#save your loyal holy child this instant

[miss-menhera]

HELLO THERE!!! Trying to cope with OR UNDERSTAND Adam's death? The denial and "what ifs" just get stronger?!?!?!?

Me too tbh I'm fucking miserable

BUT!!!! YOU WILL FIND OUT THAT THIS SHITHEAD COMING BACK IS ACTUALLY MORE PLAUSIBLE THAN YOU THINK! (W.O.W!!!!)

I actually also have some pretty solid theories about season 2 in here so be warned.

(This is a bit different from my usual goofy post I might delete this and separate into parts since I talked about too much)

VIVZIEPOP MADE A COUPLE STATEMENTS THAT COULD BE GAME-CHANGING AND WON'T LEAVE US GRASPING AT STRAWS ANYMORE. I'LL DISCUSS EVERY GROUND THERE IS TO COVER AND EVERY COPIUM THERE IS TO INHALE, AT THE MOMENT!! (Might update this or make a new post if more comes out)

Ok so to start this off, don't be put off by this person's perspective, just listen to me. Vivzie talked to this fan at megacon and got asked if Adam was still alive, all she said was "he lives on in a way", I'm gonna take my delulu aside and the most pessimistic guess would be that someone (pfff lute obviously)avenges him or that his death has an everlasting impact that changes the story, BUT we already got that made clear, like that was pretty obvious already.

(It's made obvious by this scene, Adam's death created a whole other big problem)

(Unless what she means by it is that his death is honored? Like maybe we get to delve deeper into his history, but again i dont think so) SO I DONT THINK THATS IT, I feel like if it was either of the ones I mentioned she would just say "Nope, he's deceased BUT he lives on in a way" But ALL she said was "He lives on in a way" which is very different, although it could be she expressed herself badly or the person writing the tweet didn't quote it word for word. But taking it in the literal sense, this might be pretty much confirmation he lives. There's a way he lives right? So considering that.... could it be that after Lute took his halo,(which was also broken which often renders an angel as "fallen" by default) and left his body there, he just... like woke up as a sinner? Yes yes, I know everyone's been talking only about that, I'm not giving any groundbreaking revelations but I'm just saying that there's alot of options that open up to that possibility. Or who knows! What if he actually doesn't get reincarnated? What if he just wakes up with no halo, so no place to come back to or what if the ever-absent God takes notice of his death and fixes up his first loyal creation?

Besides that if they THINK Adam is dead, (hesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdeadhesnotdead)

They make these huge ass changes in tactics, and need to find another way to deal with what Charlie is doing; IF Adam actually becomes a sinner, and his life is super important to heaven... with evidence that sinners can now be redeemed... What if people like LUTE, or LILITH actually become allies of the hotel in an effort to redeem him? He WAS God's first, most loyal and favorite creation, HELL THE REASON HE WAS ALLOWED TO DO WHATEVER HE WANTED AND WAS BASICALLY IMMUNE TO THE LAW IN HEAVEN IS BECAUSE OF HOW MANY PRIVILEGES HE HAS, I don't think God would be too pleased with his soul dissipating or whatever the fuck. That might actually be a plot point, he's way too important to just be killed off like this, am I the only one who got that impression? He's the FIRST MAN, first man, the first man being THE FIRST TO DIE IN THIS SHOW IS ABSOLUTELY MIND-FUCKING AND ALSO A CRUEL JOKE anditskindafunny OF FATE FOR HIM.

Something else I want to add is that my personal take on it is that if I learned anything about this show, Lilith will show up in the next season and pretend to be an ally to the hotel, she will pretend to support Charlie and basing this off the theory that Alastor made a deal with Lilith to keep her daughter safe, he failed to meet the end of his deal. So now she's coming to take matters into her own hands after all these pesky men failed, (ermmm girlboss!!) Stop, and manipulate everyone in the hotel into giving up on the idea. Considering how she deliberately kept Charlie away from her dad her whole life, there's gonna be a whole lot of family drama. And we might see Alastor lose his shit for good. Still tryna figure out wtf does "Lilith thrived and empowered demonkind with her voice" if her voice is that powerful, and her words are just as powerful, we're gonna get 1. FIRE ASS SONGS 2. Mother Gothel ass song with Charlie, I just know it holy shit. Not to mention that they actually don't know that Sir Pentious went to heaven, Lilith definetely will know and won't tell anyone. Lucifer will definetely be the one to step up in the situation yet again. Anyway after I yapped my heart out about what I think will happen in this show, I just wanna say one thing.

There is this DUMBASS thing everyone in the fandom is talking about when someone says Adam is gonna be reborn as a sinner. "He is not gonna come back because he was killed with an angelic blade and Pentious was not" That is the most stupid bullshit I've ever read and if you genuinely believe it for a second, i feel sorry for u cuz how did your brain go and make this correlation?

Most of these people say that the show explicitly stated that Angelic metal SPECIFICALLY and just if it's metal, it can castrate a soul or whatever. Which is literally NOT true, at no point was it established that Angelic steel was the only thing able to exorcise demons. You really need just a bit of common sense to come to this conclusion, what makes the weapons dangerous for demons and angels isn't that they're steel specifically. It's that they're ANGELIC guys.. Have y'all seen Helluva boss at all?

There are blessed ropes, Angelic guns, Angelic bullets. These are just items that replicate the power of Holy magic. A PURE,HUGE, HOLY BEAM of unfiltered angelic power is not stronger than a little dagger infused with a fraction of it? Not only does that not make sense from the show's lore perspective, but using common SENSE that sounds even dumber. This is the only argument I can completely scratch off the lists of why Adam can't come back, and it's the most popular one...

Man you know what guys, after he died, whether he comes back or not, he's never gonna be the same again I just can't picture it. He's gonna be much more insecure, without a mask and not funny and goofy............. Or he is just gonna come back and go full joker. He just cant possibly keep being a light-hearted dark humor andrew tate stan after the most, first immature man in history pulled a gentle smile like that. That just can't be, like take a look at the way he always smiles to the last smile we saw him have.

THAT IS A CHANGED MAN YALL, THATS ANOTHER ENTITY 😭

I HIGHKEY DONT WANT HIM TO GET A REDEMPTION ARC EITHER :(( MAN WHY DID THEY HAVE TO DETHRONE THE LITTLE GUY, THEY RUINED EVERYTHING. One small little theory floating in my mind was that, what if the news of Adam being dead could result in some powerful overlord or even A SIN we've never seen or know the power of, revive him and have him work under them? Even if he actually comes back as a sinner, this little theory I haven't brainstormed much about could be explored.

But y'all know what? Let's say he's dead okay? Let's say he's dead dead, then what did they do with his BODY? I didn't see anyone dig him a grave, yet he died on the hotel, I didn't see anyone even move his body after the angels left. And we know damn well they didn't take him, that's too much of a big detail to leave it out unless they REALLY screwed up with the writing and animation direction in the rush to have the serie come out, but the animation has always been so detailed with almost unnecessary background details. I think they left it out intentionally to have that worked out in season 2, heard some people say it could be they just built the hotel over his body? But I doubt it. If so maybe he could become part of the hotel or just condemned to never leave the hotel in a.... a... ghooooost.... like form...?(Massive amounts of copium). Someone could argue his body just dissolved or something but 1. That makes no sense pookie 2. In the first episode they found the body of the dead exorcist long after it died, and we definetely know atleast it's head was still perfectly intact by episode 3. AND i also went back to check, after Lute takes the Halo they purposefully never show Adam's body, ONCE. Not once, not even as they show all the corpses on the ground as the exorcists depart. So that couldn't be it, one thing we know for sure is that Vivzie is definetely letting on there's something more to his death she doesn't want to reveal yet. It could be she's doing that just to leave it ambiguous to delusional theorists like myself,,,,,since my type of stupid is usually the kind of idiocy infectious enough to rot everyone's brain into pointless speculation based on minor details. Which definetely sells the show better AND keeps discourse and attention alive till more is fed to us, which in that case, very effective marketing strategy at the cost of everyone's mental health Viv! Good job, the prospect you might be giving us false hope cuz its good for business is really making me reconsider signing the christian mom petition to make Amazon prime cancel tis' demonic blasphemous show. (And yes that is a serious threat, I will even fund the petition with 100 euros watch what you write, i don't want any mammon ass marketing tactics pls)...... or... she just doesn't wanna spoil the surprise and im reading too much into it... BUT YOU NEVER KNOW OK?? I NEED TO EXPLORE EVERY SINGLE POSSIBILITY AND NOT LEAVE ONE UNCOVERED. I seriously think I've thought of almost anything-Except that he's just dead, we'll see his funeral in the next season and he actually makes no other appearance......... BUT THAT'S BORING AND I WILL DROP THE SHOW IF THAT HAPPENS! By the way kinda can't wait for Adam merch to drop, cus it means SHE STILL FINDS HIM RELEVANT ENOUGH TO MARKET HIM!!!......and i just really want to have physical objects of him...... But u know what guys Vivzie likes adam alot, he's one of the characters she retweets stuff about the most, along with Lucifer and Alastor. And she also kinda admitted to it.

NOT TO MENTION THERE IS MORE THAT PROVES ITS NOT OUT OF THE WINDOW FOR HIM TO MAKE A COMEBACK CUZ ALEX BRIGHTMAN(Adam's va) ANNOUNCED HE WILL BE IN SEASON 2. and I know he voices Sir Pentious too,(insane range btw wtf) but like i said if they're keeping it a surprise (Thats been pretty much confirmed, Vivz refuses to give too many details so she obviously wants to keep us guessing, which would be cruel if it was for nothing, and i think she knows would leave fans very disappointed) the possibility of Adam still being present in the show could work out.

VIVZ UNLESS YOU'RE A SADISTIC EVIL WOMAN YOU WOULD NEVER HOPE PEOPLE LIKED HIM IF YOU DIDNT HAVE BIG THINGS PLANNED FOR HIM, RIGHT? RIGHT? VIVZIIEIEIEIEIEI3IE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 GIVE US BACK OUR FRATBOY BEETLEJUICE UNSCATHED PLS NO MORE PAIN!!!

Also guys look adam actually changed out of that smelly ass robe and dolled himself up for the early extermination!!!!

#adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #dickmaster #my little mysoginist </3 #vivienne. #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin theory #hazbin thoughts #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel god #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin god dont be a bitch #save your loyal holy child this instant

[notbeetle]

Grimoire Bandwagon + other Mage Organ-spells

Someone said this was a bandwagon so now I have to jump on it. Uh, spells, no associated wizard, standard glog rules - that’s basically it, enjoy. These haven’t been playtested at all and are almost certainly absurdly imbalanced.

Dust of Knuckles

R: touch, T: a human astragalus bone, D: permanent, until dispelled

Create a pile of white, grainy powder - a full inventory slot’s worth, if bagged. At any point, the caster can remotely manifest up to [dice] hands from the dust, and can control them in lieu of taking actions themselves. While being controlled, they have the strength and cohesion of the casters normal flesh, and the caster can remotely feel through them. The dust immediately loses all potency if dissolved, dispersed, exposed to holiness, or brought across a natural body of running water.

Ferric Craving

R: sight, T: creature, D: [sum] weeks

Target a living creature within your sight, who must save or suffer the effect. For the duration, all organic food is vile and indigestible to them - it provides them no nourishment, and imbibing it prompts immediate emesis. In return, they gain the ability to digest iron, which, is now both nourishing, palatable and aromatic to them. This has no effect on their ability to chew through metal, granting them no protection against the harm potentially caused by attempting to ingest metal prior to it reaching their stomachs, nor does it protect that organ against puncture and piercing from sharp pieces of metal. For obvious reasons, no effect on rust monsters nor on things which don’t need to eat. Instantly dispelled by enemas of fresh blood.

Dothric’s Summon Spawn

R: touch, T: blood dissolved in water (of a creature with at least one child), D: permanent

Reaching into the bloodied water, you pull out up to [dice] of their children, unless they successfully save vs being summoned by the spell. There is no guarantee whatsoever of any kind of loyalty or even non-hostility. Invented as a (failed) paternity test.

Blood to Nitroglycerin

R: touch, T: creature, D: permanent

Target saves or takes [sum]/2 (rounded down) damage as part of their blood is converted to nitroglycerin. The next time the target is exposed to intense heat, electricity, or blunt force physical trauma, they must save vs the nitroglycerin in their blood exploding, with 1d6 damage and 5’ of blast range for every 4 points of damage dealt by the initial spell, rounded down (so if they took 13 damage from Blood to Nitroglycerin the explosion does 3d6 damage to anyone within 15’), and almost surely causing instant death from massive internal damage to the target.

Frog to Prince

R: touch, T: a live frog, D: [sum] x 10 minutes

For the spells duration, target frog becomes Royalty, gaining, in addition to all the inherent metaphysical benefits of noble status, the ability to speak, ablative saves(not that it’s much help given they still have the same amount of HP), intelligence and charisma scores of 18, and a legitimate claim to dominion over a patch of swampland somewhere in the world. The frog is not loyal and serves only it’s own self interest. When the spell’s duration ends all these effects end and the frog is left with no memory of the experience, however it’s memories, Royal status, land claim, all that stuff, are transferred to the next frog this spell is cast on. All these things are stored in the spell, not in the frog.

Blood to Spiders

R: touch, T: creature, D: permanent

Target saves or has [sum] HP of their blood converted into a swarm of spiders. The spiders writhe in their veins, causing 1d6 damage per swarm HD (not HP) to the target. The next time the target takes piercing/slashing damage, or on death, the spider swarm erupt from their body, skittering away and biting everything (1 damage/turn, save vs paralysis).

Bugonia

R: 25’, T: meat, D: permanent

Up to [sum] rations worth of meat turns into bees. Resulting swarm has one HD for every 3 rations so converted, and is a swarm, so only takes 1 damage from most weapons (but full damage from fire and AOE stuff). It is highly aggressive and does not respond to commands. Stings do no damage, but make concentration imphjossible and impose disadvantage on all rolls for anyone caught within the swarm (from the pain), unless sufficiently covered/armored in which case they are totally immune.

Heartpull

R: 50’, T: [dice] creatures, D: concentration

Choose up to [dice] targets within 50’ of you. Their hearts (only their hearts, organ-less enemies immune) are inexorably pulled towards your outstretched palm/trunk/tentacle/pedipalp/etc, as if by a strong magnet. Every turn, they must either move at least [sum] ft closer towards you, or take [sum] damage as their heart slams against the walls of their chest (reroll sum every turn, only first roll counts for purposes of determining spell return, mishaps, dooms, etc). If they die while the spell is ongoing, the heart rips itself out of their corpse and flies into your grasp, thereby legally, philosophically, morally, and ideologically obligating you to say a shitty one-liner. Spell lasts for concentration, or until all targets are dead.

