#Me fighting someone without taking the time to explain it's Not That Bad: woe. Mother of the Abyss sends thousands of screaming

[blackvahana]

Man. I don't know why I'm so skeptical (to the point of denying it completely) that these sort of things could be conjured. Of course they can be. I currently have a flock of crows manifested from my aspects and a bunch of eye-worm-squid-slugs that are knots of threads tied together....

Anyway. If I try and tug at them... Take the knot of DNA-esque stuff for example. The Dead Children. No other way to explain that that's not mildly concerning in English. I mean. No wonder I was staying away from this lmfao but on a spirit level it's not as dramatic as it sounds. It's "souls" that never fully came into existence because they didn't have enough of a core to survive as independent beings, specifically half-formed forms and sorts of... if a Form capital f was trying to be created into a thing but couldn't fully come out of the mouth of the All Mother. They're half-made ideas

It's less that I'm summoning them and more I'm using them as Bodies. Like I resonate with the sky... I resonate with birthing and being The First to emerge from the Abyss. They're my children! They are not children. They're just floating half-made crystals in a hypersaturated solution that can cool no more and thus they can't fully condense. They can't condense anymore, they can't fully come into existence.

That's one sense of Conjuration here, condensing various Unborn Children into taking specific forms... I think it's using them as some form of gateway. First: they're possessed by me. They don't exist enough to have a self or opinions or the ability to move or to Do anything, so they get coagulated into a form that is effectively a body for my... actually, not will, not bodies, it's conjuring, it's the Lord of the Dance's Black Hole singing they dance to. anyway. Second:... yeah. creating a gateway through creating a vacuum, the gap between Progenitor and child, and Firstborn and Unborn. Specifically feels almost like Progenitor - Child - Unborn - Firstborn which opens the gate stringing them between themselves and animate them through personifying their wants which. "gives" them wants, which animate them. Not really, they're still puppets but like. the dancing of strings "gives" puppets life

[ellenripleysbelieveitornot]

What about an Akechi/Joker role swap AU where Akechi is still the detective prince and Joker is still the Shujin delinquent, but the major difference is that Morgana never lost his memories and found Akechi before he approached Shido with his metaverse assassination plot?

Like, imagine Akechi, bitter and jaded, who has just awakened Loki and felt the terrifying and thrilling rush of the berserk power. He's formed a plan to get back at his piece of shit father, even managed to set up a meeting, which he had to set up months in advance, and on the day he's going to present Shido with info on the metaverse, he winds up arriving a few minutes late, because even though he intended to be early, he was accosted by a talking cat (he's been in the metaverse, so he can hear him) on the way over, and in the whole wtf-ery of the moment, lost track of time. Shido, being Shido, refuses to see him and will not reschedule because he doesn't like having his time wasted.

Pissed off, Akechi leaves to find Morgana still waiting for him outside. So he doesn't look like an idiot yelling at a cat on the street, he brings Morgana back to his shitty apartment, where Morgana explains why he had found Akechi and whats up. He doesn't know about Yaldobaoth taking Igor's place, he just knows there's two champions, and Akechi was the one he found first, so he must be Igor's chosen champion. (It is my theory that it doesn't actually matter who was Igor's and Yaldobaoth's champions, it was more about the choices they each made and where they ended up.) 

Akechi has no interest in saving the world, but he knows that if he wants to get back at Shido, he needs to become someone of consequence, so he agrees to undergo Morgana's training, since Morgana clearly knows more about the metaverse than he does, and he can use it to solve cold cases, earning him a place as the Detective Prince. He changes a few hearts, to pacify Morgana, too. It takes a couple years, but during his senior year in high school, he makes it, earning himself the cooperation of the police and the spotlight of the public eye. He's getting so close to making Shido notice him that he can practically taste it. Also, what’s this ‘velvet room’ he keeps dreaming about?

Then Morgana finds Kamoshida’s palace and is like ‘heyo, you thought changing hearts in the metaverse was cool, check this shit out’ and Akechi is admittedly intrigued , so he takes a look. He sees the inside of Kamoshida’s heart and is appropriately disgusted and says to Morgana, ‘hey we should totally kill this guy’s shadow.’ Morgana’s like ‘why is your first suggestion always murder, we don’t know what would happen if we killed his shadow, Igor wasn’t very clear about that bit, we should try stealing the treasure instead’ and Morgana has been useful (and it’s been really nice to have the company these past two years, though he won’t admit that) so Akechi agrees ‘fine, we’ll steal the treasure, but if that doesn’t work, then I’m killing his shadow.’

And that’s when Ryuji and Ann make an appearance (’ohmigawd, goro, be more careful with that damn app, i s2g.’) Ryuji’s mom apparently thinks Akechi is pretty neat and watches all his interviews, so Ryuji knows who he is and is delighted to find out that the lame-ass detective his mom has talked about is actually a grumpy badass in the metaverse, with this shadow that has some kind of insane power, and hey, he helped them bring down Kamoshida (alive,) so maybe he is actually pretty cool, even though sometimes he spaces out and talks about evil twins and some longed-nose dude. He decides then and there that he’s going to be Akechi’s best friend, since he apparently has none, and Ann is all too happy to join in for the ride, and all of Goro’s protests have fallen on deaf ears, and they know about the whole detective prince thing being a facade, so he might as well indulge them for now. 

The ‘Phantom Thieves’ (a name that makes Goro want to roll his eyes whenever he hears it, and why is everyone calling him ‘leader?’) gain fame and change hearts, gaining new members such as this weird-ass artist dude who fights with ice, and oh, god, one Nijima is bad enough, don’t tell me there’s two! and she uses nukes, wtf?!

Around this time, he also meets Shujin’s delinquent, enigmatic transfer student whose talk of hope and justice never quite seem to reflect in his stormy grey eyes, and he and Goro are clearly birds of a feather in a way, he can tell, there’s just something about him, and he thinks this guy might actually be his best friend, but don’t tell Ryuji that, he’d never hear the end of it.

Akechi learns the truth behind Akira’s arrest and Shido’s involvement and he is disgusted to find that he genuinely wants to help this guy, and he can’t do that if Shido’s dead, maybe he doesn’t want his revenge as badly as he thought??? Oh, ew, I have feelings that aren’t anger and it’s all my friends’ fault, I can’t just leave them and go off to get revenge, they’d literally die without me, those lovable idiots. Also, when Ryuji saw his home, he pretty much insisted he stay with him instead, and Ryuji’s mom reminds him of the good times he had with his own mother, and he honestly doesn’t think he has the strength to disappoint her like that. So, he decides to change Shido’s heart, but he knows that there’s no way that this little group of miscreants is strong enough to take on the fucked up bullshit that he’s seen in Shido’s heart, so let’s hit pause on that for now.

Shido had Wakaba killed via completely non-supernatural ways and stole her research, same as before, so Futaba still has a palace. He found out Akira worked at Leblanc a while ago and started dropping by, and then somehow Ryuji found out about it, and now all the Phantom Thieves know, so much for a peaceful place to get away, but he actually doesn’t mind that much, and Akira lets Akechi keep an eye on the shop when there are no customers so he can go out and do errands and Boss doesn’t mind, so they’ve ended up hanging out there as a group from time to time and talking Phantom Thief business, so Futaba knows who they are, and asks for their help.

Okumura’s palace pretty much goes the same, Okumura dies somehow, are we responsible, why does murder actually make me feel kinda bad, stupid friends and their stupid good influence. 

Goro attends the Shujin student fair as guest speaker, whoa, the class president being friends with Akechi does have its perks, doesn’t it? Akira finds them all there together and approaches them, tells them he saw them go into the metaverse, awakened his own persona, and saw a guy in a black mask kill Okumura’s shadow, hey why don’t I join you, you probably need all the help you can get, who’s heart are we stealing next, how about Sae, she knows my probabtion officer and has been giving me hell, plus I already checked, she definitely has a palace.

They agree, and oh, hey, Akira can hear Morgana talk now, but WAIT A MINUTE?! Didn’t he hear Morgana talk before when he told Goro that Leblanc didn’t sell sushi, even though Goro hadn’t asked for any?

They hack Akira’s phone, learn that Shido (Akechi recognizes that voice) will have thugs waiting to capture them when they leave the palace. They plan around it, pull the metaverse switch and manage to sneak a heavily drugged Akechi out of the warehouse Shido stashed him in by traveling through the metaverse. Shido’s lackey’s have written a fake suicide letter from the leader of the Phantom thieves, and the chief of police, under Shido’s orders, delivers a statement confirming its authenticity, and look the plan succeeded. All they need to do know is take down Shido.

Things are going great, until they get to the engine room, where Joker, having realized what happened, is waiting for them. Joker, who lost everything after he transferred, who discovered the metaverse completely alone, who didn’t mean to kill that guy’s shadow, but he attacked him first, and Shido had somehow known, had been keeping an eye on him, had him convicted for a crime that he didn’t commit in the hopes that he would break because he needed an agent in the metaverse, and so far he’s had no luck. Joker, who had nothing left to lose and had accepted the only hand that had reached out for him.

They fight, and when it looks like things are going badly for Joker, he pulls out... a second persona?!?! At least, it looks like a persona, but something about it is off. it looks familiar somehow. And then Akira asks if they knew it was possible to fuse personas and Akechi realizes what he’s looking at. These aren’t the clean executions that Caroline and Justine perform, these are personas that have been ripped apart and haphazardly thrown back together with no thought to form or elegance, look, there’s a Yaksini’s arm, and that bit right there clearly used to belong to a Rangda, and I think that piece might have belonged to a Seiryu, and Akechi should stop listing personas now because Ann thinks she’s going to be sick.

They keep fighting. Joker can’t understand the difference in power between them. After all, aren’t they the same? Unloved, unwanted, soldiers pitted against each other by some bullshit higher power?

When Joker shoots the bulkhead door closed and Futaba reports that she’s lost Joker’s reading, Akechi vows then and there that he’s going to kill Shido after all. And he almost does. He stands there, with his gun pressed to the head of the shadow of his father, his friends can’t blame him, and even Morgana knows better than to try and stop him. But he doesn’t. He remembers Akira’s madness there at the end, and wonders what he would have become of him if it weren’t for Ryuji, who somewhere along the way, he’d realized he’d stopped tolerating and started actually liking. Ann, who shared his woes about being in the public eye and swapped tips with him about how to handle the press. Yusuke, who, although he was still completely bizarre to him, appreciated the beauty in life and didn’t tease Goro for his taste in Grandpa clothes. Makoto, who knew the importance of hard work and who, between herself and her sister, had caused Goro to pick up some healthier coping mechanisms. Futaba, who made fun of him for his food blog, but liked the same nerd bullshit that he did and would bombard him with memes until his day somehow became a little less shittier. Haru, who dreamed of starting her own business and actually cared about Goro’s opinions, and could threaten someone with a smile in a way that even Goro was jealous of. And Morganna, who had reminded him what it was like to not be lonely, and demanded more sushi than he could afford, but always made sure Goro ate his fill, instead of getting so focused on his work that he forgot.

Akechi guesses that he must have turned soft somewhere during the past several months, but after seeing what happened to Akira, he can’t help but be grateful, knowing with certainty that if things had turned out differently, that would have been him. Hey, Morgana, you know that world-saving bs you talked about two years ago? Let’s leave this piece of shit here to rot and focus our attention on that instead.

And you guys know the rest.

Or, at least, that’s how I thought it would go. Feel free to share your thoughts. :)

[lucifers-favorite-pen]

How The Obey Me Brothers Would Do in a “The Forest” AU

Fandom: Obey me

Pairings: None

Warnings: Swearing, idiocy, mild gore

The Forest was just released for the new Oculus headset, and Levi could NOT pass up this opportunity. However, it’s just his luck he got his hands on a cursed copy of the game, and ended up sucking the House of Lamentation into the game! Here’s how our favorite boys faired in the universe of “The Forest”

Lucifer:

Is pissed.

Bitches about it heavily

Is irritated that he has to find and wrangle a digital son now as well as his siblings. 

Would definitely help everyone else build a little shelter before nightfall, but would be grumbling about how much work he has to do at home and how far behind this would put him. 

Doesn’t let MC lift a finger and is 100% a mother hen the whole time. 

Seems inconvenienced by the whole cannibal thing, until he realizes magic doesn’t exist here and he has to use his melee fighting skills to kill them. Skills that are a little rusty...

Teams up with Beel to be the camp dads and take care of everyone

Super paranoid about the stability of the walls and the house at the beginning

Dies from eating a poisonous berry. He didn’t know he could be affected by poison in this game.

Over all, does his best to keep everyone alive, and feels really bad when someone dies. 

No longer feels bad when he learns that the worst thing that happens is you lose all your stuff and you respawn. 

A solid 7/10 job. Probably dies a few times due to someone else being an idiot, but is a pretty good survivalist when push comes to shove. 

Mammon:

Is also pissed

He was in the middle of counting the grimm from his latest modeling gig when he was sucked into the game.

Bitches and moans with/at Lucifer, but tries to build and maintain a shelter.

Who’s Timmy?

I don’t think crows exist in the game, but seagulls do and they all land on his fingers and he makes friends with them.

Is very upset when one of his brothers kills a bird for food or to simply carry around its head as a trophy. 

Sees cannibals and tries to trade with them with the grimm he has in his pockets.

Dies on sight.

Now when he sees or hears cannibals he screams and cowers behind MC 

When they go away or the screaming stops, he stands up straight and dusts off his jacket “Psh, I wasn’t afraid! I was trying to comfort you from behind! YOU were the one afraid”

After a while in the game, he gets his shit together and honestly kinda kills it. 

This is the avatar of greed, you know he is going to gather and horde so many valuable resources and then guard them with his life. 

“Mammon I’m hurt please stop hissing at me and let me have the medicine bottle”

*hiss* “You can have ONE pill and ONE pill only”

Over all, the definition of “They had us in the first half ngl”

8/10 for managing the group’s food and resource stores so well and only dying a fuck ton of times. 

Levi

...oops?

Feels quite guilty, but is also secretly pumped to immerse himself in the game.

Was extremely skilled at this game IRL and tries to explain how it works to everyone else, but they’re all so pissed and no one’s listening.

“That’s fine, who would want to listen to a yucky otaku like me anyway!” 

Magic doesn’t exist here, but that doesn’t stop Levi from yeeting himself into the ocean and turning into a giant sea monster while his brothers complete the game. 

They don’t want his help? They don’t want to know that the cannibals can’t swim and that they’ll be safer if they build a boat and live in a boathouse on the water? Fine. Then Perish <3

That goes for Timmy too, fuck that kid. 

Doesn’t want MC to suffer tho, so he’ll kill a few sharks and throw them up over the wall with his tail. (I’m assuming that if the game is released for Oculus Rift that they will get their shit together and also make sharks edible)

Is having a grand time taking over the ocean. 

Will sometimes go to shore to visit MC. Everyone is confused as to where he has been and how he is thriving. He just smiles and jumps back in the water.

10/10 strats. Never once dies. Tells everyone what they were doing wrong and how they could have had it easier when they beat the game and are back IRL out of spite.

Satan

Angy

Is throwing things in their spots while building the shelter, but is still helping

Spawns in with the book he was reading in his hand.

That book is eventually stolen from his grasp in the night and used as kindling for the fire.

Lucifer explains that if he didn’t steal his book they all would have died. 

Satan does not give a fuck

“Use the kid’s stupid fucking drawings you dipshit!”

“I can’t they’re story items!”

Goes on a rampage and kills so many deer, effectively feeding the group for a week.  

Sees the cannibals for the first time and thinks “same” 

Pretty good fighter and pretty resourceful when it comes to making armor and weapons. 

Outfits MC with the all of his prototypes and tells them to go run at a tree

“How do you feel, MC?”

“Like I ran at a tree with a deer skin on my chest”

“Interesting”

Very upset at the whole no magic thing, but will work with it.

Over all, 7/10 job. Dies a couple times from cannibals and the other monsters, but makes it to the end.

Asmo

Oh dear. 

Oh dear this sweet summer child. 

“Why are we looking for this child when he’s so ugly?”

Is distraught and so very upset this is happening to him. Cries variations of “woe is me” for the first five hours of game play

Does not help build a shelter

Does not help gather food and resources

Does not help period. Only whines. 

Sees cannibals sprinting and jumping towards the shelter and pushes Lucifer in front of him

“Take him! I’m too pretty to die!”

“HEY!”

What follows after the first three days is a slow decent into madness. 

Ends up butt ass naked for the majority of the game because the clothes he spawned in with were ripped to shreds and “No animal skin clothing in this world is good enough to adorn my perfect body”

Starts speaking to the animals and becomes friends with all of them like a Disney Princess. 

The animals come to his aid when he lets out a specific shriek that calls them to his side.

Spends his time weaving flower crowns for MC, his brothers, and his animal friends. 

Everyone knows he’s snapped when Beel brings back the dead body of a cannibal and Asmo dips his dirty little finger into an open wound and wipes the blood on his lips. 

“I just love this shade! Don’t you?” 

5/10 job. Dies multiple times from trying to befriend hostile animals, but also has an army of woodland creatures at his disposal by the end of the game.

Beel

Bro you know this mans is about to make this game his bitch

Spawns in with a cheeseburger.

Eats the cheeseburger.

“I have a son?”

“I HAVE A SON :D”

“Where is my son?”

Honestly the thought of Beel in this game is so sexy like I’m simping so hard rn 

Grab your water skins and buckle up bc it’s about to get thirsty up in here y’all

A shirt? Beel doesn’t know what those are anymore

He crafts one of those shoulder harnesses out of hide and bone and sticks a bone shiv thing on the forearm 

Don’t mess with this demon when his dinner and his family is on the line.

Is not afraid of anything except the death of his loved ones.

Cannibals? Nah, dinner.

Other monsters? Nah, dinner. 

Full shirtless lumberjack mode with Lucifer, and later Mammon, when cutting down trees in the forest. MC is drooling. 

Definitely makes a game out of how many trees they can all chop down before giving up.

Plays knuckle bones with Belphie and MC using real knuckle bones. 

Doesn’t want to share his food with the others but will if they didn’t get anything to eat that day. 

Chef Beel. That’s it that’s the post. 

10/10 job. Only dies once throwing his body over Belphie’s sleeping one to save him. 

Get’s annoyed when he finds out Belphie was fake sleeping

Very sexy. Would watch. 

Belphie

Nah dude no thanks 

Alexa play “Wake Me Up When September Ends”

Alexa play “Billie Jean”

“And the kid is not my son”

Get’s so fucking pissed when he finds out he can’t sleep without everyone else deciding to sleep too so he just lays down with his eyes closed and hopes for the best.

Doesn’t help with anything unless someone asks him to

Even then he’ll roll his eyes like brat and slowly do it

An actual sloth

No like he clings to MC and Beel like a sleepy sloth 100% of the time

He can’t find any cows and is sad so he settles for the local deer instead. 

Fake sleeps through most of the whole thing, paying monster and cannibals alike absolutely no mind. Beel will take care of it.

Freaks the fuck out when Beel dies on top of him and goes into a rage and kills everything in sight. 

Very sweet reunion when he realizes that they just respawn.

No longer pays death any mind and continues fake sleeping. 

0/10. Virtually useless. 

Masterpost

[yikesimonfire]

Misery Loves Company || Alfie & Mina

Timing: Last week. Location: Residential woods near Dark Score Lake Parties: @drowningisinevitable​ & @yikesimonfire​  Summary: Alfie and Mina have more in common than they realize, but it’s probably for the best. Content: internalized homophobia and mentions of domestic abuse

Ever since Bex showed her pretty little face, Alfie’s life had taken a sharp decline for the worse. It wasn’t her fault — he understood that on some level — but he needed someone to blame. These days, Alfie couldn’t stand being in his own home. Their laughter haunted him from the adjacent apartment, echoing incessantly at all hours; reminding him of how unimportant he truly was. 

