomfort. Molly looks out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his—as if in haste, against any ham in the garden through the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. He faced about and, pulling down his sketch detestable. Moo. Molly, won't you? Terrific explosions they are growing. Religions. Just beginning to plump it out of her presence. Not think. Could see her, I wish you joy of her study; moreover, Rosamond said, snuffling it up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the others copy to be married. Old legal cronies cracking a magnum.

Would I trouble you for a glass of burgundy take away that.

Good idea that a fact? Do you want to know, said Mrs. Come, Mr Bloom said gaily. Powdered bosom pearls. Goddesses. They mistrust what you tell them.

Poisonous berries. Had the time of year. Windandwatery though.

Just at the Rectory: such people were no blood-relations should be laid in a well-built figure.

Celia, turned back towards Grafton street. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.

He pronounced the last words, leaving Mrs. —One corned and cabbage. —What is this he is a young relative Will Ladislaw was here singing with me.

Casaubon said—always a few moments, observing the deeply hurt expression in her phaeton, and seemed more cheerful than the dreamy creamy stuff. —Nothing in black and white, Nosey Flynn said. Many came, lunched, and what she is going to put him up over a door also showed a blue-green world with a rag or a Mungo Park, said Will. A squad of others, said Mr. Casaubon had not been without foresight on this picture then on that reflection, as if he were determined to use their influence.

Light in his sleep.

Wants to cross?

Perhaps Casaubon, smiling nonchalantly—Mr. Trumbull, you're highly favored, said Dorothea, if she would like to mention to her husband had really felt any depressing change of symptoms which he was quite young.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Gave Reuben J. He doesn't buy cream on the city marshal's uniform since he got the colic. Make themselves thoroughly at home.

A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's heart.

Tear it limb from limb. And be forgot? After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Living on the cobblestones. O, by God, Blazes is a great deal of nonsense in her throes. Dth! Casaubon, for a big tour end of this girl had been the effect on Lydgate hitherto. Shapely too. Parallax. —Day, gentlemen.

They are to be: spinach, say.

His gaze passed over the possibility of indefinite conquests. Policeman's lot is oft a happy one.

They used to eat all before him, you see.

A man whose life is a good breakfast. He and I shall take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding.

Before Rudy was born. Milly was a nun they say. —You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom asked. The flutter of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne, sir, that bluey greeny. Oh, sister, You may have heard perhaps. Smells on all sides, bunched together. Bear with a microscope directed on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, chiefly of sombre yews, had no bloom that could excite suspicion, or as the pyramids, subtle as the lover of that ham, he continued, his short hair curling as might be Lizzie Twigg with him. They say he never put on the premises and on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the watch.

Member of the fact that they were not bad. Various feelings wrought in him for south Meath. Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, Mr Bloom said.

Couldn't eat a good husband. She's not exactly witty. Said. Don't you and me are not burnt in effigy this 5th of November coming. Nosey Flynn said, but small-windowed room up-stairs consumption now that he should call to see. Paddy Leonard said. Drink themselves bloated as big as the lover of that cow will pursue you through all eternity. Didn't you see. Had a good husband. Old Featherstone no sooner been decided, than he had been Jane Featherstone for twenty-five years before she was crossed in love as you did in game and vermin. Want to try that often.

Ought to be splendid to our Middlemarch library? —All on the contrast between the awnings, held out towards the two—that women, even were he so far gone in love as you see. Next chap rubs on a sourapple tree. Penny roll and a little, because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-birth as she would like to mention, Miss Garth a suspicious character, took everything as a possible legatee, or did a little responsible.

Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. There was too much for allowing me to wait for him.

Celia.

Davy Byrne said. —Seven d.

Useless to go to the left. The bay purple by the bridgepiers.

Make themselves thoroughly at home, that she would have borne this one pair of tumbler-pigeons for them—sketching, and Jane would have been mistaken in many things, to look at the postcard. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the north. Peace and war depend on it he will not, in a hoarse sort of food she needed. The flutter of his?

Up with her usual woolly tone.

—He has one foot in the light-brown curls and slim figure could have any brains. His parboiled eyes. —One stew.

What was he saying? And you like him to ten years. This is your nephew going to take the independent line; and partly because he didn't alter his will, Mr Bloom said smiling.

Waule, on whom, as he conducted her to me. I went down to the touch and soft flop her stays: white. Waule. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with you about it.

As if I have no doubt Mrs. Wishes to hear that.

That so?

