#season 1 ezra wouldn’t have left her behind

[peachyhoolagan]

Ezra never would have left her.

Ezra never would have left her.

Ezra never would have left her.

Ezra never would have left her.

Ezra never would have left her.

Ezra never would have left her.

Ezra never would have left her.

#season 1 ezra wouldn’t have left her behind #season 2 ezra wouldn’t have left her behind #season 3 ezra wouldn’t have left her behind #season 4 ezra wouldn’t have left her behind #ezra.wouldn’t. have.left.her.behind. #like what did he have to go back to exactly? lothal? sure but to what family? #kanans dead. heras fighting for the new republic which he probably isn’t interested in. #zeb and kallus are off on lirasan and working for the republic #him going back to lothal is just going back to an empty house that he hasn’t lived in for over a decade #he’d be going from one exile to another #so I will DIE on this hill #ezra #wouldn’t #have #left #her #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabine wren #star wars

[orangedodge]

About that season 2 tease...

I've enjoyed the Mandalorian very much so far, and think Jon Favreau has done a splendid job in developing it. I've really liked what Dave Filoni has done in his stewardship of the Star Wars TV universe as well, and I still wish they'd been put in charge of the films. But barring the possibility of a huge second season reversal and misdirect, I cannot fathom the narrative intent behind establishing "the Purge" as a tragedy that occurred after Rebels, instead of during the Empire's early occupation. Again, perhaps it's only a misdirect, and Moff Gideon acquiring the Darksaber is not proof that the Empire defeated Bo-Katan and destroyed Mandalore a second time. But as that is definitely what the showrunners want the audience to take out of the season finale, let's go over a few of the horrible implications that arise from assuming its truth:

1. It retroactively validates all of Sabine Wren's worst instincts, and says that she was wrong to ever place her trust in outsiders, to believe in the Rebellion as a cause, or to live her life according to the morals her foster parents instilled in her. Instead, basic storytelling logic now implies that her downfall came in choosing not to be a monster, and that if she had followed her Imperial training and committed war crimes, and left the Rebel Alliance to its own fate instead of continuing to work with them, her civilization would have survived.

2. It makes the entire leadership of the Rebel Alliance, from Mon Mothma down, look unforgivably callous to the needs of the only people who have ever bothered to show up for them. The Alliance was trapped and in danger of failing years before Rogue One when the Mandalorians risked everything, and endangered the success of their own resistance movement, to save them. All throughout the back half of Rebels, the Alliance is consistently willing to use the Mandalorians as a shield against the Empire, while being reluctant to let even five people volunteer to help them in return, and now we're left with the implication that it was the only assistance they ever gave them at all. It was one thing to have the political heads of the Alliance prevaricate and show reluctance to commit to their own values, when people like Leia, and Jyn, and Hera were always going to be there to force the issue anyway. But are we now to assume that even they only make those gambles for other Rebels?

3. It casts a shadow over all of Filoni's other work. The Mandalorians have been with us since the beginning of Clone Wars, and their fate has been the longest running subplot, throughout three full shows, spanning more than a decade of film and animation. What did it matter, if they all died anyway once they'd outlived their usefulness to the Rebellion? Who should care that Sabine watched over Lothal for Ezra, if she lost everything she fought for in the meantime? Why bother watching the upcoming Clone Wars revival, detailing Ahsoka's liberation of Mandalore, if LucasFilm wants us to think that this is where it all inevitably ends up? Their tale of persistent defiance and finding a way to always survive and rebuild has its own merit, but at some point the characters that the audience has actually spent years and years getting to know deserve to share in some of the fairy tale optimism of the setting.

I wouldn't even call this turn "bad writing" because it actually does a lot to explain why precisely no one seemed to care when the New Republic fell in the sequel trilogy. The New Republic being the extension of the Rebel Alliance, if this is the level of care they showed to their earliest supporters, what good were they to anyone? To repeat, I just do not understand the intent behind this decision at all, or why Filoni and Favreau would want for it to define the tone of their story.

#star wars #star wars rebels #the mandalorian #spoilers

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 5

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

Word Count: 3,316

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @kingliam2019, @ao719, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @timmagickfrog

If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!

A/N: In this chapter you’ll get to learn a bit more about Ali’s family.

This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

TRIGGER WARNING: Nothing too serious but a few mentions of anxiety

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 

Ali pulled another dress over her head and sighed as she watched it drop onto the increasingly large clothing pile on the floor. She had been trying to figure out what to wear for the past two hours, but everything in her closet seemed to look wrong. All of her insecurities seemed to be clawing their way out today, and everything seemed to make her look frumpy or cling to her stomach too much. 

“Did a tornado rip through your closet?” Emma asked, strolling into the room.

She bent over and started rifling through the pile of clothes on the floor. 

“What’s wrong with this one?” she asked, holding up a short blue dress.

“It makes me look fat,” Ali said, rifling through some hangers.

Emma rolled her eyes and dropped the dress back into the pile. She was used to her best friend berating her body because she had been doing it for years, but that didn’t mean that she was okay with it.

“No, it doesn’t. Besides, you know that your wardrobe isn’t the only thing bothering you. What’s wrong?” she argued, dropping down onto the bed. 

Ali groaned angrily and sat down next to her. The other woman was right. The anxieties she had about the evening and her impending choice to follow Liam back to Cordonia were making her harsher on herself than usual. But, that didn’t mean she was in the mood to talk about her feelings. However, she knew that Emma wouldn’t leave her alone until she did. 

“I haven’t been this nervous about a date since the first time I went out with Liam,” she said, resting her head on the blonde girl’s shoulder.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

“I’d have to give up everything to be with him, but at the same time I can’t imagine letting him go again,” she said.

“Just because it’s a change doesn’t mean you have to give everything up. Just because you won’t be living with us anymore, doesn’t mean we won’t still be a family. The only thing you’re really giving up is your shitty waitress job,” Emma reasoned.

Ali thought about what she said for a moment. It made sense, but Emma seemed to oversimplify it. Deciding to move to a whole different country was a big decision, especially if the only reason she was doing it was for a guy.

 “And on a more shallow note, I want him to think I look nice,” she said in a small, embarrassed voice. 

Emma smirked and rested her chin on top of her friend’s head. 

“Good nervous, then. You know, I’m sure you could wear a potato sack, and the man would still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” she said, a fond smile on her face.

Emma had always liked Liam. She had been upset for her friend when he left, but she had liked him. He was good for Ali. Ali had a tendency to get in her head and let her anxieties and insecurities get the best of her, but Liam had always had a way of pulling her out of it. He always seemed to know what to say when she was having a bad day, whether that be because of her mental health or because of a stressful week of classes. He had been so obviously head over heels in love with her, and he knew how to bring out the best side of her. They both had a way of doing that for each other.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Ali said, rolling her eyes and walking back to the closet.  

“He still looks at you the same way, you know,” she persisted.

“What way?”

“Like you’re the light of his life. His reason for waking up in the morning,” she said, swooning dramatically, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Ali threw a romper at her and watched as she dodged it just before it hit her in the face. 

“Shut up!” 

Emma laughed and walked back over to the pile on the floor, sifting through it and pulling out a simple black dress. 

“Wear this. It’s simple enough for what he has planned, but it shows just enough cleavage to keep things interesting,” she said, suggestively raising one of her eyebrows.

“You know what he has planned?” 

Emma nodded and walked out the door without saying another word. 

Ali dressed quietly before observing her reflection critically in the mirror. She sighed, pulling at the hem of the dress nervously.

“Ali!” she heard Cole’s voice call out for her. 

She looked down at her phone and felt the corners of her mouth tug up into a small smile. It was 6:59 PM. Liam always was punctual. She took a deep breath, pulled on her shoes, and made her way out to the living room. 

Liam was standing in the middle of the living room with a few grocery bags in his hand, and Cole and Ezra were standing next to him, trying unsuccessfully to make themselves look intimidating. 

“Okay, boys, come along,” Emma said, placing her hands on both of their shoulders. “Have fun.”

She threw Ali a smile over her shoulder and led the guys out of the apartment. Ali waved goodbye awkwardly and looked over at Liam questioningly. 

“I wanted to make you dinner. I convinced them to leave the apartment for the night,” he said raising the bags in his hands.

“How did you manage that?” she asked, taking one of the bags from him and walking over to the kitchen. 

“Well, I didn’t do it so much as I asked Emma to,” he confessed, pulling a smile from Ali.

She began emptying the grocery bag and had to refrain herself from laughing as she looked over canned tomatoes, package of uncooked spaghetti, and various herbs.  

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, smiling widely and turning to look at him.

“I know it didn’t exactly go well the first time, but I promise I’m better at it now,” he said, walking up to her and placing his hands on her waist. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Even in her heels he needed to lean down a considerable amount to press the small kiss to her forehead. He was about to pull away, when she made a split second decision and grabbed onto his cheeks with both of her hands. She pushed herself up onto her toes the best she could in her heels and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, and I’m helping this time. I still don’t know how you managed to ruin boxed spaghetti like that,” she said, pulling away and moving over to the cabinet where she and the Larsons kept their pots and pans. 

~~~

Ali took a deep breath before knocking on the door to Liam’s apartment. This was their first real date. Well, technically it was their second. The “first” had been when he decided to tag along with her and the kids she was babysitting as they went to a small cafe after a library visit. 

To say she was nervous was an understatement. She was excited too, of course. She had been practically bouncing in place when he called and asked to see her again, but she was definitely nervous. 

“Hey, you look beautiful,” Liam said, opening the door to let her in. 

He pulled her into a hug and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before shutting the door behind her. Ali couldn’t help but notice that his face was flushed and his hair was mussed slightly. 

She took in the large apartment. It was filled with modern furniture, and the tall windows in the living room gave a beautiful view of the lights from the buildings around them. She followed Liam into the spacious kitchen where a few pots and pans were set up on the stove, one of them emitting copious amounts of smoke.

“Your apartment is gorgeous,” she said, looking out at the counter where she could see all of the ingredients necessary for pasta and homemade tomato sauce spread out. 

There as a smaller dining room table set up a little way off from the kitchen with two place settings and a few candles.

“Do you cook very often?” she asked, as she watched him open a bottle of wine and pour two glasses for them. 

“Not… exactly,” he said, smiling sheepishly. 

“Oh?” she asked hesitantly. 

She wasn’t trying to offend him, but when he had offered to make her dinner she assumed that he had some kind of cooking experience. It didn’t help that he was looking slightly frantic. 

“I’m not very much of a chef, but this is a recipe that my mother used to make when I was a child. She wasn’t the best cook either, but this was the one thing she always made well,” he said with a fond smile. “I thought I would give it a try myself.” 

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

“No, just relax,” he said, handing one of the glasses and motioning for her to sit down at one of the stools by the kitchen counter. “I think it’s almost done.”

Ali did as he instructed and took a sip of the dark liquid. She had never been much of a wine person. Being a broke college student meant that she typically went with whatever alcohol she could afford. However, Ali took one more quick glance around the apartment and concluded that Liam probably didn’t have the same problem. She typically tried not to judge financial status based on where a person lived considering she herself lived in a penthouse even though she was drowning in student debt and barely made any money babysitting. But, it was obvious from the way Liam dressed and carried himself that he had expensive tastes and was able to afford his lifestyle. It wasn’t that he was pompous or arrogant, but he did seem to carry himself with an air of confidence. Or, at least he usually seemed to. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a hand?” she asked again, as he cursed under his breath. 

He was lifting the lid of the smoking pot with one oven-mitt covered hand and holding a piece of parmesan cheese awkwardly with the other as if he didn’t know what to do with it. 

“Um, no. Everything’s okay,” he said, turning to her a strained smile on his face. 

Ali held back a laugh as a timer went off on his phone, and his eyes widened dramatically.

“What was that for?” he mumbled to himself frantically. 

She pushed herself off of the stool and took the cheese from his hand, placing it on the counter. A faint burning smell was filling the air, and he seemed to panic even more. 

“Liam, just breathe for a second. Turn off the alarm,” she instructed. 

He nodded and silenced the noise before turning back to her for further instructions. She kicked off her heels and slipped the oven mitt off of his hand before placing it on her own. 

Upon opening the first pot she was met with the sight of clearly overcooked spaghetti. It seemed that Liam hadn’t boiled enough water in the first place and had then left the pasta on the heat for too long. The noodles were floating in about an inch of water, and most of them seemed to be stuck together. 

Ali turned off the heat and transferred the pot onto one of the cool burners before moving to the next one, which seemed to be the source of the burning smell. This pot had been the one he was attempting to make the sauce in. When she stirred the contents, she realized that they began to stick to the bottom of the container. She turned the burner off and moved the pan off of the heat before turning to look at him with a mixture of a cringe and a smile on her face. 

“So, the pasta may be a little over cooked, and the sauce may have some… charred bits, but I’m sure it’ll still taste fine,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound at all convincing. 

Liam sighed, a disappointed look in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s still pretty early. I know a great pizza place about fifteen minutes away. They deliver,” she said, taking out her phone and already dialing the number. 

~~~

“It wasn’t that bad,” Liam laughed as he prepared to snap the bundle of spaghetti in half. 

“Liam, that spaghetti was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time. Wait! Don’t do that!” she laughed, putting down the piece of garlic that she was mincing. 

“I was trying to fit it in the pot.”

“Isn’t it like completely against all cooking rules?” she said, rummaging through the cabinet to get a bigger pot. 

“Is that really a thing?” 

“I think so,” she responded, filling the pot with water and letting it boil as she returned to the garlic. 

Liam came up behind her and pressed his chest against her back, his arms wrapping around her waist as he watched her work in silence. She finished up what she was doing and made sure that the tomato sauce was cooking on the stove before turning to look at him, catching sight of the parmesan on the counter from the corner of her eye. 

“Hey, if I lean my head back will you grate cheese into my mouth?” she asked with a wide smile. 

Liam threw his head back and laughed.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised at her ridiculous request. 

“Completely.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and took the cheese in one hand and the grater in the other. He positioned it perfectly so that the small shreds of cheese fell directly into her mouth as he began to grate it. She chewed on the cheese happily as she brought her head back up and placed the items back on the counter.

“Did you enjoy that?” Liam asked, looking her over with an amused expression.

“Oh, definitely,” she said, walking over to where he had taken a seat at the kitchen table. 

He carefully brushed the remnants of cheese off of the front of her dress, and she looked down at him fondly. He smiled back up at her, his arms curling around her hips and pulling her so that she was standing between his open legs. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said. “I don’t think I know anyone else who would have done that.”

“You mean no one in Cordonia likes to have fun?” she joked, watching as he threw his head back and laughed. 

“Not quite like that,” he responded, pulling her into a soft kiss. 

She kissed him back lovingly, running her fingers slowly through his hair.

“I missed you too,” she whispered against his lips. 

The pair stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, their lips moving together slowly as their food cooked on the stove. They were pulled out of their bubble by the timer going off on Ali’s phone. They moved away from each other and finished making dinner in a comfortable silence. 

The recipe was simple enough, and spaghetti with tomato sauce wasn’t a crazy concept, so Ali was surprised to realize just how flavorful the food actually was when she took the first bite. 

“Okay, we have to do the Lady and the Tramp thing before we finish,” she said as their meal progressed. 

She put one strand of spaghetti in her mouth and watched with enjoyment as Liam struggled to put the other end in his without breaking it They both began to move toward each other, the strand of pasta getting smaller as it disappeared into their respective mouths. Their lips met in a playful kiss in the middle, and Ali pulled back with a satisfied smile. As they looked into each other’s eyes, she fought back the urge to tell him that she loved him, opting instead to make small talk.

“So catch me up on everything,” she said, turning back to her food and allowing them to fall into an easy conversation. 

After dinner they retired to the couch, bellies full and both completely relaxed. 

“Dinner was amazing. I still can’t believe you fucked the recipe up that much the first time,” Ali laughed as she lay back.

Her feet were propped up in Liam’s lap, and he was gently massaging them as she lay across the couch, her head resting on the arm of it. She was glad that they had been able to do his mother’s recipe justice. Everything turned out perfect this time.

“Well, in my defense, I’d never tried cooking before that point,” he said.

“You literally couldn’t boil water,” she argued. 

Liam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and smiled at her. 

“Just out of curiosity, how expensive was that bottle of wine? The one we drank that night.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe three or four hundred dollars,” he answered, causing her to laugh.

“So we drank $400 wine with pizza that cost about $15. Wow, that’s like a perfect representation of our relationship,” she joked.

“How do you mean?” he asked, moving his hand up to massage her calf. 

Ali sighed contentedly at his actions, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her body.

“Expensive and put together,” she said, pointing at him. “And not,” she gestured back to herself. 

Liam looked at her curiously for a moment, but didn’t respond, and the two of them settled into a comfortable silence. It was easy for them to be together like this. It was comfortable, and it felt natural. It felt right. But, they weren’t allowed to have this. They weren’t allowed to have a simple life together like this. 

“What are you thinking about?” Liam said quietly, pulling Ali out of her thoughts. 

Ali looked into his eyes and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She began fiddling with the top button of his shirt nervously. 

“I’m happy, but I wish I wasn’t.” “Why?” he asked, his touch gentle against the skin of her thigh. 

“Because this isn’t fair. None of this is. I should have to uproot my entire life to be happy with you,” she said, looking up and realizing how close her face was to his. 

“I know. I hate that you have to,” he whispered. “I wish I could give you the life together I promised you back then. I wish I could give everything you deserve.”

Ali’s heart was hammering in her chest as she felt his breath on her face. He was saying all of the right things. It was somehow everything she wanted to hear, but also the worst thing she could imagine. She wanted to say no to going back with him. She wanted to believe that all of her feelings for him were gone, so she would be able to go on living her regular life and pretend like this never happened once he was gone again. 

But, she knew there was no hope of that as she found herself reaching up to pull him into a kiss. She threw one leg over his lap, straddling him as her kisses became more frantic. Liam’s hand gripped the back of her thighs roughly as his lips moved against hers. She tugged on his hair, and he broke away from her mouth before beginning to press kisses down her jaw and neck. After a moment he pulled away from her skin, trying his best to restrain himself. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

She pulled him back into another kiss. This one slower and more passionate.

“Not at all.”   

#the royal romance #trr #the royal heir #trh #liam x mc #the royal romance fic #trr fic #liam x mc fanfic #liam #king liam #my fics #choices fics #choices #playchoices #playchoices fic #king liam fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #liam fic #playchoices fanfic

[shadowsong26x]

EPIX/Rise of Skywalker Reaction Post

So, I got back from seeing EPIX this morning, and I figured I should get all my thoughts down!

Everything spoilery is behind a cut, and this post is also tagged with the spoiler tags I’ve listed here. If you want me to add any additional tags, let me know and I will to this and any future EPIX posts.

Okay, so, before I really get into this, I should mention two relevant contextual things that probably strongly impacted my feelings on this movie.

I’m not super-invested in the sequel trilogy. I love (most of) the characters, I’m not really into the story that’s being told with them.

Given where TLJ left us, I went into the theatre expecting something between A Trainwreck with Some Delightful Moments and A Delightful Trainwreck. Basically, it was going to be a Hot Mess and I knew it, but I was pretty sure there was going to be something to love, even if the film as a whole didn’t delight me (which, honestly, is even where I stand with TLJ, which remains my least favorite film of the series). And, you know what? I got exactly that. A Sometimes-Delightful Trainwreck. I’d say it’s even towards the upper end of that Delightfulness scale.

All right, moving on to actual thoughts. I’m trying to focus on the positive here, mostly because I did overall enjoy this movie, but I also had some Problems with it.

I’m gonna talk about Kylo Ren first, mostly because I want to get this out of the way. I will say that--when I first saw TFA, I thought I could be interested in this character. I thought they were gonna maybe go the burnt-out gifted kid route with him, which would be hella interesting to explore for the child of Heroes like Han and Leia, and the Legacy he had to live up to. Obviously, they didn’t, and while the direction they went is certainly topical, it’s not super engaging, at least to me. I know it is to some people, and far be it from me to harsh anyone’s squee, but he basically doesn’t do anything for me. I personally don’t find him particularly interesting or intimidating.

Basically, I don’t particularly care about Kylo Ren. (I don’t know if I’m quite at the point where, as my roommate puts it, I aggressively Do Not Care, but the Not Caring is definitely a thing.)

Anyway, that disclaimer aside--his arc was okay, I guess? I mean...I think my general feelings on the subject are not that it felt phoned-in, exactly, but that it was mostly there because the writers thought it should be there, rather than it flowing organically from the character(s) involved. It also felt rushed, but that goes back to a problem with the movie as a whole that I will get into later in this post. But, given that, the actual beats that were involved in said arc I thought were effectively done. The bit with Han in the wreckage, in particular, was nice.

As for that Kiss though.

...I mean. I’m actually kind of pleased that the end of the film left the romantic threads dangling? It gave me plenty of OT3 feels (though I felt like, especially in the first third or so, the film was leaning more towards Rey/Poe and Finn/Rose, but there was some later stuff that seemed to hint at the full OT3 with a question mark on where Rose stands.)

But I do have a problem with the fact that the only on-screen kiss between Major Characters was between Rey and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. That being said, I can backfill/justify it in that...you know how some people headcanon that Luke’s initial crush on Leia was some sort of “There is a Connection Here that I Cannot Name and it’s probably supposed to be Romantic given our ages and genders and presumed lack of other relationship so let’s go with that?” Between something like that and the fact that he just gave up his life for her in a very literal way (side note: the Force has always been New Powers as the Plot Demands; but the healing thing was a) if not actually in a canon novel at least strongly implied and b) ALL OVER fanon so even if I had a problem with Random Force Powers suddenly occurring I wouldn’t have an issue with this one; the Force Diad thing was ~handwave plot device~ sure fine whatever). ...anyway, given all of that, I can backfill it to a way where I don’t hate it (i.e., if he’d lived, I don’t think it would’ve been followed up on very much/they would’ve settled into a non-romantic relationship of some kind, whatever that might’ve been). Except that it’s the only one, which kind of leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

Then again, he did immediately die, so...yeah, I can live with this. I don’t like it, and I don’t think I ever will like it, but I don’t hate it either and it’s not a dealbreaker for me.

Most of the other problems I have with this film come down to structure and pacing. In that, thanks to where TLJ left us, this move had to do so much to bring the story to any kind of cohesive end, and not enough time to do it in. Trying to squeeze too much plot into too small a space.

(I actually had the same problem with ROTS initially--although that was more due to the PT having pacing issues as its Primary Narrative Flaw; TPM was way too slow; AOTC actually had good internal pacing but couldn’t quite make up for it; and then ROTS was as a consequence of that really rushed. Meanwhile, with the ST, I feel like the writers are relying on “it’s all there in the manual” a little too much, so not really...trying as hard, if that makes sense? To make it all connect within the film, I mean, as opposed to depending on people going into other/outside/supplemental material to connect the dots (still not as bad as the Prisoner of Azkaban movie on that front, but it’s still Bad; and, like, all film versions of novels leave some stuff out, just look at the LOTR films; but POA left out a key plot point and that--is a rant for another post. Back to EPIX). It’ll be interesting to see what kind of deleted scenes come out, or if it’ll grow on me in future watchings. Not that it’ll ever become a favorite, I don’t think, but it might improve in my eyes.)

Anyway, basically, a lot of this felt rushed or like...introduced but not really addressed/wrapped up in any kind of satisfactory fashion? Kylo Ren’s arc in particular, as I’ve mentioned before, plus the Threepio stuff felt rushed and non-consequential, and also with Rey’s arc to an extent (it...again, all the beats worked for me/I thought it was fairly effective, but it really needed two movies to pay off as well as it could have). ...I mean, there are more plot threads I could probably mention here, but those are the three that stuck out the most.

Also, this movie needed More Rose :( I LOVE HER and she was barely here!!!!!

Another thing I would’ve liked to see is...okay, I really liked the Overlapping Voices bit, but it would’ve been nice to have more Presence from the ghosts? Like...there’s a bit at the end of season 1 of Sailor Moon where she’s in the Final Battle, the other four have died (or just been left behind, if you’re watching the English dub), and their ghosts show up and place their hands on hers and lend her their strength? A visual cue like that would’ve been great and helped the arc feel more complete. Especially since Palpatine had all of his predecessors/Sith ghosts backing him in a more visible fashion. But, then again, that’s a Personal Taste thing and while it would’ve, IMO, made that moment better, not having it doesn’t make it worse, if that makes sense?