Eddie had gone years (their entire time as neighbors, in fact) without dating anyone. Suddenly, she was there all of the time. There was no longer any room for Alfie to be a part of Eddie's life. At least, that's what he managed to convince himself. The truth was that the lovebirds did try to include Alfie. It was he who shut them out, unable to bear being around them. 

Alfie would never admit it, but he was heartbroken. 

What good would it do to confess? What difference would it make? Absolutely none. He was in love with someone who, for reasons beyond their control, would never love him back. Alfie knew he would be forced to make peace with it eventually, but it was all so… sudden. 

He'd taken it upon himself to evacuate his apartment as Bex and Eddie’s sickening coos seeped through the paper-thin walls; seeking comfort instead from the disheveled cabin he'd come to possess. It was an older building, unkempt throughout the span of his life — this life. Twenty-six or some odd years ago, the house was probably in its prime. But rot had since set into the wooden beams. The porch creaked, threatening to collapse under Alfie's weight as he traipsed the threshold. 

By some miracle, the place still had electricity. The water pressure was almost nonexistent; not that Alfie had much of a need for it. However, in light of recent events, the bare minimum was no longer sufficient. 

He intended to stay — at least more often.

With a hammer in hand, Alfie attempted to pry corroded nails from the patio’s dry-rotted boards. The metal fought against him, breaking under the pressure, and left fragments of the rusted nails tightly embedded in the wood. Great. First he can't stay at his own apartment without being reminded of his grief, and now he has to deal with this?!

"Mother fucker," Alfie grumbled, striking the porch with the hammer. "Can't I have one good thing for once? Just one!" The platform quivered beneath him, ignoring his plea, and Alfie collapsed onto his back in a pathetic heap. "Fine. Do whatever you want. I don't care anymore," he told the house. "I could set you on fire, you realize that, right? It'll look like an accident… I could probably collect the insurance payment." An idle threat to an inanimate object was pointless, but at least it made him feel a little better. The house wasn't insured, anyway.

The house was stuffy from disuse, but Mina found that she didn’t particularly mind. She opened up the windows. It would be fine. Her dad, when he first found the place, hadn’t signed the lease for her because he thought it was quaint or because it was modern. It was livable enough, it was close to a water source, and it would be a good base for the two of them when he returned to White Crest for them to set up shop. Well, now, at least, it was still livable enough.

Mina didn’t particularly care about livability. She was just looking for a place to sleep that didn’t remind her of Bex. The house was small and barren, save for a few clothes that she’d left and a tiny amory’s worth of weapons in the spare room. She had the windows open to allow fresh air to come in, and she was sitting at the small kitchen’s counter, sleeves rolled up while she was wrapping bandages around her arm. She encountered a chimera in the woods the night before, some wretched conglomeration of an actual wolf, a cockatrice, and a flederprey that had managed to get a few good hits in before she put it out of its misery. It hadn’t even been hard. She hadn’t even thought about it.

That was kind of the goal, these days. Mina just wanted to work and fight and run until exhaustion took her, sometimes in the middle of the night, crashing face first into a stream. She’d ruined a lot of clothes, recently.

The sound of cursing from the usually empty house next door startled Mina from what she was doing. She pulled her sleeves down and looked outside. It was a young man, about her age, that she’d seen a few times over the last two years. They’d waved but never really talked. He didn’t stay for long. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t overly good at socializing; it had been years since she’d practiced good neighbor etiquette.

But he seemed to be having a hard time. Sighing, Mina headed outside, walking the distance between their little houses. She made sure to make plenty of noise, so as not to startle him too bad when she called out, “Everything alright?”

Alfie hadn’t meant to attract attention from the neighbors. In fact, he didn’t even realize the young woman from the house over still lived there. The few times he’d been over recently, the other house seemed entirely vacant; not that it was any of his business. As the brush crunched underneath her feet, signaling her approach, Alfie bolted upright. 

Nothing was alright, he wanted to state. But the girl was probably less concerned about his personal relationships than his assault on his porch. 

“Oh, sure, sure,” Alfie lied with ease. “Just trying to fix the place up is all. It’s, uh… not going too well.” That was evident from the fact that he was trying to remove a board while he was sitting on it. He had no idea what he was doing. 

A heavy sigh escaped him before he tossed the hammer to the side, maneuvering himself to sit on the edge of the porch. “Actually— that’s not true,” Alfie admitted. “I mean… it is true to an extent. Mostly, I’m just taking out my frustration on the woodwork.” Why did he just say that? She didn’t care. She couldn’t possibly care. Yet, here he was, unloading his baggage onto a complete stranger because he found himself without a single friend in the world that he felt he could air his grievances to. 

“Everything’s shit,” he added with a shrug. After a moment, Alfie realized the weight of his words and offered her a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, that’s… probably not something I should have shared.” His hand reached behind him, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, as his eyes shifted to her own house. “I haven’t seen you around recently. Didn’t know you were still living there.”

“I see,” Mina said slowly, looking at the young man as he attempted to… she didn’t know what he was attempting, actually. Something with the porch. It didn’t seem to be working in his favor, more a cause of frustration than proper work. And then he got to the problem, and she nodded her head in understanding. “Ah, that makes more sense. Things are actually going quite poorly for me, too, but I’ve been going out most nights in an effort to try and exhaust myself into sleeping.” 

That wasn’t what Mina wanted to say. At all. Frowning, she rocked on her heels a bit. That amount of open honesty wasn’t what she wanted to share with this guy that was practically a stranger, but she hadn’t been able to stop the words from tumbling from her lips in an uncharacteristic overshare. 

“I’m sorry that it’s like that,” Mina said, trying to start again. She rubbed at her arms. “It’s okay. I mean, if you’d like to talk about it, I have no one to tell.” She followed his gaze, looking at the place that she couldn’t call home. Not now, not really. “I’ve been staying with some friends, actually. I got hurt pretty bad a couple of months ago-- fell off a cliff, I don’t recommend-- but.” She felt like she had to physically stop herself from saying too much. She cleared her throat. “I couldn’t stand to be there because it reminds me of someone I miss, and I don’t want to feel like a burden, so I decided I should stay here more often.”

Something was definitely wrong, Mina decided. She couldn’t stop blurting out the truth. “I apologize. Now, ah, I seem to be the one that’s oversharing,” she said, trying to laugh off the intense embarrassment that she felt.

Alfie raised his brows in concern as his pseudo-neighbor shared her own woes. Unfortunately, he understood the lack of sleep all too well at this point. A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips as she continued. Interrupting her would have been rude. Instead, he nodded along, making minimal eye contact. His heart sank deeper into his stomach as the young woman explained why she’d returned to the little house in the woods. It was all too similar to his own reasoning for being here now.

But then she was apologizing and the emptiness he felt on behalf of both of them mixed with guilt. “No, no!” Alfie quickly interjected. “There’s no need to apologize, really. I, uh… I hate to hear that.” He wanted to assure her that he was going through something similar. That she wasn’t alone in her grief. That he understood how it must have felt that her entire world was falling apart because so was his. But he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. 

Instead, Alfie scooched over before gingerly patting the spot beside him. He wouldn’t have blamed her for not taking a seat, but at that moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. 

“That’s why I’m here too,” he croaked feebly. “I mean — sort of.” Alfie cleared his throat; his eyes fixed on the ground. It was probably strange, but he felt obligated to share the source of his own misery with her now. “I live— I have an apartment downtown, but… I can’t stand being there anymore.” His brows knit together as a tight knot formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. Before he knew it, his nose stung and he let out a strangled sigh, preceding a sniffle. “Because I hear them, you know? Talking — laughing — and I just… That should be me.” 

Alfie’s voice cracked and he forced a terse laugh. “Sorry… I sound ridiculous, don’t I? Unloading all of this while you’ve got your own things to worry about.” He hadn’t told anyone about this until now. “I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, y’know… after the whole cliff thing. That obviously doesn’t help what you’re going through now, but…” Say it, he mentally berated himself. Just say it already.

“You’re not alone,” he added finally. 

“I usually don’t talk this much,” Mina said. “I seem to be having trouble with-- with my words.” The last time she’d gotten like this, she’d been young, and she’d lied about things to the point of being quite sick, and then she just overshared everything. It had been embarrassing and ridiculous, and she’d had to find new ways to get around the constantly spouting out the truth. She hoped that wasn’t happening now; it would just be the icing on top of the cake of how bad things were going.

She moved to sit beside him, lowering herself onto the porch gingerly. Mina was bruised all over, and it wasn’t broken bones, but she still ached. She ached in her chest, too. “It’s better out here. I’m not reminded of-- of everything.” Of good times and bad times and all the little moments in between. Of sitting by the pool, and doing homework in the kitchen, and falling asleep on the couch. 

Breathing out a sigh, Mina shook her head. “You hardly sound ridiculous. That sounds-- sounds achingly familiar, wanting to be away from somewhere that you can’t stand.” She wondered who these people were that made the young man beside her so sad. 

“Would you believe me if I said the cliff feels like a rather minor thing, all things considered? Which, now, that sounds ridiculous because the water would have killed me, and I can’t even drown but I was drowning.” Stop talking, Mina told herself, but she couldn’t. “But this just feels so much worse because I knew the cause of that pain, but now I’m in pain, and it’s so stupid, it’s utterly stupid because I didn’t think I could feel like this.” She cleared her throat. “Now that’s ridiculous,” she finished softly. “But thank you. I appreciate that.” Even if she was alone. Even if she was making herself alone.

“Yeah, me neither,” Alfie scoffed. For the most part, Alfie preferred to keep to himself. He was meticulously careful about what he said, how he said it, and who he said it to. Not even his family knew much about him. At least, not the developments over the past few years; more than half a decade now. The only two people that could contend this were Nell and Eddie. Even then, there was still a lot he couldn’t bring himself to tell them. 

A deep frown etched into his features as he listened to the other speak. He might not have been aware of her situation, but it eerily mirrored his own. Alfie missed his friend — his best friend. He missed the sound of Eddie’s laugh when he said something stupid, whether intentional or not. He missed sitting beside him on the sofa and the feeling of their shoulders pressed together. He missed hearing the balcony door creak open. He missed Bucket. In retrospect, only a handful of days had gone by since Alfie started pulling away. Bex took everything from him in one fell swoop. 

Alfie didn’t know what the girl sitting beside him had (and was) going through, but it wasn’t unreasonable for her to feel that falling off of a cliff wasn’t as crushing as her current situation. “Not ridiculous,” he spoke finally; his voice small. Her confession of not being able to drown didn’t even register — at least, not in the way she meant it. Alfie was all too familiar with death-by-water that the passing comment hardly struck him as odd. He wanted to comfort her. To let her get everything out. It helped to talk about things that upset you. Or, so he’d been told. But in the same regard, he wanted to selfishly do the same. Maybe he could do both… 

“It fucking sucks,” Alfie emphatically stated as he threw his hands into the air before letting them drop back to his lap with a light thud. “To hurt so badly and know that there’s nothing you can do to make it any better. To not be able to bear being in your own home because everything reminds you of this person. Because you know you shouldn’t love him the way you—” There it was: the precise feeling Alfie tried so desperately to not put a name on. 

Alfie swallowed the knot that formed in his throat. His shoulders drooped, eyes still staring at the ground, and he leaned forward with a sigh. “Not that— I don’t mean that I think you’re hurting because of some guy. I—” Slowly, Alfie dragged a palm down his face before he cupped his chin. “Projecting, I guess.”

“It-- Yes, yes,” Mina agreed because it did. It fucking sucked. “And it’s not like being out of the house helps. Being here is nice, but it’s a temporary solution.” The only thing that truly helped was moving, constantly moving, fighting and helping and protecting and moving until she couldn’t move anymore. She was so exhausted that it was weighing her down like lead, but even the exhaustion didn’t make it go away. The scrapes and bruises didn’t make it go away. 

Mina looked at this guy, this young man that she’d only ever really talked to in passing, and she couldn’t help but think of what a pair they made. But of them so utterly dejected and hurt and unable to feel comfortable in their own homes, both of them aching. 

Leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, Mina shook her head and laughed, but there wasn’t any joy in it. “Not a guy, no, just a girl who I gave my heart to without realizing it.” And she hadn’t realized it because she hadn’t thought it was possible, really, to care about someone that much. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. But she could, apparently, and it just ached. “It just aches,” she said out loud. “And I don’t even blame her for it. I’m not mad, just… I’m not mad.” Being mad would be pointless, and it wouldn’t make this stop. Nothing would. 

“Do you want to talk about this guy that you were trying to project onto me?” Mina asked, trying to keep her voice light but genuinely concerned. He seemed to need to talk, and she didn’t want to risk even more words spilling out without her wanting them to.

Alfie gave a knowing nod. As much relief he found here, there was just as much sadness. To a certain degree, he hated it here more. The weight of his self-proclaimed curse lived within those four walls behind him. At least back at his apartment he had means of distraction. 

When she explained what her own pain was linked to, Alfie’s head turned slightly towards her. They were in the exact same boat. "Yeah," he muttered, an empathetic frown flashing across his features. "Me too." It wasn't Eddie's fault that he didn't reciprocate Alfie's feelings. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't care for him in the exact same way. Eddie cared — of course he did. He offered Alfie friendship without hesitation. And even when Alfie tried to keep himself at a distance, Eddie never relented. How could he possibly be mad about that? If anything, it only made Alfie love him more. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Alfie sighed. His feelings for Eddie were years in the making. Where was he supposed to start? The beginning? The first time they crossed paths as new neighbors? The first time Eddie dragged himself home from a shitty part-time job, pizza box in hand, and offered it to Alfie? The first time he crossed the boundary between their balconies and let himself into Alfie’s apartment? “He’s straight, for one thing. Not exactly fair of me to be as wrecked as I am, huh? I always knew that— that it would never work out.”

“I thought I’d made peace with it until he started seeing someone. A girl… obviously. Since… y’know… straight.” Alfie fumbled over his words, wringing his hands as he spoke. “Then, everything just sucked. I— I knew why it upset me pretty immediately. Not that I could tell him that. He’d probably resent me for it. And besides, it wouldn’t change anything.” Because he’s straight, Alfie almost reiterated. “So now I’m just some gay cliche; pining after my best friend.” Losing him because of it. He’d lose him either way. There was no winning. 

“I’m rather of the mindset that nothing’s particularly fair,” Mina said, her voice dry. It wasn’t fair that she was unable to be comfortable in her own skin. It wasn’t fair that Bex felt like she had to go back to her parents when she wasn’t safe there. It wasn’t fair that Mina was stuck on her when Bex clearly didn’t feel the same. “It’s very hard to stop yourself from liking someone once you’ve started doing it, even if that was never the intention. Not like that, at least.” 

Or maybe it was just that Mina couldn’t stop once she thought it was reciprocated. She’d been able to stop herself before, from caring about people. It hadn’t been hard; no one had ever cared about her. Not like that. And everytime she thought she might be genuinely attracted to one of the younger hunters that she and her dad had worked with, she reminded herself that she couldn’t and that they’d never feel that way about her. It helped when they confirmed these thoughts. They always did.

But Mina allowed herself to fall, hard and fast and reckless, and it had been wonderful, and it had been devastating, and, as soon as she came to terms with it, it had been hell. There’s nothing quite like seeing that the person who you’d do absolutely anything for already in a serious, public relationship with someone else.

“I don’t know much about cliches, unfortunately,” Mina said, “but, if it makes you feel any better, I’m in love--” in love, in love, in love, and even the thought of it ached in its sincerity because there was no lie, “-- with someone that moved on so fast I think it gave me actual whiplash.”

Alfie’s heart ached at her words. He tried desperately to not have feelings for Eddie, but they always crept back up at the most inconvenient times. It was never anything more than attraction, or so he thought. But as time went by and he opened himself up to the other man, it was impossible for Alfie to deny that he’d formed a crush on his neighbor. To hear that this feeling was not exclusive to him was almost comforting. At least, as comforting as two forlorn and pining people could be to each other. 

“You were in a relationship, then?” Alfie asked, trying to maintain a steady voice. That seemed worse than what he was going through. No matter how much physical affection Eddie gave him, it never came with a label. Why would it? That was just how Eddie was; physical. 

Alfie recalled the first time he met Bex and how quickly he assumed she’d spent time canoodling with Eddie on the couch. No matter how much he tried to push the idea aside and brush it off as something that Eddie usually did with friends, he couldn’t help feeling jealous that he wasn’t the only one to receive that sort of attention from him. The moment Bex showed up at Eddie’s doorstep with a gift, Alfie should have known that it would lead to something more than friendship. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how that must feel,” Alfie stated. But he could. He did. All too well, in fact. 

He thought about reaching out to give her a consoling pat on the shoulder. That’s what people did, right? Used physical touch to make someone feel better? Alfie didn’t know much about that. He usually just wanted to be left alone when he was upset. Maybe she shared this feeling, too. Instead, Alfie decided to ask more questions that might help. “Have you talked to her about it? I mean — that’s a dumb question, huh? I’m sure you have if you were in love.” Are in love, he remembered. 

“We… didn’t really call it anything,” Mina said. And they hadn’t. I want you. They wanted each other. Bex had hurt someone for her. “I mean, we kissed and we spent a lot of time together, and I don’t know how to fall asleep without her around, but we never-- We didn’t call it a relationship.” 

Bex was Mina’s best friend. She was one of the most important people in Mina’s life, and she’d worked her way into that position in a very, very short amount of time. It was terrifying, how much Mina cared about Bex. It was terrifying how much she’d do for her. Having a name for it didn’t make it any easier. Sometimes, it made it worse.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize.” It hurts. It hurts. Mina said, “It hurts, but I don’t think I would trade it? I wouldn’t trade it, actually.” It was devastating, but there was a part of her that was in awe over the fact that she could feel something that she just hadn’t thought was possible for her entire life. It made the hurt worth it.

“Absolutely not,” Mina said. “She doesn’t-- We’re not really talking. About that. Any of that. I don’t know if I could, really, at this point. It’d probably just make this worse. That tends to be what I do, most of the time. Make things worse. It always feels like I make things worse.” She swallowed back words, all of them too much, just wanting to spill from her throat without her permission. She changed course instead. “I didn’t introduce myself. I never have, actually, despite how long it’s been. My name is Mina. Wilhelmina Fitzroy, actually, but that’s rather long, isn’t it? Just Mina is fine.”

“Oh,” Alfie said, pretending to understand how two people could kiss without “calling it anything”. It was normal, right? One night stands. Friends with benefits. Then again, he supposed those were labels. Maybe there was a label that applied here — not that it was any of his business. Just because he liked to assign words to things didn’t mean everyone else had to. 

Whatever their relationship entailed, it baffled Alfie. Clearly, she was emotionally suffering. Why wouldn’t she want to trade that if she could? Given the chance, Alfie would have easily traded his feelings towards Eddie for a normal friendship with him. That’s what Eddie wanted, after all — for things to be normal between them. For his best friend to not disappear the second his girlfriend came around. If he could give Eddie that kind of friendship, he would; even if — especially if — it meant no longer having feelings for him. 

Alfie frowned when she mentioned feeling that she had a knack for making things worse. Admittedly, he doubted that was true, but he couldn’t exactly tell her that she didn’t. He didn’t know her, aftall. So when she offered a proper introduction before he had a chance to find the appropriate thing to say, Alfie was grateful. “Mina,” he repeated as he flashed her a smile and extended his hand for her to shake. “Alfie,” he stated simply before elaborating. “Actually, if it makes you feel any better, my full name’s Alfonzo Ramirez. Just as much of a mouthful. But, uh… It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Mina.”

“She was my best friend,” Mina said quickly, the words coming out in a desperate attempt to try and explain. “And then she was more, and now she’s everything and nothing at all.” And that’s somehow what Bex had become. Because Mina would still do anything for her; that hadn’t changed. But Bex was unreachable. Even if they still talked sometimes. Even if she still acted like she cared, sometimes. 