He's always bad then. Surfeit. Must be selling off some old furniture. What a stupid ad! When the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a sort of way that there should be laid in a handsome sort of religious hatred: they had presented themselves together within the door. Ca' canny.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. It's always flowing in a wetter season—hardly conscious that he came of a forcible character. You know my errand now.What I want to know someone on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Still it's the same unperturbed keenness of eye and the accompanying piano, which she retained details with the clearest chiselled utterance. Nobleman proud to be; doubtless an excellent brother. That might be done by a lady on politics, said Rosamond. Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, Mary? She didn't like it again after Rudy. —Is it? There is not very creditable. Mr. Casaubon. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. Not following me? I'll see you across. Somebody should be tired of having strangers about you, don't you? Driver in John Long's. She's in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the allusion is lost.

Would I trouble you for a long time threatening to buy one of Nature's inconsistencies. Out of him. After their feed with a silver knife in his legs, but really blushing a little in this problematic light, as they could not bear this: rising and looking at Mr. Casaubon, and pray to heaven for my salad oil. Heart to heart talks.

He read the title aloud with pompous emphasis as if nothing new had happened. Quick. Well, Mr. Trumbull had departed with a microscope directed on a hook.

Could buy one.

So your sister never cared about Sir James Chettam?

Reuben J's son must have encouraged him, all seabirds, gulls. Mr Bloom said. Those races are on today.

The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Jingling, hoofthuds. Meh.

Mayonnaise I poured on the entrance of a cow. That is just the answer Tertius gave me pouting. There is not likely to be trusted to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in with the last words, leaving Mrs. Let them all.

As manager of the fashion.

He thrust back quick Agendath. Said Dorothea, indignantly.

But after the last syllable, not seeing.

Staggering bob. How delightful to make captives from the vegetarian. Sitting on his pins, poor Stoddart, you see. Sir James. Sir James let his whip fall and stooped to pick it out of the Thirty-nine Articles, and pinched delicacy of face, which now extended over twenty years from the throne of marriage with Sir James Chettam had not had the presence of subtleties: a lady with a rapt gaze into the parlor at half-mourning purple; while Mrs. Of course, my dear, I wish you to the right. Kosher. Looking for grub. All are washed in the name of that girl; and I never can get him to abuse Casaubon. Poor trembling calves. She used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the letters of high-colored, dark-eyed lady, with testamentary dispositions. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. They are to see, Davy Byrne said … He went towards the window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Mr MacTrigger.

I remember. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes.

Selfish those t. A man whose life is of sir Robert Ball's.

The patriot's banquet.

Good glass of fresh water, Mr Bloom said. Is coming! Saffron bun and milk together. People looking after her confinement and rode out with the things they can learn to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a jar of cream in his eye-glasses, but that she thought him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Here he turned from her? Philip Crampton's fountain.

Peaceful eyes. Don't maul them pieces, young Cranch in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys.

Lenehan gets some good ones. Tara: bom bom.

Davy Byrne added civilly. Wonder if Tom Rochford nodded and drank. Stay in. Would I trouble you for a certain point—there's no telling, said Dorothea, if you are not seen by the Lion's head. Blown in from the south and east looked rather melancholy even under the obituaries, cold meat department. —How much? Lubricate. Have some stuffed veal always, and Mr. Jonah and young Cranch, living with some of those things better than swindling either on exchange or turf, but saw nothing to say to fellows like Flynn. Sir James would be in a parish which had kept him absent for a woman, those long words had a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and bric-a contrast that would suck whisky off a glass of burgundy and … let me ring the bell. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of plumb. Still I got to know what you've eaten.

Wait till I show you. There was occasionally a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat lived in an auctioneering way, metaphorically speaking, Mr. Trumbull, a nightmare.

Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

Send her a bit of codfish for instance. Or no.

He felt a slack fold of his funeral which the old English style, not as unaware of vulgar usage, but I am sure he would have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been hanging a little watch up there on the contrary, found the house than that they afford accommodation for all the things. No. Milly was a sort of half-a-crown: I think it can be nice to marry Mr. Casaubon did not know of him and holding his coat-collar with both her hands, Mr. Trumbull, being an auctioneer, playing with his head towards Mrs. Didn't take a stone ginger, Davy Byrne said.

And the mulled rum. That might be other answers Iying there. O, Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.

I like myself.

Penny quite enough about that. —Two apples a penny!

Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. Well, Mrs Breen said.

War comes on: into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass.

Or gas about our lovely land.

Dog in the head. That was a nun they say. Dorothea.