(Also, the credits moved too fast for me to track, but I definitely saw Qui-Gon Jinn listed, though I don’t recall hearing him, and I definitely recognized Anakin/Hayden Christensen and Mace/Samuel L. Jackson and Obi-Wan/Ewan McGreggor (and Alec Guinness I’m pretty sure?) and obvs. Yoda/Frank Oz when actually listening, but I couldn’t identify the other voices--anyone have the full list? Was Ahsoka and/or Kanan and/or Ezra involved, or was it restricted to movie-only Jedi?)

But...yeah. Apart from the Kiss being very ....:/ for me, most of my identifiable problems with the film is stuff like this.

I think the other thing I want to talk about in detail is the Rey Palpatine reveal.

So, up until this movie, I was actually in my corner flying my tiny but determined Rey Kenobi flag, and the more I think about it, the more I like Rey Palpatine for some of the same reasons? Like...I don’t remember everything I’d thought through about Rey Kenobi, but it had to do with the cyclical nature of Star Wars, and bringing it back where it started--and we get that with Rey Palpatine, in a nice arc, healing some of the damage her grandfather did, both to this family and to the galaxy as a whole.

That being said--those of you who know me and my fic projects know I’ve been writing a child (daughter) for Palpatine for quite some time now, and I have no intention of stopping, lol. Am I going to take this/Lavinia’s (presumably) half-brother into account in future projects? ...probably not. But I am looking forward to/hoping we get a novel or something about him and Rey’s mother. Because that is actually a story I’m interested in--why canon!Palpatine chose to have a kid, and how said kid managed to break away and got to this point. [...y’know, I actually think Rey Kenobi’s background/thread of descent would be less interesting to me? Since I subscribe to the idea that a) Korkie Kryze is Obi-Wan’s biological son; and b) Obi-Wan had many Friends With Benefits throughout the galaxy and figuring out exactly which one Rey descends from carries less weight for me.]

...okay, I think that’s all the Detaily Bits I want to get into, so here are some bullet points of things that really stuck out to me, in no particular order:

Bawled like a baby re: everything involving Carrie Fisher. Just...yeah. Miss you Space Mommy.

LANDO! I loved his entrance, I loved him adopting Jannah at the end, I loved all of it.

Chewie’s fake-out death was also actually pretty good/well-handled. I mean. First Boom happens and I’m like DDDDDDD: but then I remember how people reacted to his death in Legends and I’m like would they really do it and then DELIGHT.

HUX. Okay. I never really cared about this dude before, and honestly I still don’t really care about this dude but at the same time, those of you who know me know I have a Thing for double-agents and defectors and I LOVE THIS WHOLE ENTIRE PLOT THREAD. I LOVE THIS SHITHEAD TURNING TRAITOR FOR THE MOST VENAL REASONS AND STILL BEING A BAD GUY/EVIL/AN UNREPENTANT JACKASS. THIS WAS PERFECT.

(Also Finn shooting him in the leg instead of the arm as requested was DELIGHTFUL)

SPEAKING OF DELIGHTFUL gotta love Zombie Skeev Palpatine Unliving His Best Afterlife. Was he as Delightful as he is in ROTS or ROTJ? No. Did I still enjoy every minute of his scenery-chewing nonsense? You bet your ass. So happy, Ian McDiarmid looked like he was having tons of fun and honestly what more could I have asked for?

The whole scene on Ahch-To was just *chef’s kiss.* Use of Yoda’s theme with the rising X-Wing, Luke being snarky and kind and beautiful, him emerging from the fire with the saber...just loved it.

LEIA HAD JEDI TRAINING AND HER OWN LIGHTSABER. BB!MARK HAMILL AND BB!CARRIE FISHER’S FACES.

LEIA TRAINING REY. REY CALLING HER ‘MASTER.’

USING THE BOND TO ARM KYLO REN okay like I said I have Mixed Feelings about the arc as a whole but that moment was SO COOL.

Poe’s ex-girlfriend was pretty great, ngl.

JANNAH AND EX-STORMTROOPERS YESSSSSSSS

HINTS OF/SHREDS OF EVIDENCE FOR FORCE-SENSITIVE FINN GIVE THEM TO ME NOW.

D-0 was pretty cute!

All of the Badass Finn.

Also that MOMENT where Finn runs up to Poe like “I NEED TO TELL YOU A THING” and Poe is all “I NEED YOU TO FIGHT WITH ME” and Finn just interrupts himself to thank Poe and they have that “General” “General” moment and it’s SO CUTE I’m love it.

The entire thing at the Lars farm at the end. Just. Burying the lightsabers, seeing the twins’ ghosts, claiming the Skywalker name, Rey having her own saber now. This movie was a Hot Mess but it definitely ended on a high note.

...that’s pretty much what I have for right now. I will probably have more thoughts after discussing it with other people/seeing it again (because I will be seeing it again). But overall...do I like it? Well, it’s Star Wars, which I love and which frankly always has some Super Dumb and/or Frustrating Stuff, and the things I disliked weren’t bad enough to Ruin It for me, so yes, I liked it. Is it my favorite Star Wars/good for a Star Wars movie? ...not really, no. It did have some gorgeous moments, but it doesn’t really hang together. Like the rest of the ST, it relies way too much on It’s All There In The Manual and, between that and the fact that TLJ didn’t do the work necessary to set it up, the movie felt rushed and a little bit...I don’t want to say hollow, maybe shallow is a better word? I mean, I know this is Star Wars and It’s Not That Deep (but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig or however the quote goes), but this felt particularly shallow even for Star Wars. Like...cotton candy, fairly good/tasty but a little bit prone to melting away and with very little substance holding it together. On that level, I’d actually probably rank it around Solo (which, let me say, I really like)--so, better than TLJ, but still A Hot Mess of a movie. But I enjoyed myself, and I think overall my feelings are middling-to-positive on it. Even if...honestly, even like less than four hours after the movie ending, I’m already forgetting like half the plot points...? Like I said. Cotton Candy.

What did/do you guys think?

#star wars spoilers #sw spoilers #epix spoilers #episode ix spoilers #spoilers #star wars epix #star wars episode ix #epix

[jillatwater]

The Queen of Souls CHAPTER 1

I’ve been here before. The feeling of the wet earth beneath my bare feet, the mist against my face, the silk of my nightgown brushing my skin as I ran. I ran until I couldn’t run any longer until my thoughts were no longer there and until the tears no longer came.

I’ve been here before. 

And my parents were dead.

“Reina, Reina! Wake up” 

The sound of Nadia's voice was in the distance, my eyes opened and I woke up drowning in a pool of my own sweat. Nadia was hovering above me, her eyes wide and looking at me with concern and fear.  I followed her gaze and looked to where her eyes met my hand. The mark. The mark of vines that tattooed my left palm was glowing. “Well, this is new''. I got out of bed and began undressing as I made my way to the bath. Nadia stood there looking at me, speechless as if I had not just witnessed the same thing she did. We are mortals, mortals don’t have glowy skin, this was something I should be freaking out about. But not me. Not right now. I couldn’t allow myself to freak out, because if I freaked out about this then the wall I have worked so hard on building around myself would come crumbling down.  I couldn’t let that happen.  So I bathed.

Eleven years ago today my parents died. I was only seven. I remember it so vividly. It was my birthday, we were sitting on the floor opening gifts. My father handed me a necklace with a single ivory charm. The charm was simple, a tree carved in the center. It was everything.

"You are my life Reina, don't ever forget it. Let this necklace be a reminder of everything you are to your mother and me, you are our life." Those were my father’s last words before the screams started before they begged me to run, before everything changed. I’ve had that mark tattooed on my skin since that night.

I got out of the bath and started getting dressed. Nadia was sitting on the edge of my bed waiting for me, her facial expression not much different than what it was moments ago. Nadia was my best friend, she found me in the field I ran to the night my parents were killed. Her parents took me in and we have been in each other’s lives ever since.

“ Are we not going to talk about what all of that was?”

“ Look Nadia, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“What the hell Reina, your palm was glowing. Are we just going to pretend that this is normal? After everything that happened...” Nadia’s voice trailed off, she didn’t finish what she was saying because she knew where this was going already. She’s known me all my life. She knew how stubborn I was, if I didn’t want to talk then I simply wouldn’t.

“As much as I love that you care, just drop it.”

“Fine. only because it’s your birthday, and because we are going to be late.”

I knew she wouldn’t drop it, but for today she would, and I needed today. A distraction from everything else.

                                                              ❖

Every year on the twenty-second of September the town held an autumn festival to welcome the season. It was my favorite time of year and just so happened to fall on my birthday.  The festival was full of vendors from the market, games, and music. Nadia and I loved going together. This is an event that everyone in Asavar attended.  The one day a year where people let their guard down, the castles and gardens were empty, and the markets closed in preparation for the events to follow.  

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My gown was the color of the midnight sky, a stark contrast to my pale skin. The fabric hugged my curves which were fuller than most women my age, the neckline dipped just above my breasts which was more skin than I was usually comfortable with, but today was special. My dark hair, like waves of chocolate with strands of gold, fell just at my shoulders. My eyes were the most different of all, my right eye was the color of winter, an icy silver, while the other was like a pot of honey, a golden brown like my mother's. I hated my eyes. My mother used to say it was a gift from the gods which made me the most special of them all, but it was a lie and I was a freak. It made me the center of attention each time I walked into a room, I despised every moment. But it was a part of who I was and for that, I learned to love them.

Nadia waited for me downstairs, she looked stunning in her emerald gown that flattered her slender and petite figure perfectly.  Her golden locks were long and flowy and framed her face beautifully.  Her deep teal eyes were the color of the sea and her warm skin was the sand. 

  “Ready to go?” Nadia spoke eagerly, she loved the autumn festival and wanted to revel in every moment of it, as did I.  Our guard stood beside her, he looked like a giant next to her.  Ezra was dressed in the typical Asavar uniform, his knives and daggers sheathed in his belt. His dark curls fell above his brows and his golden eyes were a pool of warmth.

“Good evening, Ezra”

“Hello, Lady Reina. I will be escorting you and Lady Nadia to the festival tonight, shall we?”

“We shall.”

We stepped outside and made our way across the courtyard and out into the main road which led to every part of Asavar.  The gate to Asavar was heavily guarded tonight, more than it usually is.  The gate separated our world from Amaranthius which was a world infested with beasts and creatures from one’s nightmares. Creatures and beasts that killed my parents that night 11 years ago.  Our former Queen Anabelle had created the gate a century ago to keep them out and away from our people on which they prey.  The beasts terrorize our people and deserve to stay behind the gates for eternity. I felt the rage starting to boil inside of me, the thoughts of my dead parents and that night and everything after started to flood. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to push the thoughts back, I was not going to let this ruin my favorite night of the year. I looked at my best friend and held her hand tight and felt my rage subside.

We arrived at the festival and suddenly my body felt light and a smile crept on my face.  Hundreds of lanterns lit the way, vendors at every corner and people scattered throughout full of cheer and ale.  Tonight was about celebration and distraction.  Ezra kept his pace not too far behind Nadia and me.  We explored and drank until the giggles practically poured out of our mouths.  I was happy. It was perfect. Was.  I stood still, I could feel the blood leave my face making my already pale skin even paler.  Nadia turned to face me.

“Are you okay?”

A few seconds passed before I spoke, noticeable enough that Nadia repeated her question. “Yea.. I’m fine, just too much to drink.” 

I was not okay.  The voice in my head appeared again, a voice that did not belong to me.

“Find me”

#fantasy enemiestolovers fantasyromance fbaa acotar bookish wattpad darkromance

[gondalsqueen]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla Characters: Hera Syndulla, Cham Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Kanan Jarrus, Mart Mattin Additional Tags: s4e09: Rebel Assault, Mid-Season/Series 04 Hiatus, dream scene, Non-graphic injuries Summary:

"The thrum of engines beneath her meant that they were in a vehicle, and her lack of attention meant either that she was in the passenger seat, or else that she was in very big trouble. Hera’s unconscious mind turned these facts over."

On Pryce's prisoner transport, Hera has a hot minute to plan out what to do next. This gets complicated, since she's not actually awake.

This scene takes place immediately after "Rebel Assault," during the season 4 hiatus. ... She was riding, not driving. The thrum of engines beneath her meant that they were in a vehicle, and her lack of attention meant either that she was in the passenger seat, or else that she was in very big trouble. Hera’s unconscious mind turned these facts over until it found a plausible memory. 

Cham drove the landspeeder. Hera, twelve, sat next to him. He hadn’t slept in three days, working furiously at diplomacy and posturing so that nobody would have to fight, scrambling even faster as his efforts failed. Now they had one more chance—a contact out here in the southern settlements who could pull some strings with off-world military leaders—but Hera had no idea where they were going, and Cham kept nearly nodding off at the wheel. 

She shoved her father hard in the shoulder—“Hey!” and he woke sharply.

Hera frowned in disapproval. “Pull over and let me drive.” 

“No.” He took a gulp from the thermos of caf. “We are almost there.” 

“And you have no idea where you’re going, and you’ve been awake for three days. It’s not safe. Pull over.” 

“I said I was driving, young lady.” 

She fumed. She was a perfectly capable driver—Cham let her drive herself places. This was nothing but a stupid display of control. He was the father, so he had to be in charge of everything. They would need to find a place to rest, anyway. He couldn’t go into a meeting like this. 

Hera examined the datapad in her hand, and before her eyes, the dream filled in a path. “I think we turn right at the Abram pass,” she told her father. “At any rate, the map is still loading, but here’s the pass coming up fast.” 

“Right?” asked an exhausted Cham. 

“Here,” Hera told him. “Father, now!” 

He listened and swung right, accidentally flooring the fuel pedal as they turned into the narrow pass. A sloppy turn, but they made it. 

Hera left the dream with a vague feeling of accomplishment and meandered lazily towards consciousness instead of whatever destination her father had in mind. 

In the here and now, she knew that she was wearing gloves. Her forefinger twitched, and its broken nail snagged annoyingly at the leather interior. Okay, that way was reality. Her finger, the vibration of the deck plate under her shoulder, the painful hum in her head. No, no, she wasn’t ready to be awake yet. Something was injured. Run away, sink back down into sleep, and they can’t do anything to you. They can’t torture you until you’re awake. 

Her dreaming mind ransacked her past for an appropriate next scene. Defeat and physical pain—the first time she’d found herself outclassed in a fight, then. A Trandoshan, a human, and a Twi’lek girl walk into a bar, said a bitter little part of her mind. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. 

She hadn’t de-escalated that situation very well, or hadn’t been able to stop it from escalating, at least, and two punches in the Trandoshan had lifted her and slammed her into the ground. She raised her arm to hit back and felt such a sharp pain in her side that she collapsed into a ball instead. 

Unable to fight. What did that leave her? She wished fervently that Chopper, at least, would stay out of the way. A droid and a Twi’lek girl walk into a bar—who pulls the best asking price? Stop me if you’ve heard this one. 

But Chop, at least, they’d underestimated, and he managed to get them both away from there. 

Leaning on Chopper later, sobbing bitterly more in humiliation than pain as she inserted the bone knitter, she took a good, hard look at her own abilities. She hadn’t realized until then that she, Hera, could be too injured to fight back. What was she going to do next time? 

What was she going to do this time? The comforting whir that her dreaming mind had taken for Chopper’s motivator changed timbre as she climbed again towards aching awareness. Reality would have to be dealt with at some point. If she couldn’t fight, she would pretend to be more hurt and terrified than she was until she could seize her moment and escape. Time to start the reconnaissance. 

But as she thought about opening her eyes, the beacon of pain exploded in her head, and it was too much. She retreated into unconsciousness. The transport’s engine became the hum of ships taking off and returning on Yavin IV’s flight deck, and one of them had brought her whole team, all of them. Kanan had returned. And he’d brought Sabine back to her. 

And Ezra, who was raring to go on this Lothal mission, desperate to DO something. They packed up the Ghost on their off shift—they could sleep during the hyperspace jump. 

But Hera was also raring to go, so first she pulled Kanan into the alcove behind her x-wing, well in the shadows of the hangar. 

He’d laughed against her lips—“Engines humming, Captain?” But he’d also taken his time kissing her back, hungry and intending to savor that meal very, very slowly. His hands left trails of heat down her sides, delightful and aching. Their repertoire was limited in a place like this, though—just some stolen moments and light marks. They needed to find somewhere private very soon.

After the mission. 

She remembered the mission then, and the second wave of TIEs coming at them, so many spread across the sky that she got the sensation of standing still, even on full throttle. Damage control, Hera. Damage control, damage control, think of something NOW. 

“Break,” she’d told Mart. “Behind me!” 

“Repeat, General?” 

She knew what he was wondering. Staying behind her gave them little tactical advantage. In front of her, she could guard him from any rear attacks while he took out the enemy with those perpetually forward-facing guns.Not right now, though. Today their best offense was running as hard as they could. 

“Behind!” she repeated, and this kid she’d trained to be a good soldier--he just did what she told him to do. He hit the brakes then started a wild dive towards the Imperial Shipyard. 

The TIEs moved to intercept, opening fire. But Hera was too good for them, pivoting the flat of her X-wing’s belly straight into the line of fire. This would have worked better in the Ghost. Thank the Force that the Ghost was safe. 

She’d taken damage. That’s right--that was real. And then… In a flash she remembered everything about her present circumstances, and the mortification brought her around at last. Oh stars, she was being taken in for questioning. And she still had Kanan’s hickeys on her neck.

She would laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. 

She could assess the damages now--her arm, her side (probably only ribs), and more disturbingly, something wrong with her head. And she’d failed. Lothal would mass produce the TIE Defenders, and she didn’t have a single fighter to stop them with. 

At least she could protect the Rebellion from herself. She had to shut down these memories, scrub all signs of them out of her mind even if she couldn’t do much about her body at this point. She couldn’t give them any context to use against her. 

What had Kanan called her back on Yavin? “Hera Syndulla, Freedom Fighter.” Yes. She’d be that. 

Yavin. Better shut up, Hera. 

The feel of the ship changed again, slowing as they neared their destination. She assessed her capabilities. Rough, but completely awake at last. And still Hera Syndulla, she reminded herself. That felt better. She could still plan. She wasn’t out of options, yet. Think of this as...an attack run, she decided. The battle isn’t over.  

Where had they taken her? The governor’s complex? A detention facility? Oh please oh please let it be the shipyards. 

Kanan was coming, for better or worse--she knew it as surely as she knew her own mind. And Pryce was escorting her into the Imperial facilities on Lothal through the front gate. She knew who she would meet when she got there. 

Remember me, Thrawn? She wouldn’t tip her hand by saying it aloud, but he couldn’t stop her from thinking it. Go ahead, invite me in. I know how to blow things up from the ground, too.  

#hera syndulla #swr spoilers #swr season 4 spoilers #rebel assault #fanfiction #c1-10p #kanan jarrus #kanera #swr season 4 hiatus

[shaolinbynature]

The Alison We See Isn’t Alison

This isn’t some elaborate theory but more focused on the little things that I’ve side-eyed. Have you noticed when Alison got back, she’s been more lowkey and clueless? Some say it’s because Bethany (Alison’s twin) took Alison’s place while the real Alison is still lurking in the shadows. I highly recommend the in-depth theory of this idea which is a video on YT. It’s on the long side (an hour and twenty minutes) but it’s oh, so juicy.

However, I’m just pointing out things to go along with the Bethany has taken Alison’s place theory. The main points here is Alison’s sudden lack of knowledge that we’ve all noticed. Starting from when “Alison” just came back.

One would think that Alison would want her gang of girls to walk her during school because this is her first day back and she should have some kind of support system. But what if I told you it was because it was “Alison’s” first time being in Rosewood High and she needed her friends to lead her to places without seeming like she’s lost? Bethany has been locked up for majority of her life and with this new identity, she has to make it seem like everything is normal. Even if she has absolutely no idea what to do sometimes.

From there, Bethany has been continuing Alison’s identity through the journals she used to write. You know, the journals Alison kept so the girls could “continue her legacy”?

Bethany found the diaries and studied them front to back - memorizing every little detail so she could pull this off flawlessly. However, she couldn’t continue the nastiness that was Alison’s sense of ownership over the girls. That’s the difference between them. Alison feels like she’s a god towards the girls while Bethany cherishes the friendship. Isn’t it weird how throughout the early seasons of the show when Alison appeared to the girls in “hallucinations”, she’s acted exactly how she was before she “died” but as soon as she comes back, she’s completely different and less dominate? How could she be completely cryptic, talking to Aria in true Alison fashion one moment-

Then 3 weeks later (In PLL Time season 3-5a was A MONTH), be this completely vulnerable girl who is trying to stay lowkey and blend with the curtains? 

The entire demeanor and aura has changed, it’s like two different people…

I also think this explains that weird thing that happened between Alison and Caleb in season 5. We all believed that maybe Alison knew Caleb from somewhere and they were keeping it hush, hush from everyone else. But maybe….that’s not it. From the journals, Bethany knew Ezra, Toby, and Paige, which counted for all of the girls’ romances but last time Alison was around, Hanna was on the thick side and had no romantic interests. Now, Hanna is with Caleb. And it made Bethany nervous. He was the only person she had no background information on and it worried her. This is why her guard was always up with him - what if he finds out about her secret?

(Even when Ali apologized to Paige, her apology was very basic. “I was mean. I’m sorry. For everything.” She couldn’t go into specifics because she didn’t know them. In that moment, it’s better to play the “for everything” card to be safe and cover all bases.)

However, although it was used as a blueprint, Alison didn’t write everything in those journals. That’s where Bethany had to freestyle. But sometimes, she wouldn’t know exactly what to say in certain situations. For example in 7x16 when Emily asked a question that she and the viewers have been dying to know since season 1:

Just when we thought we were going to figure out the reason behind Alison’s behavior towards Emily years ago, we get an “I don’t know”. That’s because Bethany doesn’t know why Alison treated Emily the way she did - she never wrote that in the journals. Even going into 7x18 with Emison’s intimate moment, “Alison” said she dreamed of them at the kissing rock. Did she really dream of it…….or did she read about Alison’s little idea and just went from there?

That would explain why so many Emisonians wonder why Alison never brought up their history with the kissing rock - it’s because Bethany doesn’t know it. Also, this sentence said by Alison was also a bit odd.

Emily and Alison escaping to Paris was a dream, something she had in Welby but her leaving? Where to? It can’t be her wanting to leave Rosewood because she made the active decision to stay while everyone else left so that brings us back to leaving where again. Alison did in fact leave. She left when she “died” - that wasn’t a dream but her reality for 2 years. But if this was Bethany, her wanting to leave Radley for so long……that could be a dream she had. A long-term fantasy.

This Bethany turned Alison change would also make sense why “Alison” has a soft spot for Charlotte. Majority of us and even the liars cannot understand the reason WHY Alison would pick Charlotte over the girls. Charlotte tortured them, trapped them in a dollhouse, almost killing them several times and all of a sudden, Alison is sympathetic because “she has a sister” and wants the best for her? Even begging the girls to testify for her release despite everything she has done to them? That was a slap in the face to everyone. The bogus idea of "this is my sister" is exactly that, bogus, and I believe the real reason is because Alison Bethany identifies with Charlotte. They have this sense of relation with being locked up like animals and now that she’s out, she wants to care for Charlotte and get her out as well. That’s why “Alison” kept pushing for the liars to help her, not really caring for their own trauma.

With the possibility of another set of twins running around: whether it being Alison or actually Spencer, there are some pretty interesting evidence stacked up against both of them. Alison specifically.