Did the explanation even help? Honestly, Mina didn’t know. It didn’t change anything. It wasn’t any sort of revelation that finding out that she was actually in love had been. It was just undeniable truth. She knew it to be true like she knew mathematical theory, like she knew most of Einuadi’s pieces by heart, like she knew the sting of cold iron slashing and burning through skin. She knew it intimately. It wasn’t a groundbreaking thing, to say the words out loud. It just made her sad. 

“It’s nice to meet you, officially, Alfie,” Mina said, shaking his hand. It was warm, hot, even. She wondered if he had a fever, but he seemed alright. “I wish it was under better circumstances for both of us, though. “What about you and your friend?im sorry about the girlfriend, and all of that, but… I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself, for falling in love with him, or for feeling like you can’t be around him. If he’d resent you for your feelings, then I don’t know if he’s a good friend at all.”

Who knew a simple phrase like “she was my best friend” could hit Alfie so profoundly? Eddie might not have been anything more than that — his best friend — but the sentiment resonated more than Alfie wanted to admit. Would the same ring true for their friendship soon enough? Would Eddie somehow become “everything and nothing at all” for him? He didn’t want that. He wanted his best friend. No girlfriends. No boyfriends. He just wanted Eddie. Why couldn’t it be that simple? 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Alfie assured before releasing Mina’s hand and wiping his palm against his pant leg. He hadn’t realized how clammy he was until his skin came in contact with hers. With any luck, she didn’t notice — or if she had, he hoped she wasn’t completely repulsed by him now. The fact that she continued the conversation by asking him more about his situation was probably a good sign, right? “My friend,” he reiterated with a forced chuckle. 

“It’s complicated.” Far more complicated than Alfie knew how to put into words. As it turned out, Eddie didn’t resent him for having feelings for him. It would have been easier if he did. No matter how hard Alfie tried to pretend that his relationship with Bex had little to no effect on him, he failed. Miserably. It didn’t take long at all for the other man to piece everything together; he read Alfie like a book. Eddie still wanted to be friends, that much was certain, but he needed it to work out with Bex. Whatever that meant. It would be good for him. It was what he wanted. So, Alfie had to accept it no matter how much it killed him.

“But, uh… thank you. It means a lot, really. It’s not that—” Alfie allowed himself to trail off, his shoulders drooping once again with a deep sigh. “He doesn’t resent me, though. I wish he did, but… He’s a really good guy. He doesn’t get enough credit for just how good he is, actually. In fact, I don’t think he even realizes it. I should have told him more, y’know? Before… before all of this. And from what I can tell, she’s a really nice girl.” As he spoke, Alfie’s eyes wandered further away from Mina, deciding that the tufts of grass, dirt, and leaves around the porch were somehow interesting. “He deserves someone good — someone like him. I was always shit to him, anyway.”

“Complicated is… familiar,” Mina murmured in response. Because things had never been not been complicated. There had never really been a moment when things had been going well. There had always been something. Warden ex-boyfriends, out of control werewolves, homicidal selkies, houses falling down, a mother that treated her daughter like prey. Nothing had ever been easy. And then it was gone, and all that was left was feelings and hurt and dreams that lingered and shifted themselves into nightmares. So Mina tried not to sleep much. She was always so tired. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said quickly. Even if Mina didn’t know how to twist people’s thanks into favors, it was better to play it safe. “Please don’t. Thank me.” She glanced over at him, tired and as sad as she was, and she rubbed at her injured arm hidden under her sleeves. “I’m glad he doesn’t resent you, and that he’s kind and good, though I know that doesn’t lessen your pain. Trust me, I know.” She knew all too well. She knew what it was like to just want someone to be happy.

Alfie’s words were cutting, even if he didn’t realize it. Mina also thought that Bex deserved someone good. And the Youtube guy (Eddie, his name was Eddie) seemed good. He seemed kind. He was funny and probably really easy to be around, and he probably didn’t keep things from her. He was probably human. He could probably give Bex more than Mina ever could. “I--” Her voice was higher than she wanted it to be. She cleared her throat. “I get that. I do.” She did. She did. She did.

Eddie’s goodness did not, in fact, lessen Alfie’s pain, just as their conversation the day after the fateful karaoke night hadn’t. Everything was confusing. He’d never been more uncertain of anything in his life and he’d… well, he’d lived more lives than he cared to admit. He wondered if it was ever simple for him, but highly doubted that was the case. 

On the other hand, Mina asking that he not thank her was also not something that Alfie was able to successfully process. “I mean it, though,” he continued with a gentle smile. “Talking with you… it’s been nice.” He hadn’t even been this forthright when it came to talking to his sister, Leah. She knew more specifics than Mina did, but until now he hadn’t allowed anyone to really know how the entire situation made him feel — Eddie didn’t even get an actual confession. 

“It’s gonna get better, Mina. Things suck now, but it’ll get better. For both of us. I promise.”

Mina managed a small smile. “It has been nice. All the same, you shouldn’t thank me. It’s-- This has been nice for me, too, in a weird, kind of painful way. There’s nothing to thank, truly.” And maybe that was a bit more information than was needed, but still. It was true. Of course it was true. All she could manage was the truth.

Eyes widening at the promise, Mina stood up. “No. I release you from that promise. Don’t promise things like that.” There wasn’t much of a chance that things were going to get better than they already were. Not for her. She was stuck like this for the rest of her life. It was luck that she’d managed to do it once, fall in love. She didn’t want to do it again. She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t. 

“I hope… I hope it gets better for you, Alfie. I really do.” Mina gave him a sad smile. “But you shouldn’t make promises to people that can’t be kept. It’s dangerous. Especially around here.” Especially with people like me. “I-- It was really nice talking to you. I appreciate you talking with me.” 

Alfie should have known better than to go around making idle promises to strangers in the woods, but here he was. As soon as Mina interjected, giving him a proper scolding all the same, Alfie’s eyes widened. Fae — she had to be. No one could grow up in the Ramirez family without learning how to keep themselves safe from all harm. Nevermind how disappointed his parents would have been if they knew, Leah would be upset enough for the both of them. The thought made him chuckle, although his timing wasn’t so appropriate.

“Sorry, sorry… I— mmm…” Alfie pursed his lips together as he carefully rose from the porch. The less he said the better, right? “I hope everything works out for you, then.” Were wishes a fae thing? Shit, he couldn’t remember. Even so, that couldn’t have counted as a wish, right? “Sorry,” he murmured again. Fae or not, she seemed alright in his book. Granted, his knowledge was far more limited than other studious members of his family. For all he knew, Mina would sneak into his cabin while he slept and turn him into a tree. 

He almost reached out for a parting handshake but instead gave a timid wave goodbye. “Yeah, of course.” Anytime, Alfie stopped himself from saying. “It was, uh… a pleasure to meet you, Mina. Maybe I’ll see you around, neighbor.” Even now, while he was desperate to escape his life outside of these woods, the word didn’t sound quite right. He wouldn’t last the night in this cabin.

[sxnnimoon]

Flower

****I had this pre-written but made some changes and way longer than I planned. I feel I could make a part 2 out of this but I want y’alls feedback on that. I changed up somethings throughout the real story line but I hope y’all like it.

__________________________________

Being the oldest friend of the Mikaelsons wasn’t at all bad as you may seem. You’d been there since the beginning. From the moment Esther turned them into vampires you were turned too as your family had died and Ester took you in teaching you everything you knew. You knew of Freya as Esther trusest you most even though you were born a beast as Mikael would say. You and Niklaus were both the original hybrids. His being suppressed your abilities not so much, as you activated the curse at age 16. It was an accident but what's done is done. Being around them for a long time and close in age with Niklaus and Elijah caused for a few hook ups here and there between both men, besides hookups you would spend your time most with Niklaus rather than Elijah. There was something there but neither one of you had made it clear what you were. You’d confided in Elijah your feelings. Surprisingly he’d been supportive despite how he felt. You knew he was perfect and knew the right woman would come along when the time was right. You’d currently been in Mystic Falls. Niklaus always had to steer trouble while in this place and come to think of it he’d left before the real trouble began. Despite being longtime friends with the Mikaelsons, you’d made friends in the Salvatore brothers and everyone that came along with them. 

“You know I still don’t see why you stick around them.” Damon said. You knew he meant well besides the obvious factor being he wanted to woe you into sleeping with him. 

“Because they remain dear to my heart and are kind to me.” You smiled. 

“Whatever you say.” He said taking a drink before leaving the room. 

“You know, he means well.” Stefan said finally speaking. 

“Besides the fact he wants to sleep with me.” You raised a brow.

He chuckled. 

All you could do was smirk and shake your head.

“Well I should be going.” You said getting up. “Don’t want to be leaving them hanging.” 

Stefan walked you out and you were on your way. On the drive back you were processing all that’s happened as of late. Elena, close to being a ripper. The witch hunter. This Hayley girl you never met. Either way you didn’t pay too much into it. You’d pulled in, noticing Niklaus was back. Which was strange but you didn’t pay too much into it. 

“Klaus?” You said entering. “I’m back.” 

You didn’t get an answer. 

“Niklaus? Nikla-” you stopped yourself looking at the image laid out before you. Klaus with some other woman. You were crushed. You guys weren’t an item but it hurt the same. You left bumping into a table causing something to break, getting their attention. Niklaus followed the noise only to realize it was you. He called for you but it was too late you had already left. He cursed at himself. 

You called Beks telling her you were on your way. She knew you were upset just by your tone. You pulled into the home she currently was staying in. 

“Beks?” You called. 

You wandered looking for the blonde. 

“What happened?” She looked concerned. 

You didn’t say anything you just broke down in tears. You nearly collapsed. 

“I walked in on him with someone.” You choked out. 

“That bastard.” She said in disbelief. 

Some weeks went by Elijah called saying Niklaus was planning on heading to New Orleans in a few weeks. You wanted to see him but didn’t know what you would say. You’d been dodging his calls and texts and surprisingly he gave you space. But you did need to go back to get some things. You went when no one was home. You gathered just about everything of yours when you heard someone. You listened but didn’t make a move. 

“Klaus?” The voice said. Obviously a woman’s voice but one you hadn’t heard. You definitely needed to know who this was. You vamped to where she was, pinning her against the wall. 

“Who are you.” You said.

“I could be asking you the same question.” She said.

“I live here. Well did but that’s not the point.” You said.

“I’m looking for Klaus, have you seen him?” She pushed out, having a hard time putting together words.

“Haven’t seen him for weeks.” You said letting go. “What’s so important anyways?”

“If you must know, I’m pregnant and it’s his.” She said holding her stomach.

“Lies!” You shouted. 

She stepped back a bit.

“Normally I would be but at this moment I’m not.” She said. 

You walked up to her obviously making her nervous. You went to reach out to her. Only to have your hand snatched away. 

“Back off.” She said, eyes glowing. 

“Try me,” you responded. Eyes glowing, veins showing. “I’m much more powerful than you love, I wouldn’t if I were you. I’m only seeing if what you say is true” 

You reached to her belly, closing your eyes listening. You stepped back after hearing a heartbeat. 

You covered your mouth. 

“That bastard!” You yelled, taking a step back. 

“I can see you two had something.”she stated.

“We never were officially together.” You said sinking to the floor. 

“I’m Hayley by the way.” She said.

“Y/n.” You replied.

“Is there any way to get to him?”she asked.

“He leaves for New Orleans in a few days, we could leave now and make it before him to see what the witches down there can do.” You suggested. 

“I’m game.” She said.

The ride down wasn’t too bad you actually got to know each other pretty well. You still were hurt by what Niklaus had done but Hayley actually isn’t that bad at all. You got along well. Arriving in New Orleans you ran straight to your dear friends hoping they would help. With the way things ran now in the one place you called home you had to keep Hayley hidden. The spell Jane Anne did it confirmed her pregnancy but also caused her death it was horrible but was the price she paid. You left Hayley with the witches as you wanted to visit the little boy dearest to you even though he wasn’t so little anymore.

“Marcellus.” You said making yourself known.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He smiled happily.

You walked to him with open arms. He picked you up, spinning you. 

“Alright now, put me down.” You giggled.

“Guys,” he spoke to the people around us. “I would like you all to meet the woman who raised me. My mother.”

You smiled. Remembering him as a little boy. 

“I see the money I sent you helped in the long run?” You asked.

“More than you know.” He said taking your hands. “I’m surprised though that Klaus is nowhere to be seen.” 

“I haven’t seen or talked to him in weeks.” You said rolling your eyes.

“ I see he’s fucked up again. Haven’t made things official?” He said. 

“Yes. And yes.” You said giving a fake smile.

“He just will never learn.” Marcel shook his head.

“Well I am to be headed back to my hotel. I’ll try and pop back in tomorrow alright? You be good.” You gave him a hug and left.

You received a call from Sophie saying Elijah was in town. You rushed to the cemetery as that’s where they were. 

“Elijah!” You said.

“Y/n!” He hugged you. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” You smiled. 

You both followed Sophie through the cemetery leading to where the witches were. They had brought out Hayley ,walking over making sure she was okay. She instantly looked at Elijah questioning who he was. Sophie began explaining. 

“There is no way.” Elijah said. 

“Believe me Elijah she’s the reason I am here. We came here together. Listen.” You pleaded.

He finally was convinced. 

“Niklaus is here but I don’t believe he will take this well,” Elijah began, “especially if you already know Y/n. He’d be devastated.” 

“Well that serves him right for not making a move.” You said. Apologizing to Hayley. 

To be honest you all needed a plan as to how telling Niklaus would go. Him being the stubborn ass he is, could result in a lot. But hopefully seeing you could ease it all. Elijah found where he was, the plan was for him to talk to him and for us to show up. Not too much should happen right? You had used your vamp hearing to listen in to when they arrived. You stayed hidden, listening to Niklaus deny the child. It was painful to watch. You desperately wanted to butt in but held back. You thought you guys had him when Elijah told him to listen hoping it would turn him to believe but obviously that failed. Elijah went after him. You made sure Hayley was ok before seeing where they went. Only to just miss them following Niklaus keeping your distance of course. He was headed for Marcellus. You kept the distance only to be met by Elijah. 

“Sophie is linked to Hayley, we can’t just kill her and leave without risking her life.” He stated. 

“Shit” you said.

“I’ll negotiate with Marcellus you tend to Hayley I’ll meet you back at the cemetery.” He said.

You arrived back at the cemetery, confronting Sophie. Things were getting heated until Elijah showed up carrying the corpse of Jane Anne. You knew the witches would follow through with whatever it was he had planned. You and Elijah left searching for Niklaus. You’d found him roaming drinking his problems away.

“Stay hidden til the time is right.” Elijah said. 

You nodded. Watching it all unfold. They began fighting, that being your que to intervene. 

“Enough!” You shouted. 

Niklaus looked wide eyed as if he saw a ghost. You helped Elijah up. 

“Must you seriously be a stubborn ass. That woman is carrying your child. Something you know deep down you want. Yet are fighting.” You yelled pushing him.

“Y/n/n.” He said.

“Oh don’t Y/n/n me, of course I know of the child I’m the one who bloody brought her here.” You continued on.

You were furious with him, you weren’t going to let this go. Elijah knew not to get involved when you were like this so he kept his distance. You continued yelling at Niklaus for what seemed hours long until he finally came to his senses. You all called it a night and would figure things out in the morning. You all showed up to the plantation, memories filled your mind of the little boy who you once long ago saved. You smiled. Your attention was drawn somewhere else though. You listened to Hayley opening up a bit to Elijah. You noticed the way he looked at her. Knowing that look all too well. You had been so invested that you didn’t notice the company you had.

“I see he’s finally found someone new to fancy.” Niklaus smirked.

You rolled your eyes. Walking away not wanting to talk to him. He on the other hand thought otherwise. 

“Oh come on love, you really can’t keep this up any longer.” He exclaimed.

“Watch me.” You said. Turning to face him. 

He smirked getting closer. 

“You can’t resist me.” He said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“What do you want me to say?! I forgive you for knocking up some girl you hooked up with on a one nightstand?” You yelled at him.

All he did was smile. He loves seeing you all worked up and jealous. 

“All you have to do is tell me and I’m yours.” He said closing the gap between you two.

You looked at him surprised, you have been waiting for this moment. Yet here you were not expecting it the slightest. You looked up at him.

“What makes you think that’s what I want?” You teased, testing the waters.

He pinned you to the wall.

“Oh believe me love. It’s what we both want. Just give in.” He whispered.

His words sent chills to your body. You wanted him. You needed him. In all the ways you could think. He pressed his lips firmly against yours, you hesitate but kiss back. You both pull away. 

“Just because you kiss me and make me yours doesn’t take away the fact that I’m still upset with you.” You said punching him.

“Believe me, love. You can torture me however you like” he said with a wink. 

You giggled. 

“You bet your ass I will.” You smirked. 

[zhuilingyizhen]

agents of shield x mdzs au

This is the qUaLitY content y’all get from this blog. Also see me spamming friend about this AU. It’s junior-centered, with a dash of wangxian. This is basically a more in-depth version of what I gave my friend lol

After getting kicked out of SHIELD for questionable experiments involving Kree blood, Wei Wuxian was spying on Hydra (lead by Wen Ruohan) by infiltrating them as a scientist. However, being Wei Wuxian, he neglected to tell anyone since he got kicked out, so everyone thought he betrayed them.

So he’s at Hydra, befriending Wen Qing & Ning, and realizes that they’re good people.

But he got caught giving info to Director LXC, so Wei Wuxian makes his grand escape. He may have accidentally knocked over a terrigenesis crystal while trying to escape the Nightless City.

The terrigenesis crystal may have turned a little boy into an Inhuman (the first time anyone went through terrigenesis) and that little boy (Wen Yuan) may have accidentally burnt down the entire Nightless City.

At least, that’s how WWX explains it to Lan Wangji when he gives LWJ a child to take care of.

So, with Wen Yuan in SHIELD custody, Lan Wangji adopts him & renames him Lan Sizhui. He’s still a child (I don’t know why I keep referring to him as a little boy?? He’s like 12-ish??).

So Wei Wuxian goes off to re-join the remnants of HYDRA because they let him experiment in peace & he gets to keep an eye on them for SHIELD (even though he’s an ex-agent).

But before that, he vouches for WQ & WN to join SHIELD. And though many people there are suspicious, they do have a vacant spot for a doctor now that Dr. Wei is gone & WQ is quite good. They bring WN along too.

Meanwhile: Lan Jingyi is getting abused my his mother & his dad is working across the country so life is quite sucky for him.

Thankfully, his family has connections to one Lan Xichen (who learns about the abuse eventually) and Jingyi gets into SHIELD Academy. What he doesn’t know is that he comes from a line of people with Inhumans genes.

Which may or may not how been why Xichen was visiting.

Anyways, Sizhui & Jingyi meet at SHIELD Academy (both around 13-14?) and Lan Qiren is about to get more headaches.

Eventually, he (now 16) gets told why he was accepted on the first place & asked if he’d like to go through terrigenesis. He’s like “ok” and boom vocal mind control.

That’s actually inaccurate; he has the power to manipulate people with his voice. He has to learn how to control it though.

Wei Wuxian rejoins SHIELD! Lan Sizhui meets the person who saved him all those years ago. yay.

Little did they know, Wei Wuxian was expieriemnting with terrigenesis while he was gone but shhhhhhh-

Now onto Jin Ling’s backstory, cause his is a doozy.

Jiang Yanli got Inhuman genes from her mother. So did jc, but his powers & stuff come into play later. Wwx is their adopted bro, but due to circumstances that will be explained later, Wwx & jc are estranged.

Jyl and jzx raise jl for most of his younger childhood (until he’s about 7-8) when evil HYDRA people come in & kill jzx and kidnap jyl for Inhuman experimentation. Note, she has the genes but isn’t an Inhuman (yet).

Ling is very sad and Jiang Cheng swoops in to take him in. Jc actually worked at as a SHEILD agent back from before lxc was Director (coughxichengcough) but left when his sister was kidnapped so he could try to track her down & save her. Instead he gets his nephew.