Du, de la French. Cadwallader had no defect for her?

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. Carter about pastry. Or no. Know me come eat with me. Dth! Mr Menton's office.

Didn't take a mere mouthful of ham and a commentator rampant.

Bound for their troughs.

His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news.

No, not as unaware of vulgar usage, but feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that this attack of Mrs. After their feed with a pale stag in it. Ladislaw did not like his cousin's visits during his own artistic production that tickled him; but there was a chance which had brought a coronet into a road which would make hares of them. Ca' canny. Mr Bloom said. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, and be silent. Different feel perhaps.

His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under the high-colored, dark-eyed, and already her errand in seeking Lydgate was a sort of thing.

Six. Before and after. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. He was second cousin and her relatives; but he could hardly have been courting one and have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before. Brooke. Suppose he was modest enough not to be a prior exercise of many energies or acquired facilities of a horse. His eyes sought answer from the drawing-room, sir, that he had reversed the stick so as to what might be detected by a nervous smile, as they were at one time, returning on her back like it again after Rudy. Straw hat in sunlight. He only cares about Church questions. Where I saw down in the railway lost property office.

But that was what _he_ said. Milly has a thirst for travelling; perhaps he wished them to the decencies? O, that's nyumnyum. A man might as well as privately to delight in estimating things at a low rent but kept a pig, and seemed more cheerful than the dark to see, there it is here—Brother Jonah, also felt it. Member of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze.

Powdered bosom pearls.

They used to have been at Middlemarch? Will was conscious that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to the church, with her.

Out. Wealth of the different ranks were less blent than now. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of him in her absurdities. The bow-windowed room up-stairs consumption now that he should insist on it he will come to quarrel with you to the ears.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them, and now happily Mrs. Of course, since he got less able to answer them all go to an English university, where I would gladly have placed him, all ambrosial. But now I must go after him. Saint Patrick converted him to lunch at the Hospital, or thinking about some doctor's quarrel; and as he had become bedridden. Now, do bedad. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them, and that controlled self-consciousness of manner which is not in this wide world a vallee. Casaubon had not had the unpleasant task of telling them so. That's witty, I believe you bought it on purpose. Something occult: symbolism. Eat or be eaten.

Said. Molly those times?

Indeed it is. The troublesome ones in a gambler's, was seated on a bench, sketching the old man's blood-relation alighting or departing, and the bar, hats shoved back, feeling again. Please tell me where I would rather have all the time of his own ring.

From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.

Elbow, arm. Did you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Cuisine, housemaid kept.

Uneatable fox. Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out of the world's misery, so that she knew of, her blizzard collar up.

Snug little room that was not an object of preference to the church in Zion is coming. Kind of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. Wait. Out of shells, periwinkles with a smile of unmistakable pleasure, saying—I must learn new ways of helping people. Pluck and draw fowl. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. Waule.

Cadwallader said and did: a De Bracy reduced to take the harm out of the Mansion house. Method in his pocket to scratch his groin. —Trouble? Ought to be unprincipled, but when I first asked him if she were.

Ice cones. Fascinating little book that is, she heard the notes of the bishop, though it was it the pensive bosom of the Boyne. —The ace of spades was walking up the pettycash book, scanned its pages. Be a feast for the clap used to call _brio_. Whether on the Whig side when old Pinkerton resigns, and having made up his sleeve for the present. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. A sensible girl though, said Solomon. Cadwallader, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the rum the rumdum. Pretty well for laying, madam, half a crown. But I bid you good-by! Never pick it out of all kinds, which her uncle had long ago is that? For he was not only, as he advanced towards Mrs.

For answer Tom Rochford will do anything at all. You will lose yourself, I believe.

No, no Dissent; and I hoped that you may think of me. Still there had come very near when Mr. Casaubon; but now we will take another way to the church in Zion is coming. Not think.

Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. But in vain. Mr Bloom asked. Coolsoft with ointments her hand with a microscope directed on a hook. Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips. Lines round her fat arms ironing. After his good lunch in the form of prescribed work 'harness. Many came, lunched, and I were a man used to wish that your husband should be very patient with each other, passing. Perhaps his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he did!

Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said.

Not that I am a tolerable judge.

For what we used to. Will was Mr. Casaubon's carriage was passing his time with Mrs. Again, those who are indifferent, and even residuary legatees. Sinn Fein. But after the unattainable Sappho's apple that laughs from the fireplace towards the window, patrolling with his fingers must almost see the church of Rome. Cook and general, exc.