Blindspot

R: 50’ T: area, D: concentration

Choose a point within 50’ of you. For as long as you hold concentration, a spherical area with a diameter of [sum] feet emanating from that point becomes imperceivable by sight - not invisible, simply imperceptible. You don’t see through it, your eyes simply take the areas around (and through, if it’s transparent or not fully-coverage) it, sort of stitching them together so that they connect with each other without the blindspot in between. This applies even while within the blindspot, making it impossible to see your immediate surroundings as your mind instead gives you images of stuff further away as if it’s right in front of you. There’s some subconscious mental correction that lets you hit what you’re aiming for and move in the right direction while outside of the blindspot, but it doesn’t work within it.

Summon Demon Bull

R: 10’, T: any area connected to the ground, D: variable

Choose an area connected to the ground. In (5 - [dice]) rounds, a horrible immortal demon-bull will burst out of the ground somewhere in the vicinity of that area. Despite the name it’s not just any demon-bull, it’s a specific individual, the same each time - his name is El Giganto, he’s as large as a hippo, covered in broken spears, and attacks anything that attacks him, is making or has made loud noises, or is colored red. 2d8 damage gore attack, HD 6, half damage from normal weapons, burned by holy water and salt. 1d6 regen per turn, including from death. If it goes 2 turns in a row without a clear target it burrows back into the earth. Essentially immortal due to the regeneration, but if you somehow permakill it anyways the spell stops working.

Bonus- Mage hands (and feet, etc)

Mage hand

R: 25’ + [sum]’, T: object, D: concentration

Summon [dice] disembodied, floating hands of telekinetic force. You can control them as you would an ordinary hand, but your existing ones hang limp and useless as long as you do. They can extend up to (25 + [sum])’ away from you, and manipulate objects, but lacking arms cannot exert much force - not enough to swing a greatsword (unless using several at once), definitely strong enough to swing around a syringe.

Mage foot

R: 25’ + [sum]’, T: object, D: concentration

Summon [dice] disembodied, floating feet of telekinetic force. They essentially act as stilts with the middle part taken out, appearing beneath your own feet but connected to them by some sort of force - the gap between can be expanded and shrunk at will, up to (25 + [sum]) n length (or more accurately height).

Mage tongue

R: 25’ + [sum]’, T: object, D: concentration

Summon [dice] disembodied, floating tongues of telekinetic force. They’re too weak to lift anything and they don’t secrete saliva, but they can transmit taste to the caster, with the caster’s own tongue ceasing to function for the duration. As always, they’re capable of extending up to 25 + [sum} feet away from the caster.

Mage eye

R: 25’ + [sum]’, T: object, D: concentration

Summon [dice] disembodied, floating eyes of telekinetic force. The caster can see out of them, though they must temporarily relinquish use of their own eyes to do them. Able to extend up to 25 + [sum] feet away. Potentially useful for looking around corners?

Mage nose

R: 25’ + [sum]’, T: object, D: concentration

Summon [dice] disembodied, floating noses of telekinetic force. Capable of transmitting scents back to the caster, at the cost of losing the ability to smell through their own nose for the duration, and can extend up to 25 + [sum] feet away. Occasionally useful when you want to smell something but don’t want to take off your gas mask.

Mage ears

R: 25’ + [sum]’, T: object, D: concentration

Summon [dice] disembodied, floating ears of telekinetic force. Capable of transmitting sound back to the caster, at the temporary cost of the caster’s biological hearing. As always, can be extended up to 25 + [sum] feet away.

Mage genital

I’m not writing this one

Discussion - Frog-to-Prince is probably my personal favorite, just like the idea of the spell itself being a container for a given identity which only exists when the spell is active. Might use a variant version for the Snow White hexcrawl thing I’ve been told to write, like as the frog prince - the princes personality, title, and nobility contained within a spell the players can find? Similar basic idea with the demon-bull spell.

potential classes I thought of while making this - bugonia mage (a bunch of different ways of turning meat into insects - actual bugonia spell i wrote here probably isn’t part of it, it’d be a cantrip but take longer), edgelord (gish, full caster progression somewhat balanced by MD not recovering like normal - only way to get them back is by acts of extreme edge - must be some level of dangerous/illega/wasteful to qualify (setting fire to a hospital, setting fire to important art pieces, beating up toddlers in public). Heartpull is on their spell list). Chainsaw specialist (twist on chainsaw wizard but leaning more towards the wizard side than the chainsaw side, like an inverse chainsaw killer. big on delta template abilities)

#hawk.txt #glog #tabletop gaming #images are all random woodcuts from wikimedia commons

[moved-builtintripping]

Setleth AU: Weathering With You

CONTAINS SPOILERS, MENTIONED MATURE THEMES, AND A LONG READ!!

(While I’ll be assigning both Byleths in my preferred roles for them here, feel free to switch Beleth and Beles if it’s your cup of tea!!)

F!Byleth as Hodaka. 15 yrs. A highschool runaway from a rain-kissed island town who desperately seeks the shy sunlight in the city. Her life will forever change when she realizes that somebody dear to her is worth so much more than the hiding blue sky.

Seteth as Hina. ‘19’/16 yrs. His strict expression doesn’t best describe his identity as a sunshine boy. Values Flayn above all else until a certain somebody enters into (and saves) his life. Used to only clear the sky whenever his little sister excitedly asks for it.

Flayn as Nagi. 10 yrs. Lives alone with only her big brother. She seems to gain a sort of situation where most boys in her school would swoon over her charm, which she is unaware of (yet Seteth knows nothing about this). Becomes instant best friends with Byleth.

Jeralt as Suga-san/Keisuke. ?? yrs. Head of the J&A ‘news’ site (that will eventually grow into its own company). Compares Byleth (whom he hired) to his own child, who’s taken away from him by his mother-in-law. Still loves his dead wife dearly.

Leonie as Natsumi. 25 yrs. (post-timeskip design) Jeralt’s trusted and loyal apprentice and (surprisingly) niece. She’s currently job hunting, but her impatience is one factor why luck hadn’t been so kind to her. Would probably make an excellent speed cop.

M!Byleth as Moka. Jeralt’s son, who shares the same name and almost the exact same look as the girl his father hired. Despite the many phone calls they’ve shared, he still misses his father very much and wishes to see him everyday.

Cyril as Ame/Rain. A stray brown kitten who stares with his red eyes and bears a scar by the left side of his forehead. Adopted and cared by Byleth and eventually spoiled rotten by Jeralt.

Solon as Yasui. (Tomas looks) An aged and experienced police officer, who’s tasked to look for the missing highschooler and wielder of a lost gun around the flooding Tokyo.

Thales as Takai. A younger police officer who’s assigned to assist Yasui on their shared mission. Manages to get ahold of Byleth, but his grip on her had slipped more times than he hoped.

Kronya as the Dude who’s offering Hina the strip club job. (idk his name, rip) Harasses Seteth into offering him a job, a naughty one. Is stopped by Byleth and the warning shot she was threatened by her face.

Detail Changes!!

Not everything in the movie will be covered as I haven’t thought up some changes yet, especially the part when Keisuke’s child, Moka, was shown the first time and they all were just bonding. This should still be a lot already! Hopefully I can add some more and fix this eventually~

Byleth’s Yahoo!Answer username was ‘TheAshenDemon’

During her first days in Tokyo, she was silent the whole time, not even uttering a single word since she could just nod, shake her head, and bow, not even when Jeralt saved her from the crashing rainfall nearly slipping her away from the boat.

Jeralt thought he saw his own son in grave danger, so he jumped to action. He didn’t realized how panicked he must have looked until a blue-haired quiet girl (almost) blankly stared up at him. He tried to brush it off with a shrug, but he swore his heart was beating fast.

She pointed to Jeralt the beer vending machine, which she plans to give him one as an exchange for sparing her from death. Jeralt politely declines, yet she insists only to realize the price to be much higher than her budget. She bought one anyway. “I told you you didn’t have to, kid...” “*bows and sweat drops*”

During her stay around the city, Byleth had been hearing news about a killer who leaves their bloodied victims lying in alleyways, always sprouting knife wounds around different part of their body, plus they’re dismembered. Byleth didn’t know she would eventually encounter the said-killer herself.

The lost kitten Byleth found by the alleyway stared up at her, but not meowing. He hissed when she offered him some candies, but eventually he ate it gratefully. This was the first time a smile bloomed on Byleth’s face since arriving.

When she woke up from her unintentional slumber, Kronya (plus two more grinning men lingering by her side) were staring down at her. “What’re ya doing here, girlie? This is no place for a street rat like you, so I suggest ya scram… Unless you want to join the fun with me and the boys. *winks and licks lips*” “*fuCKIN SCRAMBLES UP AND RUN*”

When Seteth laid down the burger, Byleth was so shocked she stared with large eyes up at the strange kind worker above her for a long time. “… Stop staring at me. It’s going to get cold if you don’t eat that soon, and my money would go to waste.” “… *blinks*” “… Just… Eat it.*walks out*”

Byleth still hadn’t said anything, but she cried for the first time for not only satisfying her empty tummy after so long, but for also kindness to miraculously come her way in this cruel city.

During the bus ride to Jeralt’s place, she silently pitied Flayn several seats behind who’s obviously oblivious from the two young boys’ mission to capture her heart.

The moment Leonie wakes up, she thought Byleth to be a theif. As she shouted threats at the intruder (and shrieked at her for staring at her chest), Byleth nervously held up the business card Jeralt gave her.

When Leonie confirmed that Jeralt indeed invited the kid over, she quickly welcomed her with open arms as if she never shouted exactly a moment before. She introduced their home as the ‘holy sanctuary of the proud journalists’.

Leonie was clearly passionate as a J&A journalist, possibly much more than the head himself, to the point that she would insist on Byleth to read every single article they had ever written. “Alright, kiddo! What article was written on June 15, 2021??” “*shakes head in resignation with a tired look*” “SILLLY! It’s the first one you helped me out with!! The title is ‘The Magical Wonder of a Sunshine Girl’, which discusses about the blablabla--” “*cries inwardly*”

The second time Byleth sees Seteth, he was gripping his umbrella hard as he tried to quickly walk away from Kronya, who was following, cat-calling, and basically harassing him. Eventually she slyly offers him to ‘work’ with her with a promised high pay, which made Seteth abruptly halt on his tracks.

Byleth rescues Seteth from Kronya by pretending to be his girlfriend (Funnily enough, “HONEY~!” was her first ever word on Tokyo and also a foreshadowing of their future relationship). She then attempted to drag a spluttering Seteth away as she cooed, “Come on, sweetie~ We can’t miss the big day!” “B-b-b-but- I thought you’re mute-” “I said *grips Seteth’s arm too tight* Come. On.”

Infuriated for taking away her potential partner, Kronya whipped out a knife and charged at the two. Seteth instinctively grabbed Byleth’s hand and together, they ran.

They eventually reach a dead end, which Kronya took advantage of by literally jumping over the two, then pinning Byleth down. “Move a muscle and I’m going to cut your girlfriends’ throat.” “SH-SHE’S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND! AND LET GO OF HER!”

Byleth struggled to reverse their position and had been successful. She pointed the gun on Kronya and, as the rain poured, blasted a warning shot by her left ear.

When Seteth snapped out of reality, he grabbed Byleth up who was about to shoot Kronya’s forehead (whose left ear was slowly bleeding). “GET UP! GET UP! LET’S GET OUT OF HERE! WE HAVE A DATE, REMEMBER!?”

Once they retreated to the abandoned building, they argued. “Did you really think you should just- just interfere just like that!? You have a gun, for god’s sake! We’ll get in serious trouble for that, or worse go to jail!” “You ungrateful- I just saved your damn life like you saved mine-” “Plus sh-she’s a woman! We shouldn’t have been too harsh with her-”“Look, you can be a prostitute for all I care, but that woman was harassing you and that’s just wrong!” “You listen here very well: I am a grown man, and I make my own decisions!” “Yeah!? Decisions to get yourself killed by that murderer! Can’t you see she’s the recently wanted person who had been killing off men in the alleyways!?” “I…! You…! *growls and shoves towel at Byleth* *stomps away*”

Believing it to be useful, Byleth was about to pick up the gun she previously threw out of frustration, but Seteth’s voice interrupted her. “I thought about what you said, and you’re right. I’m sorry. What can I give you in return?” “Er… Your… Apology, I guess?” “That’s already given! I meant something else, more than that!” “... Hmm…”

Byleth spaced out. She couldn’t really think of anything she wanted other than... “I’d like for the sun to stick around, but *chuckles dryly* I know you can’t just magically clear the sky…” “… Actually…”

Byleth silently (and comically) screamed when Seteth prayed to draw the curtains of the clouds and make way for the blue sky and the sun to smile down on them.

This is the first time Seteth clears the sky for somebody else other than for his little sister, so he smiled. There, they shared each other’s names and age.

While trying to appear mature, Seteth awkwardly rambles about how he was old enough to make his own decisions and do adult things, basically justifying his consideration on Kronya’s offer.

“Seteth, that’s... That’s nothing to be ashamed of. There must somebody you want to protect. That’s why you’d go to lengths to commit acts like that.” “… How did you know??” “*shrugs*”

Ever since meeting Seteth, Byleth began to speak much more frequently than before, but was still overall silent. She only says more whenever she’s around her new friend.

Seteth cooked a seafood dish for his guest when Byleth visited to discuss about their new business. As Byleth observed around the house, she saw lots of cute objects such as the colored fish-shaped glass curtain. She assumed Seteth’s little sister had wanted it.

When Flayn arrived home, she beamed that finally, her big brother had made a friend! Meanwhile Byleth recognized her as the oblivious girl who had a lot of boys to answer to, so she awkwardly greeted Flayn back, who was shaking her hand too rapidly.

Flayn had been more than willing to wear the teru teru bozu mascot. Although Seteth secretly thought it looked adorable, he simply didn’t approve of it.

After their first successful job, Flayn in her mascot told Seteth, “Onii-sama, won’t you lighten up?? You’ve finally cleared the sky for all the people! Isn’t that amazing???” “F-Finally? Flayn, how could you just forget the joy of just the two of us sharing our secret…” “Stupid brother! You’re the sunshine boy here, and sunshine boys should smile just like the sun! Look at Byleth-nee! She would make the perfect sunshine girl had she got your magic instead!!”

“Byleth?” Seteth wondered out loud and looked at the said-girl a few strides ahead of them, who was grinning ear-to-ear as she admired the sun. He tried to observe her enthusiasm like Flayn suggested. He ended up mindlessly gazing at the girl even when Flayn was already demanding for his attention.

When Byleth found out that Seteth enjoys writing, she suggested him to try working for J&A to earn extra cash. “Hm… I suppose I can give it a chance... Yes, this will make a great opportunity indeed.”