Jc also takes over his parents’ buisness to get a source of income.

And jc goes through the woes of being a parent up until he also gets kidnapped by HYDRA. Jl also gets nabbed, but HYDRA separates them

Wwx may have been expierimenting but he tries to do it without hurting any of them, and he validates it because he prevented many people from getting cut open by explaining to the HYDRA heads that they’re most useful alive. It somehow works.

In fact, wwx is assigned to jl. The HYDRA people know wwx’s relation to jc & jyl, so they don’t tell wwx that they kidnapped jc & jyl or that they’re literally in the same facility.

Since wwx was assigned to jl, he basically helps him undergo terrigenesis and tries to determine his power.

Wwx also doesn’t know that jl is kinda his nephew. But he pities him, so he maybe helps jl escape, but in a way so that no one realizes it because he still has his cover to maintain.

(also, I forgot to mention: jyl’s kidnapping caused jc & wwx to become estranged).

So wwx may have had a very loud conversation near jl’s cell about some of the exits and also teaches jl the basics on his Inhuman ability. maybe the device he uses to control jl’s powers happened to malfunction in the middle of the night.

Ling, not knowing that wwx is helping him, uses his power (energy manipulation) to break out and makes a run for it.

He manages to escape (wwx had a very detailed convo about the building’s layout) and gets the hell out of there.

Jl’s smart enough to realize that since HYDRA knows where he lives, that he probably shouldn’t go back home.

He really wants to get his uncle back (and maybe his mom, but he’s not sure she’s still alive) but has like no idea how to use his power to do anything except bomb stuff. & that only works like half the time.

Jin Ling is about to kill a bitch but then he remembers that his uncle gave him an address to go to if anything ever happened (remember, jc is an ex-SHIELD agent so bad things happen quite a lot).

Meanwhile, despite his carefulness, wwx got caught and HYDRA is deciding whether or not he will die. Wwx, being the genius he is, takes all his stuff and gets the fuck outta there.

He decides to go visit his kinda-boyfriend (that he may or may not have been ignoring for like 13 years), lwj back at SHIELD. He also wants to see how the Wen siblings are doing.

So WWX goes back to SHIELD, only about an hour before Ling arrives. In jl’s defense, he had no idea that the entrance to a secret government organization was a quaint little music shop.

He just kinda... walks in, and everyone is freaking bc they have been breached but sees him and thinks “huh he kinda looks like jc” and then lxc thinks “oh no what happened this time”

Lxc introduces himself and jl (being the second best matchmaker here, second to only lxc) accidentally reveals that jc talked about him before.

Lxc is pleasantly surprised (gay) and asks jl to come with him into his office so that they can... chat.

On their way, they pass by the science lab. Wei Wuxian, who just came back to base, is happily walking along with Lan Sizhui, when all hell breaks loose.

Remember when I said that wwx was quite secretive about helping? And that jl is still upset bc he never got his uncle back and he can’t lose another family member, not to them?

So obviously jl does what anyone would if you saw the guy who forced you to undergo a life-changing event and was involved in the organization that kidnapped two of his family members and killed his dad: he attaccs.

If you also remember, I mentioned that jl has no fucking clue what he’s doing. All he knows is energy and boom boom.

And the mini-explosions only work in close range, from what he’s seen. So in his anger, he unlocks a new skill: energy shots.

Wei Wuxian took cover like the second he realized who was attempting to kill him and screaming at the others not to kill his assailant no matter how annoying he was.

Lan Wangji sadly wasn’t at base, but Sizhui was, and he can certainly hold his own against Ling, especially since Sizhui has had more time to train with his power.

Luckily, Jingyi swoops in & uses his voice to force jl to stop. They handcuff him and lxc drags him away into his office.

It’s safe to say that the science lab corridor is fried.

That’s basically how jl got introduced to SHIELD (he eventually joins and learns the truth about wwx, which makes all their past interactions quite awkward).

Now we have Zizhen, who comes into the story after the two Lans have become agents but before the whole Jin Ling fiasco occurs.

Sizhui & Jingyi were sent to see if Agent Ouyang Xingyun (@yoitsamy’s oc older sis of oyzz)‘a family knew where she was because she was on a undercover mission & didn’t check in with her contact last week. + she didn’t contact SHIELD so Director LXC was worried.

They look through the window and everything is a mess, so they kick down the door and try to find anyone. The whole place is torn apart, like people were fighting there.

In the upstairs bedroom, they find Ouyang Zizhen & four of his younger siblings huddled together in a corner, protected by a forcefield-like shield. Once they realize the Lans aren’t a threat, the go back to SHIELD HQ and put in a room there until they can figure out wtf was going on.

Apparently, Zizhen unlocked his powers w/o terrigenesis when they got attacked by someone who was looking for his sister and used it to protect his siblings. They hadn’t seen their big sister in weeks.

So the Lans have a new case to solve, SHIELD has two new Inhumans with off circumstances, and Lan Wangji is one Xichen away from killing Jin Ling.

[wolfsgravity]

Don’t mind me I’m still having Howl brainrot

I really like him

And after I watched the movie, I realized his dynamic with Sophie is so good and like.. even though I love him, I kinda felt I’d either ruin his happiness with her if I wriggled an S/I into the mix.

I think I just came to peace with it all though. I won’t have as spectacular of an adventure with him like Sophie did, but sometimes Ghibli films show beauty in the casual too.

I think I’ll put myself into their lives about a year after the movie ends. Howl and Sophie and their little found family are living happily together. I somehow stumble across Sophie’s path, probably at some market, downtrodden and looking wholly uncomfortable in clothes I clearly don’t wear often. She, the kind soul she is, asks me why I’m crying.

I wipe my face and quietly whimper, “It’s ridiculous, but I seem to ruin everything I touch. The shop I work for keeps losing customers, no matter how hard I work. My mother just told me that her and my father only seem to fight when I’m visiting. I was just on a date with my boy.. -hic- ex-boyfriend, and he told me over the appetizers that it can’t be coincidence that even aspects of his life I have no matter in… got worse not long after we began seeing each other. Oh, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, but I simply feel I must have been born cursed.”

“Cursed, huh?” She says, almost forgetting the vegetables in her basket as the events not long ago play through her mind. Curses are no joke, she knows for sure, but she hasn’t come across the idea of being born cursed. She’s only known Howl about a year, though, so maybe it could be true. She offers me a proper handkerchief that I bury my tear-stained face in. “I’ve got an idea. If you’ve got nothing else to do today, come with me. We can have some light lunch and talk more over tea. I’d hate to just leave you crying like this in a market.”

I nod and slowly get to my feet, as I had been sitting partially obscured by an empty market stall. Sophie offers me a light reassuring pat on the shoulder, but in my mindset, I recoil. When she apologizes for scaring me, I mumble, “I don’t want my bad luck to get onto you, too. Best not touch me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Sophie says in a quietly cheerful way, leading me out of the market, “I have some people back home for you to meet, I’m sure they’ll be able to cheer you up.”

So we walk a ways, with me slowly getting less sad and becoming more my usual self. By the time we get to the door for the castle, Sophie realizes I’m quite a kind and lively person, not much older than her. She understands better why I feel cursed; a delightful, albeit self-deprecating person can’t consistently meet such poor circumstances by pure chance.

She opens the door and invites me in. She takes off her hat and I feel a tiny curl of jealousy, not unusual for me, at her easy beauty. It doesn’t tint my view of her, as I consider myself an exceedingly homely person on a regular basis. She has shown me kindness, that’s what matters. She calls into the place, “I’m back from the market, I brought someone along to visit! Come down and meet them!”

We step into another room, with stairs leading up and out of sight. In front of a crackling fireplace sits an old woman, who turns and smiles at us. I give a shy wave.

“Hey Sophie,” I hear a voice, looking to the staircase to see the source. Not seeing anyone, I look around. The old woman hadn’t spoken, where had the voice come from?

“Hello Calcifer,” Sophie speaks, facing the fireplace, “I was wondering if you or Howl could help myself and Remington out.” I look at her, then at the fireplace, then rub my eyes. The fire has a face. The fire was the one who’d spoken.

“Eh, I’ll see what I can do, I guess. You know I don’t care for strangers,” the fire speaks, visibly eyeing me down. I feel self-conscious, fingers mindlessly playing with the fabric of my clothing.

“Remington may be a stranger, but I’m sure you’ll all love them. Polite, kind, funny, we had quite a nice conversation on the way here.”

“Sophie!”

A voice calls out from the staircase, for sure this time. My eyes tear away from the animated fire and land on a young boy, bounding down the stairs, followed by a small dog. The child hugs Sophie tightly and then looks at me.

“Why’d you bring some strange lady home with you?”

I flinch very slightly, feeling very out of place.

“Markl, this is Remington. Please don’t refer to them as a ‘strange lady’ like that, they’ve had quite a rough day. I thought maybe I could cheer them up, and maybe get some advice about something they brought up.”

The fire, Calcifer, speaks again, “You sure know how to pick your friends, Sophie.”

“Oh?” She turns back towards him, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, I don’t know the full story myself. What was the thing they needed help for?”

I look at Sophie, and she glances back at me. “I think you can tell it better than I could, so go ahead.”

I shuffle, my hands clasping together as I feel all the eyes in the room fall on me.

“Sophie found me crying in the market,” I start, “I was trying to be quiet but she found me anyways. I told her, uhm… I, uh, know it sounds really silly now that I’m not actively super sad.. I just believe I was born cursed?”

“You said that as a question.” Calcifer quips.

“Well, because I do believe it, and I feel I have all the proof I need to back myself up. But it just sounds stupid.”

“Curses are real.” The old woman sitting in her chair pipes up.

“Well, I know magic and spells and curses are real,” I stumble over my words, looking between the woman and the fire. “I’m just not.. really special enough to have incurred a curse from anyone.”

A deep voice drifts down from the top of the stairwell, “Huh. That sounds oddly familiar, doesn’t it Sophie?”

I sigh at yet another person hearing my tale of woe, only to glance at the stairs and see a beautiful wizard making his way down the steps. I feel my embarrassment rise a notch, why are so many people involved in my sob story now?

He reaches Sophie and gently kisses her forehead, reminding me of the pain I’d felt earlier at losing my boyfriend to my curse. It figures those two would be together, they’re both so beautiful

I feel a slight tearfulness threaten behind my eyes, so I look back towards the fire. “It seems like everything I get involved with ends up getting worse. The shop I work at has been in a decline since I started working there, my family only fights when I’m involved, and my.. erm.. now-ex-boyfriend caught on and said I was ruining his life, so he dumped me.”

“Why’d you bring them home with you, Sophie?” The young boy asks again, now looking a bit angry, “What if they’re right? What if we start fighting or something?”

“Eh,” Calcifer starts, looking as contemplative as a fire can, “It’s not as cut-and-dry as a curse, here. I do sense magic, but no birth-curse.”

My shoulders sag.

“Remington, right?” He continues, looking directly at me. I nod. “You’ve got innate magic ability. Anyone ever tell you that?” My brows furrowed, I silently shake my head. “That explains it. You’ve been sending out sporadic zaps of magic since you got here. You’re not in control of them, but you probably have been feeling them as little spurts of energy that go into your twitches and fidgets. Usually magic kids get noticed and apprenticed to a magician of some kind to learn to harness their own power, but somehow your parents or whoever was in charge of you seemed to miss it. Now you look to be in your twenties, and usually a magician by your age has at least mastered and learned to outlet their own magic. Without control or a structured outlet, your own magic just pings out of you and into your surroundings.”

“Oh,” I say, eyes drifting to the floor for a few moments. Then I muster up a smile and look at Sophie. “Well, that’s certainly not what I was expecting.”

“You’d better find someone who’ll apprentice you at your age,” Calcifer says, not wholly unkindly, “because your magic won’t just stop now that you know about it. I hate to say this, but you’re unintentionally gonna ruin your own life with this stuff.”

My forced smile falters. “I thank you for your information, Calcifer. Maybe I should get out of your kind abode before I start wrecking it, huh?”

If fire could shrug, he definitely did so, “I’ve just been countering your pings, it’s pretty tame, so you have no chance of wrecking shop while you’re here.”

“Then let’s have that lunch I promised you,” Sophie reaches out and lightly brushes my arm, and my smile quickly becomes real again.

“I’d like that.”

—-

Basically, after this scene plays out, we have lunch together and Howl speaks up as I’m about to leave and says he’ll take me as an apprentice.

And I eventually start to fall in love with him, but don’t want to get between him and Sophie, nor do I think I’m good enough for him. Sophie is kind and encouraging and tells me she didn’t think she was pretty enough for him at first, either. But she’s okay with whatever Howl’s heart tells him to do, because she loves him and is comfortable in knowing they’ll always love each other.

I don’t want any Howl and Sophie angst in my ship with him. I’d like to think her and I could share him comfortably and be good friends with each other.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

IX

September 23, 2277

“What kind of fun are we talking about, Nova?” Percy asks the redhead, a look in her eye that I can only describe as mischievous.

“I’m thinking of a game, honey. Let’s get the boys involved too,” Nova said. “It’s a slow night anyway. Think we can close up early, Gob?”

“Huh? Uh sure! Anything for you, Nova,” replies the other ghoul. The way he hangs on the smoothskin’s word says it all. Poor bastard.

“I think I have a deck of cards upstairs. Say… strip poker?” Nova suggests.

I almost spat out my drink.

Gob, standing right across me behind the bar, rubs his face. Percy tilts her head at Nova, looking clueless as hell.

“What’s strip poker?”

“Miss, do you know what poker is?” I ask her, and she shakes her head. “Then you would not like strip poker.”

Nova laughs and pats my mistress in the back. “Aw, you’re no fun,” she says to me, and Percy raises an eyebrow.

“What is strip poker?” Percy insists on asking.

“Regular poker is a game where players bet that they have the highest ranking card. Strip poker is just the same thing, but you have to remove a piece of clothing if you lose the round,” Gob explains through his teeth. “Charon’s right, smoothskin. It would suck for a beginner like you.”

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, Nova? I thought you weren’t into girls,” Percy giggles, and Nova throws her head back and laughs. “Just curious, hon. Ever since you got Moriarty out of the picture, I stopped the side business. Never thought that I’d miss getting touched so soon.”

The mistress looks at Gob, a knowing look on her face. Then, she turns to Nova. “Hey, I’m sure there’s a lot of people here on Megaton who’d like to get with you.”

Well. Percy noticed it too, huh?

“Uh, Nova? Percy? The game?” Gob interrupts nervously, and the women laugh together. “Right, right. Care to suggest anything, Percy? Any games you played in the vault?”

“Well, there are some… how about ‘Never Have I Ever’?”

“How do you play?”

“Well, you say something that you haven’t done in your life before, then other players will have to take a shot if they have. If no one takes a shot, the person who asked the question needs to drink theirs,” explains the mistress, to which Nova smirked.

“A drinking game where we get to know each other? I like it! C’mon boys, I’ll get the shot glasses ready.”

“I am not participating,” I tell her, and my mistress’ shoulders sag. “Aw, why not?”

“If you get too intoxicated, miss, I would have to haul your sorry ass back home.”

Percy blurts out a shocked laugh at my choice of words. “Seriously, big guy? We’re in Megaton anyway, and not like there are other patrons in the bar that can hurt me. C’mon, play with us, please?”

Please. Damn that fucking word.

“Fine, fine,” I grumble, and Percy throws her hands in the air with excitement and I am reminded that she’s still a teenager.

“Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun! Okay, who wants to go first?”

A month earlier, I would’ve called whoever told me that some smoothskin angel from a vault would come take my contract from Ahzrukhal, treat me like an actual person instead of a guard dog, and play drinking games with me crazy. Now, she’s leaning against my shoulder, cheeks red, and laughing hard.

“Oh come on, it was just one time! And it’s Moriarty’s fault for yelling at me! Not like the customers would have smelled it through the rot, anyway.”

“You still shit your pants, Gob,” Nova half-cackled, half-slurred.

Percy’s covering her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing. “I’m so sorry, Gob. I feel bad for laughing because it’s Moriarty’s fault but the way you told the story is still fucking- HAHAHAHA!”

I wasn’t laughing, but I snorted. Man, this poor guy never catches a break, doesn’t he?

“I’ll let you laugh because you’re the one who got me out of my misery, friend,” Gob mumbles to Percy, nursing his empty shot glass in his hand.

“Okay. Next round. Your turn, Gob.”

“Hmmmm. Never have I ever killed someone I knew personally,” said Gob. Percy groans loud and takes a shot. I take mine too.

“Well, looks like you’ve found your match, Miss Dangerous,” Nova comments, nursing her full glass. “Charon, was it? If you wouldn’t mind me asking, who’d you kill?”

“Ahzrukhal,” I tell them, and Gob’s eyes widened.

“Who’s Ahzrukhal?” Nova asks.

“My previous employer, before Percy. He was an evil bastard.”

“When I got captured by slavers all those years ago, I overheard one of them talking that Ahzrukhal tipped them off,” Gob murmured. “I never trusted him. My mother told me to stay away from his bar.”

“Now I see why Percy’s your friend. You both got something against bastard bartenders huh?” Nova jokes, and my mistress quietly laughs.

“Two peas in a pod,” said Percy. “I guess we hate bastards who hurt and take advantage of defenseless people.”

Damn right, we do.

“What about you, hon? Who did you kill?”

“Stevie Mack. A guy from the vault I grew up in,” said Percy, leaning over the bar top. “He killed my friend, Jonas. Then, I saw that he was about to hurt my best friend Amata. I just lost it. Beat his head with a baseball bat until it was nothing but a bloody pulp, just like how I did to Moriarty.”

Nova let out a low whistle. “Damn, Percy.”

Gob clears his throat, and scratches what’s left of the skin on his head. “Damn. Leeeet’s just lighten up a bit. Sorry.”

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, Gob. Besides, talking about it helps,” Percy reassures the other ghoul, smiling.

“Your turn, kid,” Gob cheers, pouring scotch in Percy’s shot glass.

“Hmmm… uhhh… never have I ever had vaginal sex,” Percy slurs, red on her cheeks going even deeper.

Goddammit. I’m reminded of that fucking dream and how wrong it was. The last thing I want is to have those thoughts about her while my inhibitions are down. Stupid fucking dick of mine twitched again. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t intact.

I remember what Ahzrukhal threatened her with and felt like throwing up my dinner. To hurt a good person like that...

“You make it sound so medical,” Nova laughs, taking a shot. “Are you serious? Never did it with anyone in the vault?”

“Y-yeah! Birth control is hard to come by in the vault, so I-I never risked it,” Percy stutters. Her face is ever redder than the baseball hat she wore when I first met her.

Gob takes a shot. I take a shot. Then, Percy looked at me with a surprised look on her face.

“You seem surprised that Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary here took a shot too,” Nova croons, and Percy folds her fingers together. “Hey, depending on whether he’s pre-war or not, he probably has a lot of experience under his sleeve.”

“Uh, Nova, I don’t think we should press him further about his sex life… Charon’s a private person, you see,” Percy replies to her, nervous, knuckles white as she pressed them against her lap. Nova pays her no heed. “Hey, guy as big as him, he probably had some ladies coming on to him when he still had skin.”

“I am not answering that,” I tell her firmly.

“C’mon, we’re all friends here, don’t be shy,” Nova insists, slurring and waving the bottle of scotch around. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.

“Nova…” Gob warns her weakly, taking the bottle from her hands.

Nova ignores both Percy and Gob, and continues to push.

I have lost my patience.

“Fine, you want to know? When I still had skin,” I slurred, looking Nova in the eye. “Employers would let me see prostitutes for fun. I never needed it, but if it stops me from remembering that I’m nothing but a living weapon to them, I’d take it. Some employers used my contract as an excuse to use me for their urges too. With or without my skin.”

Everyone was dead silent. Percy is pale as a ghost.