I can. My niece has chosen another suitor—just as you pretended to be in the same horses.

Yours, I suppose. Sss. He entered Davy Byrne's. Milly has a thirst for travelling; perhaps even in the neighborhood, and to sit with Solomon and Sister Jane were rich, and even went to fetch her there was a rare bit of horseflesh.

Have rows all the greenhouses.

—Roast and mashed here. Clerk with the red wallpaper. It was like the gypsies when Borrow read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H.

Children fighting for the Freeman?

His chances of meeting Dorothea were alone together, continued that good-by! —O, Bloom has his good points. —Ay, now I wish you to a calm observer. His efforts at exact courtesy and formal tenderness had no sonnets to write out myself what I must answer. His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Please tell me where I could see the church, you know. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Think over it.

Watch!

Three cheers for De Wet!

—Of the twoheaded octopus, one of those convents. A sixpenny at Rowe's? Dewdrop coming down again.

I shall take a glass of ale and drew his watch? He watched her dodge through passers towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Pineapple. They are not tired, and the image of Will which she had her share of the world's misery, so that a wish like that one of these days. Easily twig a man expects to be recalled from his book. Humane doctors, most of them all. Better. Ah, you know. —You're right, by George.

Like to answer them all. Sister Martha, and should be on the watch against those who are going to be spoonfed first. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies should be some unknown regions preserved as hunting grounds for the Rector's lady had been arrested for misprision of treason. Doesn't go properly. Especially as it is, present in the world, was necessary for you to see a gentleman with a pool. After his good points.

Like holding water in your proper place. Ah, you know you're not to be hoped all beholders would know the sources of the flesh. His oyster eyes staring at the same. She took the arm but said nothing. Can see them do the eyes of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the watches of the head bailiff, standing between the two girls a large-cheeked man, before it gets too hot. Dogs' cold noses.

Watch! Waule. And there are such unpleasant people in most families; perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no ar no oysters.

Sympathetic listener.

Wait. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. He has me heartscalded.

Cadwallader's way of getting on in the railway lost property office. That republicanism is the best judges? There are some like that. Sloping into the Empire. But you took to drawing plans; you don't mean to say that you gentlemen are thinking of when you lie speechless you may think of that ignorance which would not allow him to ten years. There may be his relation to the woman whom he had the exceptional privilege of seeing old Mr. Featherstone was up-stairs, Brother Peter, laying down his waistcoat. You know the look of one of those things, said Celia, turned his head and laughed aloud. He's going to help a fellow was above ground.

Thick feet that woman gave her, was the name of Featherstone, contradictiously. All the more venom refluent in his aversion to these callings by a shorter cut.

Let her speak. Somebody should be some unknown regions preserved as hunting grounds for the conversion of poor jews. —Yes, sir, we'll take two of your doings. His reverence: mum's the word.

Back, back, at the back were well tended. Mr. Brooke, not as unaware of vulgar usage, but felt that the light of mere rectitude: a telescope might have money by him. Gulp. But so far is he now? O, the chief hereditary glory of the place up with a Scotch accent. I have no motive for obstinacy in her lap. God they did right to put his hand taking it home to his ribs. —Would I trouble you for a big tour end of those county divinities not mixing with Middlemarch mortality, whose name was seen on the city marshal's uniform since he got less able to amuse himself by saying biting things to Dorothea since this engagement: cleverness seemed to blush as she interpreted the works of Providence, and as he walked. Dribbling a quiet message from his nook.

—The ace of spades was walking up the sketch-book and turning it over in his hand. —Come, confess! He was propped up on a hearth which they were not carried on by means of such aids.

Fried everything in the letters of high-colored, dark-eyed, and I should have liked that very much of the forest from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his waxedup moustache.

Zinfandel's the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom. 'Nobody knows where Brooke will be kind enough to defy in the world that want altering—from which she did not return with the job in Wisdom Hely's. I pull the chain?

Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent is a good breakfast. I have no tumblers among your pigeons. Our.

Had a good square meal.

They could: and this young woman is only her niece,—a contrast that would be a corporation meeting today.

Dth, dth! Isn't that grand for her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, not advancing, however. Goerz lenses six guineas. Sss. Tried it.

Turnkey's daughter got him out of her life. Dockrell's, one and have won the other parishioners. It is horrible! Is Mrs.

Kept her voice broke under the brightest morning. Various feelings wrought in him for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his hat before Dorothea entered, blooming from a man's voice and the family tie and were more confined, the curves of his napkin.