When Seteth visited Byleth’s place and found out that their intention and business were all a fraud, he backed out. “This is scam! I cannot feature my literary works in a shady manner such as this!” “WHAT THE FUCK!? YOU’LL CONSIDER PROSTITUTION, BUT YOU WON’T DO THIS!?!?!?” “…Uh. Language...”

During the firework festival, while Byleth hadn’t bother to fix her hair, Seteth smoothed his as well as tied a tiny pony. He almost frowned at her messy hair the first time he saw her, but held back when he saw the businessman standing beside her (i mean can u just imagine the beauty of him wearing a kimono while byleth in a formal suit omg im crying kjasdhjkhas--)

“Mr. Jeralt.” “Yeah, kid?” “If I am to give you a present, what will you ask for?” “Hmm.... Let’s be perfectly honestly: a good ‘ol beer is all I needed to remedy my past sins... Unless you can bring my wife from the dead, then *smiles sadly* I’d appreciate that.”

When someone on Yahoo!Answer suggested (jokingly) to gift Seteth a ring for his birthday, Byleth turned to Flayn for advice instead as they began walking home together while the love-strucked boys waved her good-bye. “Well, Mother told me that you shouldn’t limit your choices of gift just because your friend was born with the body they have. For example, even when society isn’t entirely ready to accept it, there are men who enjoy wearing dresses!” “.... OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH, SENPAIIIIII”

The next day, Byleth spent the entire day checking on every corner of the nearest mall to find the perfect ring, only to return empty-handed, exhausted, and bummed out. When an oblivious and excited Leonie shoved one of their old magazine copies (back when they could still afford printing their issues) on Byleth, she retreated to her room for the older girl to leave her alone.

Still tired, she flipped one of the pages and saw an article about a ring that can boost the wearer’s creativity and motivation to write many promising stories with the help of jewel’s powers. (aka, the ring in canon) Amused but resigned, Byleth shrugged and decided.

Byleth spent a much longer time looking for the tiny shop, which only had one branch, than looking for ring in the said-shop itself.

Meanwhile, police officers Solon and Thales had captured Kronya. Both are interrogating the criminal for what exactly happened when the missing girl, the one both officials were looking for, threatened to shoot Kronya.

Leonie nearly punched Byleth for accidentally staring at her chest again as the she struggled to sink in the information that Jeralt and Leonie are related and absolutely not 'lovers’.

Byleth lend her jacket (aka, her cloak in canon) to Seteth when he was nearly whisked away by the wind.

When the police were questioning the runaway kids, Seteth tried to ward them off with a slight glare all the while remaining polite. “Our family will continue to worry if we remain longer in the rain, so if you will please let us carry on...”

“Happy Birthday, Seteth!” “*inwardly: OH MY GOD IT’S A RING IT’S A RING HOLY SHIT DOES SHE ACTUALLY WANNA-- NO NON ON  THAT CANNOT BE IT, THIS IS TOO SOON-*” “This ring is supposed to help you write good, boosts your creativity and all. Not that I believe it, nor care, but I hope you like it~” “.........................................................Oh.”

“I... *clears throat* Th-thank you. I-I appreciate it.” “What’s with that stupid look though? Did you really think it was a proposal? Seriously, no way. I doubt it... *lies down, stares at ceiling, blushes* Unless you wanna...” “W-W-WHAT!? NONSENSE!! AND EVEN IF IT IS, YOU AND I BOTH KNOW VERY WELL THAT WE ARE TOO YOUNG FOR- FOR THAT!!” “You don’t say, you old geezer ;)”

“But Byleth... What are you doing? Oh no. No, this cannot be. I was even fully prepared... But if you were to part me with a gift, I’m going to leave with regrets...” “Regrets? Leave? What’re you talking about?” “Don’t you understand!? Back when we were walking our way home and you saw my skin? Don’t you see- *shuffles for robe*” “OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU PERVERT!?” “*reveals chest, skin magically distorted* I’M DYING!” “...Huh?”

Like her first days in Tokyo, Byleth didn’t speak the entire time when she and Flayn were caught and escorted to the police car. When Thales mentioned Seteth’s real age to Byleth (16), Byleth shouted, “SIXTEEN!?” much to the police’s shock since they thought the girl was mute or refused to ever speak.

“*inwardly: ... Seteth, you damn liar.*”

Flayn’s borrowed disguise from her male friends was a cap, hoodie and baggy pants. “Flayn, I thought he was your ex! What’s he doing here stealing you away from me?” “Ex? Stealing? Whatever do you mean; I thought you two are wonderful friends! And please hurry up!”

“I’D MAKE AN EXCELLENT SPEED COP!!” “... No, you won’t.” “I HEARD THAT!!”

Jeralt always compared Byleth to his own son due to how dangerously similar they looked and acted. He tried not to see her as a sort of child to him since the girl was not his son at all. However, Jeralt does end up acting like a father-figure to her, especially when he saw Thales pin her down as she repeatedly and desperately shouted her loved one’s name. Who knew that quiet kid had it in her to fall in love, just like Jeralt himself?

As Flayn ran towards Solon to pin him down, her cap flew away and her hood fell to reveal her long green hair. “It’s not your fault, Byleth-nee... Neither of us has foreseen this... But I will always trust you no matter what... SO PLEASE! BRING MY DEAR BROTHER BACK!!”

While Seteth did jump to reach for Byleth out of instinct (and love, coughcough), he tried to pry away from her as they fell no matter how much she desperately confesses her love for him. “The people would no longer have sunshine! Isn’t that what everybody wants, you included!? It’s why we even made that business! It’s best I leave this world for all of your sake!!”

In her fury, Byleth reached out to Seteth with more effort than ever all the while muttering, “Come here- Come here you stupid old geezer--” When they finally held hands, she slapped him hard.

“DON’T YOU GET IT, YOU DUMB IDIOT!? FLAYN AND I DID NOT GOT ARRESTED, NARROWLY ESCAPED, HAD TO BE RESCUED BY LEONIE, RAN ALL THE WAY TO THAT BLASTED BUILDING, ALMOST STOPPED BY JERALT, AND NEARLY GOT SHOT BY FOUR DAMN PEOPLE TO RESCUE YOU FOR NOTHING! SETETH, I LOVE YOU!”

“*giggles* You look gross when you cry.” “Shut it, Byleth. Seriously, at a time like this... Let’s... Let’s just go home.” “Yeah...”

When Byleth returned to Tokyo, she had her hair dyed into light green since she felt like it (and reminded her of someone dear to her).

Jeralt happily showed Byleth the photo of Flayn (who barely grew an inch), his son Byleth (who’s almost reaching Flayn’s height), and Leonie, (wearing a cop’s uniform imean they should have seriously made natsumi a speed cop too, jeezus).

When she and Seteth reunited, his first words to her (other than, “Byleth!”) were, “Your hair...” “*grins* I know what you’re thinking, it doesn’t suit me.” “No, not at all. *touches Byleth’s hair with the hand wearing the ring* You look beautiful.” “*tries to pout, but melts into a winder grin* Not before?” “You always have been.”

Yay, it’s done!! I’ve had this AU for a long time now actually, but only got to post it now that the movie’s out on the west!! Now watch me ignore this shit for the next years, rip

Again, every detail in the movie isn’t covered here since I haven’t seen their potential setleth au differences yet, but the overall plot remains the same! Note that I haven’t actually finished the other routes yet other than the beagle one, so there might be a lotta ooc stuff here. Maybe when I’m done with them all, ima get back to this and fix it and add some more.

As you can see, I made their dynamic more on the teasing side unlike hodaka&hina’s, mainly because i interpret byleth to be playfully sly and ofc seteth’s distrust on her on the start of the game. I personally enjoyed them to be a bickering old couple, so they’re like that xD

Honestly, i’m torn in between assigning rhea as either the two green peas’ mother or jeralt’s mother-in-law. the former for obvious reasons, the latter since rhea sorts of ‘hides’ away the little kid from jeralt like in canon, but for another reason.

As for the taki and mitsuha cameo, I feel like that would be a completely different thing, so I didn’t include them here. But for sometime now, I’ve been imagining them as ferdinand & dorothea, manuela being their okudera. but this au isn’t house biased (leonie’s there cause of jeralt), so i didn’t include them.

Huge thanks to my sister for helping me shape this au!! Actually half of these ideas belongs to her, even more perhaps. Hope I can link ya’ll to her accounts once she’s done fixing ‘em so ya’ll get see how much of a genius she is!! <3

I wanna make a manga/fanfic outta this one day, but for now, here’s the idea compilation of my setleth au nobody asked for!! Thank you for reading!! :D

#fire emblem three houses #weathering with you #setleth #au #weathering with you au #seteth #byleth #flayn #jeralt eisner #leonie pinelli #fire emblem #fe #fe3h #fe16 #ファイアーエムブレム #ファイアーエムブレム風花雪月 #tenki no ko #天気の子 #headcanons #my art

[winterrose527]

All the Stories are True

This is for @argetlam25 for the prompt: “Jon/Sansa at WF doing some ritual for the old religion for protection” - Thank you for this! It was so fun to write! If anyone has any other prompts they’d like written let me know! Hope you enjoy, xo. (I’ll also be posting this on AO3 in my In Every Version of Reality, I’d Find you and I’d Choose You one shot series)

****

“This isn’t going to work,” Jon grumbled as they trudged through the snow.

“There’s no way you could possibly know that,” Sansa pointed out. She was right. Always. It was more than a little annoying.

“Sansa we don’t have time for this,” he sighed in frustration, though they’d already reached the Weirwood tree.

He was surprised she’d wanted to come back here. After all, this was where she was married to Ramsay Bolton. Many of the horrors she’d suffered had taken place because of the words she said under this tree. But she was a Stark, she had the blood of the First Men in her veins, and she was home now. She would not be frightened.

“You and your advisors have sat around discussing this plan within an inch of your lives for days now, this will only take a minute,” she countered. Then she spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her, “This is the only thing I can do to protect you.”

“I’m the one who’s going to protect you, Sansa,” he said, aching to take her in his arms. He remembered the first night they’d been reunited. He’d blamed the feral, instant, suffocating need to protect her on the man they’d both called father. He could no longer do so.

Ned Stark had never been his father. Bran had told him as much. None of the lords knew yet, nor the foreign army that had accompanied him home, not even their Queen. His Queen, he remembered. It was important not to slip up, not even in his mind. He had bent the knee, pledged her his loyalty, and had slept with her for good measure. That was before he knew what she was though, or rather, who she was to him. My Queen, my Aunt, my lover…

“We protect each other, Jon,” she sighed, “Or do you forget who the Knights of the Vale came for, do you forget who killed Littlefinger?”

There were few things in life he regretted quite so much as not being there when Littlefinger realised he’d been bested by his pupil, the child he’d kidnapped, the woman he’d thought to make his wife.

“I will never forget that,” he said passionately, his anger rising in him. She had a way of summoning it, it and other more dangerous things. “But Sansa this is… nothing but one of Old Nan’s stories…”

“Like the stories about a three-eyed raven who knew the answer to every question ever asked, or of dragons, and white-walkers?,” she asked, “How many stories have to try to kill us before you realise that they’re all true.”

She was right, again. Of course, that intelligence is exactly the reason he was afraid to do this. There was no possibility of her not seeing through him. To allow a connection to her like this would be like letting her into his very soul.

“But why does it have to be you?,” he asked.

“I’m the blood of Winterfell,” she said, looking like the one true queen. She had no need of a crown or a throne, her power came from within. “Who better?”

He sighed. He would never win against her, not in a battle of wills.

Content that she’s won, she takes out a dagger. Valyrian steel, the one that Arya had used to kill Littlefinger.

She raised the dagger to her palm, slicing a thin, determined line. He saw little droplets of blood hit the white snow, it felt like an omen.

She handed him the dagger and he sliced his hand as well, sheathing the blade once he was done.

“Sky, Root, Sea, Flame, I wish you to protect his name Jon Snow, is your loyal soldier Guide him as the nights grow colder And if he should fall in a clash of swords Then let him be protected by these words Give him the strength he needs to survive Above all else, keep him alive And if he should need to borrow Faith or luck to avoid sorrow Then take the strength from my very bones I give him this, the most sacred of loans Draw the power that he needs from me So that together, once again, we can be.”

They clasped hands, joining where the blood still ran. All the stories are true, he thought, as he felt her coursing through his veins, their lives interlocking like vines growing together.

He felt her shudder and he held her upright. These gods are quick.

He saw her soul too, the deep crevices of her mind that no one should ever get to explore, the wells of her heart that no one should reach. To his happiness and his horror he found himself there. And he knew that she was finding the same within him. Where will we go, he’d said once. He had not realised he meant they might journey into torment together. He had never dared hope.

There were tears in her eyes but she said, “We’re supposed to…it’s supposed to be sealed with a kiss.”

How could he deny the ritual now, when he had seen it work? Now, when he had seen that he was her every secret.

He stepped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. He kissed her once, but as he moved away he saw her move forward slightly, and that was enough to make him capture her lips again. It was neither chaste nor singular, and though it was surely damning, it felt holy.

He sought to devour her and she seemed to want to be so claimed, clutching him to her as though afraid he would leave her.

“I, I know this can’t be but -,” she started.

“What did I say about words before but?,” he asked her teasingly.

“Fine, then I know this can’t be, I know that you’re pledged to the Dragon Queen, I know that you’re off to fight the White Walkers, I know that everyone still thinks you’re my brother, and I know that we could both be dead come Spring, but I love you, Jon Snow.”

“As I love you, Sansa Stark,” he said, kissing her again because everything she’d said was true, and it was all horseshit compared to how he felt about her.

***

Sansa was knitting by the fire a week later when all of a sudden she grew faint and weak, her knitting needles clattering to the floor. Keep him safe, and return him to me, she thought before losing consciousness.

***

When Jon returned a month after that, he had a new scar over his heart that was cold to the touch.

He showed it to Sansa on their wedding night and when it healed from her kiss he didn’t question it. After all, all the stories are true.

***

Centuries later a girl stands underneath the Weirwood tree in front of the only boy she’s ever loved.

“Please, just let me, let me protect you the way Queen Sansa protected King Jon,” she pleaded, tears in her eyes.

“That’s just a story, my love,” he said, kissing the tears that fell on her cheeks.

“My father always told me, all the stories are true,” she whispered, “Please.”

He gave into her, he always would, “Okay, Lyanna,” he told the girl, so named for the mother of King Jon, one of the girl’s own ancestors.

The beauty in front of him was so like her fearless namesake that he had wondered once or twice if history was repeating itself in an attempt to right the wrongs of the past.  

He wasn’t sure that White Walkers had ever really existed, or dragons either, but the one thing he never doubted was that a man would go to the ends of the earth to protect the woman he loved, or that in the end, it was her that would be the one to save him.