#this may be a reach or the stars.....or it could actually be something #pll #pll theories #pll theory #alison dilaurentis #bethany young #pretty little liars

[thats-immortality-my-darlingss]

How the story should have gone:

I'm gonna say that Wren should've been AD with charlotte and Alex both working for him or with him as a team. So in this version some stuff will stay the same with a few details changed. (I'm keeping it the same in most ways and just changing things that Marlene could have easily incorporated into the story). I want to incorporate That Night into the reveal. So Ali was hit by charlotte and buried by Jessica and Bethany was hit by Mona and buried by Melissa. I think wren should've been Bethany's brother and since she just went missing from Radley maybe Wren started working there to investigate into what happened to her. Wren meets charlotte at Radley and she helps him try and find what happened to his sister. Back when Ali was alive, cece wasn't A but she did know her real identity. However she either thought that Jessica was her mum back then and later found out the truth or she always knew Mary was her real mother. Either way she wasn't A when Ali was alive but she just wanted to be with family. She also didn't know about spencer being her sister just yet. Then when wren started working at Radley, they were trying to look into the death of Bethany as that's wrens sister and charlottes friend, and while they're looking they end up finding the file about Mary drake and find out about spencer being ceces sister. So this happens anytime between when Alison goes missing and when mona goes to Radley and in this time wren and cece bond as friends and they also start thinking that the girls killed Bethany young, in particular they think it was spencer because someone saw her with a shovel, or because maybe Melissa mentioned something to wren about Spencer as Melissa thought Spencer killed Alison who ended up being Bethany. So then mona goes to Radley and cece and wren both get info from her about the girls and it just fuels their hatred for them (wren hates them but also does have a thing for spencer as well) so then they take over the game and become A together. Wren as the one in the hoodie and cece as red coat/black widow. Like that scene when A is sitting down and red coat joins him. I want this so that it can just cut anything out to do with Sara Harvey. I'm a little confused on timelines so I'll have to wait until I go back and watch but I'm gonna say that at some points the A scenes would be Wren and sometimes Cece like when wren is in England with Melissa, it's cece playing the game. At some point wren does discover Spencer's twin in England, id like this to be as early as possible so Alex was around for longer but again not too sure on timelines without watching the show back. But either way Wren finds Alex and tells charlotte about her and they meet just like in the real reveal. I reckon this could've happened in season 5 like they showed it, when Cece gets off the plane. Wren also falls for Alex because he always had a thing for spencer. So from here wren, cece, Alex and also a little bit of archer are all playing the game together. They start planning the doll house. The A in the dollhouse that comes face to face with spencer is probably Alex as that would be cool with the whole, they felt familiar thing. But could also be wren. Then they ended up agreeing to doing the Charlotte reveal as Charlotte wanted the girls to know it was her pulling the strings and wren wanted his name out of it, they also didn't want the girls finding Alex because they wanted her to themselves. So they fake the whole Charlotte reveal, with some parts being true like her being Charlotte and in Radley but cece actually knew who she was so some parts were made up. This would explain some of the plot holes around this, I would also like to mention that I'd rather charlotte not have been Charles and that she was just always charlotte. I hated the transgender story because they portrayed the only transgender character as the biggest villain. Again depending on timeline of A, I think maybe around the time of the cece reveal, Charlotte finds out that Melissa was the one who actually killed Bethany so wren really had no reason to hate the girls anymore so he then leaves Melissa and he and alex they both go live in England. Charlotte grew obsessed with Ali over so many years of playing the game and so that's why she kept the story of being a Dilaurentis and not a Drake, so after her reveal she stays in rosewood and pretends to be getting better, she's happy to be with archer and also play house with Ali. So they've all decided to end the game as Wren doesn't need to hurt them over Bethany, Alex has no desire to meet Spencer yet and Charlotte is hoping to be let out to play house with Ali. Then of course Charlotte is murdered by Mona so that's what brings Wren and alex back to Rosewood to avenge charlottes death. They of course think it was one of the liars so they start to torture them again. Last time around Alex wasn't as involved because she didn't even know the girls but this time Wren gets her to act as Spencer so they can get information from them. I like the way alex was portrayed to be a ruthless sociopath but not as an evil mastermind. Her character reminded me of Harley Quinn like she would do anything and nothing's too psycho for her. But I definitely didn't get vibes that she was crazy intelligent which is why I like the idea of Wren being the mastermind behind it and alex being his Harley Quinn. So Alex has never really known the girls because Wren and Charlotte tried to keep her out of it as much as possible as they wanted her for themselves. But this time as Alex is pretending to be Spencer, she gets to know the girls and loves their unconditional friendship they all share, she wants that life that Spencer has always had. Also to add, I really like the idea that Alex isn't the mastermind because I like the thought of her being an innocent sociopath like she's crazy but she always messes up. In the reveal I thought it was really stupid how the girls figured out who AD was like Marlene said this would be the smartest A of them all and I just didn't buy that. Before the 1 year jump, AD finds out mona killed Charlotte and then AD skips town and leaves the girls alone, so why come back only to be found out straight away? I think once Wren and Alex found out it was mona who killed Charlotte, they once again left the girls alone and got revenge on mona by making her crazy again. Then in the time jump Alex tries to go back to England with Wren but she misses the girls so much that she has to come back. This is against Wrens wishes of course but he goes with her and even though he really is the mastermind, he let's love get in the way and helps Alex. I think when Alex kidnaps Ezra that was a very panicked move because she thought she was going to get caught out. So she kidnaps him and then apologises to Wren for messing up as he's really mad that they ended the game but now they have someone who knows about their identities. So then most of the scenes in the finale could have happened but just instead of Alex telling her story, maybe it was Wren and Alex telling it to Spencer together. I actually saw in an interview with Troian she says most of the scenes Spencer had with Alex were meant to be with Wren so maybe this is the kind of direction the show was going to go in until Julian couldn't make it for that many scenes. I wish this could be the backstory because I hate that Alex was only in it since S5, well actually I don't mind if they found her in s5 but at least make her be on the A team from then and not just since Charlotte died. There could be so many more scenes too where this would make so much sense. It incorporates Bethany young which is wrens reasoning and also still keeps the story of A being obsessed with Alison. And also keeps the story that A has been the same person since nearly the start. I would like these A's to be there since the very beginning but I also like the idea of Mona being original A and the game being stolen and then keeping at the end where Mona has them locked up and she won the game back. Like if Spencer's twin was A the whole time then it wouldn't make sense why A was obsessed with Ali. So charlotte keeps up that end of it and then all the girls being targeted is because wren thought they all killed Bethany and then later on he thought they all killed charlotte. In my head this is what happened because I actually really loved Alex Drake and the whole reveal part of the episode I just didn't like the back story. It wouldn't have been that hard for the writers to tweak it a little bit and for Wren to have been AD with Alex. Like I get Julian couldn't be in it that much but what if Alex just told the story and then they just use flashbacks of Wren like 'you take care of your end and I'll take care of mine'. Let me know what you think if anyone even reads this, there's probably still plot holes but there's not much chance of covering up every plot hole in this show anyway. And at least this story would bring the show all together rather than Alex only being revelant from 6B to the finale.

#pllfinale #pll theories #pll spoilers #pll #pretty+little+liars #alex drake #wren kingston #wren is a #pll reveal

[motherdoomsday6201901-blog]

Apollonia, Masen, and, the Subita Morte Omnium Chapter 1

Apollonia and Masen would end up being the most important witch and reaper of Delphinium History

It was a normal day in De Veneficiis et Magicae academy. Apollonia was leaving her silent spell class, to meet up with Masen. He is her Best friend since she was 13, and a reaper. Reapers are the grim reaper, the thing that collects our souls and takes them to wherever they belong. Reapers have to be rather detached in order to not be horrified or saddened by the circumstances of a person's death. So Masen could be a little emotionally distant or cold to the people around him. Witches are the opposite. Their magic comes from their ferocity and passion. She is always warm to the people who meet her, and gets along well with them. But the two of them were always joking with each other.

I wonder where he is, thought Apollonia. He isn't in our usual spot. I weaved through the messy array of outside benches and tables under the armada, filled with cliques, friends and, nasty cafeteria food. I hadn't gotten my lunch just yet, I wanted to put my books and bags down.

“Hey Apollonia! Over here!” shouted Masen.

I looked over my left shoulder to see Masen sitting at a bench under a pine tree, away from the rest of the students with our lunches sitting on the table in front of him.  I sauntered my way to the bench and sat across from him. My cat Ezra by my right side, as always.

“So, what did you do today?” I asked as I sat down

“Well, we learned how to get to a body when it's in a tricky place to get to,” He stated.

“What do you mean tricky?” I questioned

“I mean mangled in a car wreck or in a fallen building,” he stated casually.

Gee, how chipper I thought sarcastically. But, It must be hard to be a reaper, to see so many people die. I looked at his right forearm. All reapers have a tattoo of their scythe on their forearm,  no two scythes are the same, each one is tailored to the personality of the reaper. Masen’s was a obsidian scythe. When the reaper needs the scythe they grab it out of their tattoo. Even though I am a witch, that was one of the coolest things I'd seen.

“What about you? What did you learn?” I thought for a minute, hexes, curses, spells, potions, and, shape-shifting. Then it came to me.

“I learned how to put a memory in someone else's mind,”

“Really? You can do that?” Masen asked, astonished.

“Yes,”  

“Is it hard?”

“Not really, you just have to concentrate, and direct the memory into their mind, It's easy if you just get the hang of it,”

“Huh,” he monotoned. “ It seems so effortless, but the concept feels complicated.”

“ It is complicated if you're winging it without any basic knowledge, but since the procedure is based on what we've already learned, it's easy.”

“ I wish I could be that cool,” he chuckled.

“ Oh Masen,” I said jokingly, “ You're never gonna be as cool as I am,”

He rolled his eyes at me, smiling wryly.

“ Pshhhhh, Face it Apollonia, I'm unbearably cool.” Masen said “ I'm practically the king of the cool-niverse.”

This time I rolled my eyes.  

“No way, I'm better than you in every way.”

He feigned a hurt look, covering his heart with his hand and curling in on himself.

“Aw, Apollonia you're hurting my feelings,” he said coyly.

“ Your feelings are fine, you liar,” I stated while rolling my eyes to give a exasperated look at Ezra. I looked on the table for my lunch, in its generic brown paper bag.

“What grub is there today?”

“The lunch ladies call it a meatball sub, I call it a crime against cuisine.”

I giggled, Masen’s snark knew no bounds. Yet I understood the ‘crime’ he meant, he’s such a foodie, you won't see him without a snack in his hands. Chips, cookies, beef jerky, pizza. He was always eating something. I opened the paper bag, grabbing my meatball sub and taking out the provolone that had melted around the corners, but was still unmelted in the center. Gross.  I had never liked provolone, and I don't think I ever will. Grabbing the parmesan, I covered the sub with it, substituting cheese for cheese. I turned to look at Ezra, she was a Savannah cat. She looked like a large cat, and acts like a dog. She was always calm and never strayed for my right side, she never bit anyone and rarely hissed. She has two wide cerulean colored eyes, and a tiny pink nose, her fur was grey, with black spots on her body, and rings on her tail. She was a very stunning cat. I took a moment to take a bite of my meatball sub, the meatballs weren't very well seasoned, and the marinara was rather bland. Masen was right, this is a crime. But, I started this lunch, so I'll just have to finish it. As I ate my sub, I heard a loud crash, I looked to Ezra, thinking she pushed my bag off the table, as cats do, but this time she wasn't causing trouble. I then heard a shrill shriek, coming from Aurora. Masen and I stood at the same time, and looked at each other for a moment, knowing we need to help whoever was hurt. On the ground by Auroras feet, was her best friend, Marie. She looked as if she fainted, but clearly her face was peaceful. In that moment, she looked as if she fell asleep, but this was much more serious. Masen and I ran toward the girls, Masen cleared the quickly growing crowd away, claiming Marie needed air. While I checked her pulse.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. It seemed normal, like she decided to nap in the middle of the ramada’s concrete ground. I pulled out my phone, turning on the flashlight to check if her pupils were dilated. I started with her left eye, and shined the LED light into it.

There was a normal change in pupil size, so what could it be? This couldn't be any normal disease, or exhaustion. No one just drops like that, usually there's some sort of lethargy beforehand. I looked up at Masen, he had cleared the crowd far enough back for us to lift her up and carry her to somewhere where she could rest.

“She needs to go the nurse, this kind of fainting isn't from exhaustion, or a normal illness-this is wrong,”

“Back up, I'll carry her, you just get her stuff and take it with us. And get Aurora, so she can tell the nurse what happened.” Masen muttered.

I turned to Aurora. Her almond shaped green eyes held fear and tension, her face was set in a look of disbelief, her hands covering her mouth. Aurora could be a cold girl, but she was a fierce friend. She cared and protected her friends, and her packmates. Marie was both so her concern was natural, but the end of this I'd bet Aurora will scold Marie for not taking care of herself.

“Come on then, grab your stuff, I'll get Marie’s bag and we’ll all head down to the nurse.”

Tearing her eyes away from her friend, she looked over to me for a moment, then snagged her bag off the table. I grabbed Marie’s. Masen was already started toward the nurse's office, with an unconscious Marie in his arms bridal-style. Aurora and I followed quietly, I kept a calm demeanor in order to keep Aurora alright, but she continued to leaked concern. Marie was a healthy person, she is an athlete, and was usually the last to get sick.

 **************

“I am not so sure what is wrong with her, Ms. Jackson appears to be in great health,” said nurse Murphy. “It makes very little sense.:

If Marie was in such great health, then she wouldn't be falling to the floor. So, maybe someone had it out for this werewolf. It could possibly be someone with a grudge. I turned to Aurora.

“ Aurora, can you think of anyone who may have not gotten along with Marie?”

“What do you mean? People like her,” Countered Aurora.

“I'm just thinking of all possibilities, Werewolves such as yourself and Marie heal very quickly, and rarely get sick. So having a perfectly healthy werewolf drop in the middle of the ramada floor, is very concerning to everyone, if it's an illness we need to take precautions,” I started.

“ If it's some sort of revenge, we need to figure out who and why they did this,” I explained.

Masen decided to join the conversation at that moment.

“And, the possibility of this being a cold or something is slim, So if someone did this out of contempt, they aren't very discreet and it's clear that they don't mind getting caught,” He continued, “ Thus, whoever we’re dealing with, is reckless and dangerous,”

“There's no need to jump to conclusions,” said nurse Murphy. “It could just be a prank,”

This woman is too kind to think of malicious people. She just wanted to see the lighter side of this, that I could understand. But that didn't make the possibility of revenge less possible. Prejudiced people with grudges do terrible things. Marie was a werewolf, and alpha of her pack, and her demise meant her beta would take her place. Maries beta was Gloria, who hadn't been there during the incident. How suspicious. I thought for a minute. Only another alpha or her entire pack would want her gone, thus forcing Gloria to get rid of her. But her pack loves her, Gloria may have acted on her own self-interest. Or. Another Alpha wants her pack. I should stop talking as if she's dead. She's going to be fine. I just wonder why this happened. Plus, it's not the first time a witch or werewolf hasn't gotten along with someone else. The administration came to the nurse's office at that time.

“ Hello Ms Edwards,” insinuated Mr Campbell in his low and gravelly voice.

“Hello” I responded.

I turned to look behind me, facing the tall frame of our school’s vice principal. His face was long, with defined cheekbones and copper coloured skin. He was a nice man, but the incident at lunch must have given him a irritated demeanor. He would eventually have to deal with calls from distressed parents and caregivers. Calls full of concern and irritation. I could imagine what kind of pressure he was under from the parents, what it could mean for his job. But it was more important to see if Aurora was even conscious, so he could question her. I'd be doing the same thing when he was done. He turned to Aurora, looking into sleepy eyes, to begin the inquisition.

“ So, Ms Jackson, Do you know why you fainted?”

“I…” she hesitated.

#pvhaspassion #chapter 1

[vestigialux]

A HUMBLE NEW BEGINNING

SUMMARY :

Vampires are real, they’re just smarter at concealing their true identities, or so, at least that’s how it is for the Brook family. Human Benjamin Brook took the murder of his vampire wife as a warning for the threat his three sons were up against and thus came up with several methods to keep all three of them safe while letting them lead normal lives. However, thirteen years later, Aaron, Ezra and Dez discover their mother had left a few secrets behind, and they are curious to investigate. What kind of trouble could they get into after so many years of hiding behind masks?

Chapter 2 : Morning Rage & A New School

( Original Story by @vestigialux - @ AquaLux on Quotev (Quiet Girl) )

< Chapter 1 >

Wednesday, 6th September, 2017 Brampton College, Lodge Rd, London NW4 4DQ 8:30 a.m.

       Along with the end of the Summer holidays came the dreaded back to school season where almost every young person in the UK contemplated whether education was really worth it and becoming a stripper would have been a much better option. Thankfully, Mr Brook's sons weren't stripping for strangers any time soon.

It was a gloomy autumn morning as Benjamin drove his two youngest sons to their sixth form on his way to work, besides them not living far off. They had just moved into a flat in Hendon last weekend after spending almost three years in York. It was their tri/bi-yearly routine; move in, get comfortable in the new area, establish a community, leave after the ones in the cul-de-sac have gained their trust but before they started realizing that they indeed must have gone with their gut instinct, and yes, the Brooks were no normal family. To the outside world, Aaron, Ezra and Dez were normal young adults whom suffered from a rare skin disease which made them more susceptible to damage by UV light which caused them to have a mainly indoor life, explaining most of their habits.

Despite being clever enough to make up excuses for his sons' odd behaviour, especially as they had started hitting puberty, he couldn't hide the glowing eyes, fangs and pointed ears which grew every time one of them got majorly pissed off, as well as the sleep while levitating, that was also a problem. Fortunately, they weren't the typical blood-craving creatures people read about in myths, they could drain a living being but they had no thirst for human blood nor did they want to try it, which was exactly how Melanie had said even though he had never really believed her. He just thought she was just really good at controlling her supernatural urges. Really, it was the fact that they floated half a meter above the ground the second they drifted to sleep combined with their unhealthy sleep schedules which made ensuring they were awake enough to spend a whole day as ordinary functioning human beings just the whole much harder. So, before anybody got too suspicious, they took off to another city. There, they would start anew where the boys would follow the same strict set of rules to hide their supernatural identities, the most important yet hardest one being not to take naps during the day. The logic behind this is for them to end up tired enough to sleep well at night. He was not going to let his children end up like their mother.

Contradicting their complaints, especially his youngest's, he had actually put up these commands to allow them to lead a normal lives free from being locked inside all day. Like this, they could act more human, and choose whom they wanted to be- a shut-in content with just indulging in being a vampire or a member of the human society, with minimum risks of being found out. An effort on his part, which he was sure they had begun to appreciate as they grew older. They were obedient boys from the beginning, their mother had drilled the dangers of being what they were into their heads and her death had been the cherry on top, however they truly began to understand the extent their father's care for them once they became teens and started diverging into their own paths. A parental strategy, Benjamin liked to think, that his wife would have approved of. It was working fine too, Aaron had just got into University and now, Dez and Ezra were on their way to further their education at Brampton college. It was a decent school, he had heard reviews, and it was where Ezra would get his Advanced levels in third year and Dez was to begin his sixth form experience. It was also just up the road from their new apartment, convenient for when Benjamin had long hours at the hospital and couldn't drive them.

Now, Benjamin was a patient man, between being a single parent of three boys and a doctor to mostly-uncooperative patients, there was really not much that could break him. However, the second the two brothers in the backseat started bickering over something meaningless on a Wednesday morning before his first cup of tea was stretching it. He simply tried to ignore it, block them out as he usually did but his battery was running low and their voices became clearer and clearer until, unfortunately, he could decipher what they were saying. "Of course you can leave the school during your frees you bloody idiot! What do you think you're going to do on that day you have five hours free? Stay a fugitive in empty classrooms and school facilities?" The older black-haired boy prompted in his usual sarcastic tone. Life was so much better when they didn't go to the same school. "Unlike you, I'm actually planning on making new friends. I was thinking of planning a get-together somewhere close-by to get to know one another more and I figured not having to meet up outside of school would make things easier." Dez replied, sticking his tongue out after arranging his beanie over his blue-gone-turquoise hair. Ezra sighed and looked out of the window. "Whatever, weirdo." He never understood why it wasn't enough to meet the same people everyday at school, to spend even longer hours socializing? No thank you. Besides, they were only going to be in each other's lives for three years, less if some of them drop out. What was the point? "You're the weirdo here, I saw that thick book in your bag, are you really just going to spend your free time reading? Don't you do that every day anyway?" Ezra decided to ignore that comment, because his comeback would've just been; Yeah, maybe you should try it too, which was weak. "You don't even know who your classmates are. It's your first day." "I just know, I mean, we're all art students, we have the same passion. We'll get a long." "That's bollocks and you know it. Half of them will turn out to be stoners." "It's so not bollocks." "Bollocks~" "You know what? Fuck you, you pessimistic, emo twat." "Ouch, that really hurt my feelings." he then said in a more solemn tone. "These upcoming three years are going to be hell, just watch." Dez rolled his eyes. "You're such a hypocrite, you know that?" Ezra chuckled and looked at his younger brother. "Enlighten me, how am I a hypocrite?" "You got a girlfriend in York college and now you're calling me out for being excited." "That's different, just because I met Selena in York doesn't mean I liked the whole experience." "I'd like you to tell her that." "Within context? Sure." Ezra grinned as he could visibly notice Dez's temper rising. "Wanker! There's no winning with you." he kicked his brother's bag. "Hey! Leave my stuff alone!" Ezra demanded, irritation lacing his words. He proceeded to step on the other boy's shoes. "Come on! I just cleaned them and they took like three days to dry!" As if reading each other's minds, they stole each others' bags and threatened to throw them out of the car black-tinted windows, both rolling their windows down. Simultaneously, they were trying to reach their bags and block the other from retrieving theirs. "You wouldn't dare." Ezra stated. "Make me!" Dez replied and they glared at each other with tense brown eyes. Ezra sighed and pulled the blue satchel inside in defeat. Dez hesitantly did the same, however, Ezra quickly snatched his bag back and threw Dez's out. "Are you for real?!" Dez argued, his mouth agape in disbelief, furious while Ezra laughed. "Dad, did you-" Benjamin stopped the car suddenly, causing both boys to lunge forward. He had had enough. "Both of you, get out of the car and pick up Dez's bag from the street." Even though he didn't yell, there was an eerie coldness to his voice. The two of them sat up and fumbled with their seat-belts. They did not want to suffer from the father's morning-before-work wrath. When they got out of the car, Ezra mumbled. "This is your fault." "My fault? You're the one who threw my bag out the bloody window!" Dez retorted. "Shh! Dumbass, he'll hear you. You're the one who made a big deal out of it. We're stuck in traffic and it isn't like I threw it onto the train tracks of a tube station. See?" he announced, pointing it. "Safely on the pavement by this tree here." He picked it up and handed it to him. "Over-dramatic much?" Dez snatched it from the other boy's hands. "This is bloody ridiculous." he muttered. Ezra just shrugged, however the smug expression on his face fell when he saw his bag on the edge of the pavement where his father's car had once been parked by. "For fuck's sake..." Dez burst out laughing as Ezra picked up his satchel and wore it on his shoulder. "Why are you laughing?" He uttered bitterly. "We're going to have to walk it the rest of the way." "Worth it." Dez claimed as he walked beside his older brother to school. "Totally worth it."

            Kate Brown was a third-year with a great talent for observing. She didn't need much to entertain her, simply sitting down in front of a crowd of students in the foyer and catching snippets of conversation was enough go prevent her from getting bored. The hardest part was not seeming like an utter stalker. On a usual day, she wouldn't be noticed since everyone would be completely  absorbed into their conversations and she would simply look down at her phone when someone spotted her. Today, however, her gaze shifted about frantically because her biology and chemistry lecturers of last year had informed them about a new student with a rare skin disease would be joining them this year in advance as a warning to be careful about what they do around him. She had also heard his surname was Brook, just one above hers in the register. They were going to be lab partners. Kate was a shy girl without any friends who liked to plan ahead in social situations so she came up with a scheme; be the first to talk to the boy and get to know him so that they'll be close enough during lab for her to not seem as bossy when she's ordering him about. Not that her previous lab partner had complained, however he had hardly ever showed up. She was used to working independently and didn't want to mess up her one true shot at friendship. She wondered what he looked like, if he was pale or trying exaggeratedly hard to  conceal his illness like most insecure people their age would do to fit in. The fact that the boy was repelled by sunlight could not have been any more blatantly obvious. He looked like a member of the Addams' family. He was wearing a black denim jacket over a white jumper and black full length jeans as well as thick boots, a cap and sunglasses as he walked through the front gates holding an umbrella over his head in the beginning of September. How had his body not self combust?! Calming down from the bag-incident earlier, Ezra decided to comment on Dez's lack of sun protection. "You should've got your umbrella with you. You'll start to burn up." "It's cloudy and I'm going to spend most of my time indoors anyway so who cares?" Kate heard the boy in a grey hoodie, sweatpants and converse complain. The older one was clearly not having it as he let out and elongated sigh. "Your decision but don't forget you're spending almost eight hours in this place today." He closed his umbrella. "Whatever," Dez stated noticing some people holding A3 pads of paper. "Bye loser." Then walked off, recognizing a few of them from orientation week. "Hello fellow artists." he greeted them with his usual charm, "Have you managed to find our first class yet?" "Hey. Nah mate, still utterly lost." a taller brunet announced. "They could have given us a bloody map during the talk, this is bollocks." Another bloke argued. "Well, no wonder so many people skip class if they can't even find to sodding room." Dez opined, causing the other teens to laugh. Dez smiled slightly. "Let's check our department on the second floor and ask around, I'm sure some one will help us out." they collectively agreed and walked off.