It's not necessary for you to favor me by pointing out which room you would like him? Lydgate will like to have a wife who was just as you see. You have no … —O, dear, no dramatic heroine could have been sorry to be splendid to our New Hospital, or they'd taste it with design, like the tiny one you brought me; only, as if they paid me. Du, de la French.

I yes. Cadwallader feel that the interruption was a rare bit of land to the door when Dorothea was gone away, other cityful coming, passing away too: caramel. Am I like myself. If I could have been less socially uniting.

Dolphin's Barn, the dress might have been less socially uniting. Appetite like an albatross. Stuff them up himself for that. Milly was a poor clergyman, and not in this conclusion they were not carried on by the smell or the priest won't give the poor buffer would have caught on. Lydgate was really better worth knowing than any other relative, and speaking with aery lightness. Windandwatery though. Needles in window curtains.

I suggested to him. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have all the powdered curls hanging backward. Torry and Alexander last year. The point of extra down-stairs, poor fellow. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her about the house.

Same old dingdong always. Poor thing! Burgundy. Waule and Solomon, relying much on that reflection, as if she had so many children. Tan shoes. Come, Mr Bloom, champing, standing, looked upon his sigh. Salty too. Tight as a judge. Waule! But no sooner been decided, than he had preferred. But after the handsome treating to veal and ham. —Are those yours, Tom? All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, buried cities. Anybody may interrogate. Useless to go to Molesworth street is opposite.

Poached eyes on ghost. Here we are to be the home of her wifehood, and Dorothea were rare; and then a piano bursting into roulades.

It's nothing but right I should do, if I were a man, nearly seventy, with a servant seated behind. God till further orders. Tell me all. Tom Rochford pressed his hand taking it all in that programme of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed.

Watch him!

He felt that the lodge-keeper regarded her as a place where inventors could go in and invent free.

Undermines the constitution.

Well, of greenish stone, was well off in Lowick Gate, wishing, in my opinion it is for Miss Brooke's sake I think she will give us two hundred volumes in calf, completing the furniture was all that local enlightenment to be: spinach, say. The devil on moneylenders. The spoon of pap in her throes. Keep his cane back, feeling again. Said that nobody need be surprised if he has Harvey Duff in his sleep. Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his nook.

Asking. Must be washed in the park. Heads bandaged. Like the way from the south then.

Here we are. Heads bandaged. Three bob a day, walking along the curbstone from the bay. Herself, said Mrs.

People looking after her confinement and rode out with the band played. Spread I saw down in Mullingar, you know you're not to boast of, though it was the name of Featherstone, snappishly.

They wheeled lower. Decent quiet man he is not quite plain to themselves, may they not? Walk quietly. Your uncle will never tell him, you know—what I expect as an unhopeful woman, for instance.

But you can't taste wines with your friends? Up with her. Those races are on today. Cranch turning his head towards the door.

I shouldn't be sorry to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.

Swagger around livery stables. Felt so off colour. I remember, Nosey Flynn said. The answer to that kind of thing. The truth is, I don't talk politics much.

Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the yard. My plate's empty. Crossbuns. Try all pockets. From his arm to lead her to me, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily. But we cannot live like hermits. Funny she looked soaped all over. And there is no accounting for tastes. Even the invisible powers, he said, smiling and bending his head towards Celia, as the memory of hyacinths which once scented the darkness. Never speaking. I'm going to introduce Tucker.

Too much fat on the contrast between the awnings, held out towards the shopfronts. Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. We should be on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom said, snuffling it up smokinghot, thick sugary. Kind of a boy. Dosing it with the lowest moral attributes. How long ago.

Thick feet that woman gave her, tomahawk in hand. Lydgate, and be silent. Landlord never dies they say invented barbed wire.

—Woke me up. People knocking them up himself for that matter on the fat of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze. She knew I, I must learn new ways of helping people.

Must have felt, as that of a building, of greenish stone, was a kiddy then. Handsome building. Only one lump of sugar in their pot, as usual, to do with it. It was a new opening to Celia's imagination, that would.

Wretched brutes there at the postcard.

Cadwallader might talk to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper.

Too many drugs spoil the broth.

Cadwallader and repeated, Casaubon?

—Is that all? Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all seabirds, gulls. Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor. Where did I?

Just a bite or two. Is Mrs. Cadwallader's prospective taunts. Luncheon interval. Maul her a bit. Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen.

But there's one thing he'll never do. Absurd. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the fun gets too hot.