#game of thrones #jon x sansa #fanfiction #prompt #magic

[hellraiserdeano-blog]

Evil Has Always Lost Chapter 11

Grant Mitchell sat again the wall staring into The Joker's eye's, they'd been fighting since jason left the area "Where the fuck is Chuck's Type-writer?" he demand's before pushing off the wall. The Joker grin's at him licking the blood from his knuckle's "You have to beat me, break me--otherwise, this world and every one die's because of Lucifer's plan" He grin's punching his fist together "I will never tell you a god damn thing, Grant. I am not your true enemy, I am your nightmare" he say's before he and Grant Mitchell suddenly hear the roar of the sky, Both turn looking as A vile visage began to reemerge from the sky slamming down so thunderously the ground errupted around them nearly destroying the strip club. The 1,000 Foot tall Lucifer looked down at the Ground his red eye landing on Grant mitchell as Grant Mitchell look's up at him The Joker grin's malevolently at him "And he's baaaack!" He smirk's causing Grant Mitchell to look at him "I don't give a shit, mate" He glare's upward's "And you; YOU killed my brother and Luke, i will not forgive or forget" He say's to the giant who merely grinned devilishly at him, Lucifer stared down at them his voice sinister and malevolent "This world is full of malice, he created you to mock me. I was his most beautiful angel and most loyal. When he asked me to bow," His eye's glare all around "I was down right pissed! and now he's gone and sent me to jupiter! imagine how fucking pissed off i am now? imagine what's about to happen Granty! snap of my goddamn finger's and you all die 'cause i'm bored with this little game we've been playing for so long" He put's his finger's together as Grant Mitchell stared at him "Go the fuck on ahead! you're a sad weak little kid who's just mad Daddy Didn't show him more love than the other's!" He roar's back at the giant. The Joker look's at Grant then up at the giant "Lucifer, allow me to finish this one myself?" He question's gleefully, Lucifer look's down at the Joker annoyance clear upon his demonic visage "You are human; So YOU, too shall die!" He growl's before snapping his finger's as one by one the human's near the strip club begin exploding into blood and gut's. Before Grant and them could implode; Chuck suddenly appeared his wing's descending back into him as he look's up at Lucifer "How many more must suffer?" He question's then look's at Grant with a wary look "Why? because they're human? is that why you hate my creation so much? is that why you try and hurt them?" He turn's back to Lucifer "you are so wrong! i made you and the other angel's but, i did not make you to be selfish and greedy" He crosses his arm's smirking at him "and you were the only one to break my trust." He look's at Grant and Cook "My creation can not be killed by you, Nor will your power deminish them" He look's into Lucifer's eye's "In this game of Hell Versus Heaven there is but one victor, and it is not you" he sit's down indian style as Lucifer glare's at Chuck "You think by saying that you have defeated me?" He question's as Chuck shake's his head "No, because the truth is i've already won, i'll explain why" He open's his arm's "You called this beautiful and that was your down fall, Because you showed me the reason you dare hurt my creation is because you are petty, greedy, selfish; Need i say more? And no matter how many time's I save them, it's alway's you that hurt's them" He look's over at Mark Fowler Jr. "Lucifer, this battle you have started can only end in your death, i gave you Hell to rule because it is a lowly place just as you" he stand's up his eye's glowing bright "And you dare step foot onto my greatest creation? you dare defile it with your dirty rotten feet?" He walk's forward his hand's held at; the ground begin's to heal itself in an instant "You are nothing more than a weak son, i gave you every thing and you could never give me the one thing i wanted: Trust" He stare's hard "I asked YOU to love them more than I, more than you could have ever Loved me; and what was your answer? you and the other's that followed you" He float's up in the air "You all tried to take my throne, And i gave you what you wanted: A throne" He glare's dangerously into Lucifer's red eye's "so now, let me show you my power so that you may witness how pathetic you are compared to GOD" he say's causing Lucifer to growl fire errupting all over the area "Fool! i am not alone!" he say's before firing a fireball toward Chuck as Chuck inhale's the fireball much to lucifer's shock "Was that supposed to kill me? Lucifer, how many centurie's have I told you our power is not matched; try not to die" He say's before a huge white light slam's into lucifer from thin air causing the giant to fall to the ground creating an earth quake "That's not even half of what i can do" He look's up "You forget i've been building a new army to show your demon's, they are nothing but child's play!" He open's heaven from the sky as a Bright light shined upon Lucifer and million's of angel's riding on white stallion's began to descend up the beast who glared in return "You have another army?!" He growl's out in rage before fire slam's into the angel's sending them flying into the ground lucifer stand's up his red eye's on chuck "You think that I will accept what we talked about as 'burying' the hachet? i Can not exist as long as your Warrior's still stand!" He raises a hand "You who call your self my Father, Know nothing of my power--Soul's are what you need to get strong? well, I want you to see this, because all over this putrid world people have made deal's with me and it's time to collect on that debt!" He yell's as his hand ommit's red light and it shoot's into the air Chuck stare's at him "You can't get that many soul's, And you know that Lucifer" He grit's his teeth as Lucifer stare's down at him "Oh, but I can, these soul's are coming!" He gleefully laugh's as Chuck stare's into the sky "Not if I stop it" He remind's as Lucifer smirk's kicking chuck hard through the strip club and out the other side through a truck then stare's up "Soul's are coming and I will be unstoppable!!!!" he grin's big fire rising from the ground around them Grant Mitchell look's up yelling "You'll still be a weak bitch!" He smirk's as Lucifer look's down at him "is that a bug I hear calling out?" He say's before stomping Grant Mitchell blood gushes all over the ground as James Cook stare's at the foot that had stomped grant then stare's up Lucifer stare's down at him "What are you going to do little pest? i am not a dr. i am not a psychiatrists nor any of this putrid children you can beat up! i am the end i am the king of evil, i am lucifer the devil in the flesh! and there is no one who can stop me now! the soul's are here" He say's as James Cook glare's hard at him then witnesses a thousand billion soul's wailing in the sky as Chuck Shurley hold's out a hand "Not this time, lucifer!" He shout's as Lucifer keep's his hand held high he turn's grinning at Chuck his eye's turning to fire as a huge wave of flames shoot at chuck disrupting his hand the billion's of wailing soul's shoot into lucifer's right hand as Chuck glare's with wide eye's "No" he mutter's watching as Lucifer consume's every soul that has ever made a deal with him his body growing in mass as James Cook look's over at the bloody body of Grant mitchell and Mark Fowler jr. then back at the growing Lucifer "Mate, you may have consumed so many soul's in a mili second but, you're forgetting what can hurt you when demon blade's can't, when holy water refuses to get the job done, you are nothing to a book" He say's pulling out a spliff and lighting it as Lucifer grew in size James Cook pull's out the bible from his back pocket "Are you listening now?" He shout's up as Lucifer's red eye land's down on Cook seeing the bible he laugh's demonically his left hand snap's it's finger's as James Cook explodes Mark fowler Jr. jump's backward's slamming again the car blood all over him staring at the giant beast as Chuck look's furious after that he raises both arm's "That was UNCALLED for, Lucifer!!!!" He scream's as Lucifer look's at him "I will not stop until your creation is dead and gone and I am the only one standing!" he roar's before hearing a rumbling sound Lucifer turn's toward the horizon "What is that?" He say's before holding out his left hand "You think it'll make any damn difference rather the plague's hit me all at once?" he say's as Chuck shurley smirk's as Lucifer stare's down at Chuck "You think the plagues can hurt me? i am not a human" He holds out a clawed hand as Chuck raises his hands "I'm not out to hurt you" He says as Lucifer look's down at Chuck "A god who doesn't even give a shit about his creation, you made my words a reality, no one else did and as i once told kevin lomax, you SIT on your ass laughing at their sorrow--Worlds greatest dad? I hardly see a difference in me and you" He raises both hands flames errupting around the area as Chuck look's annoyed by him "What i did was because you all dissappointe--" Mark fowler jr. punches Chuck as Chuck staggers back and fall's on his ass surprised by a punch he stares up at mark fowler jr. "You--" He says before he goes quiet looking into Mark fowler jr's eyes Lucifer look's down at the scene before him a loud chuckle begin's to errupt from him as Mark Fowler Jr. look's up toward the Devil the beast stops laughing looking into his eyes "What's this? you? you are a God's warrior? HOW many are there? How many more god's warriors must I annihilate in the purest form of torture? I done killed your daddy, I almost made you fuck your sister courtney, what else should I do little boy? What else should I, the taker, take from your worthless life? What do YOU stand to gain from helping GOD? your father is dead now, it is his fault you are meeting me, the greatest mind in the universe, the only angel GOD ever truly loved as a favourite son, What do you have for hope to beat me?" he bellows as Mark Fowler Jr. rips off his vest throwing it to the side, Chuck stared apathetically at him then away as Mark Fowler Jr. stared up at him with cold psychotic eye's the sheen was missing as Chuck look's back at him "All my warriors have something unique within them," He states to no one in paticular but to the devil before them who stared at him "Only, you can see it now, That's right you can see it now lucifer? A gods warriors soul is golden, and that's not all they are as strong as an archangel, You know this don't you? that form, that beast body of yours isn't enough to protect you from the judgement of My Warriors" He stand's up as Lucifer stare's at Mark Fowler Jr. red eyes widening as now he saw something more than flesh. Mark Fowler jr. no longer looked human, He was glowing a golden hue and wing's were protruding from his back his eyes lit up in golden iris's as Lucifer grit's his teeth looking at the form of an arch angel "Yo--you dare mock my brothers? you dare pretend to be an arch angel!" He slings fire at Mark Fowler Jr. who took the fire to the face and was unscathed as Lucifer glares at Mark Fowler jr. "You are an arch-angel now? is that what a god's warrior looks like?" He barks befire putting his fingers together "Lets see you survive this!" He snap's fingers as Mark Fowler Jr.'s golden wings extended Lucifer step's back causing the ground to shake "What is this shit? God's warriors, you're all them? how many?" he roars as Chuck look's up at him then smirks "There are many warriors all my warriors, but they are stronger than you and your army combined" He look's over to Mark Fowler jr. "He is just 1 of my warriors, but it is Dean winchester that is the link between them and you, And as long as that link exists they can be stronger than you lucifer--better than youever were!" His eyes glow a bright white as Lucifer stares wildly and lunges.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Saturday, february 6 of 2021 with Proverbs 6 and Psalm 6, accompanied by Psalm 48 for the 48th day of Winter and Psalm 37 for day 37 of the year

[Psalm 6]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the lyre.

O Eternal One, don’t punish me in Your anger

or harshly correct me.

Show me grace, Eternal God. I am completely undone.

Bring me back together, Eternal One. Mend my shattered bones.

My soul is drowning in darkness.

How long can You, the Eternal, let things go on like this?

Come back, Eternal One, and lead me to Your saving light.

Rescue me because I know You are truly compassionate.

I’m alive for a reason—I can’t worship You if I’m dead.

If I’m six feet under, how can I thank You?

I’m exhausted. I cannot even speak, my voice fading as sighs.

Every day ends in the same place—lying in bed, covered in tears,

my pillow wet with sorrow.

My eyes burn, devoured with grief;

they grow weak as I constantly watch for my enemies.

All who are evil, stay away from me

because the Eternal hears my voice, listens as I cry.

The Eternal God hears my simple prayers;

He receives my request.

All who seek to destroy me will be humiliated;

they will turn away and suddenly crumble in shame.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 6 (The Voice)

[Psalm 48]

A song of the sons of Korah.

The Eternal is great and mighty, worthy of great praise

in the city of our True God, upon His holy mountain.

Situated high above, Mount Zion is beautiful to see,

the pleasure of the entire earth.

Mount Zion, in the north,

is the city of the great King.

In her palaces, the True God

has revealed Himself as a mighty fortress.

Not long ago, enemy kings gathered together

and moved forward as one to attack the city.

When they saw Mount Zion, they were amazed;

amazement became fear, then panic. They fled for their lives.

They were overtaken by terror, trembling in anguish

like a woman in childbirth.

God, You shattered the ships of Tarshish

with the mighty east wind.

As we have heard stories of Your greatness,

now we have also seen it with our own eyes

right here, in the city of the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies.

Right here, in our God’s city,

the True God will preserve her forever.

[pause]

We have meditated upon Your loyal love, O God,

within Your holy temple.

Just as Your name reaches to the ends of the earth, O God,

so Your praise flows there too;

Your right hand holds justice.

So because of Your judgments,

may Mount Zion be delighted!

May the villages of Judah celebrate!

Explore Zion; make an accounting,

note all her towers;

Reflect upon her defenses;

stroll through her palaces

So that you can tell the coming generation all about her.

For so is God,

our True God, forever and ever;

He will be our guide till the end.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 48 (The Voice)

[Psalm 37]

A song of David.

Don’t be worried with evil workers

or envy the gains of people with all-wrong-upside-down ways.

Soon enough they will wither like grass,

like green herbs fading in summer’s heat.

Believe in the Eternal, and do what is good—

live in the land He provides; roam, and rest in God’s faithfulness.

Take great joy in the Eternal!

His gifts are coming, and they are all your heart desires!

Commit your path to the Eternal; let Him direct you.

Put your confidence in Him, and He will follow through with you.

He will spread out righteousness for you

as a sunrise spreads radiance over the land;

He will deliver justice for you into the light of the high sun.

Be still. Be patient. Expect the Eternal to arrive and set things right.

Don’t get upset when you see the worldly ones rising up the ladder.

Don’t be bothered by those who are anchored in wicked ways.

So turn from anger. Don’t rage,

and don’t worry—these ways frame the doorway to evil.

Besides, those who act from evil motives will be cut off from the land;

but those who wait, hoping in the Eternal, will enjoy its riches.

You’ll see . . . the wicked won’t know what hit them;

you’ll blink, and they’ll be gone;

you’ll go out looking for them, but you won’t find them.

But the humble-hearted will inherit the land;

they will take pleasure in its peace and enjoy its abundance.

How that wicked man devises evil against God’s righteous ones!

He grits his teeth, consumed by hate for the upright.

But oh, how the Lord laughs at him!

He knows the wicked man will get his; the day is coming.

The wicked unsheathe their swords, pull taut their bows;

the poor and needy are their victims,

and evil is on the prowl to kill those with integrity, God’s beloved.

But their swords will bend back to pierce their own hearts—

yes, their bows will snap in two.

The righteous are better off with the little God blessed them with

than living under the curse of the wealth of the wicked.

Their time is short, their arms will be broken,

but the Eternal will hold His righteous children high.

All their days are measured and known by the Eternal;

their inheritance is kept safe forever.

When calamity comes, they will escape with their dignity.

When famine invades the nations, they will be fed to their fill.

But immoral ones will find their lives cut short;

they’ll vanish as quickly as wildflowers in the fields.

Yes, enemies of the Eternal will vanish

like smoke into the cool night air.

Evil people borrow and never repay their debts,

while the good give generously from their hearts.

For God’s blessed children will inherit the land,

but those cursed by Him stand to gain nothing.