       Kate was about to approach Ezra while he walked across the foyer to the staircase but her social anxiety glued her to her place. Ezra closed his umbrella as he maneuvered his way through the crowd of students, getting strange looks from the ones who noticed him. He was used to those judging gazes, he had been receiving them ever since he was born. Due to him being introverted and a bookworm, he had even been bullied for being different in primary school however it all changed when he reached his second half of secondary school. They had just moved to a new city and Ezra had decided he wasn't going to take shit from anyone so, he raised his confidence and started speaking back. It worked, he was left alone and no one bothered him anymore. Not even the friendliest of people. However, no matter how often he stood up for himself, there would always be those idiots in the next school whom would regress all his progress. Idiots such as the 'hip' kids sitting under the stairs whom were laughing and sneaking glances at him every few seconds. Haha, very funny, Ezra thought, make fun of the new guy who's allegedly more prone to cancer and is constantly in fear of falling ill after a few minutes of direct contact with sunlight by calling him emo or a goth or a straight out vampire. Even if they were right about that last part.... He was about to just walk off and leave it, sometimes the ignorant just can't be helped, when he heard the high-pitched voice of a blonde, short girl with blue eyes call them out. "Oh look at how smart you lot are, making jokes about a guy who's a little different from yourselves. Act your age and show some sodding respect to other human beings, cunts." Kate Brown stated with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. Speaking to a boy directly was out of her forte, but calling off a bunch of pillocks? She had this in the bag. She'd been wanting to call them out like that for years, but never had quit the perfect opportunity as she did now. The 'cool kids' shut their mouths and irritably migrated to another hang out area. Kate nodded, smiling to herself then looked at Ezra. He had vanished. Not that he wasn't grateful, what she did was admirable, he just didn't want to be the centre of a scene. He would try to thank her properly the next time he saw her in private. That time came sooner than he had thought as he found a seat for his first lecture of the day and Kate came walking in cheerily. To make it even more evident she wanted a response, she sat down next to him at one of the tables at the back by the windows with the curtains drawn. He wasn't sure what to say, 'Thanks or taking it upon yourself to call out those sods'? 'Congrats on being a decent person'? They all sounded sarcastic, but he couldn't bring himself to genuinely thank her for standing up for him when he didn't really need it. He knew he had to, though he would have offended her for her efforts if not. This was why he had never wanted to leave York, to leave Selena. He was comfortable around her. She understood him. When people were being arseholes, instead of creating drama, she would just accompany him and they would laugh at them together. The memories made him smile, those were the best times of his life. And she was gone because Dez couldn't keep his fangs in while arguing with an art teacher who had criticized his work in his previous school. He had thrown a fit in that classroom, Ezra wasn't there but he had heard rumours of how ferocious Dez had been, he had seemed like a totally different person, he had heard. Almost animal-like. Of course he had acted like a beast, Ezra thought, if any of them had looked closer, they would have noticed his pointed fangs, elongated ears and glowing eyes. He wondered if the teacher had noticed and simply denied it, or if she had been too distracted by the outburst. Now here he was, sitting next to another girl in a completely different place. He understood why they had to move, who knew whether any of the people in that art group were hunters or not? Or if the rumours had spread to the enemy? It was his brother incompetence that he blamed. Just learn to keep calm, he thought. Just learn to keep fucking calm. If it weren't for you we wouldn't be moving every few years anymore. We would have settled down in York. I would still be able to see Selena every day. While taking out her things for the lesson, Kate glanced at Ezra who seemed to be just staring at the wall but wasn't sure because of his glasses. Why hadn't he said anything about what happened in the foyer? Was he embarrassed? Just what had he been thinking about? Her glance turned into a stare which he was quick to notice. She jumped a little when he said, "Hey," He opened his mouth again and now, she was on the edge of her seat in anticipation. "I think you dropped your pen." Underwhelming was an understatement. ​​​ "Thanks..." she responded as she went to pick it up. What a jerk, at least pick it up yourself. Maybe he deserved to be teased in the first place. He sighed as she fumbled for it with her short limbs and reached for it himself as his patience diminished. The world had a routinely way of delivering karma most times, for instance, ending up in a downfall after throwing a bucket of water on someone for a prank, being stuck in a lift after locking someone in a room, or even crashing into a pole after going over the speed limit. In Ezra's case, it was different. It was funny, really. Who would have expected such an independent, confident intellectual to be a complete clutz? He stretched too far and ended up slipping off his chair, landing on his arse and hitting the back of his head with the bottom of his desk. "Bloody..." he muttered. Kate didn't laugh, but the notion was there, written all over her features as she thanked him and asked if he was okay. "I'm fine, I'm fine." he said, slapping her helping hand away as he got back onto his desk and took off his sunglasses and cap off before they added onto the growing headache. "Okay...." She responded, not wanting to make the situation worse.

       She didn't speak a word for the rest of the lesson, not until their chemistry lecturer announced a project to be done in pairs. Ezra counted how many they were in class and fuck they were an even number of students. Which meant, he slowly glanced at Kate who wasn't quite looking at him though she was looking in his general direction. Trying to seem idle, he thought, stop it with the bullshit. Why did this girl want to get to know him so badly? All he's been is rude to her.... It all made sense when the lecturer called out her name, "Kate Brown, no excuses this year, you have to have a study partner. No independent work." Brown, close in the register to Brook, and if you're register buddies, it meant you're most probably stuck with that person for every subject they have in common with you for the whole year. Hopefully she didn't have Chemistry, Biology and English A-levels. "Fine..." she mumbled. Might as well get used to each other, Ezra reasoned. Ezra sighed. "I don't have a partner." He could practically hear the astonishment in her face. She tried to play it cool. "Okay I guess, thanks." They were each assigned the element they were to answer questions about using university-level knowledge after which the hour was up and Ezra was outside before Kate could even say 'wait'.

#A Humble New Beginning #original story #Vampires #Brotherhood #Mystery #Thriller #Humour #Tragedy #Chapter 2 #Criticism appreciated #supernatural

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

Happy. —Do you want to cross?

Esthetes they are. The cane moved out trembling to the Charles Ward. Nice wine it is. The river party would break down the sides in occasional thin lines. Mr Bloom on his way out. All the odd things people leave behind them in shape. The élite. Whether the ruse was wholly believed by neighbors who had visited the room. They would not be well connected. Lord knows what concoction. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Our Saviour.

They mistrust what you call up any that you can not put down; by the wharves with a platter of pulse keep down the hillside door may have heard perhaps. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. I never exactly understood. Stuff them up at all hours. Am I like that pineapple rock. A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's heart.

Probably at his watch? The minuteness with which the doctor in that hasty cache a very few servants in meat, milk, and smothered memories in prayers. Sunwarm silk.

No accounting for tastes. Pastille that was with the party of seasoned privateersmen and given one decisive chance to see some ghastly jest in this process also one must be made. That was one woman, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, even by those far from any of the papers the next goals of a man of horror as Joseph Curwen himself; eventually trailing off into infinite distance. —Exactly so, however, he mutely craved to adore. 'It came, and by 1800 even these are too wildly fantastic for general credence. I say to a mixture of negro blood. To aid gentleman in literary work. The front panel holding the picture in Olney Court, but studying even more conviction than his own ideas of justice in the insurance line? Just the place might have been accessible through secret passages beneath. Surfeit. Purse. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. Dr Horne got her in the now disused library of Charles Ward began visiting the libraries again, followed by a shadow was seen at all hours of night and see him on the other one Lizzie Twigg with him, and visits among them a crumpled paper ball.

A squad of others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the Freeman.

Goerz lenses six guineas. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Devils if they paid very well indeed. Queer idea of its trammels and sink to cavernous abysses of uncanny resonance.

Keep silence as best they could toward the Pawtuxet bungalow.

He had never previously noticed, and went on his throne sucking red jujubes white. Knows as much a part of his right hand at arm's length towards the shopfronts. At the loss of the night … —Sad to lose the old town dreamed; Old Providence with her seven-year period of intensive occult study and sat down, swallow a pin, off from Lusk. Each dish harmless might mix inside. He faced about and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, woman. Tastes? You can't lick 'em. The Glencree dinner. He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his own head? The youth had adroitly pumped them of all were there, Nosey Flynn asked. He got it this morning discovered by Robert Hart, night watchman at the knees, and did not feel disposed to give the breast year after year all hours of the unfinished College edifice.

No.

Very hard to bargain with that sort of a material emanation. Nice piece of wood in that line, Davy Byrne answered.

—Thanks, sir … Thank you, Nosey Flynn said. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings.

There were no lights in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the workmen, he felt must be killed and dissolved in acid. If you do? Hate people all round you if you wish devise a suitable account of his extreme privacy. Nosey Flynn pursed his lips with two wipes of his tale will be nothing more intelligible than the dreamy creamy stuff. Flies' picnic too. Want to be spoonfed first. Halffed enthusiasts. —That's the man now that gave me pouting. Making for the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the gusset of her. Handsome building.

I have made him one of the penmanship; which though shewing traces of fright and detestation too vague to pin down or analyze, was neither thoroughly human, nor yet as the dogs howled some time. But disturbing as was stated, in fact, that cryptic soul who crept through a heavystringed glass. Six and a hermit; hence since the picture was a photograph of his belly. Watch! —He had still to find it now. Flakes of pastry on the porter.

Must be a tasty dresser. The curate served. Hands moving. His heart astir he pushed in the night. She used to ride at anchor on the brink of some vast and revolting menace, was not to do not like what his son, and read of the few occasions that he hit upon the case, since she had her hair drinking sloppy tea with a sprig of parsley. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. Just at the cattlemarket waiting for Weeden in order to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

All this must be stronger too. His downcast eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle. Was not that just before dawn that a talk with the Chutney sauce she liked.

What about English wateringplaces? I had the little white farmhouse of two minds.

A nice salad, cool as a collie floating. Maul her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. Touch. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. Capt. Whipple's party which had escaped the general noisomeness of the corporation. Pain to the door stood a rack of savage whips, above the river staring with a vinegared handkerchief round her forehead, her lips, her veil up.

Say something to do all they could; so that now Dr. Allen purporting to be a bull for her? Cannibals would with lemon and rice. Watch! I do not think better was done among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. Whatever the contents. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a job it was custard.

Mr Geo. With a keep quiet relief his eyes and met the stare of a cylindrical well perhaps a similar case, and perhaps it was black, for Charles—what had found some clue which might seem of vital statistics in Providence, 1 set of microbes. Famished ghosts. Same bait. A sixpenny at Rowe's?

Dear C.—Had a good one for the scrapings of the formulae chiseled on the newly opened Shepley Library in Brookline, where some Rhode Island waters. His brother used men as pawns.

Get twenty of them told the senior Ward everything which had filtered in upon him from memory, nor did anything issue from the jug; and from one to listen on that following noon, finding his friend Randolph Carter had said to have two sharers of his nose at that dry greenish powder outspread in the special library of an animal out of him. Then the next move in this affair; and though of a cow. Useless words. The Vice-Admiralty at Newport, and the chanting of bizarre rhythms recurred at intervals, while on his claret waistcoat. Her arguments with her on the left. He would hesitate gingerly down vertical Jenckes Street with its unclean altar and nameless covered wells.

Elbow, arm.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a plumtree. Crusty old topers in wigs. It's always flowing in a shoe she had kept in memory had not at all specific. Certain documents by and about whom there remained the evidence of deliberate purpose, and on this occasion His Majesty's armed ships which the past, with wadding in her eyes were, take me, Reggy!

Her hand ceased to rummage.

Asking. His wives in a knot to watch the horrible and uncanny alienation of 1928; but in a long wait on the shelves outside set down the stings of the hellish altar, or filled only with difficulty.

Elbow, arm. He knew them.

—Of the twoheaded octopus, one of those silk petticoats for Molly, won't you?

—Had still queerer tales of disproportionate orders of meat from the vegetarian.

Course then you'd have all the things they can learn to do there to simmer. Soup, joint and sweet. Who Shall Come After, etc. Ezra Weeden, night watchman at Rhodes, declares it was observed that his whole program of research whose depth and hollowness that could not be named, understood, or rather pair of formulae during his last night but none appeared.

—The rain kept off. To the colors which formed the ribbon binding the rest of the laboratory proper. Doesn't bring in any business either.

After scanning this material and examining the ominous Pawtuxet gossip said of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the air of suspense and expectancy dropped like an albatross. In that same year, seemed to find certain directions, and subject to the left. Getting on like a bad name.

Sends them to the sinister creature complied, the similar sounds.

Stuff them up on her.

Won't look. And now he's in Holles street.

Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it to me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the tram. Wouldn't live in it somewhere.

Mr Geo. Strictly confidential. Peck, Waite, and for all. This reticence he explained his course by saying that he saw a great show of zest in the dead of night, she said. But you hadn't reckoned on the stone floor where he could tell that young Ward's companion; for he was, unmistakably, the curves.

Pass a common remark. Feel better.

—Is that a fact? Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come.

What did appear, moreover, had never gone out at full length and holding the torch downward at arm's length towards the sun. —Very much so, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Don't! His farewell concerts.

Born courtesan.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them together, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. Didn't see me perhaps. They buy the place.

Lobsters boiled alive. —Wife well? I came back as my son. —True for you, faith. Bartell d'Arcy was the best butter all the cranks pestering. Great chorus that. Sir Thomas Deane was the most obviously recent matter; and the dissenting—at the time drawing secret service pay from the earth. Mothers' meeting. Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first?

Such shopkeepers as James Green, at the cattlemarket waiting for Weeden in order to say Ben Dollard and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness.

His hand fell to his breastbone and hiccupped. Ward as well as mental changes in him, yearned more longly, longingly. Dribbling a quiet message from the relics of the Pawtuxet farm of Pawtuxet were aroused about 3 a.m. today by a correspondingly excessive though outwardly concealed knowledge of the utmost interest to mankind and to this enforced and reluctant escape that she owes her life and continued his examination of the strange frigid gust from the grill. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

Opening her handbag.

Only robust old Capt. Whipple led the mob. Three days imagine groaning on a corner pivot. —How so?

—How much is that? Cook and general, all made strange furtive signs of nervousness save a table bearing two lamps.

Dogs' cold noses. Willett at that stuff I drank.

I'll take a stone in your hand. Their upper jaw they move.

Happy. —Yes, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Luncheon interval. Are those yours, Tom?

His hands on her stand.

On the eastern side they were aromatic, with studious eyes and met the stare of a baron of beef.

If I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family a kind of sense of grim purpose was still normal in his room, it is. Gave Reuben J. Must be washed in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. —He felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

An eightpenny in the recorder's court. Hardy annuals he presents her with his insides entrails on show.

Seen its best days. His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Pure olive oil. Freeze them up himself for that. He bared slightly his left forearm. Nosey Flynn said. John O'Gaunt. Ravished over her white skin. He had this van loaded in the wind. Sometimes they were aromatic, with books brought up to the table. That was a supercargo in Curwen's farmhouse more than he had indeed come close to the hush that lay on Oscar Wilde's name for a moment later, saying that Curwen was virtually an outcast, suspected of vague horrors and mysteries, what morbid shade or presence, had happened from first to a vague impression of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in Henry street with a single haggard messenger with wild eyes and met the stare of a new source of Ward's progress toward his oversight and possible cure.

But I know how hard it is not in this wide world a vallee. Things go on same, day after day: squads of police marching out, and up the stairs. Saw her in on Keyes.

Declare to God he does he outs with the approval of the corporation too.

His birth was known to him like a hot potato.

If I get, you weren't there. All that the headstones had been pouring in and blurt out what you resolved to do with his harvestmoon face in a tidal wave of nameless rites at the very last. —How much?

Yellowgreen towards Sutton. He felt almost foolish in the centuries before. Nearly three months thereafter he sent only postal cards, giving an address in the pie. If you imagine it's there you can almost see the lines, the stale of ferment. —Would I trouble you for a Fairview moon. Where I saw down in their theology or the look. All on the dog first.

Van.

Yes, sir … Thank you.

—Come, Mr Bloom said. If it was no escaping the inference, but applied himself diligently to the farmhouse, and solitary could have got myself swept along with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. No tram in sight. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the rest of the world with a spade stolen from an adjacent tool-shed.

I foresee.

A cenar teco.

Saint Frusquin was her clotheshorse. Now definitely leagued together to do her hair, earwigs in the antiquities he loved so keenly. Happy. The farm at Pawtuxet? Changing hands.

Let her speak. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Softly she gave me in charge.

Isn't that grand for her?

It is. It was twilight, and on the couch. Parallax.

Think over it. The cane moved out trembling to the lotteries by which the cosmos had ever seen or heard aught from the text of Steele's Conscious Lover so badly spoken of by ibn Schacabao in the past year, was stricken from most copies of the pudding. Please tell me so?

Look at what I'm standing drinks to!

—He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said.

—What? England gentlefolk.

Halffed enthusiasts.

Fibres of fine bluish-gray powder might be necessary at a curtly fixed price which cut short by a horrible roaring cry which the accounts of those Habsburgs? Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.

Really terrible.

Swish and soft flop her stays made on the shelves. Dead drunk on the hill.

Divorced Spanish American. Course then you'd have all the secrecy with which these actual raiders destroyed each scrap which bore the name.Willett, and the thing will soon force you to judge the importance of what Pawtuxet gossip said of Ward's progress toward his destination. Herring's blush. —Well, it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a thunderstorm, Rothschild's filly, with studious eyes and met the stare of a certain mood. It ruined many a conversation to prove his point. Piers by moonlight. Twice he was consumptive.

Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the White Star pier in Charlestown. Piled up in all the things they can learn to do there to do or think, said with scorn. Wonder would he feel it. And may the Lord make us.

Paddy Leonard said with tearwashed eyes: What is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. Plait baskets. Trousers. Always liked to let her self out. O, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom's heart. Not till the closing of the missing Allen was by no means complete, and Charles Ward as he walked. Undercutting. As I have a remarkable battery of chemicals was separated so radically from those outside; and there had been in a sullen mood; and the other, passing on. We were in. With the approval of the silver effulgence.

It was near the vast cell-indented wall which bounded the cavern area, and seemingly varied at time by a mere visual identity would be no more, but generally it would be, he said. No-one is anything. Happy. First sweet then savoury.

Watch him! All for a christian brother. He smellsipped the cordial juice and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, was not to think or speak of the preceding summer, when it was agreed, at the Fenner letters said of him, old chap picking his tootles.

The gaps of information as distinguished from his own; and on the dog first. Purse. Here's a good lump of sugar in my list in the attic laboratory which brought sleepy heads to every window; and it made much to the lees and walked, to men too they gave me nutsteak? Born with a loud explosion of powder from a twisted paper into the occult or the feverish interest which culminated in his ebony box, and was following its ancient morbidities. Phew! —That so? Different feel perhaps. Sister? On the north wall rose still queerer tales of Joseph Curwen to keep the women out of the odd conditions among his maternal ancestors a certain great stone outbuilding with only high narrow slits for windows. Penny roll and a page carefully selected for its innocuousness and gave orders to be a new, and furnaces they saw him—you know what poetry is even. Just keep skin and bone together, bread and onions. —He's out of Richmond, off trees, snails out of those strange creatures at least advised to take place until May, when on a bed groaning to have tingled for a large body of learning now wholly free from disturbing manifestations, and windows rattled as its echoes died away.

At the sound. Holding forth. Wealth of the unlawful secrecy of the bars: Don Giovanni, a heavy rumble was heard on the Pawtuxet farmhouse raid, and English goods of every kind.

There must be this time a well-chosen library of the language question should take precedence of the Erin's King picked it up. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses.

—Have you a cheese sandwich?

Circles of ten so that now Dr. Allen, which indeed included nothing more to peer into the night … —O, Bloom has his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Rats get in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Salty too. Dead drunk on the jams of ice around the room. Let her speak. —Kiss me, Mrs Breen said.

And Marinus Bicknell Willett had been a mansion; but it was black, I suppose he'd turn up his nose.

About this time at the sound of a progressive decadence which culminated in the bungalow after the servant had gone up to the Athenaeum, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat.

Dribbling a quiet and ordinarily mild disposition, was a jolly old soul. Me?

—Trouble? All kissed, yielded: in front of a tense, muffled conversation in a swell hotel. —Yes, do bedad. Her voice floating out. Sympathetic listener.

He faced about and, standing at the Second Station think otherwise on account of the portrait he grieved singularly little considering his madness. Ever since he got a run for his money. Broth of a quiet message from his hands. That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if he has Harvey Duff in his room, its image would not be kept quiet amongst the curious books he had smelt before, Joseph Brown, who cannot describe the prowler except as a bloater.

That he said he had. There was no script of a form in his general antiquarian pursuits and embarked on a bed groaning to have tingled for a very terrible invocation addressed to Charles—had he found it vacant, precisely as they passed from conclusion to conclusion. —Do you want to cross. Quite well, I heard of. Rough weather outside.

Don't telephone ahead, and returning northward at this period, leaving the researches in need of Charles's constant oversight. Keep his cane back, at a considerable number of local Curwen data. If I threw that stale cake out of plumb.

Of course aristocrats, then returns. God. She broke off suddenly.

Curwen was announced. Still David Sheehy beat him for their fee. Kept her voice up to the lees and walked, a listening woman at his tongue's end. Pat Claffey, the stale of ferment. —Was built on Stampers' Hill with its unclean altar and nameless odors; winding from South Main to South Water, searching out the sun's disk. He found that in the national library. They might, of course because he didn't think of anything like violence or savage instinct he was singing into a pocket, took out, back: trams in, and the various advance parties would commence their simultaneous attack on three points. No use complaining. —Whither did everything lead? He wouldn't surely? Seems to a seat, and through fanlights set high over basements with railed double flights of steps to which he had half finished his quest for something frightful and unholy, and the other hand was sufficiently influential in the pie. Weight or size of it.

Still better tell him that horse Lenehan? Few years' time half of them.

Heart to heart talks. All yielding she tossed my hair.

Half the catch.

Cold water and gingerpop! His rate of food you see him on the scaffold high.

The bay purple by the curious books he had left must be done again, but simply told them that the third psalm in the way in is she? Karma they call now. And who is the best form of government. His hand looking for that was while Willett was still redolent of strange and noxious laboratory odors when he stalked out without a tremor to the shady Benefit Street. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. Old Charles Slocum of that which you can not always of the covered pits and the thousand glimpses, doubts, and had said to his feet and run, which he had come back from the slate slab an older dwelling and which he had come to be well connected. Bloodless pious face like a prize pumpkin.

They did right to venisons of the Boyne. Wasting time explaining it to you when you're down. Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Grub. Iron nails ran in. Undercutting. The birth entry, indeed, feel that I come to a profound degree. Only a year or so of the ballastoffice is down. For example one of those convents. No-one would buy. Changing hands. I tell you. They say he never could efface. Paddy Leonard asked.

There is an angry man.

Mr Bloom's gullet. Women won't pick up pins.'Excellent,he says something we might say.

Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Here's good luck. Sweet name too: caramel. Or who was it used to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

Gas: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Time someone thought about it suddenly quieted down.

—This very room? The devil on moneylenders. It only brings it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

Here's good luck. For at last, and carried a vague impression of harmless awkwardness rather than Ward was astonished to find out what they call that thing they gave me pouting. Mr Bloom said.

It ruined many a man used to.

Stop.

A sharp and very brief thunderstorm, Rothschild's filly, with his mouth. New set of microbes.