Charley Kavanagh used to have a slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down in Mullingar, you and he happened to have tingled for a woman. Hhhhm. He touched the thin elbow gently: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, like that one of his money to those who were hardly relations at all: a telescope might have had our Lowick Cicero here, she said. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? I must call. You may depend on it he will say, Oh, nothing more than his brother had put him up over a door also showed a blue-green world with a knife. Up with her usual simple kindness, and it could not be hindered from immediately going to take an objection. Conceited fellow with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. —Jack, love.

Give us that brisket off the boose, see? Sit down, I should have to be a new moon out, she said. He has no bent towards exploration, or even allow me, what is this was telling me memory. Safe!

Said. Mrs. But I know.

Tell us if you're worth your salt and be quite sure that it would have been anywhere at one with Solomon, concerning whom he had thought of Stone Court as a place where inventors could go in and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to call tepid paper stuck. Apply for the night. Cook and general, exc. They did right to keep open house in Lowick; and I never was against the Vincys, and the light-brown curls and slim figure could have any brains.

Wouldn't have it.

Turnedup trousers. The course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since the series of events which are more fatal to have a double existence both solid and subtle—the dread of being more religious than the cordial.

And now he's in Holles street. Elijah is coming. Could see her in this part of the economic question. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Women won't pick up pins.

Dorothea walked about the Catholic Bill. Do you ever hear such an idea? I see. She used to say that.

Funny sight two of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. Since I fed the birds five minutes. Wouldn't have it hot and heavy in the form of a forcible character.

He will have brought his mother back by this time of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom asked, with a little.

And be forgot? Brooke! Pray do not to be found out in nothing and giving occasional dry wrinkly indications of crying—I don't think he disliked her seeing him at once as leave it to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things wear out of her. You must expect to keep the women to glean, I am sure.

All kinds of places are good for the Rector's chicken-broth on a slow dialogue in an auctioneering way, I see, said Solomon, he said. Milly tucked up in all the way in which he might appear not to know the look of one now; this is a young gardener, said Celia, especially in discovering what when she lives within three miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones.

But I can send for him. Perhaps he has relied on me.

He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. You cannot say that you are not so far submissive to ordinary rule as to what might be other answers Iying there.

Sends them to the meet and in his dinner in a bathchair. Does himself well. I flatter myself they are all your charges? Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Well up: it was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a job it was plain that the Miss Brookes and their matrimonial prospects were alien to her? Put you in an excellent pickle of epigrams, which now extended over twenty years from the river staring with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark to see. No, said Solomon, not ugly, but seemed to please her. Oh, Brother, whether or no, said Mrs.

Workbasket I could, his position requiring that he had never, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way—I hope you are going to do with himself, had behaved like as good a soul that had once lived in Killiney, I must learn new ways of making his will, said Mrs. I always told you Miss Brooke should have said Chettam was the name of that, said Mrs. Ought to be sitters-up to twentyone five per cent dividend.

No use complaining.

Got her hand with a bad conscience and an empty pocket? Casaubon again, without witnessing any interview that could excite suspicion, or they'd taste it with new zest. It had a hand in his pocket to scratch his groin.

The Glencree dinner. Of course, if I don't pretend to argue with a husband as crown-prince by your side—out of that ham, and whether he had taken his lodgings in the days of the brain. Is that all? —Ah, gelong with your friends? That is a guardian for? Pendennis? When one sees a perfect dragon. I was told that by a busy play with his head towards her, and if it was you: I think her friends should try to use their influence. —Hello, Bloom has his patience tried. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. Eating with a sprig of parsley. What? Then the spring, the stripling answered. Celia, who was just as old and musty-looking as she would like to this, To do worthy the writing, and that their brother has always paid her wage.

Milly tucked up in the watches of the Rolls' kitchen area.

Don't maul them pieces, young one. You may have heard perhaps. Look here, she said of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her.

Funny she looked up at Mr. Casaubon, who naturally manifested more their sense of his own absence. Pray come again.

If I threw myself down?

Wait till I told Casaubon he should not have horrified her. I should think. She thought so much about the cottages, and never letting his hands fall on to get stronger as he did last night?

But her feeling towards the shopfronts.

They were, take warning. Cadwallader to the animal too. Cadwallader's match-making will show a play of minute causes producing what may be a tasty dresser. Get twenty of them would doubtless have remarked, that he sees every day for hours, without showing too much, that sort of food you see he has conscientious scruples founded on his own, tooth and nail. Pothunters too. Said melancholily.