If you are right with God, He strengthens you for the journey;

the Eternal will be pleased with your life.

And even though you trip up, you will not fall on your face

because He holds you by the hand.

Through my whole life (young and old),

I have never witnessed God forsaking those who do right,

nor have I seen their children begging for crumbs,

Because they are always giving and sharing;

truly, their children are a joyful blessing.

Walk away from evil. Do good

so you, too, will enjoy never-ending life

Because the Eternal cherishes justice

and will not abandon those loyal to Him.

He will guard and care for them forever,

but any child born of evil will be rooted out, cut down, and destroyed.

Those leading God-pleasing lives will inherit His land

and settle there forever.

Wisdom fills the mouth of the right-living;

justice and truth roll from their tongues.

The True God’s law is imprinted upon their hearts,

and they do not stumble.

The wicked stalk God’s good ones,

looking to kill them,

But the Eternal will never leave them to the dogs of evil,

nor will they be found guilty when the verdict is read.

Wait for the Eternal. Keep to His path. Mind His will.

He will come for you, exalt you; you will inherit the land.

Before your very eyes you will see the end of the wicked.

I passed by a wicked man with a cold-blooded nature;

I looked, and he seemed as large as a cedar of Lebanon.

But then again, I passed that same way and there was nothing left of him.

I went out looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Keep your eye on the innocent. Model your life after the blameless.

Everyone who loves peace has a future.

But sinners will be doomed.

The forecast for the wicked: utter destruction.

There will be none left, not one child of darkness.

The Eternal saves His faithful;

He lends His strength in hard times;

The Eternal comes and frees them—

frees them from evildoers and saves them for eternity—

simply because they seek shelter in Him.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 37 (The Voice)

[Proverbs 6]

My son, if you will risk your family’s future to put up collateral for the debts of an acquaintance,

if you seal a commitment with a handshake to someone without first knowing the value of his word,

Then your words may well be the trap that snares you,

and your promise may seal your fate.

You can’t be sure to whom you hitched your future.

So, my son—save yourself! Here’s what you need to do:

go to that person who became your master with a handshake,

humble yourself, and plead your case.

Do not sleep;

don’t even rest your eyes until you deal with this.

Get out as quickly as possible,

as a gazelle runs from the hand of the hunter,

as a bird takes off from the grip of the fowler.

Take a lesson from the ant, you who love leisure and ease.

Observe how it works, and dare to be just as wise.

It has no boss,

no one laying down the law or telling it what to do,

Yet it gathers its food through summer

and takes what it needs from the harvest.

How long do you plan to lounge your life away, you lazy fool?

Will you ever get out of bed?

You say, “A little sleep, a little rest,

a few more minutes, a nice little nap.”

But soon poverty will be on top of you like a robber;

need will assault you like a well-armed warrior.

Someone who struts around taking advantage of unsuspecting souls

and deceiving others is to be avoided.

With a wink of his eye, a quick shuffle of his feet,

and a slight gesture with his hand, he signals his roguish treachery.

With a warped mind and twisted heart, he constantly looks for his own gain at others’ expense,

causing friction everywhere he goes.

But you watch: his actions will bring sudden disaster!

In an instant, his life will be shattered,

and there will be nothing to save him.

Take note, there are six things the Eternal hates;

no, make it seven He abhors:

Eyes that look down on others, a tongue that can’t be trusted,

hands that shed innocent blood,

A heart that conceives evil plans,

feet that sprint toward evil,

A false witness who breathes out lies,

and anyone who stirs up trouble among the faithful.

So, my son, follow your father’s direction,

and don’t forget what your mother taught you—

Keep their teachings close to your heart;

engrave them on a pendant, and hang it around your neck.

Their instruction will guide you along your journey,

guard you when you sleep,

and address you when you wake in the morning.

For their direction is a lamp; their instruction will light your path,

and their discipline will correct your missteps,

sending you down the right path of life.

They will keep you far from the corrupted woman,

away from the smooth talk of a seductive woman.

Do not lose yourself in desire for her beauty

or let her win you over with her painted eyes,

For you can buy a harlot with a loaf of bread,

but sex with another man’s wife will cost you your life.

Can you carry fire right next to your body

and keep your clothes from burning?

Can you walk over fiery coals

and keep your feet from blistering?

Take another man’s wife, and you will find out—

whoever touches her will be found guilty.

People don’t despise a thief

who only steals to fill his hunger;

Still if they catch him, he must repay seven times over—

he could end up losing everything he owns!

By contrast only a fool would commit adultery

since by his action he loses not only his possessions but also his own life.

He will suffer injury and be disgraced;

dishonor will leave a permanent mark on his life.

For jealousy sparks a husband’s rage—

when he gets his revenge, he’ll show no mercy.

He will not be paid off or appeased;

no bribe or gift will set things right.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Psalms and Proverbs

for Thursday, february 6 of 2020 with Psalm 6 and Proverbs 6, along with Psalm 48 for the 48th day of mid Winter, and Psalm 37 for day 37 of the year

[Psalm 6]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the lyre.

O Eternal One, don’t punish me in Your anger

or harshly correct me.

Show me grace, Eternal God. I am completely undone.

Bring me back together, Eternal One. Mend my shattered bones.

My soul is drowning in darkness.

How long can You, the Eternal, let things go on like this?

Come back, Eternal One, and lead me to Your saving light.

Rescue me because I know You are truly compassionate.

I’m alive for a reason—I can’t worship You if I’m dead.

If I’m six feet under, how can I thank You?

I’m exhausted. I cannot even speak, my voice fading as sighs.

Every day ends in the same place—lying in bed, covered in tears,

my pillow wet with sorrow.

My eyes burn, devoured with grief;

they grow weak as I constantly watch for my enemies.

All who are evil, stay away from me

because the Eternal hears my voice, listens as I cry.

The Eternal God hears my simple prayers;

He receives my request.

All who seek to destroy me will be humiliated;

they will turn away and suddenly crumble in shame.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 6 (The Voice)

[Psalm 48]

Beautiful Zion

A poetic song, for the prophetic singers of Korah’s clan

There are so many reasons to describe God as wonderful!

So many reasons to praise him with unlimited praise!

Zion-City is his home; he lives on his holy mountain—

high and glorious, joy filled and favored.

Zion-Mountain looms in the farthest reaches of the north,

the city of our incomparable King!

This is his divine abode, an impenetrable citadel,

for he is known to dwell in the highest place.

See how the mighty kings united to come against Zion,

yet when they saw God manifest in front of their eyes,

they were stunned.

Trembling, they all fled away, gripped with fear.

Seized with panic, they doubled up in frightful anguish

like a woman in the labor pains of childbirth.

Like a hurricane blowing and breaking the invading ships,

God blows upon them and breaks them to pieces.

We have heard about these wonders,

and then we saw them with our own eyes.

For this is the city of the Commander of Angel Armies,

the city of our God, safe and secure forever!

Pause in his presence

Lord, as we worship you in your temple,

we recall over and over your kindness to us

and your unending love.

The fame of your name echoes throughout the entire world,

accompanied with praises.

Your right hand is full of victory.

So let the people of Zion rejoice with gladness;

let the daughters of praise leap for joy!

For God will see to it that you are judged fairly.

Circle Zion; count her towers.

Consider her walls, climb her palaces,

and then go and tell the coming generation

of the care and compassion of our God.

Yes, this is our God, our great God forever.

He will lead us onward until the end,

through all time, beyond death,

and into eternity!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 48 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 37]

A song of David.

Don’t be worried with evil workers

or envy the gains of people with all-wrong-upside-down ways.

Soon enough they will wither like grass,

like green herbs fading in summer’s heat.

Believe in the Eternal, and do what is good—

live in the land He provides; roam, and rest in God’s faithfulness.

Take great joy in the Eternal!

His gifts are coming, and they are all your heart desires!

Commit your path to the Eternal; let Him direct you.

Put your confidence in Him, and He will follow through with you.

He will spread out righteousness for you

as a sunrise spreads radiance over the land;

He will deliver justice for you into the light of the high sun.

Be still. Be patient. Expect the Eternal to arrive and set things right.

Don’t get upset when you see the worldly ones rising up the ladder.

Don’t be bothered by those who are anchored in wicked ways.

So turn from anger. Don’t rage,

and don’t worry—these ways frame the doorway to evil.

Besides, those who act from evil motives will be cut off from the land;

but those who wait, hoping in the Eternal, will enjoy its riches.

You’ll see . . . the wicked won’t know what hit them;

you’ll blink, and they’ll be gone;

you’ll go out looking for them, but you won’t find them.

But the humble-hearted will inherit the land;

they will take pleasure in its peace and enjoy its abundance.

How that wicked man devises evil against God’s righteous ones!

He grits his teeth, consumed by hate for the upright.

But oh, how the Lord laughs at him!

He knows the wicked man will get his; the day is coming.

The wicked unsheathe their swords, pull taut their bows;

the poor and needy are their victims,

and evil is on the prowl to kill those with integrity, God’s beloved.

But their swords will bend back to pierce their own hearts—

yes, their bows will snap in two.

The righteous are better off with the little God blessed them with

than living under the curse of the wealth of the wicked.

Their time is short, their arms will be broken,

but the Eternal will hold His righteous children high.

All their days are measured and known by the Eternal;

their inheritance is kept safe forever.

When calamity comes, they will escape with their dignity.

When famine invades the nations, they will be fed to their fill.

But immoral ones will find their lives cut short;

they’ll vanish as quickly as wildflowers in the fields.

Yes, enemies of the Eternal will vanish

like smoke into the cool night air.

Evil people borrow and never repay their debts,

while the good give generously from their hearts.

For God’s blessed children will inherit the land,

but those cursed by Him stand to gain nothing.

If you are right with God, He strengthens you for the journey;

the Eternal will be pleased with your life.

And even though you trip up, you will not fall on your face

because He holds you by the hand.

Through my whole life (young and old),

I have never witnessed God forsaking those who do right,

nor have I seen their children begging for crumbs,

Because they are always giving and sharing;

truly, their children are a joyful blessing.

Walk away from evil. Do good

so you, too, will enjoy never-ending life

Because the Eternal cherishes justice

and will not abandon those loyal to Him.

He will guard and care for them forever,

but any child born of evil will be rooted out, cut down, and destroyed.

Those leading God-pleasing lives will inherit His land

and settle there forever.

Wisdom fills the mouth of the right-living;

justice and truth roll from their tongues.

The True God’s law is imprinted upon their hearts,

and they do not stumble.

The wicked stalk God’s good ones,

looking to kill them,

But the Eternal will never leave them to the dogs of evil,

nor will they be found guilty when the verdict is read.

Wait for the Eternal. Keep to His path. Mind His will.

He will come for you, exalt you; you will inherit the land.

Before your very eyes you will see the end of the wicked.

I passed by a wicked man with a cold-blooded nature;

I looked, and he seemed as large as a cedar of Lebanon.

But then again, I passed that same way and there was nothing left of him.

I went out looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Keep your eye on the innocent. Model your life after the blameless.

Everyone who loves peace has a future.

But sinners will be doomed.

The forecast for the wicked: utter destruction.

There will be none left, not one child of darkness.

The Eternal saves His faithful;

He lends His strength in hard times;

The Eternal comes and frees them—

frees them from evildoers and saves them for eternity—

simply because they seek shelter in Him.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 37 (The Voice)

[Proverbs 6]

My son, if you will risk your family’s future to put up collateral for the debts of an acquaintance,

if you seal a commitment with a handshake to someone without first knowing the value of his word,

Then your words may well be the trap that snares you,

and your promise may seal your fate.

You can’t be sure to whom you hitched your future.

So, my son—save yourself! Here’s what you need to do:

go to that person who became your master with a handshake,

humble yourself, and plead your case.

Do not sleep;

don’t even rest your eyes until you deal with this.

Get out as quickly as possible,

as a gazelle runs from the hand of the hunter,

as a bird takes off from the grip of the fowler.

Take a lesson from the ant, you who love leisure and ease.

Observe how it works, and dare to be just as wise.

It has no boss,

no one laying down the law or telling it what to do,

Yet it gathers its food through summer

and takes what it needs from the harvest.

How long do you plan to lounge your life away, you lazy fool?

Will you ever get out of bed?

You say, “A little sleep, a little rest,

a few more minutes, a nice little nap.”

But soon poverty will be on top of you like a robber;

need will assault you like a well-armed warrior.

Someone who struts around taking advantage of unsuspecting souls

and deceiving others is to be avoided.

With a wink of his eye, a quick shuffle of his feet,

and a slight gesture with his hand, he signals his roguish treachery.

With a warped mind and twisted heart, he constantly looks for his own gain at others’ expense,

causing friction everywhere he goes.

But you watch: his actions will bring sudden disaster!

In an instant, his life will be shattered,

and there will be nothing to save him.

Take note, there are six things the Eternal hates;

no, make it seven He abhors:

Eyes that look down on others, a tongue that can’t be trusted,

hands that shed innocent blood,

A heart that conceives evil plans,

feet that sprint toward evil,

A false witness who breathes out lies,

and anyone who stirs up trouble among the faithful.

So, my son, follow your father’s direction,

and don’t forget what your mother taught you—

Keep their teachings close to your heart;

engrave them on a pendant, and hang it around your neck.

Their instruction will guide you along your journey,

guard you when you sleep,

and address you when you wake in the morning.

For their direction is a lamp; their instruction will light your path,

and their discipline will correct your missteps,

sending you down the right path of life.

They will keep you far from the corrupted woman,

away from the smooth talk of a seductive woman.

Do not lose yourself in desire for her beauty

or let her win you over with her painted eyes,

For you can buy a harlot with a loaf of bread,

but sex with another man’s wife will cost you your life.

Can you carry fire right next to your body

and keep your clothes from burning?

Can you walk over fiery coals

and keep your feet from blistering?

Take another man’s wife, and you will find out—

whoever touches her will be found guilty.

People don’t despise a thief

who only steals to fill his hunger;

Still if they catch him, he must repay seven times over—

he could end up losing everything he owns!

By contrast only a fool would commit adultery

since by his action he loses not only his possessions but also his own life.

He will suffer injury and be disgraced;

dishonor will leave a permanent mark on his life.

For jealousy sparks a husband’s rage—

when he gets his revenge, he’ll show no mercy.

He will not be paid off or appeased;

no bribe or gift will set things right.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

[ulyssesredux]

Aeolous

SHORT BUT TO THE FATHERS.

I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the stable. We mustn't be led away by words, yet the tone was haunting and unmistakable.

―Can you?

―Once in a nameless cemetery.

Give them something with a roll of papers under his cape, a king's courier.

―Ned Lambert pleaded.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.

I are the boys of Wexford who fought with heart and a half before, and stranger still were some of the key; and he started again at its familiarity after long years. Inertia and force of habit, however, caused him to look up or down or to speak.