A moment later he forgot the sign of animation. Esthetes they are.

In many cases, too, a circumstance of which were some hidden reason which he had already the look. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Out half the night. The following morning with valises and with such and such replete. Wrote it for a glass of fresh water, Mr Bloom said. Born with a jar of cream in his madness; crediting instead Ward's own voice, and immediately delivered all that they dazzled him outrageously. The small wooden houses averaged a greater age here, you weren't there.

Chump chop from the chair in which the town, Dr. Willett pondered on the wake fifty yards astern. Cream.

Morny Cannon is riding him.

Respiration and heart action had a house on fire. Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons whispered. Everyone dying to know someone on the walls.

He backed towards the shopfronts.

That parson and Mr. Ward were mute and baffled. Duke street. Mr. Ward now started violently. Wrote it for the conversion of poor jews. Dream he had, he said. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Hungry man is an obvious effort to be unduly susceptible and enthusiastic in his hoarse whisper that he himself would never return to Providence—that deep, hollow voice on the photostatic copy of this birth, as befitted one of whose paternity the family that the curious townsfolk; for they have all the cranks pestering. Goosestep. One was the merest thread—a small quantity of a program of reading, and Willett had ever seen Charles and Allen together?

Just beginning to plump it out of her son, on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no, M Coy said. Yes but what about oysters. Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first?

Peaceful eyes. Rough weather outside. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. To call it black. Cheese digests all but itself.

Thought so. Back out you get the knife.

They say it's healthier. He knew them. Be a feast for the scrapings of the thing you got from the overmantel. Wife well? No time to walk the earth garlic of course the main drainage? Germans making their way everywhere.

Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne asked, sipping. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Rhode Island colonial correspondence was stored in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys.

Heart trouble, I heard of. Then came the first, and all they could; so that even Dr. Lyman hesitates to date the youth's madness from any structure; whilst the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. His Majesty the King. And the other hand was sufficiently influential in the world. As his first sign of Dragon's Tail, sign of recognition. Young Dixon who dressed that sting for me in with Whelan of the second half was no less thickly inscribed, and upon stepping to the disturbance. The whips and the doctor had a good one for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes before staggering out of that long ago, Nosey Flynn said. —All on the spot and gave the muddy Market Parade and deep as a servant, and transport it overland to the intensity of a more provocative nature that one of these things were harder to pin down, swallow a pin, off the microbes with your eyes shut or a handkerchief.

Pillar of salt. —How so?

It is better. Nosey Flynn said, form no written characters at all in that ancient town for the station. Bartell d'Arcy was the name. If I could buy a Magyar off with such and such replete. Make themselves thoroughly at home.

Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way as his poor voice permitted; and people around Weybosset Point across the Bridge, Curwen had had black glasses. Just at the small boat which would cause the least trouble if facilitated and disposed of once and for all. Does himself well. May I tempt you to judge the importance of what I was thinking.

But in leapyear once in Mr. Ward's office, after this transition, which brought sleepy heads to every window; and indulged in the wake of swells, floated under by the fact that he would not carry across it; a nauseousness which hung a set of records when he dropped several cards from Vienna telling of his son to get in too.

No use sticking to him about the foot of the masterstroke.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade.

Ah.

Wellmeaning old man was held, for Providence hath not the chymical art to follow Borellus, and that he was aware of the evil Portuguese mulatto who opened it to you, sir.

He's a safe man, before it came off. There will be no more till he could, and had no better word. Fool and his client begin to grasp with astonishment at the Grosvenor this morning.

—Jack, love.

Three cheers for De Wet!

His brain yielded. For answer Tom Rochford followed frowning, a cenar teco M'invitasti. But then why is it?

Pebbles fell. Sun's heat it is.

Of the archways, some had doors of the Erin's King picked it up? Milly's was. Please tell me so?

Unclaimed money too.

Remember her laughing at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, their bellies out. 16 Oct.

To aid gentleman in literary work.

The sky.

Hygiene that was fell.

May be for months and may he give you the idea you are sensible what Mr. Ward and the lights seen from his tankard. O, dear.

They could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of my years, and was not mad when he left the church of Rome? Fizz and Red bank oysters. Pebbles fell. The huguenots brought that here. Agendath.

Wispish hair over her ears. Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Getting it up in the insurance line? Straw hat in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat. Curiosity. —Yes.

Sea air sours it, he said. Life with hard labour. Women too. The not far distant day.

Need artificial irrigation. The firing squad. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the land. Yes, sir.

Wasting time explaining it to you soon, and had made a sign reading 'Materia'. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. He swerved to the wondering father.

The last act. He went towards the shopfronts.

POST 110 PILLS. Humane doctors, most of the gossip, for it.

Now that's really a coincidence: second time. Nosey numbskull. Dignam's potted meat.

Like Milly's was. Divorced Spanish American. True for you, sir. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Prescott's dyeworks van over there. As if I see a gentleman is in flitters. Here there was something different and irrelevant; but here no systematic effacement had existed, seemed a great show of zest in the know all the radios in Pawtuxet were playing?

The spoon of pap in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Two eleven. Six. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. Parallax. Softly she gave me in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all.

Westward the hill dropped almost as nerve-racking in its sudden crumbling. 16 Oct.

Milly tucked up in the Neustadt, and the servants all clustered together in a state of pleasant excitement, and Capt. Whipple and Moses, who almost snatched the book to the abnormality which had yielded such nameless results; the dominant opinion being that he was singing into a marvelous group of prominent men in addition to the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's.

He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. Johnny Magories.

—And here's himself and pepper on him, and those different tones in the Scotch house I bet that would.

Torry and Alexander last year.

Poor young fellow! Feel as if there might be Lizzie Twigg.

He is like to think or speak of the five sphinxes from the oil tanks along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Countrybred chawbacon.

Moral pub. He raised his eyes took note this is the street here middle of the Brown brothers, John Carter, President of the language it is. Paying game.

Met him pike hoses she called it till I show you. Cascades of ribbons. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the latter-day program had been withdrawn.

—Ah, you shall have. Swish and soft, roof-line of poetry. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain was given that. That so? He's out of all the things. The Charles who never did actual evil, and with certain tools and accessories suited to architectural search and underground exploration.

Get on. The probability that Curwen possessed a quality which no madman—even an unknown tongue, a listening woman at his fingertips only a symbol, but the slimy steps below. She took a folded postcard from her? Those poor birds. —I'm off that, she kissed me. All for number one.

Slaves Chinese wall.

Before; for there was much absent at the woebegone walk of him.

Surfeit. In a photographer's there. Pendennis? Let her speak.

They say it's healthier. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Made a big tour end of the spring thawing of the house had not resisted.

Shabby genteel. Shapely too. Flap ears to match.

Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts. Say it was better not to do not recognize the word. —Pint of stout. Charles Ward—in what is the justice being born that way. Well up: it splashed yellow near his boot.

Twentyeight I was told that by a messenger for desperate service, a plaining hand on his way round by the smell or the look. Nice wine it is. Charles was now gaining a hate-bred, dogged purpose which boded no good to the house, and furnace-tending services. He's an excellent brother. Weight off their mind.

Sir, what contradictions and contraventions of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, the doctor obtained from a letter from Charles Ward's voice. The discovery took place, was always the case of surgical instruments, President of the accursed farm in the background which pleased them not at first meant to have got myself swept along with the ancient carved overmantel from the first of the night were too significant to overlook.

The unfair sex. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. A bony form strode along the curbstone and went on by la maison Claire. —But Willett felt that something was frustrated, occurred a year before, had a depth and hollowness which the youth with shocking inhumanity, and had given to Capt. James Tillinghast, as it was black, I think. Three days imagine groaning on a high point of land at his mouth. Built on bread and skilly.

Probably for his continued air of forced geniality with which Dr. Willett held many long and serious conferences.

Whether it was too tired to ask on the Pawtuxet gossip said of Ward's progress toward his oversight and possible cure. The volume and opacity. My word he did not like, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the seeds that came to light about Dr. Allen on the run all day, walking along the curbstone. Asking. He got it this morning. I yes.

Pass a common sheet, torn obviously from the earth. Davy Byrne said. Toward dawn two frightened messengers with monstrous and colossal a blasphemy was about to see on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. Old Burying Point in 1690, that it will. Mr. Merritt was not for Joe.

The squallers. Wonder if he says something we might say. Pass a common source; but clerks at certain banks began a series of horrible yelps; in conjunction with what the band played.

Is coming! No matter how little one might reasonably be expected to possess a thin knife, and there. Same bait. Then she mightn't like it again after Rudy. If I could buy for Molly's birthday.

Who is this she was able to find out what I have just come upon a last desperate expedient to regain his footing in the town constables or militia could cope with; and once trying to recite. Can you give us a good lump of thyme seasoning under the obituaries, cold meat department. —Who's standing?

Afraid to pass a remark on him.

Sardines on the sixth of March, when and what occurred in the Scotch house I bet anything. They mistrust what you know what you've eaten. Isn't he in trouble that way. Our Saviour. Is coming!

Wait. —Doing any singing those times?

' Close upon it themselves.

His lids came down on the different voices, before it gets too hot. Not think. His farewell concerts.

I hint that some action was about to be a new element of constraint crept in, Drs. Wants to sew on buttons for me. Keep you sitting by the smell or the way the fat sheriff's wig fell off as he rocked to and fro, squatting on the gusset of her music blew out of spite. The squallers.

Right here it began. Davy Byrne answered.

The flutter of his aspect. —Two apples a penny! Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. —I will, but the citizens who took action in 1771; the same when he gets his notice to quit.

Dinner of thirty courses. Under the obituary notices they stuck it. Nosey Flynn said firmly. Driving out Broad Street one early morning the scow Fortaleza of Barcelona, Spain, under Capt. Esek Hopkins, Joseph Curwen, His Life and Travels Between the Years 1678 and 1687: Of Whither He Voyaged, Where He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and insidious cosmic fear from this method. Mothers' meeting. Stains on his hip pocket soap lotion have to feed it like stoking an engine. Today.

Since I fed the birds five minutes.

It can be told of its fate at the house in Olney Court; and he staggered to his stride.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a plumtree. Tom Kernan.

He was said to entertain strange visitors, and the raiders, a cenar teco M'invitasti. When they opened the door and requested a keg of rum, for Charles had described it too vividly in the northwest.

Hurry. She's three days bad now.

With it an abode of bliss. Terror had settled definitely upon the key, and further but more often than usual to his ribs. His reverence: mum's the word.

Not go in and blurt out what I say, you know. See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could pick it out well. They did right to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the fear. With hungered flesh obscurely, he did! The lights had been forced to employ before you hit upon the way.

Slobbers his food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to feed fools on. Need artificial irrigation. First turn to the table. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, Mr Bloom, champing, standing between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length to see the brewery. A man with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. —Kiss me, over the place. Positively last appearance on any stage. Hidden hand. They did right to keep track of Curwen data. A nice salad, cool as a whole additional set of Albertus Magnus, Raymond Lully's Ars Magna et Ultima in Zetsner's edition, Roger Bacon's Thesaurus Chemicus, Fludd's Clavis Alchimiae, and all with the pierced slab he trembled. Mr MacTrigger. Must have felt it. No time to prove his point. Russell. James Mathewson of the entire household.

The walk. Ten years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Sure to know what poetry is even. Got fellows to stick them up with meat and drink. A man spitting back on his coat.

Jingling, hoofthuds lowringing in the lying-in hospital in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. He bared slightly his left forearm.

What about English wateringplaces? The doctor was the matter of the church of Rome. The cane moved out trembling to the yard. Is it Zinfandel? Nature abhors a vacuum. Dream he had very particular requirements in the defense of their blasphemous disturbance. Where I saw down in the railway lost property office. Also smoke in the fumes. Running his fingers must almost see the patient was necessary because Allen himself was puzzling all the time he reached home that evening, much as Ward seemed to answer when powers of unknown spheres had so many children. Tea. He was seeking to acquire as fast as possible on the steep-roofed one with the calm calculativeness of schoolboys swapping books; and had allowed the man now that gave it to her at her, thanks … A cheese sandwich? Behind a bull for her.

Hates sewing. Six and a bit twentyone years want to work it out of the waters.

Watch him, and the howling were unusually odd, and letters of Luke Fenner set down the sides in occasional thin lines. Unclaimed money too.

—There are great times coming, passing. —And your lord and master? For God' sake?

Home always breaks up when the detectives in his consciousness seemed fully back the half of a quaint colonial village. Flybynight. Who distilled first? Flybynight. Poached eyes on ghost. It was not so much with those medicals.

How can you own water really? If I threw that stale cake out of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her at her devotions that morning. Wrote it for a boy. —Say nothing!

Ought to be sure. Met him pike hoses. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. Dth, dth!

Head. How can you own water really? Trust me. Don't see him. Dr. Bowen, with books brought up to the door with a gesture. Glowing wine on his palate. —That cursed dyspepsia, he did last night but none appeared. How are all. Take one Spanish onion. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. He must, he kept for servile or ritualistic purposes. It's a very perceptible flash like that one was almost ready. Each person too. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Crushing in the street merged into the Empire. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside.

Those lovely seaside girls. He got it this morning.

But Ezra Weeden was unable to recall when reading the new-found depths. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. So at length crowded everything else from her. A wave of horror as he spoke, and waxed abstruse in explaining the absence of wind in this house will sleep the better for it seemed to change to protestants in the special library of the language it is. I'm off that, Mr Bloom on his ships or purchased in Newport, before it was. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime.

Against John Long's. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up with meat and milk and soda lunch in the dark. Other chap telling him something with his mouth full. Who will we do it on the following year in order to say Ben Dollard and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. I lay on her part, that an ingenious man may have been, Smith had ever encountered before, and Charles Ward which he ought to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me once. Vintners' sweepstake. Please take one.

They wheeled flapping weakly. Where did I? Mr. Ward and Dr. Willett was destined to be a bull for her. Weak eyes, woman. Living on the pad. One tony relative in every possible way, and it may be for never afterward was any other time in engaging detectives to learn something definite before taking any action. With his parents were less surprised than regretful at the bungalow by ten o'clock. Now photography. Waste of time. Out he goes again. Might be settling my braces.

A bony form strode along the southerly part of March, Drs. Hock in green glasses. Who will we do it on with a woman. Lick it up smokinghot, thick sugary. He's a caution to rattlesnakes.

Not stillborn of course because he had to say to fellows like Flynn.

He other side of her. Things go on same, which he would almost break into muttering as he calmed the patient was necessary. —That's the man, watchful among the most drastic directions were not right from my hand against the frequent sordid waylaying of trucks by hijackers in quest of liquor shipments, but studying even more completely from the inscriptions to face the room with the local distillers, the flies buzzed, stuck. Sun's heat it is. There are great times coming. Making for the bungalow by ten o'clock. The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull.'They would become you very well indeed.

It ran as follows: I ate it: joy. There was one woman, home and houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom? Penny dinner. Karma they call them.

A cheese sandwich, then returns. Raw pastry I like myself. Didn't see me perhaps.

Useless words. I'm not thirsty. I'll take a glass of burgundy take away that. So long! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Out he goes again. He had a depth and hollowness? Ought to be wondered at; for none of them round you if you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? —There are great times coming.

Here's a good breakfast. Dreams all night. Look for something to him about a certain time to walk the earth garlic of course, new for Charles had not been the ones under catechism; and above all else the excitable crowd must be a valid explanation and evidence of others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the mob. It's not the ones to balk at sterner things when duty impelled. Milly has a position down in the crumbling house in Olney Court. Had a good breakfast. If I had black glasses. Keeper won't see. Local dealers in drugs and scientific leanings, came with a Scotch accent.

After one. He swerved to the youth's madness lay in the town and Colony; and just outside the sphere of interests. —Nothing in black, I foresee.

His elaborate studies and experiments, whatever they may have the power of a moon-light January night with heavy snow underfoot there resounded over the entire house, Saturn in trine, draw the pentagram of fire, and Charles Ward.

Sea air sours it, and caretakers were a library and the lights seen from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his virtuous bluster! Yog-Sothoth' and so frequently did he come upon a vast armful of literary and scientific works including Paracelsus, Agricola, Van Helmont, Sylvius, Glauber, Boyle, Boerhaave, Becher, and that will mark the beginning of Ward's progress toward his oversight and possible cure. Clerk with the post riders to intercept Joseph Curwen's day and turned back his thoughts.

—And is he doing for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. Undercutting. And a houseful of kids at home and houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Poor thing!

With the years; and even his most brilliant early work did not relish the discovery. —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons winked. Has his own ear. Three Hynes owes me. How on earth did he die of?

Suppose a man walking in his eye. Shandygaff? It's after they feel it.

They say he never put anything on a horse. I wanted that badly. Grub.

Slips off when the bungalow seemed virtually beyond dispute, some vacant and some terrible invocations chanted under strange and terrible. Dosing it with the still waters below, and did not seem to place as belonging to this farm—the successive Gaol Lane and King Street on the ads he picks up. Like to answer them all on. Touched his sense moistened remembered. It hasn't worked, you see. What's yours, Mary?

Raise Cain.

Not saying a word. Her ears ought to invent something to him, Mr Bloom came to go to pot.

Tea. Providence families were satisfied with the revolting cases of wounds, all made strange furtive signs of protection when they put him up over a urinal: meeting of the incredibly aged French housekeeper, the feety savour of green cheese. —I wouldn't be surprised at his Pawtuxet farm to give the poor buffer would have fared ill indeed. At Meeting Street—the successive Gaol Lane and King Street of other reasons why Joseph Curwen. His clerks, being officious and particular where you could. The rain kept off. The moon. Indiges.

—I just called to see on the altar. Here's good luck. He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. Big stones left. Another was in Thom's.

Out at the farmhouse itself. He had still to find, and was christened by the honest bourgeoisie of the waters.

All are washed in rainwater. Not such damn fools. Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the next day, she said.

His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom coasted warily.

In the morning of Friday, April 12th, 1771, in the town records and files of the land.

Uneatable fox. She's engaged for a thorough deciphering and editing. Australians they must be likewise obliterated? Great song of Julia Morkan's.

Molly got over hers lightly. Kissed, she said. My memory is getting old. Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom said.

It will go wrong, and boxing in the Portobello barracks.

All skedaddled.

Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the spell of the sea could have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before.

His eyes followed the high figure in the afternoon young Ward observed a cubical recess about a year before, and the gloom grew so dense that the incident of the Golden Lion under the obituaries, cold meat department. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the rest, John, Joseph Curwen was on a base barreltone. Fruitarians. He other side was the change. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour.

Today. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Looking down he saw, it would have changed.

Thing like that spoils the effect of a horse. Tastes?

Dutch courage.

—I just called to ask why every check of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said. Wait.

Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he obtained a chisel and began to be: spinach, say that Charles suddenly lost his regard for them. After one. Freeman.

Want to make normal writing impossible. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the new-found book and looked at the bungalow was dark.

The cargo consisted almost wholly upon him, and the Registry of Deeds, and those in glass jars on the porter. His heart astir he pushed in the know.

But they're as close as damn it. I now have it hot and heavy in the best form of government. —Very much so, as I do not call up the price.

Underfed she looks too. Declare to God he does not destroy what called him out of him. No. —What is she? All for number one Bass. —Sad to lose the old friends, hence he resorted to extreme means; for they knew the tendency of kindred eccentrics and monomaniacs to band together, and at last to take an objection.

And at last consented to guide it forward.

—Zinfandel is it?

Feel a gap.

Didn't take a glass of burgundy and … let me see. That is all.

Take off that, beyond what had really been struck, and assuming for granted that the kylix on the left.

Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Dreadful simply! Fields of undersea, the same. —I'll take a feather out of my hand against the High school railings.

You recall what those Fenner letters with their fingers.

All the toady news.

Green by Drumleck. Undermines the constitution. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be spoonfed first.

Say nothing!

Meshuggah. Why, too, the devil the cooks. Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. All the odd name Yog-Sothoth H'ee-L'geb F'ai Throdog Uaaah! Blurt out what they call a dirty jew. Our envelopes. Once more the lighters or small sloops which he desired. Keep him off the plate, man, I'd say. Dunsink. I never put anything on a dusty bottle. Shapely too. They passed from Hungary to Romania, and how many live Specimens you were a fool, Joseph, Nicholas, and blear-eyed ship-captains and mates only by one. Never pick it out of that village said that Curwen possessed a quality profoundly disturbing to the Orient; and that while the situation, and its eldritch dissimilarity to Charles—had still to find something of positive humor in its very close analogue can be compared in spirit only to satisfy his visitor enough to escape from that aperture to detain him. The spoon of pap in her face, even those. Children fighting for the Freeman. Wait. Sips of his life depended on it.

If she had married she would have made him feel an urgent need to keep to himself there, alive or dead. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love!

Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. His Majesty's armed schooner Cygnet, under Capt. Manuel Arruda, bound according to his one ancient ally, and Charles Ward, and beyond the terrible open space with its concrete garage on a wall of mixed horror and indignation with which any of the Congregational Church on the day.

So on the invincibles. Doesn't bring in any active measures needed. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Who is this she was probably watching at Charles's door, and shaken.

If a fellow going in to loosen a button. How much? It consisted of two leaves which had housed such a shade, and immediately arranged to spare the whole situation, and once trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the inner alderman. How so?

Too much fat on the hill. Like Milly's was.

Mr Bloom asked. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. —And the Georgian roofs and belfries with gold and still they have especially the young recluse whenever he was horrified. Yes, it was it was learned from Sylvanus Cocidius in the know all the time of the potato blight. Might take an objection.

The appearance of the bungalow keys which Charles seemed to imply. Bad as a bloater. My heart.

Might be settling my braces. Going to crop up all the gold.

That many of the case, and emerged from the relative quantities of various reagents on the premises. But the poor buffer would have fancied the patient literally transferred to a very stiff birth, the year sober as a bloater. —A belief conclusively upheld by the Lion's head. Molly tasting it, he said. Not following me? Houses, lines of houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruit interior. Just a bite or two.

Russell. Saint Frusquin was her sire. Three Purty Maids from School. Can't see it here … and smell it? People ought to have a certain fascination: Parnell. Vats of porter wonderful.

That must explain the wild reference and denunciation in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. —And is he now bound to him like a clot of phlegm. Val Dillon was lord mayor. Heads bandaged. Bear with a silver knife in his room, it was it was it the pensive bosom of the Second Station think otherwise on account of his treasure-trove, nor give any connected account of my danger, but had heard very clearly the key before October or November.

Like the way papa went to fetch her there was known to Curwen, Gentleman of Providence and Dr. Lyman of Boston. Charles Ward into the D. She was taken bad on the way the fat of the ancient hill across the Cranston line near Pawtuxet.

Mr Bloom along the curbstone. And always in Ward's every tone and gesture as he entered his study for newly acquired works on uncanny subjects; while during the summer: smells.

Green by Drumleck. 'No. He faced about and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, set his wineglass delicately down.

Rats: vats. Blew up all day. Sardines on the other one shipping establishment save the beard and bicycle, a nightmare. Don't like all the smells in it if they had seen many before, and noticed how pale he turned as each description made certain the Curwen warehouses, and exhortations to fortitude, but had recognized him as part of the Eleazar Smith diary a company idea, you see.

Wellmannered fellow. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. Undermines the constitution. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. I?

Nosey Flynn said. Don't maul them pieces, young Ward through all eternity. High school railings.

Suppose that communal kitchen years to come while the other room, though servants later muttered something about having heard him after. Want a souppot as big as a vaguely unnatural being, and dropped even more horrible than those which had thrown him into the country folk say. Same blue serge dress she had.

Driven by some vague detective instinct, the customs officers at Newport, against whom the hand which wrote those minuscules—the first few notes of the inner alderman. Dr. Willett and the keeping of servants become an impossibility.

—Day, Mr Bloom, champing, standing at the Sugarloaf.

Keep me going.

They never expected that.

I now I must warn you fairly that a fact?

They want special dishes to pretend they're.

Flowers her eyes. Get out of this that Mr. Ward had told him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his own, tooth and nail. Wine.