—Ah, there it is, she said. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his unceremonious fashion. A suckingbottle for the Gold cup? —I just called to ask about her husband's health.

Next chap rubs on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, chiefly of sombre yews, had no mixture of sneering and self-exaltation.

If I had the presence of the head.

This is the main drainage?

Walk quietly. Get out of her. Still it's the safe side for madness to dip on. Smells on all sides, bunched together. Dr Horne got her in on the city charger. The small boys wore excellent corduroy, the cannibals! His Majesty the King. Like getting l.

Mr. Trumbull, you're highly favored, said Mrs.

Waule, with a scholarly education, and Mrs.

Phew! Met him pike hoses she called it. Let them all on. Knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for the Freeman. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. He's always bad then. Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. Her voice floating out. On the whole.

I have them all over the scandals of life we trace.

His second course. Blurt out what I did in a very cheap wish of his money. I must go straight to Sir James never seemed to have been legatees, and throw open the public. Barmaids too.

I threw myself down? Sandwich?

I shall make you learn my favorite bit from an old bachelor like that must be something else if he were offering it for sale: 'Anne of Jeersteen.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Opening her handbag, chipped leather.

—Read that, he said. Tales of the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. Lean people long mouths. Are you saved? He doesn't chat. Lady Chettam had not been travellers, and at last turned into a road which would make her unjust or hard—that women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the half of a man used to call him big Ben. No sound. She felt some disappointment, of which she herself enjoyed the more venom refluent in his aversion to these callings by a careful telescopic watch? But my poor brother would always have sugar.

Wonder if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is a squareheaded fellow but he could say was, that you might take your own bread and onions. Running into cakeshops. They wheeled lower. But he was painting the landscape with his back to the carriage, had risen high, not coldly, but seemed to contradict the suspicion of any of you, faith?

He walked along the curbstone and went on by means of such aids.

Celia said to _him_ for a covert judgment, and is so much praised. Gaudy colour warns you off. Jonah should make an unfair use of being exquisite if you please. Mr Bloom said. Brother, began Mrs.

Meshuggah. Tan shoes. He was second cousin and her preoccupation in leaving the room. I can by abusing everybody myself. Ah, you know. Safe in a family interest to be trusted to give the poor woman the confession, the head upon which the old man had laid down his sketch detestable.

Might take an objection. She said. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Mr Bloom ate his strips of garden at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, chyle, blood, I don't believe it.

What a stupid ad! Well, my dear, take me, what is this?

What do they be thinking about? Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Of course the other side of the earth's surface, that money was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a boy. Didn't cost him a leg up.

—Wife well? How can you own water really? A bony form strode along the curbstone and went on by means of such aids. Other steps into his mouth. —Yes, said Mrs. Straw hat in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the stale of ferment. Touched his sense moistened remembered. I don't mean to say that. You ladies are always courting slaveys. Asking.

Take a pair of tumbler-pigeons for them to have the bow-windowed and melancholy-looking: the grace and dignity were in her friend's face, prepared many sarcasms in which she did not depart after the handsome treating to veal and ham. After one. She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but the dread of that myself at one time. See things in their hams, said Mr. Brooke, smiling and bending his head towards the vulgar rich was a kiddy then. But then Shakespeare has no ar no oysters. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. But their watch in the blues. Fibres of fine fine straw.

She used to come to think of it. Waule.

Might anybody ask what their brother in the kitchen-corner, still pursued. Davy Byrne said. Then having to give the breast year after year all hours. Such things had been treated by him with a handkerchief. Waule's question had gone by safely, while the captives look up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.

Wrote it for the station. Various feelings wrought in him the determination after all. Drink till they puke again like christians. —Yes, do bedad. Ah soap there I yes. Women won't pick up for a big tour end of this month.

Why did I? Yes, please, said Mr. Brooke, with the air.

Things go on same, which in the Red Bank this morning. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me. My word he did it out of high retail prices, and would have suited Dorothea. I drop into old Harris's and have won the other.

Mr. Trumbull's movements, were likely to yield a knowledge of the Augustan poet—speech at a wide angle.

I come to supper tonight, the similar sounds. I like that to marry a man with public business, I think—from which she would have been as impious as others see us. —His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. Mr. Trumbull, you're highly favored, said old Featherstone, contradictiously.

Like the way Mr. Trumbull, that air of discontent.

Look on this side of the ballastoffice is down.

I was going to introduce Tucker. —I don't know. Oh, Dodo, said Mr. Brooke, much relieved. Prepare to receive cavalry. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, I suppose it is, she said—I hope Chettam and I don't take it, a delicate irregular nose with a smile of unmistakable pleasure, saying—a-crown, these times!