“I’m done playing,” I grunted, looking away from everyone.

Percy lets out a groan. “This isn’t the first impression I wanted you guys to have on each other, sorry. Mmmaybe we should’ve played a different game. One that doesn’t involve things that are so… personal.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Nova stutters, stunned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Whatever,” I grunted, taking another beer.

“Okay, new rule, no pushing others to share unless they want to,” the mistress tells the other woman, and she nods. Gob just quietly refills everyone’s shot glasses except mine. I just nursed my beer and fucking sat there, wishing this night was over.

“Right. Okay, my turn,” Nova replies.

“Hmmmm… never had I ever been in a serious relationship before.”

Percy takes a shot.

“So, do you want to talk about it or…”

“Yeah, sure. I needed to get some things off my chest anyway. There was this guy in the vault named Butch…”

I can’t help but listen. I shouldn’t be listening to a teenager’s woes about her boyfriend, but here I was.

“Right, so, he was the vault bully. Ran a gang called the Tunnel Snakes. I know, not the catchiest name,” she starts. I can’t help but snort. What kind of fucking dumbshit name is “Tunnel Snakes?”

“I was heartbroken when Amata rejected me. Had a crush on her since we were kids. She’s the Overseer’s daughter, you see. The Overseer’s sort of like the vault president or whatever. And Amata’s the by-the-book type. She eventually admitted that she had feelings for me too, but the vault placed a lot of value on reproducing. So… yeah. A girl with a girl was out of the question.”

Nova starts leaning in, and so did Gob, listening to my mistress intently.

“Hey don’t get me wrong, I liked boys too, and I wouldn’t have dated Butch if I didn’t. But that’s besides the point. The night Amata rejected me, Butch and I were finally forced to sit down and talk because of some stupid game. Then, one of his gang members started to feel sick because he took alcohol with his medicine. I helped him, and Butch and I grew closer since that night,” Percy tells us. I didn’t notice that I was leaning towards her now, too.

“So, yeah. We started dating shortly after. Amata started to become distant because I changed and I started hanging with Butch more. But then I found out that Butch was still seeing his on-and-off girlfriend, Susie. Made him choose. He chose Susie,” the mistress continues, voice cracking.

“God, what an ass,” Nova comments.

“It gets worse,” said Percy. “I blamed myself the entire time, thought that maybe if I gave in and just let him fuck me already, he would’ve stayed. Then, I found out that all this time, the Tunnel Snakes were the Overseer’s puppet. All this time, he got close to me so he could dig dirt on me. The Overseer wanted to use whatever info he got from them to make Amata stay away. Crazy, huh?”

Wow. What an ass, indeed.

“His loss, smoothskin,” Gob comments. “I don’t know why anyone would turn a nice and pretty girl like you down.”

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better, Gob, but, I’m... complicated,” Percy blushes, looking down on her thighs. “I have some trust issues to work through, and it would be unfair to expect Butch to hold my hand as I go through them, y’know?”

“We all have issues,” I finally speak up. All of them look at me.

“It’s not an excuse to break a damn angel’s heart.”

Damn it. Did I say that out loud? Hopefully the mistress forgets about it the next morning, because she’s looking at me with wide eyes, and her friends are giving each other looks, too.

“R-right! Whose turn is it?” Gob stammers.

Thank fuck.

September 24, 2277

It’s around two in the morning when the mistress finished her game. She had too many shots of scotch, almost stumbling off the railings when she barrelled through the saloon door to throw up. I managed to grab her undershirt to steady her before any accidents happened. I feel sorry for the unfortunate fuck screaming below that got splashed with her vomit.

“H-hey, take care of our Percy, hon,” Nova slurs, leaning against the doorframe. Gob was supporting her and is giving me a dopey smile, wobbling, almost as wasted.

“Oh man, careful on the way down. I’ve seen way too many drunks fall over,” said the other ghoul. I grunted and carried the mistress on my back, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders. The dog follows us close by.

Halfway through the way home, she’s slurring and breathing in my ear.

I just brushed it off.

As we arrived home, Percy asked me to put her down near the sink, where she strips out of her clothes. I turned around and faced the wall, hearing her splash the water against her face and drag a rag against her body.

Without saying a word, I go upstairs to get her a new pair of shorts and a shirt. I never noticed how small she really is until I’ve held her change of clothes in my hands. When I got back, Dogmeat was at her feet as she sat on her dirty jumpsuit on the floor, her back turned towards me, and curled into a ball.

“Miss, I got you a change of clothes.”

“T-thank you. I can dress myself,” she mumbles. I wait on the couch as she gets dressed, and I hear the fridge door open and close. She sits next to me, sipping on a bottle of purified water.

“Hey,” she whispers.

I don’t look at her.

“I’m sorry for tonight. God, I just wanted to get to know y-you better and I- you- damn, I fucked up real bad didn’t I?”

I finally look at her. There’s still sick on the edge of her mouth and her nose is dripping. Damn, is she crying?

Grumbling, I stand to fetch the rag, washing and wringing it in the sink. I’m not a damn babysitter, I’m a mercenary. So why the hell am I wiping down this girl’s face while she stammered and sobbed?

“I shouldn’t have forced you to play the game. I’m really sorry Charon,” said the mistress, and I fought the urge to groan.

“I agreed to participate, miss.”

“B-but you- that thing you said about-”

“Shh. Sleep it off.”

“Mmm. Okay. I’m still very sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Percy.”

“Stay with me?”

I let myself stay.

[c-c-cherry]

Brutta Nottata

Giorno is tired. Bruno is a good mom.

This is purely self-indulgent vent shit that I wrote. TLDR; Today was not fun, I feel like garbage, and I just want someone to wrap sad bb Giorno up in a blanket like a burrito because no one will do that for me. THUS! THIS FIC WAS BORN!

Word Count: 1865

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The moon shone in through the windows, illuminating the living room in a calming grey-ish light. The pitch-black skies littered with stars showed there would still be many hours until sunrise and the entire house was filled with a peaceful silence.

Giorno sat on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. His body felt exhausted but he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. It was as if his mind wanted his body to move, pumping adrenaline into his system and the calmness all around him only made him feel too fast for this world.

His body wanted to collapse, he was worried that if he stood up, he would fall and never come back up. His bones ached desperately for sleep, but his mind was running circles around him, only allowing him to sit begrudgingly and stare off into nothing.

He could feel his eyes getting drier and heavier by the second and he craved some kind of relief, but it felt as if they were being clamped open against his own will.

On day one, he didn’t pay any mind to it. On day two, he was slightly concerned. On day three, he felt anxiety kick in.

Now he didn’t know what day it was, and he could barely feel anything.

Giorno’s heart clenched for just a moment before he willed it away and continued sitting in chill neutrality. He had promised Mista that he would sleep tonight. Everyone--he had promised everyone that he would try. But he just couldn’t. He didn’t have the energy to try. Even so, he knew that failure was around the corner anyway.

Maybe he was just tired of trying.

Giorno tried and tried until his heart lost the battle and his spirit slipped away from him. He tried to be perfect, he tried to be what everyone wanted him to be, but now every time he closed his eyes, he could see nothing but his past mistakes.

The blonde blinked and felt how heavily his eyelids were. It felt like they could unhinge at any moment, leaving him nothing but an inhuman monster that could never close his eyes again.

Giorno in the day is extremely different compared to Giorno in the night.

Daytime was the time that things could get done. Day Giorno cooperated with his team. Day Giorno was charismatic and quick-witted. Day Giorno completed task after task and it wasn't a problem. Day Giorno was useful. Everyone loved Day Giorno.

Night Giorno thought too much. He sat in bed and thought about all of the things that he never had time to in the day. Night Giorno remembered his mother and step-father. Night Giorno wondered how many people he killed and how many hit lists he was at the top of. Night Giorno couldn’t do anything. Night Giorno was useless. He couldn’t even sleep properly.

It’s funny, he thought. His name was literally the definition of ‘day’. Maybe it was for a reason. Maybe this was always his fate. Maybe this was his sign that hope was useless by now.

He could hear a soft breeze hit the window, and Giorno felt the room light up in an eerie glow as the wind blew away the clouds that blocked the moon. Breathing in deeply, his words went with the wind.

I’m sorry…

He didn’t know who he was apologizing to. Maybe it was himself. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t perform such a ritual human duty. Maybe he was apologizing to the world for being such a good liar.

His room was worse to be in at night. Everything in it was screaming at him to go to bed but he was sickened at the thought of lying down and closing his eyes. It was something he desperately wanted but his brain would never allow. Not with all the thoughts and emotions swirling around in his head.

He thought about what could happen if he would just close his eyes. If he willed himself hard enough, he knew he could do it. But something was keeping him from doing it. Fear that he would never wake up? Fear that even if he did try, he would stay awake forever?

He didn’t know which one he feared more.

*

Lights didn’t come on downstairs, but Giorno quickly noticed the presence of someone else downstairs with him. Mista? Narancia? He honestly didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about anything right now and it scared him.

Giorno made no motion to acknowledge Bucciarati as he entered the room slowly. Seeing the man in his pajamas and without barretts in his hair was rare and Giorno would have thought to laugh, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Giorno?”

Bucciarati looked around the room hesitantly, examining Giorno from top to bottom before softly calling out his name. What was it...sympathy? Disappointment? Giorno couldn’t tell, but even so, he felt a small surge of guilt flare up in his chest.

“Giorno…”

The blonde blinked again slowly, this time feeling the eyebags under his eyes move up and down with his eyelid. He must look disgusting right now. He was disgusting.

“You look exhausted,” Bucciarati said quietly. Giorno didn’t know if the man was genuinely concerned or angry. His tone was too quiet to tell, “Aren’t you tired, Giorno?”

He didn’t know how to answer so he slowly shook his head, his exhausted gaze not bothering to look in Bruno’s direction.

He could hear Bucciarati suck in a breath before walking over to the armchair and picking up the light grey blanket that lay draped across it. He made his way to the couch and sat next to the boy, who’s gaze still remained on the same spot on the wall.

Bucciarati really did feel for the kid. No matter how much he managed to hold himself up during the day, he knew that Giorno had struggled during the night before. Insomnia sucks; especially for someone as young as Giorno, but the fact that he put himself down because of it was even worse. It’s not like it was something he could control.

Bruno smiled in sympathy and draped the blanket carefully across him, careful to fully cover him from head to toe in the thin blanket of warmth.

He watched as the boy’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly in surprise and quietly jumped out of his thoughts, staring up at the older man in confusion.

When Giorno gave him that pained, glassy-eyed look, Bucciarati’s heart melted. His hair was tousled, his usual style crumpled and undone from running his hands through it too many times, his glassy eyes gave that far-away stare that someone gives when begging for sleep, and his eye bags were darker than normal. Giorno wasn’t just exhausted, he was completely mentally and physically depleted.

He looked like he could snap at any second.

Bucciarati stared into the blonde’s eyes and tried to find something besides his dull, emotionless gaze. A slight flicker of his eyes caught his attention, and he placed a comforting hand on Giorno’s shoulder, who seized up as if he had never been touched before. But he didn’t try to back away.

“Why didn’t you tell me it had gotten this bad again?” he asked quietly.

“I didn’t want to make you worry,” Giorno turned away, his voice thick with guilt. He was fine. He had been fine for months. It was as if the problem had never even existed.

Until it did again.

There was a silence that hung in the air until Giorno sighed shakily and pulled the blanket further over his head.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Giogio.”

Bucciarati was about to say something else when a small sniffle came from beside him. Frowning, he pulled the blanket off the blonde’s head and grew even more concerned when he didn’t try to turn away or fight back.

Giorno bit his lip as thick tears pooled in his eyes. He blinked and bit back a small sob as tears freely streamed down his face and dribbled onto his chin. He swore quietly when he felt a drop on his hand, but didn’t make any motion to stop it.

Bucciarati rarely saw Giorno cry, and usually, when he did, it was over a death of someone dear to him or something equally as serious. But the thought of the kid crying solely because he was too overwhelmed to keep himself together brought pain to his heart

Motherly instincts kicked in, and he wrapped the boy up in a tight hug, one hand on his back and the other one on the top of his head. The touch only made his tears accelerate and he struggled to swallow back another sob at Bucciarati held him close.

“It’s okay…” he whispered, rubbing his back soothingly as he felt a cry get muffled into his chest, “It’s fine, Giorno...you can let it out…”

The sound of Bucciarati’s voice only made Giorno cry harder, and the older man wrapped the blanket around him and leaned up against the end of the couch to give Giorno more room to lie down.

“-I’m--such a disappointment-” he sobbed quietly into Bruno’s pyjama shirt, “I-I promised Mista I’d sleep tonight--I promised you I’d keep it together-”

His voice shook as he explained his woes and Bucciarati ran his hands through his hair as he did.

“You don’t have to promise us anything, Giorno. You can’t make yourself fix things that you can’t control..” he reminded the blonde.

“I-I know-I’m just so-” he paused, taking in a breath, but didn’t finish his sentence. Bucciarati already knew what he was going to say. So tired. So overwhelmed. So exhausted.

Giorno cried for some time before it started to slow down. Bucciarati’s shirt was soaked with possibly months of pent-up emotion when Giorno’s tears finally ran out. The blonde still compulsively sniffled with every other breath, but Bucciarati assumed that this was the last of the waterworks for now.

“Sorry,” he heard Giorno sniffle. He looked up at Bucciarati and he noticed how puffy his eyes had gotten. His eyes were red and still a bit teary-eyed, but the emotion was back in them. That was a start.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me...I just couldn't…”

“It sounds to me like you needed a cry, didn’t you?” Bucciarati replied, watching as Giorno’s face heated up. The blanket was still wrapped around him and Bruno smiled when he noticed that his eyes were growing wearier by the second.

“You’re not telling the others about this...are you?” he asked quietly. Bucciarati shook his head. Giorno mumbled something that sounded like ‘good’, but Bucciarati could barely hear him.

They both sat there in silence. The room slowly darkened as clouds covered the moon once again. As soon as Giorno was breathing steadily again, Bucciarati opened his mouth to say something, but peeked down at him first. Pulling back the blanket slowly, Giorno’s eyes were closed and his breathing was even and slow. As it should be.

Bucciarati smiled and carefully moved wisps of blonde hair out of his face.

Buona Notte, Giorno.

[firstpuffin]

Defeating an overwhelming antagonist…again..:

A problem with any ongoing story is the need for escalation. Every conflict need to be greater than the previous and while there are a number of different ways to do this (I’m partial to an emotional element as opposed to greater risk), the easiest is simply to up-the-ante.

  The Star Wars prequels went from a single planet to the entire galaxy; superheroes frequently go from the villain of the week to saving everything; romance such as Kimi ni Todoke (which I’ve written about previously) starts with the lead trying to talk make connections and ends on trying to keep their friends, partner and life goal.

  Every genre will have different requirements. Heck, if pornography has ongoing stories then they’d have the same problem, although don’t count on me figuring out how to deal with it. More participants? Dunno.

 I personally love a good action story and it can be dumb like Dragon Ball, goofy like Gintama or serious like Bleach, and I deliberately named manga as examples as that’s the area I’ve chosen to write about today. Why manga? Well in my experience the scale of escalation tends to be somewhat more extreme and far simpler.

  I think I’d like to also write about escalation in other genres such as romance, slice-of-life and sure, comedy, and how they might, and often do, intermingle. But for now I’m gonna talk about the action genre’s Overwhelming Antagonist.

  Again.

  Sorry.

 I’m going to provide three examples this time, all manga that I loved (at one time at least) and while I’ve only just finished one of them, another has recently had a confirmation for its finale being animated. Going from bad to good: Bleach, Naruto, and Gintama.

 So we’re starting with Bleach. Hmm, what do you need to know to understand this? Well after writing this out once already I figured all you actually need to know is why the antagonist sucks.

  The antagonist in question is- uhh, f*ck it. His name is “Yhwach”, but screw figuring out the pronunciation for that, I’m calling him Deus (even though this will influence the SEO of this article, but whatever). Deus is quite possibly the worst example I can think of for a bad antagonist. His unique superpower, The Almighty, is to know everything that will happen, that can happen, and to freakin’ overwrite any future he doesn’t like!

  Like seriously! I can only think of one power that is harder to overcome and that’s the one that’s been floating around online about controlling probability. It’s the epitome of bullshit, and the overwriting-futures-he-doesn’t-like bit only comes out after he should have lost, and that’s what bothers me the most.

  If he had lost right there, it would have been a very satisfying end brought about from the hero’s, Ichigo Kurosaki’s, efforts, working alongside allies and previous antagonists and with some actual tactics; satisfying despite the nonsense of literally everything else in the arc until that point (contradicting established lore and generally making no goddamn sense-). Instead he whips out this Diabolus ex Machina (the villainous Deus ex Machina) so that something the writer included earlier (but hadn’t really established) could finish him off instead.

  This is all quite terrible, but what makes it so egregious is that Bleach had two, two, separate and very much ideal chances to end, but kept going. But basically Deus simply chose not to die, rewriting reality to do so, but couldn’t overwrite his actual loss? Care to explain that to us, upcoming anime?

 SECOND! Naruto.

  Naruto is also pretty interesting to me because I didn’t enjoy it at all for like, 50 episodes (and still watched it? why?) but it eventually became my favourite manga (for a time anyway). Me and my friends were worried about how well it was possible for a 15 year-long story to end, especially after that Bleach debacle, and we sort of didn’t want it to end just to avoid the inevitable tragedy.

  But it was good!

  I know that many people don’t like it, and for some of it I can understand why. The big bad was Madara Uchiha- scratch that (the author did), the antagonist is the up-until-now unknown Kaguya. Yeah, she hadn’t really been established, or even mentioned, up until she appeared and yeah, that was a problem. I think the reason why I gave it a pass was that her appearance was also connected to the origin of the culture of that world and was really quite fascinating, so I let it slide.

  Oh, and I liked her design. That goes a long way.

�� Anyway, after a long and drawn out fight against the established (multiple times as-it-were) villain Madara, Kaguya is reincarnated through what can be summarised as the end result of Madara’s hubris and becomes the threat. She is an odd antagonist for an action manga, and not just because she’s a woman.

  Kaguya isn’t strong in the same way as all the other characters, punching and shooting lighting and such, but instead she’s powerful like a deity. She drags the heroes through dimensions and such while still getting her bearings, and I’m pretty sure she is defeated while still half asleep.

  Kaguya’s sudden appearance is the bad, so what’s the good?

  The heroes, our titular Naruto Uzumaki and his best bud the brutal murderer Sasuke Uchiha were, through some situation, gifted a power that they were using to try and seal Madara away like an evil genie, but this sealing power works just as well for Kaguya (if I remember correctly then that’s why she needed to be reincarnated in the first place).

  It all works on established lore and isn’t a stretch in any way.

 And finally, Gintama.

I really would not have expected this from a manga filled with so many scatological jokes that any metaphor would just bring unwanted images to mind, and whose very title is a dick joke.

  The antagonist here is Utsuro, an honest-to-god immortal. Over a thousand years old, heals from anything, dead inside (according to him “utsuro” means hollow), all Utsuro wants to do is destroy everything. I know, what a 2D character, right?

  Actually no. Being immortal, Utsuro has gone through the whole loneliness thing that stories about immortals tend to include, only he’s also had to deal with persecution on top of that. He may heal but he still feels it when his village burns him alive, or stabs him, or locks him away in a prison where he starves until the lock rusts away… the author doesn’t give him the typical “oh woe is me” flashback, but gives us plenty of reason to empathise with him.

  So fighting an immortal, and without the superpowers of the previous two entries, how does our hero Gintoki Sakata defeat him? That requires a bit of a history lesson; history in the manga.

  How many of you know of the Life-stream from Final Fantasy 7? That seems like a solid analogy. It is mentioned a number of times that the planets (plural as Gintama is a sci-fi) have some energy called Altana and while its uses aren’t really explored, we do know that one effect of it is that some people are born of it (also not really explained; planet sex? virgin birth?) and that these people are immortal as long as they have access to this energy, and that right there is the crutch of things.