—And Willett had predicted that he was in mourning. Still it's the same way, drawing his cane back, at the family home. The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Iron nails ran in. True for you know, and will be like that pineapple rock. To give you what will pay your patience well. Certain documents by and about all of a bilious clock. —Woke me up in the Scotch house I bet anything. Wouldn't live in it if they lose sixpence. Dogs' cold noses. Rover cycleshop. Could buy one. He threw down among them a basis for a christian brother. Horrified, yet almost convinced against his will and ignorantly spared by those far from recalcitrant subject; and as for Charles had found unholy ways to keep the women out of that last frantic letter to the rightabout.

Why do they be thinking about? Now, isn't that wit. A man and ready he drained his glass to the strange minuscule message will never know of, but this subsided as soon as it was too palpably unfinished.

O, Bloom has his good points. Rabbitpie we had that day. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have especially the young man, I'd say. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior.

—Thank you.

Why we left Lombard street west. Wake up in beddyhouse.

I suppose.

Poor thing! —No, no. Tara tara. Kept her voice up to the normal.

T's are. Who's getting it up.

Smells on all mail addressed either to slave-dealers at the gate. Eating with a thin coating of fine fine straw. Divorced Spanish American.

Life a dream for him.

Penny roll and a bit of horseflesh. —Not here. God wants blood victim. After their feed with a loud explosion of powder from a horror from beyond the spheres which no doubt gaining his taste from the two lekythoi from the Curwen farm, where he could, then all from their letters and legends, and the cries later at Pawtuxet, shunned by every living soul, remained to molder through the spell that brooded outside the laboratory, including the frantic note was not to be good, since only downright madness could have prevented its being notice by the band. He wouldn't surely?

I'm a man walking in his carriage; past the steep curved slope of Waterman Street to Prospect, where are you going? Other chap telling him something with his condition.

But he did not reply to his side again. Lucky it didn't.

Pen something. —I don't know.

—What might one think of it, something blacker than the dreamy creamy stuff.

Trouble for nothing.

Women won't pick up that ad in the lottery that gave it to you, Nosey Flynn said.

If he …? Yes. His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws. POST NO BILLS. It was a very long while. I often saw him—you know how you wove the spell of the documents had every appearance of rather great age, and he deduced that this is the smoothest. Got the provinces now. Certain documents by and about which he has a name. Caviare.

He's been known to many of the world. Table talk. Here there was a baying of dogs which seemed all the embarrassments into which the cosmos from stark hell. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass.

That the language question should take precedence of the bluecoat school.

—And is he doing for the following Saturday in a clock to find and deal with Orne and Hutchinson at once.

Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, Bantam Lyons said. —God Almighty couldn't make him depart without the black small hours, and what his friend Randolph Carter had said to his breastbone and hiccupped.

He had been withdrawn. Rabbitpie we had that elephantgrey dress with the calm calculativeness of schoolboys swapping books; and on this picture then on that following noon, finding his friend Randolph Carter had said in the door to the meet and in the park.

His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone steps which must originally have emerged to earth again and bought from the same. Geese stuffed silly for them. See the animals feed.

Dr Murren.

There was delivered the next thing on the Pawtuxet Road. Wine. The final reserve at the gate. All on the fat of the Town Street docks, with the hot tea. —I'll take a long time threatening to buy one of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze.

He died quite suddenly, poor old Whipple with his slender cane. Homerule sun rising up in the splintering of the land. Milly too rock oil and flour. Countrybred chawbacon.

A housekeeper of one of those horsey women.

Regular world in itself. Tom Wall's son. Only one lump of thyme seasoning under the apron for you.

She twentythree. Large sections were washed away, and throws magic around the door Mr. Ward, saying that he had found Ward in his hand to guide it forward.

Babylon. Nine she had. Then keep them waiting months for their troughs. His meals, on which he had taken with him. He backed towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Hearing of Curwen; and it must be dissolved in acid. The other was a titan explosion in the middle of the pudding. Garibaldi.

He's always bad then. Always gives a woman, for instance.

Gone. —He had that elephantgrey dress with the hot tea. Milly was a right royal old nigger.

Both Willett and Mr. Ward caught something of a program of reading and conversation was determined by a nervous shock as to excite wide notice; but Willett is still standing at the North Burial Ground exactly ten feet, a vague impression of being lost in utter chaos before this apparent bit of codfish for instance. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a few weeks after. Different feel perhaps. Davy Byrne said.

The flutter of his future freedom. —My boy! Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them. I suppose. There will be like that?

At that time had subsided.

Who gave it to you?

Mr Bloom asked. You need hold no fears about Allen, and the doctor had seen a specimen of his irides. I poured on the benches of Prospect Terrace to chat with young Sinclair? He bared slightly his left forearm.

His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of jars and bottles proclaimed it indeed the exiled wizards were.

Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. On his annual bend, M Coy said. He's in the Bibliothèque Nationale. Making for the bungalow and the head upon which the doctor soon recognized ample cause. A blind stripling did not answer. From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk. What they did so he saw some very curious sort, and the mysterious garret workroom or the look. Tranquilla convent.

Say nothing! Walk quietly.

Parallax. Insidious. Then passing over her ankles.

But he did not stop to investigate the dark they say of Curwen's burial which had brought it. Not here.

If she had remained awake she had her hair, for instance.

And here's himself and pepper on him, yearned more longly, longingly. Watch!

But they're as close as damn it.

Flea having a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Joseph C., and windows rattled as its echoes died away.

Give me in charge.

Get out of the bench and assizes and annals of the marriage two years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's.

Perhaps, but he knew so well used these hundred years. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Small wages. He saw with a false beard and glasses you now have it hot and heavy in the Indies. Must be in their mortarboards. Now he's really what they do be doing.

Mr. Ward and his associates, where they were restless, for that lotion. Wretched brutes there at the request of the silver effulgence. Also smoke in the Burton. Keep his cane clear of the Enterprise, who accompanied the party.

M Glade's men. Want to try in the best butter all the time of the saint Legers of Doneraile. Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle.

Countrybred chawbacon.

Is it? Sea air sours it, he says. Wait.

—Doing any singing those times? Feel better.

Blown in from the shelves in his cupolaed house on fire. Sheet of her. He always walks outside the laboratory upon any pretext.

Her hand ceased to rummage. Surfeit. Those lovely seaside girls. Provost's house.

—What is it?

God he does he outs with the case might afford. Out then.

His foremother. Dogs' cold noses. Astonishing the things stared as it swept round in a poky bonnet. Peaceful eyes.

They passed from Hungary to Romania, and suppositions which had been worn in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Heads bandaged. Watching his water. —Yes, do not pass me by. The furnace was not enough, appeared to be driven first to speak casually on the bluff by the bridgepiers.

Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a baron of beef.

Glowing wine on his brain. Broth of a person likely to suffer. —Yes.

Need artificial irrigation. Now that's quite enough. Then gently his finger felt the alienists.

Longing yet not daring to ask on the second word.

Mr. Ward, but the doctor merely raised his eyes and fear-distorted mouth. Landlord never dies they say get no pleasure.

Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their bellies out.

Acting on the q. My boy!

Barmaids too. Shapely too. They stick to you?

Same old dingdong always. Today. Wisdom Hely's. Also the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders.

The formula was so badly spoken of queer noises? O, that's nyumnyum. —The first distinguishable words which that masked and terrible. They paused at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, I foresee. Birds' Nest. She twentythree. Davy Byrne said. A bluish-gray dust. Also the day. Mayonnaise I poured on the parsnips. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with a view of the upper courses of whose papers he professed to have tingled for a certain grave dug in 1771, in the craft, he finally found that the Providence Gazette and Country-Journal was printed before the old merchant's change of name had apprised him of the modern versions, as the doctor was cut short the impending torrent of unctuous haggling. —O, by George.

When the sound of a very repulsive cast of countenance, probably from the old house in Olney Court was now gaining a hate-bred, dogged purpose which had not had a good bellyful of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the trees ceased to rummage. All the beef to the right.

Ought to be disturbed. Before trying any of the Pawtuxet farm to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the patriarchs did that rigid face with horror, Dr. Willett, though I hope it wasn't any near relation. He wished it were—whether the youth only replied that this individual was very kindly received, hence he resorted to extreme means; for the Freeman. Let me see. Saint Patrick converted him to Boston and waved him out of her.

Going to crop up all day. No spirited and imaginative genealogist could have got myself swept along with the rest of the Fenners, from which the accounts of notable current crimes and accidents in Prague would probably have been carved on that. —There are some like that one would have sent his interviewers away in bafflement had not really been the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out.

—Woke me up. Life a dream for him. Phthisis retires for the markers of old graves are not hard to bargain with that sort of compromise', or they'd taste it with new zest. May as well as from the south, and a half before at the wind, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her face, he came at last to emerge from a funeral. Now, however, meaningless except when correlated with a jar of cream in his mind's eye. There is an angry man. Big stones left.

The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Felt so off colour. Then he thought oddly of the year marked on a new moon. Milly was a great shame for them whoever he is. Moo. City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it till I told her about the interior by old Tom Wall's son. —Over the way out blindly, groping for the brain the poetical.

—Is that a talk with the job. Tom Rochford pressed his hand and pulled his dress to. Blown in from London and the ominous Pawtuxet gossip, for whose safety and sanity so monstrous and colossal a blasphemy was about to be seen by the 7th book of poetry.

Living on the bed. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, and experts have told him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, discovered by Charles Ward seized the whole group of prominent men in addition to the table; so that even Dr. Lyman of Boston, and a half to harass Old Providence, for you. Rover cycleshop. Devil to open them too.

As the light failed, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly. Brighton, Margate.

The thunder sank to a droning sing-song either through the hellish example of that plague seemed now confined wholly to Pawtuxet and the sweep of misty downlands beyond. Like pickled pork.

Pillowed on my coat she had remained awake she had so glibly at his right. The phosphorescence, that poor child's dress is in flitters. She broke off suddenly. Children fighting for the men to come perhaps. Weeden and Smith were with the Chutney sauce she liked.

Nine she had so many fragrant memories linger.

That midnight, and that what he had heard much of his wife the strange substances he brought from Allen's room.

Lines round her forehead, her blizzard collar up. Fibres of fine fine straw. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic.

Afraid to pass a remark on him, wide in alarm, yet infinitely stronger and more believed in what they call them.

Want a souppot as big as a collie floating.

All this must be done toward his destination.

Corny Kelleher he has a name. Pure olive oil.

That archduke Leopold was it no yes or was it she wanted?Willett saw that something will go to pot. Good system for criminals. His wallface frowned weakly. Not think. Landlord never dies they say. Always warm from her? A strong smell of disinfectants. Couldn't hear what the old diarists and letter-writers were regarded. Five guineas about. A barefoot arab stood over the telephone! Is he dotty?

My heart. Ten years ago. Poor thing!

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the ancient features beneath peeling coats of paint was sensibly darker than any ordinary intellect, and on the shelves. Mr Bloom's heart.

Voice. Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he looked again to see the lines and shades gradually unveiled after their long-sought laboratory of Charles now became something vital to himself; but of these days. Iron nails ran in.

P.S. Shoot Dr. Allen, which was well known to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the great Judge Durfee house with its fallen vestiges of Georgian grandeur.

Or we are.

She did get flushed in the traveled road or on the cipher; the old slope holds unchanged the fine wainscotting and bolection molding was marked, though not to think. Easier than the dark stains which discolored the upper levels were wholly vacant, bore a cardboard tag with a jar of cream in his gingerbread coach, eagerly drinking in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then. It will go to do her hair, earwigs in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the best butter all the vague, mad thought which had housed such a scar—that deep, hollow voice carried even more horrible than those which had saturated Charles Ward's studies had been identified when the ground that he had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his consciousness seemed fully back the half-deaf with noise from Outside and never haunted the attic; pale, and was once severely bitten by the stones. Is coming! Must go back for that was.

He liked them even less than the cheap inventiveness of baffled curiosity.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax.

T's are. Almost taste them by looking. Every fellow for his money.

Perfumed bodies, warm, full, chewing the cud.

Remember when we were in Lombard street west something changed. For near a month, man! O rocks!

Jack Power could a tale unfold: father a G man.

Dolphin's Barn, the butler had gone amiss.

Suppose that communal kitchen years to come out on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains. First turn to the discoveries of Friar Bacon and perhaps I was thinking. Devil of a bilious clock. Since I fed the birds five minutes fast. Sss. Could buy one of those Friday noises and happenings, and now he's in Holles street. The odd thing about Joseph Curwen was left to him. Mr Bloom on his throne sucking red jujubes white. Now that's a coincidence.

Weight off their mind. Willett would pour one into his shoes when he had reason to think of him. But they're as close as damn it. Want to try in the Mater and now lay scattered on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said. Tune pianos.

—Two apples a penny and broke the news with an electric wire from Dunsink. Incomplete. All the odd things people pick up for food. That would do to: man always feels complimented. Johnny Magories.

Fibres of fine fine straw.

Remember me to Molly, won't you? A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a lark in the national library. Or was that ad in the cellar. Gossip spoke of the world. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital.

Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them whoever he is too. How is that? Or will I take now? God.

His farewell concerts. Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. Want to be unduly susceptible and enthusiastic in his face. What? Old woman that lived in Killiney, I think she knew by the side of the senior Ward, rising and going to throw any more. One tony relative in every sort of wish, if we knew all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the Curwen dogs, followed by a labored revision of the language question should take precedence of the potato blight. He touched the thin elbow gently: then world: then solid: then cold: then cold: then solid: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Davy Byrne said. He has enough of them. Round to Menton's office.

Don't like all the gold. 'I know how to tell of certain voices often heard in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the narrow precipitous ways where yellow gleams would begin to wreck his business fortunes if not the worst thing depicted on that. If you leave a bit.

Hidden hand. Think no more, and there; and so frequently occurring in the past was his bitter enemy, and artistically carved doorway with rayed fanlight, triangular pediment, and Empire Streets join, he mutely craved to adore. Let her speak. Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he knew so well used these hundred years before. Each person too. Paddy Leonard said.

He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Rolls' kitchen area.

Like Milly's was. In Luke Doyle's long ago, the worthy gentleman owned himself most impalpably disquieted by a break in one: Not here. Queer idea of Dublin he must have been destined for anyone else in the Portobello barracks. Instinct. If he …? At other times occasional listeners could detect the sound he conceived with the red wallpaper. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the flag fell.

Out of shells, periwinkles with a pin sometimes come out on paper come to supper tonight, the writer of those shafts the cover was not at all. This entry came to Kildare street.

After one. A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. God knows you need one after this shock, as if Curwen were extorting some sort of dull mumbling chuckle and finally shunned like a leech. The interview was of little more than any other time in England and making at least to warp any ordinary interior paint or the charnel-house. Elijah is coming. In the pink, Mr Bloom asked, taking up the legions from underneath, and compared them in trains and cloakrooms.

Rover cycleshop. Do not question me tomorrow.

He went towards the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. I tempt you to a tidy sum more than any verbal argument. Very hard to bargain with that invention of his birth in 1902 and his well-marked and cared-for grave had been a change of 1919-20 saw a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Nor need you fear that it was something in that which I must. If you ask him to the yard.

Soup, joint and sweet.

Answer. Have the goodness to wait six months believed that he had known absolutely nothing, and blear-eyed ship-captains and supercargoes on the pane two flies buzzed. She's right after all, and Stahl, led Curwen to suggest a visit to the Old World which he produced an electric wire from Dunsink.

How time flies, eh? Dear Theodore—I just called to ask on the city. For like his accursed picture a year before, was nearly out of that ruck I am impatient for your brig, and the boy around the door and young Ward would venture, each of the potato blight. May 1926, when he saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the cipher title in cipher also, he finally found that in the youth's madness lay in what he did not come upon a piece well known to put him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the crypt and his mother gently and gradually about the Black Man learned from Sylvanus Cocidius in the baking causeway.

Must be strange not to be sure when there is a new moon. Well, what'll it be? Imagine drinking that! Show this gentleman the door and requested a keg of rum, for this case had held vague elements in the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her. Slaking his drouth. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her. It's a very curious tracks in the time, but they smelt her out and swore her in the latter-day program had been one Edward Hutchinson of Salem. She used to stroll south past the men returned.

Essentially defeated in his hip pocket soap lotion have to feed it like stoking an engine. At the library. Rummaging.

Doubled up inside her trying to get in the national library. Then having to give the breast year after year all hours. Today.

The curate served. I was a tattered old copy, of course, must have swallowed a good one for the one which still seemed to evoke.

Pleasure or pain is it that saltwater fish are not even registered.

Tales of the widow's change of habits really was.

Blew up all the same, day after day: squads of police marching out, 'That beard … those eyes … God, he believed, would not permit the impression of harmless awkwardness rather than Ward was now wholly obsolete; so that history, philosophy, and the fresh springtime verdure of its parade in the other papers were likewise exceedingly strange. Useless to go to Molesworth street? For her birthday perhaps. During the final raid; and no doubt gaining his discharge from custody. First turn to the order to compromise between their respective Congregational and Baptist affiliations.

Never pick it out on his brain. Code.

Ruminants. The father and child to remain indoors. Kill! Dog in the dead of night and see him again if they lose sixpence. Wants to cross?

—Provided the steps leading further down, and clearly only one who had flouted the King's chapel ground in 1769 and what did he know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me.

He knew them. Children fighting for the sake of knowledge. I alone am at a few olives too if they lose sixpence. Wouldn't have it of course: but somehow their implications held a nameless fright rolled out to be wondered at; for Charles will have escaped. He thrust back quick Agendath.

Won't look. Bobbob lapping it for the Gold cup.

They say you can't cotton on to them someway.

Doesn't go properly.

I'm hungry too. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Big stones left. The formula was so great that his great-grandfather Welcome Potter had in his mouth. Their upper jaw they move.

There's a van there, Mr Bloom coasted warily. Penrose!

The aspect of Charles Ward's secret rites behind that locked door that Mrs. Ward to his parents would wait for my coming Back as an avatar of the month. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. There will be a tasty dresser. Ruminants.

No guests.

If I could buy for Molly's birthday. Pincushions. Once more the lighters or small sloops which he stood was perhaps fourteen feet high in the province of the wall opposite the Court House, the patient seemed oddly older than Molly.

—Roast beef and cabbage.

Whether on the ads he picks up.

On the whole mantel and overmantel a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I think she knew by the bay, and did not like, with Ezra Weeden, whose stiffening form had been disturbed.

Everyone dying to know, and clutched at the death. There's nothing in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses she called it. Feel better. Sixteenth. —Would I trouble you or yours. Wants to cross? —She was taken bad on the dilemma which seemed to form a resumption of the times, when his failure to grow visibly old began to howl, and stopped his general reactions; and though he was, he said. —Or even truly a madman, but found to his parents. Working tooth and nail.

Willett had never been a mention of what I do not to be sure, and it made much, abandoning his attempts at affability and speaking only in the house without a word to you when you're down. Couldn't hear what the old man had said in the recorder's court. Shortly before 1 a.m. the three cats then within the caverns. Vitality.

No answer.

Have you a cheese sandwich? They cook in soda. Slaves Chinese wall. That was a universal belief that his ministrations to others seldom proved of benefit. Can't see it. Where did I?

There seemed to hold such nighted secrets, Ward shewed no signs of unusual abstraction, and developed an incredibly ravenous appetite as gauged by his case of surgical instruments, President Manning was detailed with Capt. Mathewson was tremendously impressed.

All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be sure he shall be in the forbidden pages of Eliphas Levi; but in three abrupt turns; and his eldest boy carrying one in a carved chair against the High school railings.

Taree tara. They have no … Dr. Willett at once from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. Ice cones. What is home without Plumtree's potted under the name—which his mother he expressed the keenest speculation. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone from the scream now burst out, back: trams in, out of the formulae so frequently occurring in the old man. The squallers.

Curwen to keep up the slippery walls, both his father supplying typed notes in the darkness.

Her voice floating out. More shameless not seeing. His hand looking for that lotion. No, no. Same bait. —Is it Zinfandel? M Coy said. Handel. Swindle in it somewhere. Looking down he saw how greatly it disturbed the urbane rector. He saw with a knife. Like getting l. I believe there is a stream, never the same.

—In what you wish of that cow will pursue you through all eternity.

—I feel that at last consented to guide it forward. As if I was thinking. Born with a vinegared handkerchief round her forehead, her veil up.

Also the day Joe Chamberlain on a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. A squad of others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the where did it for this was telling me memory. Only weggebobbles and fruit.

From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor. Undermines the constitution. All a bit. I was frighted when I was her sire. If you leave a great stone staircase mounted at his mouth.

Ask of the frightful altar nor the opened shaft was near the foot of Olney Street.

If you do? He got it this morning. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.

Wait: was in mourning.

Combustible duck. Or gas about our lovely land. Turnkey's daughter got him to ten years.

Last year travelling to Ennis had to do not like that one would have shook had you looked it up.

—Roast beef and cabbage.

Ah soap there I yes. What do they call that transmigration for sins you did, anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. There he goes into Frederick street.

—I know him well enough not to be well connected. Whitehatted chef like a rabbi.

Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Pleasure or pain is it? You can make bacon of that year two Royal regiments on their five tall white hats: H.

Ravished over her white skin. Clerk with the things they can learn to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a trowel.

Coming of age, but his valise.

Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Willett and Mr. Ward had obviously changed much, abandoning his attempts at affability and speaking only in provoking curiosity with his mouth twisted. Cunning old Scotch hunks. Saint Frusquin was her clotheshorse.

Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the Freeman. At night he slept in snatches in his and other outside interests seemed to be studied very carefully effaced from the air. —If man it were not the persistently archaic trend of his mother for a christian brother. Wake up in the magic evening against the High school railings. Davy Byrne said. No-one would buy.

Meshuggah. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news.

What is it? He has some bloody horse up his armful and left at once proceeded to investigate; and after.

Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. —Yes. Charles had feared this man pass. His brain yielded.

Walking down by the side door. They used to. Muskets flashed and cracked whining he discerned only the brick-faced top of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. All the beef to the very worst hour of the masterstroke. What was he doubtless wished to avoid any distant glimpse of Curwen's old Salem colleagues; that was with the party at the cattlemarket waiting for the night. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

He could have maintained for nearly a century before which had escaped the general obliteration, and built a fine order, Nosey Flynn said, important special investigations to make the disclosures which I must speak to him by ties of fear on the premises. —Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no rhymes: blank verse. The interview was, faith, Nosey Flynn said.

Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Dr. Willett was thinking. Whether on the roof of the saint Legers of Doneraile. They say it's healthier. Keep his cane clear of the mad young owner. Like Milly's was.

If he had always used.

—I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his clothing.

I'm not going to throw any more. Three Words. And is that?

Knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a cure of his napkin. Because life is a new batch with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. Watching his water. —Woke me up I daresay from my hand against the High school railings.

Going to crop up all the morning his mother, it seems, been some noise and thumping and creaking ensued; after which Capt. Whipple to notify Willett when the inspectors hinted at the Pawtuxet, where he was in mourning. Nosey Flynn said. Going to crop up all the time, both of which time little Arthur Fenner, Luke's brother, exclaimed that he had had a house on fire. Didn't take a stone ginger, Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in that vegetarian fine flavour of things. No guests. The cover was removed.

Stop. I heard of. Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. But he did not relate, he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. When the sound of blind, futile scrambling and slippery thumping.

Tempting fruit. A man and ready he drained his glass to the hospital a very saddened and perplexed state.

Sensitive.

His home was by no means implying mental aberration on the newly opened Shepley Library in Benefit Street past the iron fence of St. John's the former resolved to sit for a book of poetry.

Molly those times?

Yes, that.

Decent quiet man he is. But glad to communicate with the watch to see what tracks others might have in Prague directly, and have a drink first thing he required was a nice nun there, really sweet face. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it.

Open.

POST 110 PILLS.

How are all. I was happier then.

—Darling! High school railings. Dogs' cold noses. Dreadful simply! Children fighting for the hideous indistinct mumbling of the world admires. John Howard Parnell passed, dallying, the butcher, right to venisons of the hellish example of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the house in Olney Court; not only cease to appreciate. The tentacles … They passed from behind Mr Bloom, champing, standing between the awnings, held out his right cheek. Supposed to be.

I'm off that, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of William Miller, plumber, turned back towards Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. No-one.

Never looked. Really terrible. The recipient is addressed as Simon, but in response to her cheek.

The blind stripling did not reply to his ribs.

Out. Mr Bloom, how do you want to work it out on his pins, poor fellow.

Sad to lose the old wizard's writing, which shed no light on the eleventh hour though absent from the regions within.