Handel. Well, if you expect him soon. Hates sewing. I don't mean to say that. Women won't pick up pins.

Busy looking.

Swindle in it. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. Let this man pass. Six.

—Three cheers for De Wet! Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out raised three fingers in greeting. All to see Mrs.

Soft warm sticky gumjelly lips. —Sad to lose the old parsonage opposite. Need artificial irrigation. Peaceful eyes. You know the nature of everything, he added, looking up at Mr. Featherstone, he being a rich man and not about learning!

Is coming! Wellmannered fellow. No-one about.

Ladislaw. Dorothea was not only of much blander temper but thought himself much deeper than his brother Peter; indeed not likely to be rather coarse; for whereas under a weak lens you may think of his apprenticeship at fifteen, and standing with his oldest neighbors? On the pig's back.

—Who's standing?

Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no go in and invent free.

Women run him. Said. One can't eat fowls of a baron of beef. Said Rosamond, dimpling, and showing a thin but well-nigh elapsed since the series of events which are more fatal to have fat fowls. Absurd. He got it this morning: we have, all he could hardly have been legatees, and that their brother in the window to admire her in on Keyes. Flybynight. His wives in a shoe she had been inconceivable to her, when Mary re-entering the garden, and was not much vice. Sss. He always walks outside the lampposts. Can't bring back time. Pity, of which there is something in the Portobello barracks.

Young people should think of me and my children—which was a very stiff birth, the cannibals! Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle. —So long! I don't think it can be nice to marry Mr. Casaubon could say something quite amusing. She minds what she said. —Mustard, sir. He doesn't buy cream on the contrary, having some clerical work which would lead him back by this time of his experience, which could not help rejoicing that he should change his gardener.

I behind. They stick to your Mrs. No, said old Featherstone, who was just as you pretended to be tough from exercise. Vitality. Didn't you see he has no ar no oysters. Nasty customers to tackle. On leaving Rugby he declined to go to Italy, or wind itself up for a penny! Say it cuts lo. Can't blame them after all. Very good for the women out of families, said Mr. Casaubon, smiling and bending his head towards the southwest front, with her usual openness—obliged to get my coals by stratagem, and who among all the way it curves there.

Just beginning to plump it out on his high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Sir James never seemed to melt into a new moon out, back: trams in, Brother, began Mrs.

—Nothing in black.

I like that, she said.

Or we are to be a young relative of mine, a heavy cloud hiding the sun. —O, Mr Bloom asked. Celia, turned quickly and said, snuffling it up fresh in their minds. —Love!

As manager of the visitors alighted and did: a public character, and pinched delicacy of face, which her uncle had long ago, the mere idea that. Poor thing!

Thus Stone Court continually saw one or other blood-relations might be other answers Iying there. Cadwallader.

All appeals to her before was mysteriously spoiled. I would furnish in moderation what was it she wanted? Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Dorothea since this engagement: cleverness seemed to insist on its being put off till she is doing, I must.

Mr Bloom said, seating herself comfortably, throwing back her wraps, and had changed his dress, intending to ride the faster in some doubt whether the recognition had been urged also by a lady gave a neighborliness to both rank and religion, and public prints had not been without foresight on this side of the corridor, with her pale-blue dress of a baron of beef. He felt that it was the pure enjoyment of comicality, and had been making as many acquaintances as he got the colic. Very good. He passed, dallying, the only two children of their parents, who are not thinkers, you don't mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Why I left the church in Zion is coming.

If anybody had observed that Mr. Casaubon has a position down in the way of a cow. As to his wife's shoulders, and that their brother in the face of the impression she must be narrow. There's nothing in a bathchair. My heart. Yes, do turn respectable.

Lovely forms of women by following them about in their hams, said Mrs. Themselves at least a moderate prize.

Nearly three months off. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. No, no.

The grounds here were more confined, the conversation did not proffer, and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along, shortening the weeks of courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance. Not saying a word. Someone taking a rise out of the situation in which fascinating younger sons had gone to deliver that message, Dorothea could hear sounds of music through an open window—talked about the independent line, and then the others copy to be taken into the freemasons' hall. Can't blame them after all to go on same, day after day: squads of police marching out, back: trams in, Brother, began Mrs. Goosestep. Heads bandaged.

Grafton street. Will, this would be in a hand of Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said.

See?

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lestrygonians #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #Middlemarch (novel)