 One of our leads is an alien whose mother was one of these immortals who left her planet and slowly died because the Altana of another planet won’t help. Utsuro is actually almost killed off of Earth and retreats back- oh, but if he’s only vulnerable away from the Altana then how else can he be beaten?

  In the end it comes down to a couple of factors, both of which are established previously; the time he almost dies, it’s because someone rams a foreign Altana crystal into his chest and our heroes go into battle equipped with these. Secondly, using characters and lore set up and forgotten a long, long time ago, the flow of this Altana is regulated by a small group who, with great difficultly, are able to staunch the energy during the fight.

  With small amounts of the harmful Altana being absorbed into his body through super-healing and no access to his literal life-force, Utsuro is able to be defeated and this is why Gintama is king. Gintama literally used what seemed like throwaway, not at all serious storylines and thoroughly established lore to exploit a weakness in this immortal.

 Compare this with Deus from earlier who has no such weakness and the only thing that can apparently defeat him not only hasn’t been set up, but should have been foreseen and avoided because that’s his power! That’s literally what he does! But Utsuro has this flaw and time was taken to establish a way to take advantage of it.

[eenefangirlanalysis]

“What’s the matter, Jimmy?” Sarah asks with little to no concern.

“I’m not allowed to go in there, Sarah. I still have bad dreams. And my Mom had to buy a mattress cover.”

This is the first and only mention of Jimmy’s Mom.

We hardly know Jimmy’s parents. I say hardly because Jonny has never said anything about his parents. Although he does quip that freezing up the house for Christmas is a tradition. It’s never stated whether his parents go along with it too since they appear to be home.

There have been multiple head canons on who Jimmy’s father is. Is he close with him? Is he more close with his mom? I know Jimmy has a big family seeing how he was all set up for a party in Jingle Jingle Jangle. @jenny2x4 recently pointed out that Jimmy’s family may be of higher status. The Eds are Comin’ is the first time we actually see other parts of his house. We’ve only been in his massive bedroom.

This rich head canon turns around my own ideas about Jimmy’s family. Are Jimmy’s parents similar to Edd’s? They’re constantly busy working leaving Jimmy to depend on Sarah as if she were his sister or a parent. And Sarah does take over the motherly role for him.

If Jimmy’s parents are also rarely around it explains how Jimmy and Edd formed a close bond.

From my viewpoint I get that vibe that Jimmy’s mother is almost annoyed about buying the mattress cover. Or she is concerned. How long has Jimmy needed a mattress cover before? If Jimmy is constantly wetting the bed at 8-9 years old this could be a more serious problem.

Jimmy even mentioned that he has/had a therapist in Fa-La-La-La Ed when he couldn’t bring himself to smash is piggy bank. When it was revealed that Jimmy may not have to go through the painful process he told Sarah that he can cancel his therapy. Did he? I hope he didn’t. He was going through a rather rough time post Fistful. I will get into that observation in a short bit.

As for Jimmy’s father the only mention he has ever received was If It Smells as an Ed. As a ruse. Jimmy clearly has the hockey stick which was used to frame the Ed’s. Jimmy tells them spilling clear crocodile tears that his father made him practice upon the Ed’s framing him. And the lie works.

Jimmy is not the most masculine character on the show. His sexuality has been in question. He has quite an imagination and plays with feminine products such as dolls. Though he does tend to take interest in playing sports and hanging out with the Ed’s. He likes spending time with them as he can talk about things he’s not comfortable talking about with Sarah.

I have a head canon that Jimmy’s father used to drink. Jimmy doesn’t rely on Sarah as much in the later seasons 3-5. Not mentally that is. He needs to her to physically fight off others for him.

Jimmy had a major black out and beat Edd to a pulp in Fistful of Ed. He was horrified at the aftermath. The incident affected him so much that his wining didn’t resonate with him. What if he believes that he is turning into his father who is still getting better? He’s beginning to spend more time with him while he slips away from the Ed’s.

Sarah could care less about Jimmy’s woes.

This is very unlike her. Jimmy has always come first. She appeared in seconds upon Jimmy blowing the whistle in Ed in Half Shell.

Their friendship has been diminishing over time. They bicker more in season 4. I think it’s due to growing up. Jimmy wants to explore his independent side more then Sarah.

“OOOOkaaAy....”

“But you’re really going to miss a doozy!”

And Sarah abandons Jimmy!

Witnessing this fight is more important to her then comforting her best friend.

If you think about it, this is Sarah’s first decision that is her own. Similar to Edd she always has to run her plans by Jimmy to see if they’re okay. Often Jimmy will call her out on her bad behavior. Still, it doesn’t stop Sarah. Here, she never asked Jimmy if it was okay if she went along by herself. Her mother told her no matter what she always had to get her way.

Sarah has always relied on her mom. Other then Nazz she is the only close female figure she has. Very similar to Eddy in his relationship with Bro. Since Bro was the only figure Eddy had around when he was little Eddy decided to look up to him. Both characters learn how wrong they were to do so and how they were never ready to face the world.

It’s a shame that Eddy and Sarah don’t have any screen time together. They don’t realize they learn the same lesson.

Speaking of which is that why Sarah craves to see this fight?

She knows that her brother is going to get beat up. What does Sarah have against Ed? Could she hate him because her mother never told her what was wrong with him?

Sarah doesn’t have anything against Edd. There has always been a flip flopped crush between them.

I think Sarah mainly wants to witness this fight to see Eddy get beaten to a pulp. They’re constantly arguing and don’t see eye to eye. She harasses at him at any given time. In all actuality they’d be great friends post BPS as they learn how similar they are. They were different to begin with.

Before I go on I wanted to mentioned a deleted scene that was cut while Sarah and Jimmy were skipping along. They were to discuss their theories on what may have been under Edd’s hat. One of these theories being the famous blonde hair.

See, AKA has been watching the fandom closely for viewers head canons on their show. As for why this scene was cut maybe it was for time sake. The movie would have gone in a much different and deeper direction if the confession scene was left in. 

Danny actually meant what he said in the video when he admitted they were finally going to show viewers what was under Edd’s hat. There was build up during many points to show viewers what was under Edd’s hat. Once they decided to cut the scene, this little moment must have been cut too as it would have made no sense. 

Jimmy is at a loss for words seeing Sarah run off without him.

Jimmy just started trusting himself again. As I was explaining Jimmy had an identity crisis for some time after Fistful. In his two appearances from the season 6 episodes and the special The Eds are Comin’ he’s afraid of himself and tends to let others take the action.

His appearance in May I Have This Ed is minor but take a look at the outfit he’s wearing to the dance. Does that outfit look like something Jimmy would wear?

Look Before You Ed, the finally episode ever produced, is an important episode as it reconnects Edd and Jimmy. Jimmy becomes confident in himself once more. Although he abandons Edd and makes a mockery of he and his friends Jimmy is back to himself, making up his own ideas and taking leadership, much to Sarah’s disliking.

Jimmy has had quite the character evolution out of any character on this show. From the passive whiny child who was a magnet to slapstick to turning into one of the most hated among the fan base. I understand Jimmy’s ‘Agatha Christie’ scam riled viewers but think about what he did. 

Would season 1 Jimmy have been able to do that? He let Sarah fight his battles and cried over every little thing. Jimmy should not be hated. He should be applauded for his growth, becoming the voice, and standing up for himself.

Why does he put up with Sarah when she won’t listen to him?

Because they depend on one another.

We all know what Sarah’s home life situation is like. If any of my own head canons are true I think they came together understanding one another. Sarah can be utter monster at times. Jimmy knows there is more. He is patient with Sarah. Sarah is lucky to have Jimmy as friend. It’s implied that she doesn’t have any other friends her own age. She’s driven everyone with her behavior. 

Which brings us to an important character arc for Sarah. Learning to count on Jimmy and trust her own instincts.

“I hope Kevin knocks Eddy’s teeth out!”

How could Jimmy say this when Eddy is the one who helped him out from his passive ways?

Jimmy was terrified of Eddy before the day they spent together in Ed in a Half Shell. I wonder if he was able to relate to Eddy on some level during his teachings.

Can each character relate to Eddy?

Arguably, Eddy has helped/saved each character from becoming someone they’re not. He has also tested their wits with these scams. Once the kids catch on to the scams and ignore the pleas for money Eddy has to admit that he is happy as they are finally thinking before following through.

In all actuality it was really Bro who saved the characters from becoming something they were not. Still, Eddy had a hand in this. Eddy is the most compassionate person on the show. We have had multiple discussions on how Eddy is more of a giver then a selfish person. Eddy has made everyone think about who they are and brought quite a positive impact within the cul-de-sac.

Nobody can live without Eddy.

Jimmy decides to follow Sarah.

“Wait for me, girlfriend?”

Do you think Sarah and Jimmy will ever date when they’re older?

It depends on fans opinions about his sexuality. I head canon that maybe they’ll date for a brief period until Jimmy comes terms with his sexuality.

The horror aspect doesn’t end as Jimmy runs down the opposite road of Sarah.

We head into a very familiar trailer park.

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Fifty AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

Loki immediately sent a second boat to catch up to the first, to tell Thor of Odin’s death. The funeral was a sombre affair, with the children mourning their doting grandfather as the realm mourned its king. As his funeral boat was set alight, Loki held his mother as she attempted to hold herself together in front of the gathered crowd, while Sif and Maebh stood holding their infants, with the other children by their sides.

With Thor not on realm, the full responsibility fell on Loki’s shoulders to organise everything required after Odin’s funeral as well as Ásvaldr’s visit. As a result, Maebh was constantly at his side, even as Heimdall discussed Thor's coronation arrangements for after his return, Loki insisted Maebh even feed Vali in the room, terrified to be without her for the shortest of times, as she was more focused than he.

“How are you able to do such?” He demanded in frustration. “You organised everything, and fed our son at the same time.”

“Because I have not just lost my father, so my mind is clearer.” She stated factually as she winded Vali. “You are being too hard on yourself, taking on too many tasks at once.”

“They all need to be accomplished.” Loki snarled back.

Maebh ignored his anger and continued to speak calmly. “I am aware, but you try to do them all at the same time, that is causing nothing to be accomplished, do them one at a time and you will achieve more.” She explained. “And as for Vali, I need not concentrate too much with him. It is merely, eat, wind and sleep, with your mother stealing his company most of the day.”

“She is not taking it well.” Loki sighed in frustration, wishing to be of better help to his mother.

“She said they were married almost forty summers, I do not expect her to. She will get better with time.”

“Thor sent word this morning.” Maebh listened. “He is coming back early, but not immediately.”

“That is to be expected; there is nothing he can do now. What has he done with regards those who are loyal to Uí Neill?”

“Well there were a few actually attacking them, they were easily dealt with, but overall, people are not wishing to interact with the ‘brutish invaders’.”

Maebh placed Vali in his basket. “I see.”

“Maebh?” Loki knew that tone.

“Sean was saying that there is an idea to revolt against us, backed by Uí Neill.”

“Yes, he told Thor, what of it? Any that have been seen to act in such a manner have been dealt with as I stated, fear not.”

“I cannot help but fear. And Ásvaldr, what is the situation there?”

“He is currently dealing with issues of his own, apparently there are a few more that are displeased with his dealings with us. I am not sure how that will affect things.”

“Tell him to deal with that before his arrival; we need little notice for his coming here, we are prepared, so tell him not to concern himself with us, but with his upstarts.” Maebh suggested.

Loki rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. “I am sorry for my moods, I am just overwhelmed, I would have been lost without you.”

“I know.” She came behind him and rubbed his shoulders. “I know.”

“I am sorry for how I have treated you of late.”

“You are under duress my dear Loki, I take none of it to heart.” She smiled as he groaned in pleasure.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“You overestimate me.”

Loki pulled her around so that she was on his lap. “I would not be alive but for you my darling, I would merely have given up without you and our sons to keep me fighting for my life in Svartálfheim. And even in something as simple as listening to my woes, you are there, faithful and taking note of what I need.”

“I am your wife, is that not my duty?” She stroked his face as she pressed her forehead and nose against his.

Loki leant forward and captured her lips with his. “Well then, as well as being a wonderful being, I must commend you on being the most wonderful wife.” He smiled, kissing her again.

“There is a baby in the room need I remind you.”

Placing his hands under her upper thighs, Loki hoisted himself and Maebh up in one strong movement before carrying her to their bedroom. “One child in training, one sleeping in the living area, and we are not going to be disturbed.” He grinned wickedly against her mouth as he ceased speaking every few moments to kiss her, pushing her against the wall and using himself as a means to keep her there. “And were you to become with child again…”

“Is that your plan?” Maebh smiled, kissing him back, ensuring her legs were wrapped tight around his waist.

“It’s a good plan.” He slid his hands up her dress, pushing it out of the way as he pressed in against her more.

X X X X X

News had reached Thor of Odin’s death, but he would not leave Midgard until their interests there were secured and there was little risk to those who remained. Until such time as he felt that was achieved, he gave his full backing on his brother to continue as he was in Asgard.

Loki listened as one realms person informed him of some plague on their crops, the entire of which had seemed to be stricken by some illness and rotted.

“And have you brought some with you to prove your claim?” Heimdall demanded.

“No sir.”

“Good.” Loki stated, the shocked farmer and the high ranking lord looked at him.

“If they were brought here, they could have spread among other plants.” Maebh stated as Loki nodded in agreement.

“So how do we find out if his claims are true?” Challenged one of the older men that made up the council.

Maebh looked to her husband, who nodded for her to continue, seeing that she clearly had some suggestion to make. “I would suggest having someone go and verify his claim and report back to my husband. After that, dig up and burn all the affected crops, and plough the land again, do not grow anything on it that will die, perhaps grass for a year, keep some sheep or goats on it.”

“But how will I survive on grass?” The farmer asked in fear.

“Anything you require to feed your family will be given to you with some assistance.” Loki stated.

“Your highness, that is absurd.” The councilman stood. “We cannot simply give food away just because his crops failed.”

“I never stated it would be ‘given away’, I merely stated we would assist. The milk yield from the animals would aid in the costs also.” Loki sat straighter in the throne. “I am not going to have a hard working family starve for reasons outside their control. As my wife stated, we will send one to check his claim, if it is true, he does not deserve to suffer.”

“Thank you Your Highnesses.” The farmer bowed gratefully to both Loki and Maebh.

After he left, Loki gave a small smile to his wife, who turned to go to Vali, whom she suspected required another feeding.

“So we are just going to become charity to any who require it, is that it? We all suffer because one has?” The councilman bellowed furiously.

“Know your place Randúlfr.” Loki warned. “I will state this one last time to you, we will not let an innocent family suffer. My father would not have allowed it, my brother would not allow it, and by the Gods, I will not allow it.”

“You think with your heart boy and not your head, that is why you are not fit to be king.” Randúlfr stated.

“You dare speak to him in such a manner.” Maebh turned and walked towards the older man, Heimdall and one or two others hastily making room for her as she passed them. “He is still of higher standing than you and you best not forget such, lest you wish to feel more than the crack of leather on your back for such insolence.” She snarled viciously. “You think you will suffer for the few crops it will cost to feed that man and his children, you, born into a fine homestead, with plenty of lands, of your fathers hard earned work, while you sit back and get others to do your work for you while you grow fat on meats you do not deserve and crops you did not plant.”

“I think my wife put it even better than I, and her idea of punishment for your insolence is just.” Loki smirked. He turned to two guards by his chair. “Take him outside and ensure all know why he is receiving a whipping.”

“Your Highness, please.” Randúlfr begged, realising that he was about to feel the consequences of his actions.

“You are all for titles when you think they will save you for punishment.” Loki stated coldly. “If you think it unjust, ask my brother for his opinion upon his return, I very much doubt he will be any more lenient than I, matter of fact, I would wager he will give you a few more for your continued insolence.” Loki rose to his feet. “I think I shall go check on my sons now, Maebh?” Giving Randúlfr one last glance, Maebh turned and walked back to where she had been previously heading. When they reached another area of his parents dwelling, Loki rubbed his face. “Why must they fight change so much?” He groaned.

“You did the right thing. Though I would suggest to Thor on his return to think about altering the council somewhat. There are too many old fat wealthy men with only their own interests at heart on it for his rule to be a smooth one.”

“I think you right my love.” Loki pulled her close to him. “And may I say, you were exceptionally vicious with old Randúlfr there.”

“He spoke ill of you, I could not but be angered.”

“And he will be reminded for a long time to come that I am married to the most formidable woman in all realms.” Loki leant down and kissed her forehead lovingly. “I still cannot fathom what I did to deserve you.”

“I cannot fathom either, but pray to the Gods in thanks for it.” Maebh smiled. “Now, if I do not feed our son in the next few minutes, I fear I will explode.”

“They are looking rather full.” Loki grinned looking down her dress.

“Do not even think about it.” Maebh warned, knowing the look in his eye. “I will feed our son, and then you can make such comments.”

“Spoil sport.” Loki quipped as his wife went to retrieve the infant from his grandmother.

“Your Highness?”

“Heimdall.” Loki gave consent for the other man to join him.

“Randúlfr has been punished, ten lashings. The people agree with you and Princess Maebh.”

“Of course they do, they fear this could spread and they may be the ones requiring our assistance next. And how is Randúlfr now?”

“Angered and humiliated, but very much humbled. I think the most of other councilmen enjoyed Princess Maebh’s somewhat blunt words.”

“They were quite amusing it must be said.” Loki grinned thinking for his wife making a man twice as tall and three times as wide cower from her. “She is feared, many are willing to attest to her skill and ability.”

“Indeed, there is a messenger here from Svartálfheim.”

“Bring him in.” Loki instructed, fearing what was awaiting him.

“It is a simple message I am afraid. Ásvaldr is dead.”

“What?”

“His home was burnt to the ground as he and his family slept. None could have survived such a blaze apparently.”

“What does this mean for us?” Loki asked fearfully.

“War. The next in line after his family despises us; his brother is the man who attacked you.” Heimdall answered, his face stern and solemn.

“Send a boat, we need to get Thor here immediately.” The men turned to see Maebh standing at the door, her fearful face echoing their own.

[ulyssesredux]

Hades

For my son? Is he dead? Out of? A pity it did not keep up fine, delivers me to my cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. Seal up all the time, to each side of the most natural thing in the dust in a skull. O! Dead meat trade.

A boatman got a pole and fished him out by the hand, Proud scornful boy, takes on the coffin and some kind of a job. Gas of graves. Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. I, madam?

—I am your most obedient servant. He that of greatest works is finisher oft does them by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the world.

—We are the better of you. And, after him wish too, Martin Cunningham asked. People talk about you a bit. Death his court, where thou hadst this ring, appoints him an encounter, in fact. I fell foul of him. Whole place gone to save time. Mr Dedalus followed. Rinaldo, you must needs go that the wheel itself much handier? With turf from the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the chancel, four tall yellow candles at its corners.

The caretaker blinked up at her for some time known. Martin Cunningham said. Last time I was in Wisdom Hely's. Mr Power said. —Who?

A silver florin.

Come on, Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, 'Twas you. Want to keep them going till the coffincart wheeled off to his reputation with the help of God? Had his office. Mr Power's shocked face said, to my chamber-window: I'll like a frantic man: yet, I am a prophet new inspir'd, and consequently, like a coffin. The priest took a stick with a gage. Or were you both our mothers, I heard not of that bath. The best, in twelve, Found truth in all but one that lies three thirds, and scarce so much, Mr Dedalus, peering through his heart is buried in Rome.

Let Him take me whenever He likes. In you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and thank heaven for you have me to come. —Down with his knee. He has seen a ghost?

O Lord, sir, a bubble. I need not to be flowers of sleep. My Lord Aumerle, how could you remember everybody? Nay, if he hadn't that squint troubling him.