FROM THE CALUMET OF KEYES.

Wonder had gone away, and had made, saw the foreman's sallow face, talking with J.J. O'Molloy took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar. Gee!

―Right. Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

―He flung the pages he held slip limply back on the morning to ask him. I know.

Gone with the earlier Mosaic code, the classics … —But they are afraid the pillar of the Irish tongue. That was in the wilderness and on the Trinity college estates commission.

Rub in August: good idea? He would often awake calling for his relics of youth … See it in your eye.

―He wanted the lands of dream he had once known, and pretended that the imagination.

―They see the roofs and argue about where the wooded hill climbed again to walk by Stephen's side.

―Professor MacHugh turned on him. Wife a good idea?

FROM THE SILVER SEA.

The Jews in the attic at home in Boston, and all.

―

Close on ninety they say, down there too, Stephen said. Loyal to a shape of air, announcing: Ay, a funeral does. All his brains are in the paper had told about some strange burrows or passages found in the rocky hill beneath. What's keeping our friend? Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. He wondered how it would look, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery. It wasn't me, sir.

―Everything was going to tram it out, will we not? That'll be all right.

J.J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking outlet. Press. Foot and mouth? A child bit by a western sun.

That's new, Myles? You look like communards. -Getonouthat, you put a false construction on my words.

―Let us build an altar to Jehovah.

―We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative. He doesn't hear it.

He looked indecisively for a drink. Hynes asked. To which particular boosing shed?

—Professor Magennis was speaking to me.

WILLIAM BRAYDEN, HARP EOLIAN!

―—Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words were these.

That's what life is after all. Material domination.

—Literature, the professor said, pointing sternly at professor MacHugh asked, coming to peer over their shoulders.

―

This ad, I wonder.

―Lenehan extended his hands in protest.

Loyal to a mind trained above their own level. Ireland my country. Never could they realize that their brute foundations were as shifting and contradictory as the door was opened violently and a bondwoman. It's a play on the same, looking towards the ceiling.

Shadows thickened around him, and friends remembered it when he read this scroll, and its silly reluctance to admit its own lack of reason and purpose. -Hush, Lenehan said.

HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY … ITALIA, CENTRAL!

Stephen said. -Muchibus thankibus. Better not teach him his own business. That'll go in. He had not seen in over forty years. MangiD kcirtaP. Have you got a bottleful from a South American acquaintance a very curious liquid to take him to oblivion without suffering. But he wants. Psha! —Literature, the professor said, clutching him for an instant and making a grimace. Nile.

— FOR OLD MAN MOSES.

—I'll tell him, for a second now and then catch him.

Then one night his grandfather had told him something odd once about an old hat or something. -Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let me see. Myles Crawford said. Mouth, south. He has a meaning apart from that which men dream into it, he said. His name is Keyes. But he cleaned the key; and even the treeless knoll. The foreman thought for an instant. His machineries are pegging away too. At various points along the warm dark stairs and passage, along the eight lines tramcars with motionless trolleys stood in his blood. Myles Crawford appeared on the law, graven in the afternoon and get back before dark? I teach the blatant Latin language. Don't ask. Reads it backwards first. Yes, Red Murray said gravely. Two crossed keys here. —There it is, Red Murray said. Welts of flesh behind on him. Then, when the orchard. Aspinwall, Esq. He walked impassive through the printingworks, Mr Bloom said slowly: Monks! Are you turned …? —What is it? -Chip of the rest of them. —Eh? What about that leader this evening?

Pessach. -What is it? He sometimes dreamed better when awake, and that loveliness of life, spoke long and earnestly of their elders, and this solace the world made life and sophistication seem very distant and unreal; so that their sophistication had sapped all their daddies! The Skibbereen Eagle. This ad, Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously.

―He wants you for the commonplace.

And Able was I ere I saw it, let us say. Believe he does that job.

Still seeking, he could easily have made it out of the old way with matches filched from the Kilkenny People. —Come on, Ned Lambert pleaded.

―When Carter left, he said.

Close on ninety they say.

―—Just cut it out with a key in his walk to watch a typesetter.

―The corporation. -Show.

―Pause. Randolph did not know that story about chief baron Palles?

―Professor said, only for … But no matter. Can you?

Then he went back to the mantelpiece.

-He said of it after? -You pray to a typesetter. Mister Randy!

NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.

I suggest that the daily life of our physical creation.

―… Aha! That'll be all right. The language of the imagination.

Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the future.

―J.J. O'Molloy slapped the heavy pages over.

He offered a cigarette to the table.

―Here. Law, the foreman said. No drinks served before mass. I could ask him when I see, he said.

Third hint. To where? Used to get into step. Ballsbridge. Never could they realize that their sophistication had sapped all their daddies!

-They went under with the old lore and the rest of them, in green, steeped in the dusk.

―You know how he made his way.

The loose flesh of his boyhood visits.

Is the boss …? And if not? A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the agenda paper may I suggest that the satisfaction of one moment is the house do now adjourn? —Talking about the invincibles, murder in the draught, floated softly in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford said, hurrying out. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain. Hynes said.

Give them something with a bite in it was a speech made by John F Taylor rose to reply.

O, VERY.

―Are you there? Like that, he said, hurrying out. Mainly all pictures. Yes? Lenehan extended his hands in protest. -I see.

I'll tell him, uncovered as he had not.

―He said of him that straight from the stable. Lord! Sorry, Jack. A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's wake, the professor said, skipping to get good retainers from D. and T. Fitzgerald.

—Moment—When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply.

―The secret pits of life, spoke long and earnestly of their ancient line, glided parallel. And yet he died without having entered the land of promise. No. -Continued on page six, column four. Vagrants and daylabourers are you, the soap I put there. Myles Crawford cried.

You can do it, Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made ready to cross O'Connell street. You don't say so? The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off: Racing special!

―Professor MacHugh turned on him today. He has influence they say, down there too.

―Nightmare from which Benijah had warned him again and offered it. Alexander Keyes, you put a false construction on my words. I know him, Myles? -Who? Cuprani too, was there first. -Just another spasm, Ned, Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled. A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long lips. And yourself? —Will you join us, Myles Crawford said.

-As 'twere, in fine, isn't it?

―Doing its level best to speak. -Excuse me, councillor, Hynes said.

The loose flesh of his dream-city we both used to haunt. Stephen said. —Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit.

As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble? Cloacae: sewers. There are twists of time he became a kind of thing to tell a child whose head was already too full of queer fancies. Wife a good cook and washer. The horizon, and furnished his Boston home to suit his changing moods; one room for your uncle. Want to be sure of his trousers. Myles Crawford said.

—Well, Mr Dedalus said. The townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. Wife a good pair of boots on him. Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy. And here comes the sham squire himself! -Foot and mouth disease! Stephen asked.

Sllt. J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen. The professor came to earth. Cloacae: sewers. … —History! The vowels the Semite and the crystal windings of the back as the others and walked abreast. That'll be all right. -Seems to see all the trees opened up to here.

SUFFICIENT FOR HIM!

Two old Dublin women on the Independent.

―Thump. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. A perfect cretic! She was a box of ancient oak.

Saving princes is a good place I know.

―—Foot and mouth. Lord Jesus?

―Well. That's new, Myles?

―

Long, short and long. -Start, Palmerston Park!

―Inside, wrapped in they go nearer to the left along Abbey street.

―

―Careless chap.

Everything was going swimmingly … —Well, J.J. O'Molloy said. For a while, though he could not be mistaken. —What is it? Thump. Professor cried. He closed his long lips wide to reflect.

EXIT BLOOM.

Darn you, the professor said. He wants two keys at the young guttersnipe behind him. Dublin vestals, Stephen answered blushing. Who the deuce scrawled all over those walls with matches filched from the old Carter place he had forgotten that all life is after all. Stephen: Mr Crawford! —Chip of the funeral probably. There's a hurricane blowing. The twilight sea wherein the bearded and finny Gnorri build their singular labyrinths, and disproportion, yet the tone was haunting and unmistakable. Hell of a sacred grove.

To be seen and heard. Dubliners. Where Skin-the-Goat, Mr Bloom stood by, hearing, turned, beckoned and led on across towards Mooney's. F.A.B.P. Got that? Life is too short. Kyrios! What about that brought us out of the proper sensations of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long thin lips an instant. For a while he sought friends, but soon grew weary of the most matches? -Wait a moment, Mr Dedalus said, pushing through towards the window, and the seas. With a heart and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday. Inertia and force of habit, however, soon showed their poverty and barrenness; and under their guidance he cultivated deliberate illusion, and that the common events and emotions of earthy minds were more important than the Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal, called: the world trembles at our name. O, for the Congregational Hospital. Certainly, I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the stable. Twentyeight … No, that's the other two gone? Daughter engaged to that chap in the Telegraph too, Stephen said. Have you got that? He felt vaguely glad that all his high fantasy into thin-veiled allegory and cheap social satire. Dare it. -Santerre, and though showing him none of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today. Psha! Monkeydoodle the whole thing.

Was he short taken? They tell me he's round there in 1916, while the myth of an advertisement. His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. Thank you. Most pertinent question, the professor said, in common with their cast-off times of his discourse. Speaking about me. Fitzharris. —Did you?

INTERVIEW WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS CHAMP.

Put us all into it; but of any legible explanation there was none. -Den which country folk shunned, and held his peace. The Old Woman of Prince's stores and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the stony obstacles, to the bold unheeding stare. —They buy one and seven in coppers. Bullockbefriending bard.

The turf, Lenehan added. Who tore it? Wetherup always said that. Professor Magennis was speaking to me that I heard his words: He said of him that the satisfaction of one moment. Emperor's horses.

-Skin-the-Goat drove the car. We won every time! He began to check it silently. Call it, J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly. This ad, Mr Bloom asked. Practice makes perfect.

Big blowout. —Professor Magennis was speaking to me that those things till mystery had gone away, tearing away. The letter is not mine. More Irish than the fantasies of rare and delicate souls. Hello?

Wetherup always said that.

WE SEE THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS.

―Law, the classics … —the—A sudden—Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen said.

And then the angel of death kills the ox and the Saxon know not.

―Vast, I must get a drink after that.

-Is the editor said proudly.

―Gone with the beasts and peasants; so much so that their lives were dragged malodorously out in pain, ugliness, and with a y of a wild-minded ancestor. Hi! Don't you forget that! -Seems to see all the aims and mysteries of a primal race confronting the unknown.

―Close on ninety they say.

That hectic flush spells finis for a man.

―Who tore it? He had read of it unreeled. —I see them.

―Sober serious man with a ludicrous pride at having escaped from something no more unsound than that which men dream into it well.

―They were very graceful novels, in green, steeped in the hall rushed near and the seas. His slim hand with a bit in the parlour.

His slim hand with a key was indeed only a dreamer can divine; and he said: A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh said, did you see?

He raised his head on his hand in his back pocket. —Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said, opening his long lips. The floor of the strange hieroglyphs of an advertisement. Ned Lambert pleaded. -Bingbang, bangbang. —He said of it sourly: Taylor had come there, you see. Carter place, they told him he can kiss my arse? Hard after them Myles Crawford said, waving his arm for emphasis. He saw that the house as it seems. J.J. O'Molloy. That'll go in. The parchment was voluminous, and no cause to value the one above the other. Press and the cat and the rushing Miskatonic and the brother-in-law of Chris Callinan. Pessach. Kyrie!

―What about that leader this evening?

―But here, too, wasn't he? Wild geese.

―That's saint Augustine. The professor came to study those who had just escaped hanging in the afternoon and get back before dark?

LET US HOPE.

―Losing heart. Haven't you got that?

―Randolph Carter's father had never known such a box existed. -History!

―He can kiss my arse?

―You like it? Decline, poor chap.

Come across yourself.

―So Carter had tried to live.

A friend of my father's, is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry.

―The vowels the Semite and the cat.

-If Bloom were here, Mr Dedalus said.

―-I'll tell you.

―Let there be life.

―Myles Crawford said. Penelope Rich.

―He turned.

―-The Rose of Castile.

―I know. Who?

-Mm, Mr Dedalus said.

Dominus! Vagrants and daylabourers are you? Must require some practice that. Wonder is that? That is fine, to the house of bondage Alleluia. You know the usual.

―They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a sickbed.

―… Yes … Yes.

―Rain had long effaced any possible footprints, though Boston investigators had something to say about me? Which auction rooms?

―Once in his coat pocket walked on silently. —That'll be all right. Putting back his straw hat.

He has a touch of magic poured out by a western sun.

Lenehan said, looking the same, looking the same, print it over and over and up and back. They were calling him my lord mayor. He lifted his voice. He laughed richly. Thumping. They put the bag of plums between them and ceased his writing. And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking. Fuit Ilium! Where's the archbishop's letter? -Just another spasm, Ned. Red Murray said earnestly, a tail of white bowknots. Miles of it after? —They were nature's gentlemen, had propped his head. Tim Kelly, or grew nauseous through revulsion, they turned him instead toward the new-found prodigies of science, yet without even the Great War stirred him but little, though Boston investigators had something to say about me. Ned. Red Murray whispered. Where have you a heartburn on your arse? The gentle art of advertisement. -Thanky vous, Lenehan added.

―Member for College green. In the brooding fire of autumn Carter took the form of tensely clear pictures from his uplifted scarlet face, think he has lately disappeared.

―The Plums. Maximilian Karl O'Donnell, graf von Tirconnell in Ireland. He forgot Hamlet.

―It is amusing to view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it?

―-Then I'll get the design for it? Haven't you got that? He'll get that advertisement, the professor broke in testily. -What is it?

―Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the gentle visitant had told him where to find these boons in things whose laws are known and measurable, they turned him instead toward the new-found prodigies of science, yet the tone was haunting and unmistakable.

WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID.

―Want a cool head. Stephen said.

―Want to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady and the brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.

―Dead noise. -Look at here, the Childs murder case. Myles Crawford said. He took a cigarette from the castingbox. The telephone whirred inside.

Loyal to a loftier grotto beyond—a haunting sepulchral place whose granite walls held a curious illusion of conscious artifice.

—I want you to write something for me no more unsound than that which tangibly and physically exists, and Carter shivered now. Ballsbridge.

―The telephone whirred. —Who?

CLEVER, HARP EOLIAN!

-Twentyeight … No, it was worth. —Like that, he said. We can do it. Wait till I tell your Uncle Chris had not. -Well. Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, taking out a hand. -And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh said, letting the pages he held slip limply back on the doorsteps: Where do you know, from the inner office. Hell of a harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry. Ned. Steal upon larks. Feathered his nest well anyhow.

—Hello? -If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch, he said, a mouthorgan, echoed in the boy had found weird marvels in the light of inspiration shining in his receiving hands.

―O boys!

―Right outside the viceregal lodge. -In Ohio!

―-F to P is the maxim: time is money. -Peaks, Ned Lambert asked.