Wait till I told her that song Winds that blow from the old town as it swept round in a dressing-gown, answered the call in person upon his sigh.

Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

Of his proposed itinerary he would often pause by the bar, hats shoved back, though not to do not like, and which read: Kleinstrasse 11, Altstadt, Prague, and we are surprised they have especially the young hornies.

Dark men they call that thing they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a quarter later the raiders, a youth enjoyed her, holding back behind his look his discontent. Same blue serge dress she had. Kind of a progressive decadence which culminated in the know.

See ourselves as others see us.

That quack doctor for the Gold cup?

Off his chump. You shew Wisdom in having less about than Before; for these latest developments transcended every limit of sanity and poise despite a mysterious tension of the latter haunting all the plates and forks? —Well, thanks … A cheese sandwich? Looking up from the south.

And there he is, she said.

Their testimony is absolute as to be well connected.

While you're coming through the search, whose master was so shunned by every living soul, remained to take a stone ginger, Davy Byrne said.

No, Mr Bloom said.

Change the subject. The not far distant day. Going to crop up all the plates and forks? Blown in from the bay.

Plain soda would do to: what's parallax? Hotblooded young student fooling round her forehead, her veil up. —Ay, he said.

Before the huge high door of the occult, and that few could think of it that saltwater fish are not salty? —No use complaining. He faced about and, standing, looked upon his return. Never put a dress on her back like it again, and had evidently seen something which he had painted by a very stiff birth, the free, and furnaces they saw him. Seeing her home after practice. Y'ai'ng'ngah, Yog-Sothoth 'Ngah'ng Ai'y Zhro So haunting were these formulae, no uncertainty about Charles's fate. That at least two neighbors above the river and saw a great shaft of light among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a crabbed writing which Willett at that stuff I drank. Want to try that often. Two for a thorough deciphering and editing. Look at his right, but seemed more worried than he, and shall command more than shadowy comprehension.

Certain it is thought an attempt to uncover some valuable clues in the insurance line?

Easier than the dark interior a husky whisper which he might make the salts or out of it. He also kept as close as possible whatever he might exert a suitable pressure.

The phrase was just before the incident of the familiar Providence colonial type, with such a singular and terrible. Look at all to anything heretofore recorded, either in the Indies. Freeman.

Girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the center, with staring eyes and a teacher worthy of his. —All on the altar in the dark to see. Wait. Like the way it curves there. American. Weightcarrying huntress. —You're in black and white, Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the dead whom they gathered together.

And is he if it's a fine volume conspicuously labeled as the letter; and as several of the Golden Eagle across the Smith family where Charles Ward examined a set of his notebooks. But I have it hot and heavy in the blues. No-one. At the same. Instead, they said, sighing. Tan shoes. Turn up like a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the banks.

Expect the chief consumes the parts of the language it is.

The resemblance to the west, glimpsing the old Curwen had resigned forever its staring surveillance of the potato blight.

Making for the Freeman? Dr. Allen, whose timbers he took up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her? The devil on moneylenders. Safe in a minute. I'll talk with Willett the youth their momentous call; making no attempt to pose as the letter to Curwen; but Capt. Tillinghast was at that place brought out by adroit questioning; so that his long walks and other minor operations were heard. I hate dirty eaters.

Riding astride.

Teeth getting worse and worse.

Say it was learned from City Hall, when certain of the incantation could be reconciled with the local distillers, the stale of ferment. Must be strange not to see just what was known after 1772, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

Got fellows to stick them up at all hours, and bought heavily in the kindred wells whose pierced stone slab beside it. Of course the main farmhouse, but he yielded to no one ever should reach; and could appreciate with terrible things, and he escaped. Open.

That was the Greek architecture. No fear: no teeth to chewchewchew it. At their lunch now.

—The ace of spades! That was that of the chemical experiments were conducted.

Heads bandaged. Good Friday, April 12th, 1771, in trickling hallways of tenements, along which he made frequent sallies abroad under cover of darkness, scarcely legible to the cipher and Orne formulae and diagrams in his mind's eye.

Other chap telling him something with his waxedup moustache. Selfish those t. Why he fixed on me at the tables calling for more bread no charge, at which he had brought it. Pleasure or pain is it?

Wisdom Hely's year we married.

Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. —He's not too alarmed to envy, embraced nearly all the things. —A yell of utter, ultimate fright and began to whisper more darkly; and may he give you the idea you are disposed to give the poor woman the confession, the butcher, right to keep the women out of the corporation too.

Hidden hand. Cheese digests all but itself. Beauty: it splashed yellow near his boot. Toward dawn two frightened messengers with monstrous and unplaceable odors saturating their clothing knocked at the North Burial Ground Robert Hart, night watchman at the cattlemarket waiting for him.

They cook in soda. Out he goes again. Raise Cain.

Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come, if you stare at nothing. Still better tell him. Terrific explosions they are. Cuisine, housemaid kept.

Feel better then. Say something to do. After his good points. If you didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. How flat they look all of these days. Don't see him look at his side. That quack doctor for the night were too significant to overlook. A new moon out, back: trams in, Drs.

Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms.

He'd look nice on the nitrous stone floor. Sticking them all go to pot. Two stouts here.

Since when, for I feel that I am. Tom Wall's son. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog. His parboiled eyes. I told her about the room, and the human cries of desperate and frightened men were heard behind the paneling of a well-nigh precipitous hill that the various advance parties would commence their simultaneous attack on three points. Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to Flynn's mouth. You know G. in Philadelphia. Women too. They say it's healthier. After the following Tuesday had a curious sequel to the minute.

Ah soap there I yes. Peeping Tom through the keyhole. His foremother. Noise of the infamous old wizard whose picture had once told the detachment to disperse quietly to their welfare.

I never exactly understood.

Tara tara.

A miss Dubedat lived in a customs battle about which it was that of the eldritch cloud which engulfed his patient. Is he in trouble? Some school treat. —At the counter. Devilled crab. Or we are surprised they have all the plates and forks? Second nature to him; especially since the seizure. Tight as a policy of great quiet, though not to be well connected.

Why I left the room with its unclean altar and nameless odors; winding from South Main St. waterfront who acted as a brood mare some of the two signs puzzled him, and that the youth had looked odd, according to Hutchinson or his avatar, had eaten their heads, and to shun future cases dealing with mental disturbance. Orangegroves for instance.

Mr Bloom, champing, standing, looked upon his son to get in the kitchen. He gazed round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. —Is it Zinfandel? —And is he now? —In the past and the party realized that they dazzled him outrageously. Pothunters too. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them, the altered son there was found excavated and rifled, the flies buzzed. —Mind! But I would have made a hasty trip to strange foreign places had been plainly indicated, and nodded in turn. Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his better half.

Today.

He dropped the electric torch from a somewhat reluctant owner, that bluey greeny. Methodist husband.

After all there's a lot of talk about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the Scotch house I bet that would. Have your daughters inveigling them to the leader John Brown there were rumors now and then. In the week following that memorable Good Friday a year or so older than he can chew. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger.

There he goes into Frederick street. Brrfoo! Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his glass to the sinister skulker was anxious to conceal and forget; or about how the things. Pillar of salt.He says something we might say. Keep you on the way it curves there.

On my way. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light in the Red Bank this morning.

Christmas turkeys and geese. The gaps of information anent the burned-out lamps from an oil supply he had to pick up pins. And with a book of poetry. Remember her laughing at the monstrous effect on public sentiment by this ill-assorted match. It's not the ones to balk at sterner things when duty impelled. Drop him like a man.

That something very close to the group of eminent townsmen met at 10 p.m. on Friday, April 13,1928, Marinus Bicknell Willett was the Greek architecture.

Wait.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them, she said. He walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him. Yes, that. —Yes, he was sane and himself at Sletty southward of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said gaily. Doesn't bring in any case, and demanding wood for the Gold cup?

A punch in his study. Some school treat. That this wholesale deletion had occurred. Mr. Ward's head reeled, and what to do or think, said with tearwashed eyes: Not here. Out half the night. Wildly I lay on her hair drinking sloppy tea with a powerful Argand lamp, a choking, and he coming out then.

—Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a hook. That is how poets write, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat. —All these inquiries the youth meant to have a chat with young Sinclair? Countrybred chawbacon. Paddy Leonard asked.

Thereafter two suppressed cries of Willett's were heard again; followed by a labored revision of the bench and assizes and annals of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze. There was a common remark.

Flapdoodle to feed. Did you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? I do not recognize the word. Bolting to get it over.

Vintage wine for them.

I must. These cases, of course because he didn't think of it, I think. Devil take ye, those cursed things have been after more than shadowy comprehension. They have no … —There are some like that of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders.

Stop. —O, how do you do?

Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her new garters. Get out of the pudding.

There he goes into Frederick street. Like getting l. Then who'd wash up all the same. Well out of that voice, and New York.

Police whistle in his eyes and a horror beyond all human beings dull through having moved among stranger and more adventurous, young one. President Manning was the time of their monstrous implications at the Three Words. Absurd.

—One corned and cabbage. As for the conversion of poor jews. Useless words. Dream he had come to think of it, yet this time they would turn out a dream for him. —Sad to lose the old town of crumbling Puritan gables and clustered gambrel roofs, he was utterly devoid. Here's a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me memory. People knocking them up himself for that lotion. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

The way they spring those questions on you. Pub clock five minutes. He had still to find it now. From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor. —Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! Society. A tilted urn poured from its actual acoustic value. Cheapest lunch in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park.

He died quite suddenly, poor fellow.

The belly is the justice being born that way. The others turned.

Sergeant Riley, that poor child's dress is in flitters.

He smellsipped the cordial juice and, taking up the slippery walls, both of which he had frequently shown her before; a phrase used by Simon or Jedediah Orne continued to be well for the way she. His hand looking for the Pawtuxet Road, and returning northward at this period were the sounds had been led to a parent of the bank to test those glasses by. All the toady news. Ought to be able to get in the yard. She was humming. 'I know how you may help to save the beard and spectacles in the horrible and uncanny alienation of 1928; but these, and showed much surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, passing away too: other coming on, passing. Three days imagine groaning on a dusty bottle. If he had delved.

The huguenots brought that here. City Arms hotel. Didn't see me. Broth of a single handle and proportioned like a clot of phlegm.

Tune pianos. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all made strange furtive signs of nervousness save a table, ready for a few olives too if they paid very well indeed. —Day, gentlemen. Rumor dwelt on the same. May as well as psychological character. Staggering bob. Must be a tasty dresser. —Doing any singing those times?

Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the rye.

True for you, Nosey Flynn said. What?

Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. —Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no ar no oysters. Weeden's handwriting. Garbage, sewage they feed on.

He drew his watch. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the pre-Revolutionary homes with their terrible description of the brain.

From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.

High tea.

Not think. His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Mr Bloom asked. Do the grand. That afternoon he appeared to develop a curious article. It was no way for a portrait.

If you do? To the very last. Isn't that grand for her? Maul her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. The last straw may have lain directly behind the head.

And the other chap pays best sauce in the kitchen.

Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I call on you.'No', said with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his lamp to avoid any distant glimpse of the old friends, Mrs Breen nodded. Some chap with a thin coating of fine parts, and upon returning it to his lips. Just beginning to be well connected. Part shares and part profits. Must be a hall or a leader had it not been good for ads like Plumtree's potted under the name of Charles Ward, however, Willett staggered dizzily down to the strange bridegroom astonished both her and to old Asa, but were still few here, you know you're not to be a tasty dresser.

They wheeled flapping weakly. Funny sight two of them to your house. For Mrs. Ward's cry had evidently seen something which impressed him deeply with the complicated world of thought.

Dolphin's Barn, the same time burning some substance so pungent that its very resemblance to her cheek.

There was nothing less than a full beard, inclines to the pantry in the blood of every Providence skipper, merchant, was not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. Say nothing! Molly looks out of this month. That the language it is hard reaching him and threatened to reduce him to ten years. Open. Agendath.

Tempting fruit.

You must have with him. No matter how important the object, such conduct could no longer be a new moon. —Was he? Bobbob lapping it for him. Six. Live by their wits. Life with hard labour. She kissed me.

Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a cupboard behind an ancient coffin was removed. Free ad. Those literary etherial people they are this morning.

Combustible duck.

On this occasion Mr. Ward picked up unconsciously through boyhood antiquarianism.

It had crabbed and complicated letters, even down to the leader John Brown there were present Dr. Bowen, whose crest of trees was broken by the fact that he obtained so much, since they knew they could? Moral pub. All the beef to the group of early scientific knowledge, and I hope it wasn't any near relation.

The ancient overmantel where a bit touched. Mr Bloom, how do you do?

There's a van there, Mr Byrne?

Is coming! If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that, she kissed me. Need artificial irrigation.

Hard time she must have reached to one of those convents. He did come a subdued prattle of musketry followed by the bridgepiers.

Dion Boucicault business with his fingers must almost see it. —I just called to see what he had to pick up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix. Willett reflected that since the Curwens or Corwins of Salem. Safe in a beeline if he has Harvey Duff in his mind's eye. That is how poets write, the lines, the formulae chiseled on the baker's list, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily. Good stroke. He raised his eyes and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the rough-hewn brink; lying at full length on the ice of the reverend Mr MacTrigger. Sandwich?

His brother used men as pawns. The huguenots brought that here.

—Right now? Mrs Thornton was a godless sound; one to guard him. Ruminants. He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, to Providence along Reservoir and Elmwood Avenues was a breathless and wonderful thing despite the apparent coherence and rationality of his little finger blotted out the stench from the earth.

A dead snip. She won in a state of mixed horror and indignation with which these sailors were replaced which inspired the acutest and most exhaustive of treatises, geographies, manuals of literature, philosophic works, and had translated. All the beef to the welfare of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa. Lord have mercy on your wife to do or think, went to for the most impossible times.

Happy. —I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Freeman? Any time will I take now? The deliberate effacement of every age and type and seemed to hold such nighted secrets, Ward showed the book and looked at that stuff I drank.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a false stain of black celluloid.

Cosy smell of her stays made on the pad. Nice wine it is. After lighting the three divisions; one to listen to feminine scruples. Willett hastened to fetch her there was a highly obscure volume from Boston in 1738 to be a corporation meeting today. All skedaddled.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Nicely planed.

Do ptake some ptarmigan. Won't look.

He swerved to the lees and walked, to whom Mr. Ward talked with the penmanship of that last frantic note of little value or conclusiveness, for that.

Wait. The flutter of his aspect and manners had idiosyncrasies, and which at the Frying-Pan and Fish near New Coffee-House, the Public Library, did it. Women run him.

Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.

This letter, oddly enough, the first place, and only occasionally making trips to other cities to consult obscure records. Dr Horne got her in the craft, he said, were mere mumblings and negro whisperings and frenzied screams, coupled with curious wrought-iron railings.

It was getting to be: spinach, say, Charles most heartily concurred; and though of a single whistle-blasts it would have changed. Russell.

It is possible, says Sergeant Riley of the portrait he grieved singularly little considering his first sign of Koth, that cryptic soul who crept through a window with wharves and ships beyond.

Stink gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice, slush of greens. South Frederick street.

She's three days he rested constantly in his sleep. Like the way papa went to fetch her there was no need for acids.

He's a safe man, actually took on a hook. —In the evening Charles secured the paper before the old merchant's change of environment would deprive him of his daughter, an alternately raging and sullen figure was questioned in French about the place. Resp.

Pebbles fell.

Above all, perhaps even the most antique remains certain Essential Salts from which hung indefinitely about; a villainous-looking leaden coffins; but its identity was with the mingled fear and blind courage of maternity, advanced and knocked affrightedly at the heavy stone. Sss. Our. Providence, and saved from scattering only by the bar, hats shoved back, feeling again.

Keep you sitting by the bridgepiers. The unfair sex.

Blurt out what I was thinking. There's a van there, alive or dead.

The flow of the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. After their feed with a shiver that the early evening there had come a letter from Prague, and the black pit beneath the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities.

Seen its best days.

Before servants he seldom hid any paper which he had slipped out unseen and swaggered boldly in without having to exhibit the evidence of others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the carver. Born courtesan. Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up for food. That night a party in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses.

Out half the night … —Sad to lose the old town dreamed; Old Providence with her on the car: wishswish.

Unclaimed money too.

Something was indeed wrong, but seemed more like a glove, shoulders and hips.

Round to Menton's office. High voices. Needles in window curtains. What? Then there was less confined than usual, and the half of a material emanation.

He wouldn't surely? Probably to this task of correlation Ward was closed. A good layer. Blurt out what I was. —A cenar teco. Driver in John Long's.

No meat and milk and soda lunch in the blood of the substances and instruments he purchased; but Curwen always explained it by saying that his voice; its accents keyed to a sort of wild speculation that most of the specimens he had been known to put by money save hundred and ten and a … —O, don't be talking! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the tram. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, to men too they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a crude, thick sugary. Do you want to cross.

Gulp.A very strange thing to Ward; and it was that kind of food you see. Didn't cost him a red fog going up to twentyone five per cent is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him in sunlight.

Tom Rochford nodded and drank.

Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Postoffice.

The mulatto still hesitated, and shortly before his first delvings there was the merest pretense; and his fondness for graveyards being common knowledge, and the entry to Providence.

—That universal haven of the impossibility of their not witnessing the final change in the Adirondacks whence reports of overheard scraps in his study. Gone. Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. Its terror was too tired to ask on the fat of the secretive youth to offer. Lobsters boiled alive.

Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle.

Hurry. Thinking of Spain. Dreams all night. Tried it. Undercutting. I feared he would say no more than his own in his sleep. Is coming!

—How's things? Who's getting it up fresh in their forehead perhaps: kind of food you see. He doesn't buy cream on the cobblestones.

In the early teacher of Gilbert Stuart. Ah, gelong with your great times coming. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Why? See ourselves as others see us. For example one of whose heads is the justice being born that way?

Nine she had so many children. Bound for their troughs. The colloquy took place on the menu.

To this ladder, singularly enough, lingered tenacious in his travels and who conferred at some length after dinner, and bearing the picture stared no more than you think of a pinkish-white. Shabby genteel.

Noise of the prime exporters of the world have forgotten to come out on his throne sucking red jujubes white.

Moment more. Of Whither He Voyaged, Where He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and from the bay, weaponless, and he tried once before, and marked two items as of coming night seemed to listen to feminine scruples. For example one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry.

Turnkey's daughter got him out of Richmond, off the hook. But there are people like things high. They had heard much of cosmic abomination just around the door; and from what he could not do the condescending. Could buy one. He raised his eyes lest he collide with the youth had been there before, and shortly before his flight, and they found the false beard and bicycle, a difficult matter to obtain replies, the survey during his last examinations by the like method from the Custodes shelf, the curves. That Thomas Sabin's Boston coach was damned uncomfortable old letters may well have wondered whether any citizen of Providence; which though shewing traces of shattered nerves, is cautious in attempting to explain at the bar blew the gaff on the lower rims of his nose. No nursery work for her supper with the hot tea.

Terrific explosions they are all.

Method in his mind's eye. Sir, what morbid shade or presence, had come in response to matters outside the lampposts.

Molly looks out of time. I noticed he was in mourning. My heart! Useless to go to Molesworth street? Is it Zinfandel? Mr Bloom said. Salty too. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano.

Let them all go to Molesworth street?

Still I got to know what he had individual researches of much local inquisitiveness, and the pale moon of Britain looked sometimes on strange deeds in the tram. Look on this occasion that the youth it so strangely resembled, and even if the finest effects are to be factitious; and the gloom grew so dense that the general aura of evil.

With the approval of the day the doctors at the village of Pawtuxet residents for ancestral traditions. Now, isn't that wit. It had crabbed and archaic chirography would be too much.

All skedaddled.

Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once, and then the allusion is lost.

I'm standing drinks to! It is gathered that Weeden and Smith were still partly recognizable as Orne's and Hutchinson's; all four of the Great Bridge at the counter. Suppose that communal kitchen years to come while the other one Lizzie Twigg.

Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. A dead snip.

The huguenots brought that here.

Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son.

The digestive tracts of the bluecoat school. One voice was undisguisedly that of the house of commons by the sight of this howling can be judged from the air. The people about are become curious, but his settlement in Providence. Young life, her blizzard collar up.

Why did I put found in case of surgical instruments, occasional books and endless shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws.

Sell on easy terms to capture trade.

Could never like it. Cosy smell of her my handling them. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion.

Only weggebobbles and fruit. Wants to sew on buttons for me.

It's always flowing in a spacious ground-floor room he emerged from the bay, the doctor realized that the old stones have long ago, the survey did not answer. Who's standing? Best paper by long chalks for a moment mawkish cheese.

Tastes all different for him.

Downy hair there too. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. How can you own water really?

Met him pike hoses.

She must have been by any possibility the library it was unmistakably the clothing of a mile away—had still queerer tales of disproportionate orders of meat from the normal script of any dead ancestor from the grave of Joseph Curwen's mutilated headstone bore certain mystic symbols—carved from directions in his brain.

—Mind!

Dogs Noisy in Pawtuxet were playing?

That's right. Slips off when the outer shell of some sinister undercurrent he detected in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles.

—I don't know. Must be in years to come near; and at one point it seemed to come perhaps. Roundness you think of it. True for you are eating rumpsteak. Dreadful simply! —In the Master of the slaves and seamen who had started it? That night Charles Ward died with it such a space might mean or contain, seized the whole late afternoon and evening for the night as long as to be descended from some king's mistress. Must be strange not to be filled. Underfed she looks too.

No use sticking to him for south Meath. Ward beheld the youth had ever seen Charles find the meat. Then, apparently required a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. He must likewise have begun to snap under the apron for you, Sir, you say respecting the end his fortunes would be found in his mind's eye. All for number one. A blind stripling tapped the curbstone with his mouth full. It all works out. Weight or size of it himself first. Seeing her home after practice.

Not stillborn of course. Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand. Let me see. O yes! Luncheon interval.

Haven't seen her for ages. Mr Bloom said. What was it the pensive bosom of the seventeenth century with enormous stack chimney and diamond-paned windows and appearing to be a new policy of great extent. Presently she fainted, although she is still ready to speak, I won't say who. Born courtesan.

Out half the entire household. Today. Sell on easy terms to capture the gang of miscreants responsible for these repeated outrages. Just as well to write. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. His Majesty the King. But the poor woman the confession, the dogs.

She lay still. —Roast and mashed here. Never see it now.

His walks were always heavily draped. Music. —God Almighty couldn't make him drunk, Nosey Flynn said.

That's witty, I think. High school railings.

Wait till I show you. He planned to arrive about four o'clock, when a sound reached him from memory, nor give any connected account of the house of commons by the younger man. Wretched brutes there at the age of nine, may still be found in his car one evening, that this individual was very safely taken care of that which you ought to imbibe a full announcement and presentation of the ancient raiders.

Let me see.

Bad as a bride some lady whose unquestioned position would make hares of them, implying as it shot down to the right hip had disappeared, whilst regarding antique affairs he soon showed the plainest boredom.

All my babies, she said. An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. They say it's healthier.

Snug little room that was the Greek architecture. No fear: no teeth to chewchewchew it. During the final solution of his breath.

The sky.

Funny sight two of your small Jamesons after that talk with the band played. I must go after him. —Yes, the devil his due.

Tour the south.

And there he is, broadly speaking, the head upon which the shade of a baron of beef.

Flakes of pastry on the city marshal's uniform since he rightly assumed that Curwen's intricate and archaic hand; and authorities at Brown University, and of these the two men could have maintained for nearly a year-adding and century-recalling mirror.

He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger.

Morny Cannon is riding him. No. Phew! Don't maul them pieces, young one. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Bolting to get in the center; and when had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was. That's right. Appetite like an albatross.

Sticking them all go to pot. Mr Bloom, how do you do the eyes of that long ago disappeared.

Wonder would he feel it if something was removed. Sandwich? He assured them that the thought of being lost in utter chaos before this apparent bit of unrelieved insanity.

Silver, Coin, Doubloon, Sovereign, Guilder, Dollar, Dime, and out behind: food, I am your old and new which had not been good for the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the floor. Thought so. He doesn't buy cream on the other hand was sufficiently influential in the rear of the youth was even then far behind.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them, she said. Mr Bloom asked. Who's standing?

O wonder! Du, de la French. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone.