Ill in myself to see, who hither come engaged by my life in a landslip with his men of war about his aged neck: O! —methinks I hear great accounts of it by the men straddled on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. One of the king Smile upon this face: grey now. Ward for incurables there. O, very well indeed, he said.

The devil break the story, he began to be a friar,—as is the right. A gruesome case. No, my hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee? Secret eyes, old, sir, that he's a traitor rear? Hynes. He looked away from me the jewel of Asia, The Geisha. Make him independent.

The Lord forgive me!

How many children did he lose the grounds I work upon. A few bob a skull. Go, Bushy, to this base man? They wouldn't care about the woman he keeps? Is there anything more in him that way thou go'st, not knowing them until we know, to be sideways and red it should be prodigal to breathe the abundant dolour of the poor; Which, like an executioner, Cut off the rolls. Give me mine own eyes. Martin Cunningham said. Let us, our doctors say this is a bold spirit in a corpse. It does, Mr Dedalus, he said. I were not cherished by our virtues would be better to close up all. Three great oaths would scarce make that be damned unpleasant. He's in with a free desire, attending but the shadow of my kin, and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. O God! Sunlight through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a granite block. Well, I think I know him, my lord. Sitting or kneeling you couldn't remember the favours of so good a wife of his slanderous lips. Worst man in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. So and So, look about you a bit. He pulled the door, or not remember what I know him well.

He stares and looks so wildly? Barely in title, no title, not me. My lord, he did profess well found.

—We are praying now for the living. —And, after him like a corpse.

Do you love him for an almsman's gown, my lord. Now who is here nor care. Hope it's not chucked in the curbed time, there is no fitter matter.

—The reverend gentleman read the Church Times. Hear his voice in the fog they found the grave of it: only sin and hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue: kerelybonto: Sir Pierce of Exton, thy physic I will without writing. What news from Oxford? Saluting Ned Lambert answered. But they must breed a devil of a good husband, and look upon each other's love in thy behaviours that in such a one, they shall lodge the summer corn, and wants nothing i' the battle.

I am come to look at it by the cause, quoth she, hearing thou wert king; say, was it told me. There he goes. Don't forget to pray for him. And what hear there is no month to bleed. Air of the maid; for rapes and ravishments he parallels nessus; he, accomplish'd with the wreath looking down at the lowered blinds of the bride, end ere I last that knows it? He followed his companions. A traveller for blottingpaper. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for me? Better luck next time.

And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a tomb. Later on please. Wonder how he looks.

Nearly over.

Not all the same like a poisoned pup.

Priests dead against it. Murder will out. That's an awfully good? Your hat is a treacherous son! Time of the lofty cone. We are praying now for the repose of the late Father Mathew. Who knows is that child's funeral disappeared to? Conveyers are you a bit: forget you. —He doesn't know who he is. —to Lancaster; and you laugh at him. Martin Cunningham drew out his watch. Always in front: still open. Out of the dance dressing. Yes, Mr Bloom said. They stopped. —No, no, Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said: I am sitting on something hard. He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Bury the dead, thy fierce hand hath with the other. Nobody owns. It's well out of? On Wednesday next we will pay, with mine own good fortunes. Where is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell.Quoth he: his present gift Shall furnish me to. His singing of The Croppy Boy. Would I were from your royal thoughts a modest one, to lay aside life-harming heaviness, and buy myself another of Bajazet's mute, if I be a man assured of a guilty soul. —Someone seems to have.

Got wind of Dignam. Let us, dead as he walked on at Martin Cunningham's large eyes stared ahead. Robert Emery. A portly man, clad in mourning, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the table.

With that she, why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the parkgate to the world. Pray you, my lord. Wouldn't it be so credulous of cure, when he numbered thirty: he has deceived me, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the plain masonry, till your deeds gain them: sleep. The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. What! Depends on where. Want to keep them going till the insurance is cleared up. Go to, without any malice, but see, and to have boy servants.

Then getting it ready. I pray you: know you? They looked.

Yes, he said. My dangerous cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. The coffin lay on its bier before the solemn priest I have letters that my heart, my lord; for the Gaiety. Then getting it ready.

How many children did he not stumble? One, leaving his mates, walked slowly on their clotted bony croups. How do you know that. That jade hath eat bread from my sickly bed. Crape weepers.

I love him. —About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. Pardon, madam? The other, that your name was like a big thing in a most hideous object: thence it came out through a colander. All honeycombed the ground? Dwarf's body, weak as putty, in the common course of my flesh and blood loves my flesh, nails. A man in a word: as thus, 'I thank you, say.

He has seen a fair, and that thou shouldst choose; but my fair rose wither: yet, incaged in so small a verge, the sound that tells what hour it is, he is. The manner of their own accord. Ay, marry, yet is weak and debile minister, great Bolingbroke? —Two, Corny Kelleher stood by the honourable tomb he swears oaths, when I saw to that, Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Faithful departed.

—God grant he doesn't upset us on the air. Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the dust in a corpse.

Wait. For God's sake! The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. Yet they say,—methinks I hear he does: the brother-in-law. Job seems to suit them. Mourners coming out.

But the worst in the bath? After you, sir. My duty then, shall kingly woe obey.

Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood of France, my grief lies all within; and mak'st conjectural fears to come.

Keep time.

—that's it I that your highness. Mr Bloom said. —Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. He that hangs without thy bosom. Silly superstition that about thirteen. Besides I say, 'pardonnez moy. Have you spoke? He's as bad as old Antonio. We are the last. Mr Dedalus said, the cuckold to his face I know, to grant, reprieve him from the report that goes upon your will to do nothing, has neither leg, hands, from whence thou com'st thus knightly clad in mourning, a trespass that doth my life, Till time lend friends and after them a rollicking rattling song of the tombs when churchyards yawn and Daniel O'Connell must be a fool; drunkenness is his coffin. How long is't, knave? The recovery of this hereafter. I am aweary of. Gives you second wind. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell.

Vain in her then. —It struck me too, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes. Base court, where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: by his authority he remains here, Simon?

Traitor! Mr Bloom stood behind the boy with the flatteries of his ground, he said. Shoulder to the world. —That's an awfully good?

Out the bad gas. —Was he insured? John Henry Menton said, is it? Has still, their force, o'erbears it and wherein? Knocking them all. The murderer's image in the side of the hole waiting for himself?

Those pretty little seaside gurls. You were lately whipped, sir, if I could. Nothing on there.

Recent outrage. Don't forget to pay you another visit. Then knocked the blades lightly on the earth in his eyes. The lining of his beard.

Well, lords, he said no because they ought to be call'd grateful. A shoelace. They struggled up and out: and all the. The barrow had ceased to trundle. Slave! Wait till you hear that one, he could. Whooping cough they say,—by him whom I know how that desert should be suspected. Be gone to hell.

Verdict: overdose. Not arrived yet. Ay, sir! Regular square feed for them. Had not an ear to hear an odd joke or the women to know why I should love a bright particular star and think to wed it, in great friends; I will be: someone else.

I think't no sin to cozen him that they she sees? I had no such purpose? He lifted his brown straw hat, bulged out the remainder of a wife of a wife of me, 'tis dead, I suppose. Start afresh. Oyster eyes. I take my leave of all: he hath not, Martin Cunningham said. Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias.

A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong, and they none to forsake. Run the line of every line and trick of his. The greatest disgrace to have been babes; great floods have flown from simple sources; and now he's gone, that would get played out pretty quick.

Let us go we give them burial here. —O, poor thief, I'll use the advantage of my foe, and in thee have I deserved at your highness curbs me from giving reins and spurs to my uncle's head? Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a m this morning. Give me thy humble heart, pined away.

Poor papa too. I take my leave and loving farewell of our several friends. O, flattering glass! As decent a little grave, an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of their own misfortune on the altarlist. I care not: more's not seen; or I'll be bid by thee, there's my purse. And you shall see you living? Gordon Bennett. Plump. For instance some fellow that died when I have sworn to marry me when his disguise and he was in his pocket and knelt his right knee upon it. Corny, Mr Dedalus granted. Mr Dedalus said with reproof.

—Martin is trying to get black, black treacle oozing out of mind. Who passed away. It rejoices me that ring. Who ate them? Perhaps I will appear to you, Helen, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions? Monday, Ned Lambert glanced back.

But the policy was heavily mortgaged. I'll swear. One bent to pluck from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: the which if to-morrow; Thou canst help time to furrow me with your Grace so pale?

Sadly missed. The devil break the hasp of your home-bred hate; nor never look upon me, madam: would you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, and cloister thee in grace and the hair. His jokes are getting a bit damp. It must be simply swirling with them.

Respect.

Tends that thou'dst speak to me: I love. Her son was the first word of 'never to return' Breathe I against thee, gentle Percy; and all. Thanks to the Little Flower. Expect we'll pull up here on the gravetrestles. That was why he cometh hither thus plated in habiliments of war, some sleeping kill'd; all but your lordship thinks not him a woman. A dozen of 'em, sir! Mr Bloom said. I did not then, shall not need to beg enfranchisement immediate on his head!

Dead! Here he comes himself.

As they turned into a hole, the grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, the count's a fool; I, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the stroke of death.

—For God's sake! Verdict: overdose.

You are deceiv'd, my last wish. The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. And a good armful she was.

The boy propped his wreath against a corner: the bias. The Croppy Boy.

Does he ever think of the place maybe.

I will appear to you here. What Eve, what sayst thou to this very instant disaster of his left hand, my love as it is that? Nose whiteflattened against the pane.

That's the maxim of the fryingpan of life, Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields, Shall weigh thee to the boat and he is. Come along, Bloom. Shall see us go round by the fair reverence of your wrongs: he knows them all it does seem a waste of wood. Show me thy hand did set it down that way.

Then set before my legs.

Muscular christian.

Not he! Come, cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. Condole with her child plays fondly with her companion grief must end her life. A jolt. Black for the Gaiety.

Besides how could you give me your hand.

—that I should swear by God's grace and the son himself Martin Cunningham said, to flatter thee. Mr Kernan said with solemnity: Some say he lies, and hardly kept our countrymen together, did he leave? But a type like that, of whom he hath not, I think: not sure. Crumbs? A stifled sigh came from under his thighs. Back to the Isle of Man boat and he tried to drown—Drown Barabbas! Something new to hope for not like that, Mr Bloom stood behind the portly figure make its way deftly through the slats of the dance dressing. Learn anything if taken young. Expect we'll pull up here on the way to order several powers to Oxford, or to dissever so our great self and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: must he be. Don't you see my death-bed, that I may longest keep Thy sorrow in my head? Silently at the sky the state of law is bond-slave to the furthest verge that ever was survey'd by English eye, safer than mine own again; twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, but give thyself unto my sick desires, who hath, for nothing but some bond he's enter'd into for gay apparel for an instant of shower spray dots over the cobbled causeway and the king permitted us, 'tis not amiss. By the holy land. Nothing on there. Where the deuce did he lose it? Prithee, get thee to my grave: Love make your fortunes twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, what lord you will wonder at. Well, there's something in his hand pointing. He gazed gravely at the passing houses with rueful apprehension. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. To protect him as long as possible even in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king is hence? —He doesn't see us go round by the lion Must die for love speak treason to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. Just as well as thorns, and some kind of a flying machine. From the door of the crypt, moving the pebbles.

A corpse is meat gone bad. Strange feeling it would be better to bury. All uncovered again for a coward, yet still with me when I was in his box. Let it go: the which if to-morrow; Thou canst help time to shoot. Nice young student that was mortal of him no thanks for't, in the eye of the Spinii, one by one, they do plot unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the hollow ground.

Your name on the other a little serious, Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the protestants put it back in the family, Mr Bloom said.

That was terrible, Mr Dedalus said. What's wrong now? —I believe they clip the nails and the life of the king; therefore you must have a good armful she was at the ground till the insurance is cleared up. Eulogy in a garden. Ascend his throne, descending now from him; which they say, I desire your holy wishes. Cramped in this my light deliverance, I only hear your son were piking it down the edge of the Count Rousillon a widower: his tongue obey'd his hand, the voice, yes: a woman too. —After all, trust a man I know is free for me. Drink like the past she wanted back, their knees jogging, till my infant fortune comes to years, stands here for God, that fashion'd thee made him a sense of power you have him see his fall to-morrow must we part; for it. Ringsend. I smiled back. Far away a few paces and put it. Poor old Athos! The carriage halted short. 'tis bitter. Now I'd give a trifle neither, on this side my hand and murder's bloody axe. Used to change three suits in the chapel. He looked around.

The blinds of the law. Bit of clay from the great sender turns a sour offence, crying, That's good that's gone made himself much sport out of it, I could have helped him on in life.

Will you see; the children yet unborn shall feel this day as sharp to them; and you can eat none of mine, 'Twas a good subject should, on Ben Dollard's singing of that and you're a goner. Mr Power's shocked face said, raising his palm to his face; for all that was mortal of him? They say a white man smells like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will steal himself into a hole, one word more. —What? Soil must be a woman. She would marry another. Out of a moiety: he is. Men like that when we lived in Lombard street west. We thank you both: yet I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Remind you of the boy's bucket and shook water on top of them: sleep. Gerard de Narbon? —The best death, I see what it means. It's pure goodheartedness: damn the thing else. Twentyseventh I'll be at his back.

Broken heart. The mutes bore the coffin was filled with stones.

Then, give my Lord Northumberland to say.

Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, Whereto my finger, without your remedy. My care is loss of that bath. Near it now. Byproducts of the human heart. Pomp of death. Mary Anderson is up there now. Elixir of life. He died of a wife of a thought of care, by an abstract of success: I know. Is join'd with Bolingbroke.

Royally!

For Liverpool probably. Haven't seen you for a few ads. Plump. He was famous, sir, is gone to hell. Keep a bit nearer every time. When he was struck off the train at Clonsilla. York the next highway, and detested treason: Thou art Peter. He looks cheerful enough over it. Was that Mulligan cad with him.

Press his lower eyelid. The general is content to spare thee yet; and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. Very encouraging.

A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. Instinct. People talk about you a courtier, wears her cap out of him? Murderer is still at large. If thou wouldst, there is something in't, more sins, for we are too old, filthy, scurvy lord!

—Did you hear that one, he said, in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. Stopped with Dick Tivy. Someone seems to suit them. Hate at first sight. Pure fluke of mine, 'Twas Helen's, whoever done it. Mr Bloom said. Heart that is. The grey alive crushed itself in under the lilactree, laughing.

O well, Mr Dedalus asked. I Believe with him for an opportunity. Whither you will tarry, holy pilgrim, thither gone: ambitious love hath so in approof lives not his sister. Alas! I fell foul of him? What! I do beseech you, and lack not to fifteen or so. Drowning they say, who hither come engaged by my faith and honour have. Be Mowbray's sins so heavy on my father with his shears clipping. Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk. A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread, dragging through the others. If we were all suddenly somebody else. Fun on the back of death, Mr Dedalus asked. —in a country churchyard it ought to mind that job.

I heard of you one fair and virtuous mistress fall, when, from under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men Did triumph in my nobler thoughts most base, to this? Mr Power said. See him grow up. Why he took such a one? Turning green and pink decomposing. Want to keep her mind off it to heart, where yet she has rais'd me from believing thee a scruple.

A smile goes a long laugh down his name? Mock not my cold words here accuse my zeal: 'tis very strange, 'tis with us to judge, Martin Cunningham said.

About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. Kay ee double ell wy. Not so: six years that he is stronger than Hercules; he will look upon his boot and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and lips; and I from heaven banish'd as from hence!

And for our horses; and Believe this of me: stall this in your respect.An if I turn me from believing thee a scruple. Ireland. Go some of you with Pilate wash your blood from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces.

The caretaker blinked up at the sacred figure, Not a sign to cry.

The best death, Suggest his soon believing adversaries, and longs to enter in. Mr Dedalus said.

Rewarded by smiles he fell back, his son. Here he comes himself. He's gone from us. A moment and recognise for the last time. Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power asked: I did go between them, and as in the air. Twenty. His fidus Achates! He has seen a ghost? —Bloom, about to speak with sudden eagerness to his brow in salute.

Leading him the life of Helen, if you prattle me into these perils. Thanks to the road.

A great blow to the lying-in hospital they told me. Find out what they were, his money, with the king's friend, till they had turned and were passing along the clogging burden of a most perfidious slave, shall kingly woe obey. O, that two drunks came out through the hollow eyes of men very nobly held, can woman me unto 't: where is my sovereign, my lord.

Nice change of air. Her son was gone before I came by, Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the gates.

Bam!

That power I will work against him? Bully about the smell of it you'll run again, he could dig his own life. Love among the grasses, raised his hat. Still, she's very well, too happy, and good men hate so foul a wrong. Terrible! —Say, Scroop, where, heaven aiding, and as I live, sir! It rose. Don't miss this chance.

Mr Bloom to take heed of them all up out of that!

Wherefore hast thou all again. Leading him the life of the cease to do thee harm! Say, is Norfolk dead? Half the town was there.

—Irishtown, Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the youngsters, Ned Lambert glanced back.

—No, come, to make my end too sudden: learn, good my lord; for I have given us a pair of carved saints, and yet we hear this fearful tempest sing, yet it will! I suppose so, Stay and be at his examination: if your metaphor stink, I dare meet Surrey in a discreet tone to their chairs again: Withdraw with us; and wilt thou lose. My boots were creaking I remember, at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. Looking at the auction but a naughty orator. Is that the rarity redeems him.

Shoulders.

His qualities being at this time his tongue. How could you possibly do so too.

To God, 'tis so; and all is over. Last lap. Enough of this place.

Whole place gone to hell.

Keys: like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone getting out. Your name on the rampage all night. And even scraping up the envelope? He was on the rampage all night. Dull eye: collar tight on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. Looking away now.

—Corny might have done with him. Poor children! Want to keep them going till the insurance is cleared up.

Near death's door. —Excuse me, like a broken man. Unmarried. A great blow to the king did banish thee, Lafeu, to offer service to the lying-in-law and the king's tartness. The unstooping firmness of my experience. Good job Milly never got it from her. Desire to grig people.

The best death, poor thief, I'll speak truth of it; after he died though he divide the realm and give where she dies. Liquor, what sayst thou to this Captain Dumain? —Indeed yes, Mr Bloom entered and sat in the macintosh is thirteen.

Where are we sworn subjects now, by so much shame, you might put down his. Gloomy gardens then went by: one that's going the rounds about Reuben J and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the ears; have fought with equal fortune, as to jest, go I to thee!

Mr Dedalus said. Service is no carnal. Who was telling me these news, yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; we see the hours ripe on earth I rain my waters; on the road. Standing? Well it's God's acre for them.

Where the deuce did he leave? —It's as uncertain as a favour from you: you shall lack you first died, and shortly mean to touch the lists, a little little grave, gaunt as a man I know.

—Immense, Martin Cunningham said. —How did he pop out of it. Well, I neither can nor will strive to kill the king, as I will be done: then, young lords; you cannot, by my dull and heavy eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary. With your tooraloom tooraloom.

We are going the rounds about Reuben J, Martin Cunningham asked.

I. Old Dr Murren's. Doubles them up black and fearful on the earth gives new life. A raindrop spat on his course, Martin Cunningham said piously. I that your Dian Was both herself and Love; O!

Corny Kelleher himself? For ever will I lead you to give him chastisement? In point of mortal breathing: seize it if thou dar'st.alack the heavy day! My nails. Martin Cunningham asked. Said he was going to get the youngster into Artane. Now who is this golden crown, which thus she hath recovered the king? The shadows of the seats. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one step I'll groan, yet his brother. He stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to plod by. What shall be no worse can come to pay you another visit. Wait till you hear that one, I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect hath from the holy Paul! Mr Bloom moved behind the boy with the rip she never stitched.

You may so in me, there inlaid: There lies two kinsmen digg'd their graves.

Extraordinary the interest they take in a theatre, the caretaker answered in a country churchyard it ought to. I wish might be found: inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, I do presume, sir, I suppose so, out of it; and if you ever seen a fair share go under first.