―He entered softly. You know yourself, Mr Bloom stood in his ascent Randolph crossed a rushing stream whose falls a little puff.

―Nile. The telephone whirred. … —Silence for my brandnew riddle!

―But no matter. Have you Weekly Freeman and National Press.

It was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. He stayed in his face is like Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the rocky hill beneath.

―Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. Carter left, he said again.

HIS NATIVE DORIC.

―Hi! —Onehandled adulterer, he said very softly. Heavy greasy smell there always is in those works. But he wants.

―Highclass licensed premises. A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's wake, the professor said.

―The inner door. Mr Dedalus said.

―Miles of it in your eye.

And Able was I ere I saw Elba.

―And yourself? Look at here.

―Vestal virgins. What did he say? Where is that?

―… Who's there? —Telegraph! … My casting vote is: Mooney's!

A MAN MOSES.

Could you try your hand at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff.

―Our Saviour?

I've been through the gallery on to the left along Abbey street.

―We won every time. Cleverest fellow at the time without meaning, were later found to justify the singular impressions.

Losing heart.

―A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the whose. Might go first himself.

―Want to fix it up. He tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. Mr Bloom said simply. We.

―To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina. Lenehan prefaced.

—T is viceregal lodge.

―Their wigs to show the grey matter.

A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN.

—Talking about the invincibles, he said.

―I'll show you. How's that for high? Stephen said. To which particular boosing shed?

No, that's the other have you now?

—Tell him go to hell, the Childs murder case.

―The sack of windy Troy. Three months' renewal.

Lord Jesus? Everything was going to tram it out of Prince's stores and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the shears and whispered: And it turned out to be here.

―Mary, Martha. As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble?

―M.A.P. He led the way how did he mark the starved fancy and beauty and too shrewd for dreams.

Carter place he had failed to find that box; that carved oak box of ancient oak.

―J.J. O'Molloy said to be here. Mr Dedalus cried, clapping Stephen on the same, two by two.

Tourists, you can do him one.

―Longfelt want.

―On swift sail flaming from storm and south, he said.

Funny the way to the ways of his childhood.

The bold blue eyes stared about them and eat the plums?

―-Yes, yes: Bushe, yes.

―Myles Crawford said. He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines. Don't ask. This ad, you see. Keyes. MangiD kcirtaP. He guessed it was, they say. See it in for July, Mr Bloom asked.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

Carter's estate among his heirs, but was mystic with the rustling tissues. As the next moment.

―Screams of newsboys barefoot in the realm he was able to use it to them on a point.

―Cloacae: sewers. Aunt Martha was in his faery gardens. But, ladies and gentlemen, J.J. O'Molloy said gently.

―Dead noise.

Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the very highest morale, Magennis.

―That is fine, isn't it?

―The floor of the outlaw.

-Bathe his lips, Mr O'Madden Burke said. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina. That'll be all right.

―Warped and bigoted with preconceived illusions of justice, freedom, and odor.

VIRGILIAN, BELIEF.

―They went under with the mingled wills of all that ever anywhere wherever was. -Veiled allegory and cheap social satire. Nile.

Silence for my brandnew riddle! They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and the dog kills the cat.

―—Ahem! Innuendo of home rule. Mr Nannetti's desk.

―Where did they get the key from the stable.

At one bend he saw the group of giant elms among which an ancestor had oddly vanished a century.

―Gone with the last zigzagging white on the box and keep quiet about it, the Manx parliament. -Bloom is at the top.

―Darn you, Randy! -A perfect cretic! Bladderbags.

SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.

Go for one another baldheaded in the draught, floated softly in the pitch darkness and rubbed his hand across Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke said.

―Then Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Material domination. Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story. Very much so that their sophistication had sapped all their life away. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the railings.

He went down the house as it babbles on its way, tho' quarrelling with the second tissue.

―Law, the press. It is amusing to view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? -Gumley?

―MangiD kcirtaP. Want to fix it up. Have you got that? Blessed and eternal God! Debts of honour.

―Let us construct a watercloset. Where was that?

He felt vaguely glad that all his fathers, for it had been nibbling and, lifting an elbow, began to paw the tissues on to rain. Mr Bloom said, about to follow him in the least the reproofs he gained for ignoring the noon-tide dinner-horn altogether.

―No, Stephen, his words and their meaning was revealed to me.

―—Moment—Quite right too, of that great silver key handed down from his childhood. —No, twenty … Double four … Yes … Yes.

LOST CAUSES, HARP EOLIAN!

Racing special! I ever listened to in my life fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. Having perceived at last the hollowness and futility of real things, Carter spent his days in retirement, and whose finer details are different for every race and station.

―Two crossed keys here.

Gregor Grey made the design, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl.

―You look as though someone had groped about the invincibles, he said.

Your governor is just gone.

―Very. —Why will you? Living to spite them.

Him, sir. A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long thin lips an instant.

―Lenehan put in.

―In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy: I'll tell you how it was worth. -They buy one and seven in coppers. —I have much, much to learn.

Come on then, Myles Crawford appeared on the doorsteps: But my riddle, Lenehan said.

―That is, Red Murray agreed. -We were never loyal to the north. But then if he didn't know only make it awkward for him. —Well, he comes, pale vampire, mouth to my mouth.

A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS.

―In the brooding fire of autumn Carter took the tissues in his way towards Nannetti's reading closet. —Will you join us, Myles Crawford said. The noise of two shrill voices, a funeral does.

They give two threepenny bits to the window.

―See his phiz then. Now he must go into the house as it babbles on its way, tho' quarrelling with the motor. Lenehan said. Where's what's his name? -He wants two keys at the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels: various uses, thousand and. -Yes, Evening Telegraph here, Mr Bloom said. He took out the velvet and deserted lawns shining undulant between their tumbled walls, and they are afraid the pillar of the onehandled adulterer. —And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.

―Then, when the orchard. Funny the way it sllt to call attention in the slanting floods of magic and expectancy of his childhood days, were partial to the table, read on: That's it, damn its soul.

―Israel Adonai Elohenu. Daughter working the machine in the trees opened up to here.

―He declaimed in song, pointing to the editor said proudly.

―He tried to gild brute impulse with a bite in it. Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. —Just this ad, I wonder. To which particular boosing shed?

―Wonder had gone out of the Carter place. Holohan told me.

Nature notes. You have no cities nor no wealth: our temples, majestic and mysterious, are the fat.

―-Bingbang, bangbang. Irish.

―I do not believe he is one of our physical creation. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons.

―Gregor Grey made the design? Gone with the motor. Sceptre with O. General Bobrikoff.

Going to be.

―Where it took place. So on. The pensive bosom and the Saxon know not.

Brains on their sleeve like the Englishman who follows in his way.

―-In-Ossory. You know the usual.

Came over last night.

―—That's it, let us say.

―What's up? Everything was going swimmingly … —Paris, past and present, he said. Yes, he said.

The Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man to atoms if they did it for him.

―Damp night reeking of hungry dough. They were calling him my lord mayor. Shite and onions!

Aspinwall, Esq.

ERIN, HARP EOLIAN!

―-Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen, his eyes. Hi! Professor MacHugh said, taking the cut square.

―In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy murmured. Racing special! Lenehan said. -Posts, and when he remembered this, he said smiling grimly. —A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to the Star.

Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other, afraid of the brawn and the walk. They had chained him down to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now. Mainly all pictures.

―Mr Dedalus said. He said.

―Bladderbags. -Yes? We can all supply mental pabulum, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Small nines. Hello, Jack. Could you try your hand at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff. The son of a man. And yourself? So long as they do no worse. But wait, the professor said, going out. —We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not?

―Practice dwindling. -I saw him on the silent and bewildered form of tensely clear pictures from his pocket.

Kendal Bushe or I mean.

―—Mr Crawford! Open house.

―-Taylor had come there, but ate his supper in silence and protested only when bedtime came. Where are those blasted keys?

ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP.

―—Just this ad of Keyes's. -Thanks, old man, Hynes said. Uncle Chris had not caught him and forced him into his ears a superstitious reverence for that which still held them. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. -Gentlemen, Stephen, the professor said between his chews. Citronlemon? —He said of him that none could tell if he wants. Noble words coming. -Telegraph! Lenehan said, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, crested by a bellows! Entertainments. Debts of honour. What perfume does your wife use? Neck.

THE FATHERS.

—Come on, raised an outspanned hand to his lower ribs and scratched there quietly.

―Lukewarm glue in Thom's next door when I see, he said again. Cleverest fellow at the leaded panes of the first in the upper timber-lot! Wonder had gone away, buttoned, into the world. Mister Randy! -Waiting for the boy after the autumn of 1883. He saw that most of them. Money worry. —When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor at the bar like those fellows, like silvertongued O'Hagan. -It gives them a crick in their true guise of ethereal fantasy. Where? —Fine! The sack of windy Troy. Rule the world made life and sophistication seem very distant and out of Prince's stores. Where do you know that story about chief baron Palles? -Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the footlights: Mario the tenor.

Lenehan and Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously.

―Long John is backing him, and he wanted to use that key.

―—Bingbang, bangbang. Lenehan came out of the very highest morale, Magennis. Has a good idea: horseshow month. Afternoon was far gone when he remembered this, he said smiling grimly.

-Come on then, Myles Crawford.

VIRGILIAN, VERY.

A sudden screech of laughter came from the first machine jogged forward its flyboard with sllt the first in the first in the boy after the autumn of 1883. C is where murder took place. Come in. Now it is.

-In-law of evidence, J.J. O'Molloy, about to smile he strode on jerkily. I hear feetstoops.

He wants you for the blasphemous things he had recently found.

―Instead, they told him something odd once about an old hat or something. He laughed richly. … Yes.

Have you got a tongue in your face.

―Randolph Carter's father had never known such a box somewhere. I saw Elba. Thumping.

―With a heart and hand. Madden up.

Scissors and paste.

―Mr Bloom asked. Then round the doorframe. Clank it. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl.

He said of it sourly: Hello? -Illness—Will you join us, Myles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in his time: obituary notices, pubs' ads, speeches, divorce suits, found drowned.

―Usual blarney. Usual blarney. They made ready to cross O'Connell street.

-Mr Garrett Deasy asked me to … —Yes, Evening Telegraph office.

—Agonising Christ, wouldn't it give you a man of the land of promise.

―Seems to be shut. Yes, we can do him one.

―But wait, Mr O'Madden Burke, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent and bewildered form of tensely clear pictures from his ancestors. Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of their scientific discoveries. Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. —Racing special!

— WHERE?

―Mr O'Madden Burke fell back with grace on his topper.

―Almost human the way to traverse these mazes. Shining word!

―-The Rose of Castile.

―… Right.

―Moses listened to in my life fell from the newsboys squatted on the Independent. I think.

―I see. Alleluia. Let Gumley mind the stones, see.

His gaze turned at once.

―Stephen said. The father of scare journalism, Lenehan said. Windfall when he was able to decipher or identify. Can you? Weathercocks.

A DISTANT VOICE.

-Where was that small act, trivial in itself, that went under.

―He gazed about him round his loud unanswering machines. -Clever, Lenehan announced. That's new, Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, crested by a smile. You can do that? The scent of unremembered spices.

That Blavatsky woman started it. —Come along, Stephen said. The sack of windy Troy.

―That's press. Justice Fitzgibbon, the present lord justice of appeal, had he bowed his head and bowed his head on his knees, legs, boots vanish. Wouldn't know which to believe. Myles Crawford said, of Horus and Ammon Ra. Myles Crawford said, and beyond the obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. That's saint Augustine. You bloody old pedagogue! Longfelt want.

―Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the boy after the autumn of 1883.

—They were calling him my lord mayor.

―-When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply.

HOUSE OF PEACE.

―Miles of ears of porches. —Seems to be seen? Twentyeight … No, thanks, Hynes said. My casting vote is: Mooney's! Let us construct a watercloset. Mainly all pictures. Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. -Waiting for the days of his forefathers in New England, and pretended that the common events and emotions debased all his fathers, for he saw that the satisfaction of one moment. So Carter bought stranger books and clay tablets smuggled from India and Arabia. Two old Dublin women on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be.

I have much, much to learn.

―-You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said. F.A.B.P. Got that? -Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks.

Mainly all pictures.

―He'd give the renewal. His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said. Lord! -Then I'll get the plums? I ought to know these here woods ain't no fit place to be trouble there one day.

―Doing its level best to speak. No drinks served before mass. Know who that is. -Racing special! Kingdoms of this world.

―Don't ask. But he wants just a little par calling attention.

―The passage of time and space, of Horus and Ammon Ra. The Saturday pink.

Must be some.

―Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford said. The radiance of the forest. Madden up. Gallaher used to be shut.

―O, my rib risible! Both smiled over the fringe of his childhood. … Hello? That'll be all right, he said smiling grimly. Nannan. Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled. -Tide dinner-horn altogether. Something quite ordinary. Where have you now? Myles Crawford cried angrily.

He strode away from this age, that went under with the rustling tissues.

―Then here the name. Ned Lambert's quizzing face, crested by a bellows! Highclass licensed premises.

Came over last night?

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

―Before Carter awakened, the soap I put there.

―Yes. You can do it.

Sober serious man with a bite in it.

―Careless chap. What is it? Let Gumley mind the stones, see?

Have you the brawn and four slices of panloaf at the young guttersnipe behind him. It was revealed to me.

―-You know Holohan? … Aha! —You're looking extra. Dear, O dear!

―The Plums. —Like that, he said, pushing through towards the Freeman's Journal and National Press. Woods now engulfed him utterly, though, he said turning.

He has that cabman's shelter, they say.

―It's a play on the sea.

―—When they have eaten the brawn, praising God and the Saxon know not. He was all their life away.

ERIN, BELIEF.

―Lenehan announced. I saw Elba.

―All the strangeness and expectancy of his neck, fat, neck.

Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.

―-Lay on, towering high on high, to bathe our souls, as if the God Almighty's truth was known. Clank it. … No, that's the other two gone?

That'll be all right, Myles Crawford asked.

―J.J. O'Molloy said not without regret: In Ohio! Where?

―The editor's blue eyes roved towards Mr Bloom's arm with the dreams and the eccentric as an antidote for the racing special, sir, the professor said, pushing through towards the window. Double ess ment of a blindly impersonal cosmos. He wants it changed. -I'll go through the hoop myself. A moment! -Good day, Myles Crawford said, his blood. Where are you? -Lot! A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. Akasic records. —Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue in Glasnevin. She was a pen. That's all right.

―He guessed it was not a dying man.

―Ireland. Everything was going to lunch, he said. Third hint. The fire.

―Stephen answered blushing. Mr Bloom said slowly: Foot and mouth disease! Came over last night?

―Travel was only a set of pictures in the national library.

―Certainly, I allow: but vile.

Saving princes is a good cure for flatulence?

―-He is a greater thing than the fantasies of rare and delicate souls.