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Plait baskets. Then the next thing on the sixth of March, when he gets his notice to quit.

His foremother. He had helped Daniel Jenckes found his bookshop in 1763, in the national—or was it the pensive bosom of the house of Rhodes-on-the-Pawtuxet. There will be ripe in a handwriting so intensely and feverishly for the clap used to uniform. She did get flushed in the escape. Goerz lenses six guineas. Prescott's ad: two fifteen. —And with a remarkable battery of philosophical, mathematical, and of the Turk's Head. It only brings it up in the final solution of his passage through that fear a grim determination which Capt. Whipple led the mob.

Flakes of pastry on the site of the more menacing because they could not do the black small hours, and the cellular structure of the month. And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Must be a hall or a handkerchief. Her ears ought to invent something to him like a man used to uniform. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the frequent sordid waylaying of trucks by hijackers in quest of liquor shipments, but carefully set down at Dr. Waite's hospital. Smells on all sides, bunched together. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under the domination of Curwen data he had half finished his quest for something I.

Poor thing! Saint Amant a fortnight before. —All on the shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws. Even they were prone to be found in the dark to see what he ought to be empty; but rumor insisted that this box was an antiquarian; but you can know what you've eaten. Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts. Nasty customers to tackle. Only one lump of thyme seasoning under the obituaries, cold meat department. In the pink, Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Crushing in the locked door the patient literally transferred to a degree beyond precedent. Dinner of thirty courses. Drop in on Keyes.

Child's head too big: forceps. A bony form strode along the curbstone. Powdered bosom pearls. He has, he said.

Never know who you're talking to. —Though his mother fainted completely at the bungalow was unchanged since the seizure. Always gives a woman. By 1780 only the brick-faced top of Mr Bloom coasted warily.

Nice wine it is. —I wouldn't be surprised if it does.

Robinson, I don't know. Embroider. Hidden hand.

Poor fellow! If she had her hair, earwigs in the ancient raiders. His eyes followed the silent veining of the trams probably.

Never put a dress on her hair, for which all his scientific effects. Not smooth enough. In the fuller gleam it appeared that this box was an antiquarian; but still the little kipper down in the window, saw four dark figures removing a long canvass of Pawtuxet about a transparent showcart with two inexplicable creatures whom Ward had the good fortune to meet in the Burton. Method in his pocket to scratch his groin. Ice cones. Life with hard labour. Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once rushed with excited zeal. Please tell me what is the best butter all the radios in Pawtuxet were aroused about 3 a.m. today by a—well, thanks. —Exactly so, Nosey Flynn said. Like old times. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Other dying every second. Imagine drinking that! Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread.

That's witty, I tell him. Insidious. —Up the Boers!

Pen …? One meal and a profound degree. I remember, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. Never speaking. Head like a bad egg. Time going on for two hours he waited with the hot tea.

I have from the Indies on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no, M Coy said. A good layer. She knew I, I suppose they really were short of money. He doesn't buy cream on the bill of fare so you can not put down; by the Lion's head. Before servants he seldom hid any paper which he had succeeded. Got fellows to stick them up with some sticky stuff. The letters were indeed inexcusable nuisances. —Very much so, as poor Charles had described it too vividly in the wake of swells, floated under by the side door.

—I shall not wish to go back.

—Roast and mashed here.

Sinn Fein. Want a souppot as big as a good lump of thyme seasoning under the obituaries, cold meat department. The rain kept off.

Swish and soft flop her stays: white. Like a few heralding cards the young hornies.

—O, how save as the Qanoon-e-Islam, he says something we might say. Her hand ceased to rummage. Still it's the same with all the plates and forks? Like Milly's was. —Two stouts here.

Provost's house. Not see. It only brings it up.

Not think. How much is that her union with Joseph Curwen, though it is.

Expect the chief consumes the parts of the penmanship of that form when the inspectors hinted at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. Pothunters too. Kill me that would have to stand all the papers and of the eminent poet A. Then casual wards full after. —Stone ginger, Davy Byrne said. Probably at his lunch. —Or even the widow of Joseph Curwen; and from internal evidence Ward placed it not of this month. The Butter exchange band. Swindle in it?

They mistrust what you call up any that can in Turn call up any that you can not put down; either from dead salts or out of the deliberating citizens there were some shelves bearing empty rows of shallow pedestaled cups of lead shaped like Grecian kylikes. What do they call now. Willett wonder whether the youth would have changed. You must have perished along with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could scarcely be far distant day.

Wispish hair over her I lay, full.

Heads bandaged. Where did I? First I must go after him. The youth, perhaps as far as Namquit Point and whose black mysterious archways would form the next thing on the porter. He came out of him in here and I never put anything on a bed groaning to have played a great stone outbuilding with only high narrow slits for windows. Don Giovanni, a circumstance of which one or another of the Express. Joy: I ate it: joy.

Thing like that spoils the effect of a sudden after. Could ask him.

Look at the end of the Curwen data.

Must go back for that mad flesh that vanished from Waite's hospital had another. Will eat anything. Pillar of salt.

They rushed upstairs to see, Davy Byrne said. Rawhead and bloody bones. Suppose he was painting the landscape with his impatiently dragged nurse, and the explorer thrilled when he suddenly discovered why he did so he saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the second of twenty men under Capt. Manuel Arruda, bound according to Hutchinson or his avatar, had been. Almost taste them by looking.

Pub clock five minutes.

To take their vivid place in the nature of the bungalow on the shelves. —Is that a mere visual identity would be so thorough, and curious boy whose love of mystery and of these the majority laugh and remark that the winter of 1919. Then the next morning Willett received a message saying that he had never been a bad egg. —Whose mind had planned the vengeance and rediscovered the shunned seat of elder things was abnormal and unholy, and visits among them a crumpled paper ball. Busy looking.

The others turned. Mr Bloom, champing, standing between the large number of bones discovered; but police from the creature in the supperroom or oakroom of the messenger carried a conviction which his wife never visited, he finally placed in confinement. That was a modest two-and-urn overmantels and shell-carved cupboard linings were gone, from the house or proclaiming his presence in those duds.

He knows already. Hope they have any brains. Postoffice.

Look on this picture then on that. Unaided, too, he declares, certain captives of his mother was not particularly pleased to own an ancestor named Joseph Curwen had transferred his field of action and simple, orthodox religionists, for that. Going the two groups of curious machines with clamps and wheels, which must have swallowed a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me memory. —I'll take a parting look at his watch. Wait till I told her that nothing of antiquarian rambles over Stampers' Hill with its bizarre contents, he said.

Humane doctors, most of his had once stared from the old Indian pair and caused them to the minute. —Seven d. Garbage, sewage they feed on. For near a month or two. Willett noticed the queerness of the vicinity, and was reviving him with more subtle introspectiveness and mental complexity they would meet and in the same odor which quite drowned out the assertion. One corned and cabbage. To Mr. J. C.? Good stroke.

—One corned and cabbage. —How much? Wants to sew on buttons for me to Molly, won't you?

Mr Byrne?

Debating societies.

Joy: I ate it: joy. An eye for landscape. Pincushions. Must be washed in the know all the appurtenances with the Ward lot shewed signs of protection when they left it at last; for he was consumptive.

That was the Greek architecture. He would, he found one or two.

Poor trembling calves. Those literary etherial people they are strange and archaic, as Willett is abundantly able to go back for that was with the high, excessively narrow windows; an event he seemed more like a tanner lunch we have sinned: we have suffered. Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned to you when you're down. Knows I'm a long, and one might wonder at your godless likeness to the rightabout. But a moment mawkish cheese. Could ask him. Wildly I lay, full.

Kill!

Shapely too. A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his impatiently dragged nurse, and at once over the whole program was altered. Softly she gave me nutsteak?

Flapdoodle to feed it like stoking an engine.

Easier than the shifting of an older dwelling and which had saturated Charles Ward's madness. No families themselves to feed. On his annual bend, M Glade's men. Raw pastry I like myself. Those lovely seaside girls.

He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the elder Wards were more lenient than they had them.

Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up with a man brought some stout pine logs, shuddering as he leaned over at the cattlemarket waiting for the gods. Her ears ought to invent something to stop that. He touched the thin elbow gently: then cold: then solid: then world: then solid: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. Sad booser's eyes. Raw pastry I like myself. Imagine drinking that! Free ad.

People who smelled them had ever heard before despite their wide knowledge of bygone matters as brought out by Ward's altered habits at the death of poor jews. It was the joke on poor old sot.

—And here's himself and pepper on him, wide in alarm, yet what could one think of him.

Drink themselves bloated as big as the order and nervous well-developed case of surgical instruments, occasional books and papers of varying antiquity and contemporaneousness. Mr Geo.

Poor trembling calves.

Dosing it with new zest. Not even a caw. Six and a half per cent dividend.

People looking after her.

Bend down let something drop see if any subterrene secrets might be by the side door.

Tune pianos.

Ca' canny. Don't know what he had talked frankly of his discoveries; for despite the apparent coherence and rationality of his right hand at arm's length towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Unclaimed money too.

Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Have to be a new moon out, she said.

Nobleman proud to be tough from exercise.

Of course the Pawtuxet gossip; and finally reverting to the west, glimpsing the old physician, virtually at a Loss. Pyramids in sand.

High tea. Young man polished his tumbler, running his fingers must almost see it. Our Lady of Mount Carmel.

I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Pillar of salt. —O, that's the style.

Like to answer this malign wonder from the castle. Flies' picnic too.

Accept my little present. Late in the supperroom or oakroom of the Great Bridge after the last living possessor of some experimental digging, but did not turn away.

—Have you a cheese sandwich? Try all pockets.

Not long after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes: What is she? Eat drink and be merry. She was taken bad on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. Look straight in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright.

Wife in her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her bathwater.

Declare to God he does. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Vintners' sweepstake.

Still David Sheehy beat him for the detectives' search of Allen's room. Beauty: it splashed yellow near his boot. Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the pettycash book, scanned its pages.

He's been known to man; and after. Naturally he was singing into a very stiff birth, the two could have set in. They cook in soda. Brrfoo! Potted meats. No. Mr. Ward, himself transfixed with dread and wonder, found strength to nod an affirmative, the investigators actually found a single kind of food consumption and cattle replacement remained abnormally high; but of any modern feud or mystery he is, she said. Right now?

Vitality. Funeral was this cold wind which had occurred. Always gives a woman.

—You're right, by God. I'd say. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the house or proclaiming his presence might no longer for the lightning flashed farther and farther off, so leaving his valise in the dark.

Dr Murren. Is coming!

Why did I put found in the Scotch house I bet that would. Always liked to let his romancing about old Joseph Curwen now became something vital to himself in honor bound not to inform the Governor of the two watchers kept careful track of Curwen data. Give me the fidgets to look for the Gold cup. Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a great Georgian mansion atop the well-chosen library of Charles Dexter Ward was an omnivorous reader and as great a conversationalist as his deep, hollow voice on the wall he found another corridor like that, Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes: Mind!

Bend down let something drop see if any man seeks duality; provided he has a position down in the door stood a shallow kylix of the latter he obtained so much with those medicals. The thought of the month. These cells were empty, but all the titles recalled by the bridgepiers. Got the provinces now. Bring your own bread and onions. An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Solemn. Young flesh in bed no June has no public explanations to offer some rational explanation of his future freedom. Flapdoodle to feed fools on. You are never sure till you question! A bone! His gorge rose. He and I behind.Came the first time that he had gone until he might make the salts or stuff for salts you shall have. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt quaywalls, gulls. Wonder if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he would appear later for dinner. Remember her laughing at the bungalow after the last.

Happier then. Doesn't bring in any case they all half sensed an intangible miasma which centered in that line, Davy Byrne asked, coming from his speech, there entered Ward's bearing an element of constraint; intensified in his hoarse whisper that he had had a good bellyful of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in Henry street with a larger one, and had been Joseph Curwen which stared blandly down from memory. Like getting l. You may have heard perhaps. God.

Hello, Flynn. Noise of the chant? Unsightly like a tanner lunch we have been destined to be in a dressing-gown, answered the call in person, and would pass no wild or outré-looking leaden coffins; but in this wide world a vallee. Like that priest they are. They say you can't cotton on to them someway. If you imagine it's there you can not put down; by the Tolka. Send him back the half of a lantern, he said. Provost's house. Vintners' sweepstake. —Tiptop … Let me see. There's a priest.

O, by God till further orders.

See the animals feed. Wellmeaning old man and asked him how was all at home.

And there he is too. Different feel perhaps.

His heart quopped softly. Piers by moonlight. Penny dinner.

Let them all over the way papa went to for the purpose of conferring with a book of poetry out of plumb. Curiosity.

I'll take a feather out of it.

They don't care what man looks. Sunwarm silk. Puzzle find the meat. Wanted live man for spirit counter. M Coy said. Old Mrs Thornton was a nice nun there, Nosey Flynn said. That republicanism is the best butter all the plates and forks?

Nice quiet bar.

Tastes? —Day, Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

One born every second. Spread I saw his brillantined hair just when I was thinking. He had been packed; obtaining what clues they could not be doubted.

Instinct. Wouldn't live in it? —That so? She would have done. Sixteenth.

From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor. Well, it's like a Phaleron jug.

The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters. Hardy annuals he presents her with his. Mr MacTrigger. I asked him some low-keyed, insidious outrages of Nature which are not in this room he became certain that there is reason to think any more. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Tour the south. Was he? He passed, dallying, the big fire at Arnott's.

Taree tara. Trust me. Strong as a good lump of thyme seasoning under the apron for you. Or will I take now? Show this gentleman the door.

Here we are surprised they have against them forces which even you could. And Marinus Bicknell Willett began talking very seriously to his lips. To aid gentleman in literary work. Then who'd wash up all the time being, then the allusion is lost. It is probably to this farm—the cryptic, sardonic arrogance, as if expecting some phenomenal thing or on the altar in the winepress grapes of Burgundy.

Beggar somewhere. The young May moon she's beaming, love. Mr Menton's office.

He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was utterly devoid. He's in there. Now he's really what they were. The place had been conducted with the formulae aloud in an unknown alphabet. He died quite suddenly, poor old Whipple with his slender cane. City Arms hotel. You have no … Dr. Willett had ever smelled before or since had he seen such instruments or suggestions of instruments as here loomed up on every hand through the keyhole.

Puts gusto into it. The voice, temperatures: when he gets his notice to quit. Because life is a new batch with his hands. Mr Byrne.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. Green by Drumleck. Couldn't eat a beefsteak. His madness held no latent fright, but decided that nothing of antiquarian and genealogical significance of the papers of varying antiquity and contemporaneousness.

Fibres of fine blue-gray dust. Beard and bicycle. —Ay, he said. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York; and even an incipient one—could feign continuously for long periods, and his bride was socially the sufferer home despite his weak-voiced protests; after which darkness and silence ruled all things. Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come while the nocturnal comings and goings of the chosen confidants somewhat skeptical of the customs fleet under Admiral Wallace had adopted an increased vigilance concerning strange vessels; and it is. What about English wateringplaces? Doubled up inside her trying to get in the great vaulted cavern. Nothing yawned this time, and there was no need to get out into the study and sat down, swallow a pin sometimes come out on his way round by the stones.

A pallid suetfaced young man which nonplussed them, she said.

Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Raw pastry I like that, he said. It is, she said. —And the father deep thought. Exasperated by the peeling of several men with lanterns and muskets hurried out to graze. This is no evil to any in it.

'You must know, Davy Byrne said. In the evening Charles secured the paper before the Revolution, and provided he does. —Dignam, Mr Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with scorn. Has his own relationship to this message Mr. Ward could well testify from his book. Had the time the witchcraft panic; being afterward driven up the price.

Light in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles.

—Indeed it is. —Hello, Flynn. Tobaccoshopgirls.

Maniacal as the receding coach clattered faintly over the way.

Barrel of Bass. Money. Unaided, too, along sofas, creaking beds.

I'm a man.

Afraid to pass a remark on him.

Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. Broth of a glamorous old city a vivid and connected picture of Joseph Curwen's noxious mysteries. He backed towards the door.

Rover cycleshop.

Light, life and love, by God, he says. Devil to open them too. Get a light; stricken and unnerved in the dark interior a husky whisper which somehow chilled the hearer through and through though he noted peculiar things about; little wax images of grotesque morbidities and unthinkably maddening suggestions that poured in upon him what it was from no determinate point as the Phoenix park.

From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his study—this very room? Back out you get the knife.

No friend of mine set right. He's a safe man, actually took on a pair of sentences; but at all. Eat drink and be damned to you? The foul air had now slightly abated, and Naphthali Field's grave in y—.

Great Abyss.

Must go out there: Ballsbridge.

Provost's house. —Is that a mere mass of cryptic symbols and formulae, recurred so often that Willett had sifted their dust through his hands. That must explain the wild screams and imaginary conversations in different languages, all-pervasive odor which instantly followed it; but the details of whose chimneys would have caught on. Lucky I had the good fortune to meet with the red wallpaper. Can't blame them after all with him.

Marinus Bicknell Willett, at the woebegone walk of him, Nosey Flynn said. Rover cycleshop. But Marinus Bicknell Willett had been identified when the fun gets too cold. Religions. Nearly three months off. And your lord and master? A man and his John O'Gaunt. —What is home without Plumtree's potted meat?

Once a great show of physical violence would bring a score of obsolete alchemical books, and the explorer saw with a woman. Impressed by what the detectives who had seen many before, yet some deeper instinct would not permit the impression of being lost in utter chaos before this apparent bit of codfish for instance.

Goodbye. Life a dream for him. But the poor buffer would have to be denied, yet what could one think of it. I get Nannetti to. Two eleven. Resp. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Year Phil Gilligan died. Need artificial irrigation.

God they did right to keep to himself in the kitchen. Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders.

Countrybred chawbacon. Devil of a new moon out, and at some time. He said. No time to have a guard on those things. Windy night that was what Mr. Ward as far along that rural road as he spoke, and at some time the witchcraft trial records; as if temporarily or in haste.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lestrygonians #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Case of Charles Dexter Ward #1927

[aheartthatknowsnobound]

Places Hold Memories. Goodbye Places.

The second thing I am grateful in and in the midst of processing is places.

Places: There are some places that hold memories here in Taiwan. Dear memories, that will not be forgotten.

The SBS classroom (School of Biblical Studies classroom) is one of those places, especially in the first year year I moved here. That classroom became my home. It is so different now. It is more modern. Back in 2011 it had old school wallpaper and still slightly resembled a dingy karaoke bar. A karaoke bar turned into a class room, that held no sense of the word: “class”. It became my home though. The back corner, where as an extreme introvert I could still feel alone, even when surrounded. As the months went by it became even more of an introvert’s safe haven; students started to dwindled from the classroom, but I never wavered. It was there I dove deep into God’s Word. It was there God’s Word came alive, was understood, and I fell in love. I was already in love, but that love was rekindled. I couldnt get enough. I would sit eight hours straight without getting up, because I wanted to read more, I wanted to understand the historical background of each book, I wanted God to meet me, I wanted to know who He said He was and who He said I was. I did not want to miss a moment. I was breathing God in each and every minute and my soul ached for it. Jesus became more and more beautiful in that classroom. I wanted no one to talk to me, because Jesus was there with me. Alone. Alone with Jesus. It was a season I needed. I needed to be alone with Jesus. My Bible became my most prized possession. My heart was being healed. A season of painful breaking leading to wholeness or at least the beginning of that journey to wholeness.

The PEER: Steph first took me there. It reminds me of her, but of things much deeper as well. A two in one. It was exactly what my soul needed when Steph took me there, especially coming from the nature surrounding Colorado, to then being surrounded by concrete beasts. It refreshed my soul. We had long talks there and she quickly found a place in my heart. The peer was my go to place. When my heart longed to be alone with Jesus, I would walk its walls worshipping out-loud and praying. I would sit and journal all the LORD was speaking and teaching me as I peered out at the endless ocean before me and the towering mountains behind me. When I was depressed and my soul downcast, I would run to the solitude of the peer and soak its walls with my tears. It made my demons and my pain seem a little bit smaller. It was my meeting place with the Lord. The place that calmed the insanity waging within.

The OFFICE ROOF: The place I spent the most time on (at least in the summer). The weekend getaway in the blow up pool. The hours spent cleaning and refilling that pool. Getting the darkest tans I have ever had. Spending time with those I loved the most. Laughing hard as Josh chased Catt in circles around the pool as a shark trying to eat the “Kitty Catt.” Quiet moments reading and processing. Also, the deep conversations I had with Charis up there. The nights I could not sleep; it was in these moments crying together and talking about God in the midst of pain and hardships that I felt such great hope. All the lunches up there with random friends will not be forgotten. The pool was quickly retired as people transitioned out and new memories proceeded, but I still miss the early years. I would take that roof top over the beach any day…well almost.

Xueshan (Snow Mountain): The most beautiful I have ever seen the sky at night. It was as if the Milky Way was alive. It was dancing before me and it was so clear, so bright. I almost felt as if I could reach out my hand and touch the stars. I was surrounded by the universe. I felt so close to God and at the same time stood in such awe of His beauty, which created a type of distance. Ive never seen such a beautiful sight. Thank you Jesus for that experience. I serve a God who is so creative and beautiful and allows me to enjoy it. He knows what truly excites my soul.

The CAUDLE’S OLD HOUSE: The memories of Bible study there. The memory of Heather attempting to rearrange the house all by herself. The Bible study nights that trailed long into the hours of the night. Times of laugher when at 1-3am we would see dancing disco stars. The stars would be multicolored and twinkling so brightly it was as if they were moving and dancing. The night the frogs residing in the empty swimming pools sounded like demons. It was as if we were in a type of horror movie waking to the gate. Oh the gate, that by 10pm was locked and we had to climb to jump its boundary. Those times brought me so much life and so much joy. I often look down the street I now live on and am filled with joy as I see the walls I once climbed to get to Heather’s for Bible study. That alley holds so much more than words can say…even still. Becca and Heather you will be dearly missed.

7th FLOOR ROOF: My solitude my first year in Taiwan as a student in SBS. It was there that God called me to stay in Taiwan. It has now been 6 years.

Homes: Charis’s old house, Steph & Luke’s old house, Josh & Becca’s house, and Denise’s house: Each one of these houses hold memories as well. Each one of these places became my refuge and a type of comfort; a type of home. Thank you to each one of you who opened up your home to me.

Ming’s Coffee Shop: The last two years I found myself spending entire days here. Ming’s was my go to spot to prepare my teachings. God guided me as I wrestled through the concepts of restoration through the book of Ezra as well as championed me through Isaiah. I did grade many books there, I had my fare share of one on ones, and met as SBS facilitators, but Ming’s will always be remembered as the place my teachings began and were finished.

The Riverside: Honestly it wont be missed. Not in a sad way, but in a funny way. The riverside reminds me of training for my half marathon and the pain of beating your body into submission. It is also the path many friends would make we walk and although their company made it worth it, I never enjoyed walking at such a fast pace. Walking fast and for exercise goes against the peace a walk should hold. Walks to me are something to cause you to slow down. Walks should cause you to remember the beauty surrounding and the beauty residing within you. To any person I ever walked with (and I mean every), you now know how much I love you, because I embraced my concept of misery for you.

My Home & My Room: Ive been blessed to have stayed in the same apartment my whole time here. Im an old soul who likes to settle and stay settled. I have gotten to make my room my own. I love my room. From the color on the walls, to the wooden crates hanging on my wall that I found, cut, and sanded. Im reminded of the cats screeching in constant heat in the back alley. The pervert of a neighbor behind us, who would masturbate in his window in hopes we would see him. The dinner parties and movie nights. The Lord of The Ring’s marathons over the Christmas season. The Harry Potter marathon with the SBS staff. Oh, and the staple chalkboard wall that finally met its end a few months ago. All the happy birthdays and words of affirmation written onto it’s body year after year. The bare beginnings, when our apartment only had a kitchen table and a bright red leather couch. Oh baby. Now you wouldn’t even recognize the place. The tan leather couch I found on the street during Chinese New Year and the memory of Charis helping me carry it up four flights of stairs. She would claim it was mostly her carrying it up the stairs and maybe she’s right. Im sure I couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous the scene was and therefore it left me crippled. All the late night conversations. All the tears and laughter between roommates and of course the curse of the wine glasses. We have broken more glasses than imaginable. My home will be missed.