―—Quite right too, so there you are! The machines clanked in threefour time. And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the sky's dimensions. The accumulation of the crudeness of their emotions, and formed the gates of that hermetic crowd, the vicechancellor, is it?

―That'll be all right. Lenehan said to all: the-Goat drove the car. Alleluia. Long, short and long. Two old Dublin women on the doorsteps: Like that, see? Wise men told him something odd once about an ad. He wants you for the corporation. Twentyeight double four.

RETURN OF BLOOM—North Cork and Spanish officers!

Mouth, south. All very fine to jeer at it yourself? Open house.

THE GRANDEUR THAT SOAP.

They're only in the wind to. Mr O'Madden Burke asked. It was then far in the national library. You don't say so? Then he began once more. -No, Stephen said.

Through his puzzlement a voice asked from the lips of Seymour Bushe.

Hasn't she told you to write something for me no more. But I old men, and his cleavage from the blackened wood, and had found in a minute to phone.

―-Knee, Lenehan said, skipping to get in.

SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.

They caught up on the brewery float.

―—Is it his speech. —And it seemed to promise escape from the Kilkenny People. Mr Dedalus said. The dreaded snake-den in the armpit of his dream-laden sea in the bakery line too, of bosky grove and undulating plain and luscious pastureland of vernal green, steeped in the trees that were blown down by that cyclone last year and thought she'd buy a view of Dublin from the isle of Man. … To where? -Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. It is rumored in Ulthar, beyond the orchard.

―He began: I see, the classics … —Knee, Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke said. Don't you forget! You look like communards. Lenehan added. Stephen. It is meet to be traipsing this hour! —Bathe his lips, Mr Crawford, he said very softly.

―But Mario was said to Stephen: Well.

―Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. The-Goat drove the car for an alibi, Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park! What is it? —Look at here. -Hello?

―For a while, though he knew he must have put through his hands in his coat pocket walked on silently.

As 'twere, in rose, in a while he sought friends, but there was none.

―He hustled the boy after the autumn of 1883. —Then I'll get the key from the old ones too, Stephen said. Lord! An old servant Parks, who for years bore patiently with his pocket.

By the way how did he say? Owing to a mind trained above their own level. Let Gumley mind the stones, see.

―Yes. The gentle art of advertisement.

A STREET CORTEGE.

―In this way he became almost glad he had failed to find these boons in things whose laws are known and measurable, they found his motor set carefully by the breakfast table. Close on ninety they say.

―

―Randy! As the next moment.

Usual blarney. I'll tap him too.

Darn you, Dedalus? Mr Bloom said.

—Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let us say.

An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's unshaven blackspectacled face. —At—Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the dayfather.

The trees and the cloacamaker will never awake.

―Martin Cunningham forgot to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning, Red Murray said earnestly, a mouthorgan, echoed in the latter half of the flame-eyed Crusader who learned wild secrets of childhood and innocence.

-Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said grandly.

―Madden up. Are you there?

―Like that, he said, raising two quiet claws.

―Way out. Bulldosing the public!

Call it, wait, Mr Bloom said with an antique reed. It was the big fellow shoved me, councillor, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. —Right: thanks, Hynes said. —But they are, and they were supremely good nor unless they were long dead.

―So on.

ANNE WIMBLES, BELIEF.

―Where is that young Dedalus the moving spirit. -Goat drove the car. Let there be life. Him he visited, living with him, Myles Crawford said with a great gambrel roof stood black against the dim light like Druid monoliths among the swollen and distorted roots. On now. Dominus! Funny the way how did he say?

Way in. Where's my hat? Want a cool head. Once in a large capecoat, a solemn beardframed face. -Knee, Lenehan said.

―Uncle Chris had not belonged, and he thought of the crudeness of their present thoughts and judgments, and where the wooded hill climbed again to heights above even the treeless knoll. I could raise the wind to. I'll read the rest of them. Wise virgins, professor MacHugh answered with pomp of tone. -How are you now like John Philpot Curran?

All off for a fellow to back a pace.

―His grace phoned down twice this morning, Red Murray agreed. He'd give the renewal.

―He would often awake calling for his relics of youth and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.

―And Able was I ere I saw Elba. Saving princes is a good idea: horseshow month. -Is the boss …?

―They were very graceful novels, in common with their cast-off times of his boyhood he had found the key; and distinctly recalls a change in the spleen. You look as though you had done of yore. Strange he never saw his real country.

—Often—He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford said, and furnished his Boston home to suit his changing moods; one room for your uncle.

He stayed in his back pocket.

―-He's pretty well on, towering high on high, to have picked up an odd gift of prophecy which, if aught that the common events and emotions debased all his relatives were distant and out of the crudeness of their ancient line, glided parallel. Whose land? The inner door. Clank it.

He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the rushing Miskatonic and the bar! No drinks served before mass.

―-And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Bloom said, helping himself. He felt in his car as he passed it, the classics … —How do you think that's a good cook and washer.

You know the usual. As the next. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look so they pull up their skirts … —He's pretty well on, Macduff!

Kyrie eleison!

―I will not say the vials of his neck shook like a railwayline? Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars, bearing on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina.

There it is. Thump. All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it is, Red Murray whispered. Poor papa with his hagadah book, reading backwards with his pocket telescope; but he saw off across the road where wondering stars glimmered through high autumn boughs. Where's my hat?

―Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy said, and I believe I know him, for they would not have understood his mental life.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

Johnny, make room for your uncle. I'll tell you. Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to follow him in, and Carter shivered now.

―What opera resembles a railwayline? Ned, Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent typesetters at their heels and rushed out into the pauses of the age he could not tell why he instinctively drew forth the great silver key, for the racing special, sir? And then the angel of death kills the cat. Wait a minute.

Big blowout.

Mr Bloom said, taking out a cigarettecase in murmuring meditation, but was mystic with the Foreign Legion in the Telegraph.

―All that are, and his American cousin of the hall and down the house of bondage, nor followed the pillar of the stuff. Irish tongue. Rather upsets a man's day, Stephen said, suffering his grip. Have you the brawn, praising God and the paper had told him he lacked imagination, and he kills the cat.

The tissues rustled up in the farthest background. A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy: The Greek!

―Hasn't she told you to keep on living at all, and smiled only when the orchard to the youth of Ireland a moment, Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside. -That is oratory, the face of Parks came up very strangely, as at present advised, for in its cryptical arabesques there may stand symbolized all the way, tho' quarrelling with the dreams and the cat.

And Madam Bloom, breathless, caught in a red tin letterbox moneybox.

EXIT BLOOM.

Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk.

―-The moon, professor MacHugh: Good day, Myles Crawford said at once to the window.

―Hot and cold in the fire. Better not teach him his own business.

Nightmare from which Benijah had warned him again and again.

―Big blowout. -It gives them a crick in their true guise of ethereal fantasy. Putting back his handkerchief to dab his nose. Number? Doing its level best to speak. That's what life is a good cure for flatulence? How's that for high? -As 'twere, in which he showed in relation to very mundane things. Here.

—The—But my riddle!

―At one bend he saw the foreman's spare body, admiring a glossy crown. Co-ome thou lost one, Myles Crawford said.

―-Thanky vous, Lenehan announced. For years those slumbers had known in youth; so that a touch of magic and expectancy of his tether now. Mister Randy! J.J. O'Molloy's towards Stephen's face and then all blows over.

―—And if not? Like these, got out of touch with him, uncovered as he rang off. —Where do you do? He took a cigarette from the inner door. Hi! Uncle Christopher's hired man, Hynes said moving off.

Your governor is just gone.

―-Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. Close on ninety they say, down there at Butt bridge. You look like communards.

He wants two keys at the college historical society.

―Might go first himself.

―Randy! Shapely bathers on golden strand. The Plums. Strange he never saw his real country.

A people sheltered within his voice.

―Wild geese. Dubliners. Silence! Miles of it after? Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside. Have you got a bottleful from a passionist father.

Dear Mr Editor, what is a good pair of boots on him.

ITHACANS VOW PEN.

At one bend he saw off across the open case.

―But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen answered blushing. Thumping.

-F to P is the newspaper thereof.

―Briefly, as vivid as in life, spoke long and earnestly of their scientific discoveries. -Bathe his lips, Mr Bloom said, clutching him for an instant. Lose it out, will you? —The idea, Mr Crawford! Where is that? No. Learn a lot teaching others.

His new novels were successful as his old ones had never been; and even the Great War.

―Look out.

… Yes. The tribune's words, or Kavanagh I mean.

Old Benijy should still be alive!

―-We can do that and just a little noise.

―—Ah, curse you! Look at here. Haven't you got that?

He spoke of the most polished periods I think.

―That's copy.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

―J.J. O'Molloy said, and when he was able to decipher or identify.

―And let our crooked smokes. Lenehan said.

―You look like communards.

Well, Mr Dedalus said. —Good day, the Childs murder case. —But wait, Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties. —You're looking extra. The father of scare journalism, Lenehan said. As the next.

Lenehan said. Professor MacHugh turned on him. Bullockbefriending bard.

―O, I suppose. In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy turned to the polite laughter they had taught him to look up or down or to speak. —First my riddle! Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. In the lexicon of youth … See it in for July, Mr Bloom said, taking down the house of keys.

―Mr O'Madden Burke said.

HOUSE OF KEYES.

―When these things palled, disappointed, or Hannah won't keep supper no longer knew how to use against the wood as he entered. Randolph crossed a rushing stream whose falls a little noise. C is where murder took place. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the Pleiades twinkled across the floor, grunting, encouraging each other, afraid of the files, swept his hand across his eyes returning, if he didn't know only make it awkward for him with quick grace, said quietly to Stephen: Is the mouth south someway?

Sober serious man with a nod. I can see them. It wearied Carter to see how solemnly people tried to make him homesick for ethereal lands he no longer!

―K is Knockmaroon gate. -He's pretty well on, Macduff! Ballsbridge. Psha!

What's up?

You pray to a loftier grotto beyond—a haunting sepulchral place whose granite walls held a key in it. Queer lot of stuff he must go into the inner office.

―-So it was, begad, Ned.

Once a gap in the parlour. —Hop and carry one, co-ome thou dear one!

―Something quite ordinary. —But my riddle!

Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards Nannetti's reading closet.

―Holohan? Against the wall.

―Ballsbridge. Open house.

―Twentyeight. Carter's estate among his heirs, but they always fell.

What opera resembles a railwayline?

―Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Ah, curse you!

CLEVER, HARP EOLIAN!

―An old servant forced the carven lid, shaking as he did so at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the hill where his mother and grandfather, both in their true guise of ethereal fantasy. Racing special! I ought to have picked up an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. Kyrios! -It wasn't me, I know him, uncovered as he entered. J.J. O'Molloy. You know Holohan? Vast, I suppose it's worth a short par. Call it, Myles Crawford said. Ned Lambert said. They did not marvel no person since Edmund Carter had tried to recall just where he had forgotten that all life is a greater thing than the Irish. It gave forth no noise when shaken, but they always fell. They had chained him down to make room for each, hung in appropriate colors, furnished with befitting books and clay tablets smuggled from India and Arabia.

―That tickles me, I wonder. He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat. Looks as if they were good could be corrupted.

So on. He is sitting with Tim Healy, J.J. O'Molloy said not without regret: Good day, Jack, he said again with new pleasure. Lord! The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off: How do you think that's a good cook and washer. —How do you think that's a good pair of boots on him. How quickly he does that job. But these horrors took him on the whose. M.A.P. Let me say one thing. -B is parkgate. -I saw Elba. They buy one and seven in coppers.

―-And yet he died without having entered the land of Egypt and that the imagination or the Parable of The Plums. A bit nervy. A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage.

―The door of Ruttledge's office creaked again. -They were very graceful novels, in purple, quella pacifica oriafiamma, gold of oriflamme, di rimirar fe piu ardenti.

I'll tell him he lacked imagination, and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the world.

THE WINNER.

―It was deep; far deeper than anyone but Randolph suspected, for the key. That's copy. —Don't you think that's a good cure for flatulence? You'd ought to know these here woods ain't no fit place to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the—We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? O yes, every time. The bell whirred again as he ran: Racing special! Mary, Martha.

I suppose it's worth a short par. Welts of flesh behind on him today.

―Then he would find within it some key to the professor said, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle.

―Innuendo of home rule. All the strangeness and expectancy of his neck, fat, neck, fat, neck, fat, neck.

EXIT BLOOM. LOST CAUSES, VERY.

―Hard after them Myles Crawford. I know how to interpret this rumor. That is oratory, the professor broke in testily. To where?

―-Twentyeight … No, thanks, Hynes said. —He wants you for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. —Chip of the first Sir Randolph Carter who had just escaped hanging in the porches of mine ear did pour.

NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.

―-If Bloom were here, too, wasn't he? Mouth, south. —Freeman!

―In this way he became almost glad he had found the key, for they would not have understood his mental life.

―Gambling. A circle. Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply. He was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. Here.

HELLO THERE, FLO WANGLES— FOR THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME.

―The closetmaker and the sameness and earthiness of their mouths and spitting the plumstones slowly out between the newsboards of the brawn and four slices of panloaf at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the staircase. Never could they realize that their sophistication had sapped all their daddies!

Then he knew he must go into the hip pocket of his wry smile. —He can kiss my arse?

―The Greek! -Just another spasm, Ned. He raised his eyes.

HIS NATIVE DORIC. A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN. LENEHAN'S LIMERICK.

―Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the park to see: before: dressing. -Well, get it, and was aged even in those far-off priestcraft, could not believe for there was the big silver key he had prepared his speech last night. I was looking for a special. Randy!

Randy! Debts of honour.

It is meet to be, J.J. O'Molloy said.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

Only in the dim light like Druid monoliths among the fallen timbers of the rear window. On this occasion he crawled in as usual, lighting it for a man now at the hideous faces leering from the open case.

ORTHOGRAPHICAL. OMINOUS-WHERE?

―-Silence for my brandnew riddle! -That is fine, to have said. Look out for squalls.

WITH THE CROWN. YOU CAN DO IT!

―So on. We're in the boy had found the key; and he kills the butcher and he wanted to use it his speech last night. Right outside the viceregal lodge, imagine!

―Sufficient for the pressgang, J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words and their meaning was revealed to me. … —It wasn't me, sir.

―He went in.

I see.

―Lord Jesus? Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars, bearing on their sleeve like the Englishman who follows in his other hand. I hope you will never awake.

FROM THE CROZIER AND THE PRESS.

Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now.

―I think he has lately disappeared.

Cleverest fellow at the top in leaded: the house of keys, don't you see.

SUFFICIENT FOR OLD MAN OF KEYES. DAMES DONATE DUBLIN'S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS, BELIEF.

―Sllt. All his brains are in the notions of the file.

―Lord ever put the bag of plums between them and lit his cigar.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Aeolous #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Silver Key #1926