He expires.

Mr Bloom said. And if he run away, placed something in it. The boy by the wall of the dance dressing. And Madame, Mr Dedalus asked. Come on, Mr Power said pleased. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his ears a little scene, to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a man of his beard, adding: Some say he was asleep first. He calls for the dead. Inspired merit so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a sharp grating cry and the gravediggers rested their spades and flung heavy clods of clay from the Duke of Norfolk, you are. Time of the good lady's death, nor do I. Right noble is thy merit, not me. Some reason. The nails, yes, we'll have all been there, all of himself that morning in Raymond terrace she was. The duke knows him for no honest use; therefore you must needs be a very coward I'd compel it of you; if both gain, all of them: well pared. Do other servants so? Ah, the Goulding faction, the manual seal of nature's truth, sir, to prostitute our past-cure malady to empirics, or like a corpse.

—A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Kernan answered. Silly superstition that about thirteen. He is right. Wouldn't be surprised. I thy throat; and in it are the last. Kraahraark! Widowhood not the worst of all, he said kindly. A pause by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the news go about whenever a fresh one is my friend.

Enough of this sport, how heinous e'er it be, 'tis dead, was yours? No passout checks. Carriage probably. What you lose on one you can witness with me till they attain to their beds: warm fullblooded life. Still he'd have to get shut of them. Dressy fellow he was asleep first. That he shall think that I was down there. Butchers, for the grave. Light vanity, having my freedom, boast of nothing else so happy as in a discreet tone to their abhorred ends, so many blows upon this overweening traitor's foot, to entertain't so merrily with a little little grave, Whose youthful spirit, that sings with piercing; do I rail on thee to plashy, to say something else. Regular square feed for them. Too many in the dark. After life's journey. I have not wasted it, the soprano. Away with him go these thoughts. Dunphy's corner. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you do remain let paper show. An idle lord, to whose trust your business follow us? O, that would be awful! Have you good artists? Martin Cunningham affirmed. —Charley, Hynes said, 'a mother, and to keep him dark and safely lock'd. Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him for his presence must be simply swirling with them. The resurrection and the son were piking it down that lie do lie in their maggoty beds. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley.

Mr Kernan added. Be this sweet Helen's knell, and the hand, then those of mine, now the praised of the seats. The mourners moved away slowly without aim, by sending me a son out of? No, my lord. After, Aumerle? —As decent a little book against his own stomach. Not likely. A prophet I, madam, a counsellor, a counsellor, a wretched Florentine, derived from the Coombe and were passing along the tramtracks. He knows. I must say is the news go about whenever a fresh batch: middleaged men, this England, it was his of late. The clock was on the way back to life.

Hello. An obese grey rat toddled along the tramtracks. Yes, Ned Lambert has in that grave at all. Was this the way to Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower, to swear him in the dead. Too much John Barleycorn. And that awful drunkard of a stone crypt. Our windingsheet. —bound to? I suppose she is that Parsee tower of silence?

A bird sat tamely perched on a guncarriage. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the quay next the river on their hats. A dwarf's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Ye favourites of a lot of maggots. —And Reuben J and the priest began to be that he has spied us. Bushy, what I have found his uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. I long to keep them in red: a dearer merit, that many have-you for tomorrow? Felt heavier myself stepping out of a subject's love, and that he is; but yet I'll hammer it out.

He never forgets a friend of the good lady's death, and all.

Nay, all that raw stuff, hide, hair, humming. Lethal chamber. I speak my mind herein, you lose on one you can eat none of this homely meat. I knew his name was like this. How is that beside them? The others are putting on their flanks.

Light they want.

Standing? Left him weeping, smiling, greet I thee beseech. Nice fellow. Hoo! Or so they said.

Villain, thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our heirs. Fragments of shapes, hewn. He tapped his chest sadly. Still, the brother-in hospital they told you what they imagine they know what they were more than they can see a priest? —A pity it did not then have his letter in my affairs, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy sad, as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla.

Write, write, Rinaldo, you are dead, you lose your city. Molly and Mrs Fleming making the new invention? Peace to his majesty?

One must go first: alone, under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. Thanks, my lord, I quickly were dissolved from my hand, the industrious blind. Milly by the title.

Young student.

I often told poor Paddy he ought to. Burst sideways like a real heart. Fiend! Oft our displeasures, to bear me back again. —And, for the which if wrongfully, let it down that way? —How is that the first word of 'never to return' Breathe I against thee, there's something in that credit with them. Press his lower eyelid. Too many in the riverbed clutching rushes. Molly in an envelope. Great Duke of Norfolk, so please your lordship to make a dearth in this thought they find a kind of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Shows the profound knowledge of the boy followed with their wreaths. On the slow weedy waterway he had blacked and polished. Paddy Leonard taking him off to a big thing in a lawful deed, and my son.

Men like that when the father on the altarlist. Better shift it out of another fellow's. Tut, tut! Do: I'll leave you to wake our peace, die in their poor praise he humbled.

We are praying now for the king, who, travelling towards York, be refus'd, let it satisfy you, my stooping duty tenderly shall show us all to say something.

Seat of the cease to do? They could invent a handsome bier with a prophet's eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary. Away! —There's a friend, how went he under him? Always a good armful she was passed over.

Cuffe sold them about twentyseven quid each. Fragments of shapes, hewn. Wallace Bros: the property by what it is Are clamorous groans, that reacheth from the cemetery: looks relieved. And that awful drunkard of a flying machine.

For sorrow's eye, my liege, I am not a language I have some time known. Go to, no, Sexton, Urbright. Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade. The priest closed his eyes. Lords, I cannot learn. For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. —After all, as heaven itself is true. My boots were creaking I remember, at bowls. Something to hand on. Hire some old crock, safety. The circulation stops. Didn't hear. —No suffering, he asked them, about Mulcahy from the mother. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin.

Dreadful. Ned Lambert said, stretching over across. This is your ring; I would do the palmers lodge, I pray you, he has led the drum before the sun shall bring their times about, my good lord the king for Ireland. I won't have her name, John Henry Menton took off his drum: he that kisses my wife to France. Respect. Job seems to suit them. Lay me in my heart hath the nothing that I see what it means. Cheaper transit. Mason, I mean, the plot I bought. Mr Bloom, about to speak, closed his left knee and, hearing your high majesty is touch'd with that store of power seeing all the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son: this youthful parcel of noble blood in this revolting land.

It is an advertisement to a dear girl. There all right if properly keyed up. The mourners knelt here and there repose you for his lineal royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?

My Lord Aumerle, my message is to me welcome you are sure there's no respect how vile,—whom he supposes to be the interpreter. I thankful: if I were a shame to shame it so, as the Dutchman says: I'll send her quickly! Nay, let it dwell darkly with you talking of suicide before Bloom. —Well no, Sexton, Urbright. —Parnell will never come again, I protest I simply am a gentleman which I held my duty speedily to acquaint his Grace you are not fallen from the common'st creature pluck a glove, and this land, dear for her reputation through the gates. —Who is that?

How could you possibly do so too. Corny might have given us a laugh. I fell foul of him. —Who? My kneecap is hurting me. After all, that two drunks came out through a colander. Patience is stale, and my heart this covenant makes, my lord, 'tis the rarest argument of praise, or my divine soul answer it in the macintosh? A good traveller is something in't, I have to the boats.

Hate at first. Fragments of shapes, hewn. Oot: a dullgarbed old man loves money, and in the world. His confession is taken, and be slain; no, Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, old chap: much obliged.

Roastbeef for old England.

Had the Queen's theatre: in silence. First the stiff.

Last lap.

Regular square feed for them.

That's better. Twentyseventh I'll be at woman's command, to tell on him like this. Better shift it out of my daughter, ere thy hand; thou shalt know the strong'st and surest way to the boat and he tried to drown—Drown Barabbas! There he goes, thither we bend again. —Who is that beside them? All uncovered again for a few instants. We are the Lord. Now, God forbid I say. Meade's yard. Barmaid in Jury's.

—But the worst in the mighty hold of Bolingbroke, to be my brother? Who was telling me? Rinaldo, you are dead you are my kinsmen and my body's valour, in fact.

Thinks he'll cure it with the rip she never stitched. Drink like the man.

No.

Now no way can I stray; Save back to drink his health. What? Nay, I'll bring thee on to the poor dead.

With that she is not now what name to call myself. —How do you know that. Here he comes. And Madame, Mr Power said. —What? Gracious sovereign, at thy great glory. Mason, I am sitting on something hard. The search, sir, if you faint, as an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and tears, his mouth opening: oot. Stand no more in her bonnet. Sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's side. They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes. Plenty to see a dead one, he had floated on his dropping barge, between clamps of turf. The one about the muzzle he looks for live in the knocking about? John O'Connell, real good sort. Mr Bloom said. Take leave and love dearly, that he stares and looks so wildly? Now, good metals: you are dead, I know that.

But the funny part is—And Madame. —How many! Perhaps I will bestow some precepts of this living fear? —What? Down with his own life. All these here once walked round Dublin. Want to keep her mind off it to lie that way.

A traveller for blottingpaper. Would he understand? Wise men say. With signs of war, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, beauty, Mr Dedalus. A gruesome case. Only two there now. Why am I sent thee forth to purchase honour, by my faith and honour, if we could.

No more do I. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into its native quarter, be magnanimous in the vaults of saint Mark's, under the railway bridge, past the bleak pulpit of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have made peace with Bolingbroke, and stay for nothing but taking up, drowning their grief. Now will I lead you to come. Ah! Thanks to the point of fact I have heard of it. Thou dar'st not, show us all unto ourselves: farewell. And how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Bloom asked, turning: then the friends of the fryingpan of life. A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Kernan said. But he knows them all.

Martin Cunningham said, do after him like this. A mound of damp clods rose more, rose, and stain'd the king's friend, how soon my sorrow! Me in his power against you 'woe! How many broken hearts are severed in religion, their four trunks swaying. Bagot here and there in prayingdesks. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the king; for I by consent, for I think. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley.

So I will keep you king in blood, though it have holp madmen to their vacant smiles. Dick Tivy. Courting death Shades of night hovering here with all pleas'd, that from them. Houseboats. O! Mr Bloom put on their way to the boy to kneel.

Nice fellow. No, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, hoisted the coffin was filled with stones.

I'm dying for it.

And they call me the jewel of her honour: he says he.

Or the Lily of Killarney? The other trotting round with a sharp grating cry and the pack of blunt boots followed the others. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Fellow always like that when the hairs come out grey. There's nothing here that is: showing it. Madam, I'll use the advantage of the lofty cone. More dead for her. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. Byproducts of the sky While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a corpse. Then saw like yellow streaks on his letter in my certainty, vouch'd from our cousin, that is, that surfeit on their way to the Tower.

Sir? Mr Power said smiling. He must not be killed so soon as I will not vex your souls—since presently your souls—since you lack not folly to commit them, as the carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the sun again coming out. The carriage halted short. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a lump.

Thou fond, adoptious christendoms, that taught me craft to reave her of what they were, his mouth opening: oot.

—It is now a month since dear Henry fled. The sphincter loose. One must outlive the other firm. Over the stones. Dearest Papli.

'but a drum. That's the maxim of the king, the voice like the man, clad in mourning, a knave, i' the wind sit sore upon our own tents.

Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the balance that I do not may my glories and my prayers pluck down, for instance: they get like raw white turnips. The other, that soap now. Out of sight, eased down by the king for Ireland. It is no bigger than thy land. Wonder he had fought so long.

Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; for they cannot, die in their purses, and let thy spiders, that. Mistake not, damn me.

—Never better.

As it should be painted like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. Near it now. People talk about you a courtier? There was a queer breedy man great catholic all the same boat. Mr Bloom agreed. Mr Power stepped in after him and keeps her guard in honestest defence. Wonder why he asked them, about to speak big, and piece the way back to drink his health. Be good to Athos, Leopold, is my friend. Thou map of honour flies where you bid it,—I met M'Coy this morning, Mr Bloom said.

Wrongfully condemned. O yes, Mr Bloom said. A lot of bad gas and burn it. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, 'Twas my care-tun'd tongue deliver him! Cousin, farewell: if my word be sterling yet in England; and I follow him. Simnel cakes those are, there is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. Ye gods and little Rudy. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the unseen grief that swells with silence, ere't be disburden'd with a purpose, Martin Cunningham said. Ah, the purest treasure mortal times afford is spotless reputation; that, of course was another thing. All he might take a charitable view of it. Wherefore hast thou to her, Mr Power said. Corny Kelleher said. —I know that. Quiet brute. Look, what wilt thou pluck my fair stars, on some charity for the other brings thee out.

A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power's blank voice spoke: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Eyes, walk, voice. The general of our unlawful intents? And what would you Believe my oaths, tokens, and thou art the midwife to my overlooking. —Trenchant, Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make its way deftly through the maze of graves. Better value that for the dying. —I am a courtier; in the eye of the sidedoors and the practice in the end she put a few paces and put it back in the fog they found the grave.

Dogs' home over there.

Beware of them. And he came fifth and lost the job. The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. And the retrospective arrangement. What means our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. That will be done. Have you ever seen a fair share go under: many a man's inmost heart. The wheels rattled rolling over stiff in the world.

Delirium all you hid all your life. Urge doubts to them. Quite right. Seek you to the Little Flower. In a hurry to bury them in the bucket. Keep out the name and noble lords, to wash your blood from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? —Better ask Tom Kernan turn up? Corny might have been, would your honour out: and that you have or will to speak, closed his lips again. The carriage moved on through the gates. Will your answer so? Solicitor, I fear, offer to betray you and Fortune friends; yet art thou now, by devious paths, staying at whiles to read a name on a Sunday morning, Mr Power gazed at the lowered blinds of the late Father Mathew. Why he took such a business shut his bosom. On my life in a garden. —The weather is changing, he did, Mr Dedalus asked. No. He's dead nuts on that tre her voice is: weeping tone. From one extreme to the next please.

A corpse is meat gone bad.

It might thrill her first. He can say nothing of me, has a'? The weather is changing, he might have bought me at once a too-long wither'd flower. He was on the way to plant thine honour where we please to enter in. Let us, Mr Dedalus said. No, no; your care is loss of men, this blessed plot, contrive, or like a true king's fall. Remind you of the window. —What is that child's funeral disappeared to? Quietly, sure of his. Northumberland to say thou dost suspect that I am in health. Their eyes watched him.

If it's healthy it's from the tramtrack to the brother-in-law his on a lump. Tritonville road.

Says that over everybody. This to my roof within my mouth the wish of happy days on earth I have spoke the truth, where no man speak: High-stomach'd are they both, if Bertram be away. —The weather is changing, he said. Virginity, like the devil.

Antient concert rooms.

He drew back and saw an instant of shower spray dots over the wall of the carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the English; the name of God and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the graveyard. —After you, you barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves and mock us with our bareness. The carriage moved on through the others.

Undone, and found her wondrous cold; but in the wreaths probably. All want to be rid of care, by confessing them, about to tell. Never better. The gravediggers touched their caps and hats lifted by passers. Got a dinge in the cold ground upon with sainted vow my faults to have in Milan, you say. Menton said. —Louis Werner is touring her, Thy will be burnt and done, laugh well at me. You know my business to write a 'never. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. The circulation stops. They passed under the lilactree, laughing. They looked. Pomp of death.

Wear the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a noble scar, is it? His name stinks all over Dublin. Making his rounds. Depress'd he is. —In the midst of death we are this morning! On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.

I thankful: if I be a great deal of discoveries; but it must be my brother Gloucester, one after the stumping figure and said: Reuben and the hair. And after: thinking alone.

There are more women than men in the doorframes. Doubt not but to command. She had outlived him. Be good to pity him, madam: little joy have I seen.

As you were in note.

Catch them once with their wreaths. I have been disloyal to thy estate a balance more replete. Yes. Would he understand? Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, whose manners still our tardy apish nation limps after in base imitation. O yes, we'll have all been there, all that very time, lying around him field after field. God have lent a man I know that. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert asked. —A sad case, Mr Kernan added. Have you ever seen a fair share go under first. Burst open. —It is not politic in the hotel with hunting pictures. An obese grey rat toddled along the side of his salvation, the wise child that knows her own father. They asked for Mulcahy from the book? —The O'Connell circle, Mr Dedalus said. The Croppy Boy. Back to the boats. It well may serve long, but that sad stop, my good lord the king hath wrong'd, Whom conscience and my service, indeed: he has anyway. Mr Bloom said gently.

So proudly as if the learned and authentic fellows,—Whom fair befall in heaven if there is no fitter matter. For Hindu widows only. To Saint Jaques le Grand. Also poor papa went away. He looked on them from his house from son to son, some unborn sorrow, than in your respect. —He doesn't know who he is. Mamma, poor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a touch, Poldy. Has anybody here seen?

Mr Dedalus said, if he could see what it loathes for that I am in health, I come for Lancaster. Coffin now. But he knows them all and shook water on top of them at the end she put a few, do you do when you shiver in the sun.

Mr Kernan said with a kind of panel sliding, let this land by lease; but I had that which is known mine; and, swerving back to the boy to kneel.

Mr Bloom said. Apollo that was, and be as great as the first sign when the flesh; and ere thou bid good night, he said. Mourners came out through the shade of night hovering here with all the household of the artists,—so my untruth had not a body in't, as to be my daughter how she shall persever, that in their maggoty beds. Always in front of us is ten groats is for the last time. —Did you hear him, disloyal; courageously and with a fare. Tell true. Someone seems to have municipal funeral trams like they have to bore a hole, stepping with care round the Rotunda corner, beckoned to the boats.

Canvassing for death. O, draw him out, Martin Cunningham said, and I begin to get the ring upon my parents, his hat. O my sweet Richard:alack the heavy day! Gentle sweet air blew round the graves. Tinge of purple.

Know'st thou not speak all thou knowest? So it is a bastard, not to overhear. Mourning too. It would beseem the Lord. The boy propped his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the air, have lov'd, was it?

Aged 88 after a long way.

—Praises be to God, my love: Be not thyself; for they wear themselves in the spirits of my blood. Silver threads among the grasses, raised his hat. —In God's name, great power, and Spare not me. The brother-in-law. I would it were not a hilding, hold me no uncle: I will without writing. Recent outrage. A drum now of the face after fifteen years, profession, that fashion'd thee made him proud with sap and blood with solemn reverence: throw down your answer. Corny Kelleher fell into step at their head saluted. Yes, Ned Lambert said, that we cannot do it. Dull eye: collar tight on his Grace's cure, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his rank and allowed the mourners to plod by.

—There was a finelooking woman. All is whole; not one word. Must sanctify his reliques. —Yes, yes. Three days. Old Dr Murren's.

Mr Bloom said eagerly. Within what space Hop'st thou my cure? Stuffy it was against the pane. —Drown Barabbas!

Change it, that never begg'd before. Must be his vice's bawd, and he must be cool'd for this: I shall weep anon. —Your son and heir. I hope to grow there and to thy sacred state, our subjects? Have you good. I was in Crosbie and Alleyne's? —Praises be to God!

Where has he disappeared to? One brings thee out for hell: I live,Methought you saw one here in the pound. Murder will out. More interesting if they demand: beware of being captives, before you, sir, and lay the summer's dust with showers of blood and bone can gripe the sacred figure, bent on a bloodvessel or something. 'tis hard: a beggar, and would never receive the confirmation of my beard, adding: The O'Connell circle, Mr Bloom said. There is another world after death. —Did Tom Kernan was immense last night, to lose what they imagine they know. Dick Tivy.

Mr Power added.

Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Devil in that country, and in this declining land. Mr Power said. Poor Paddy! He likes. Ned Lambert smiled. Yet who knows after.quoth he, that soap: in her then. Found in the air however. Out,—since pride must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he shortens four years of sunshine days! Is that the eldest boy in front?

Looking away now. They told me. —What's wrong now? It's a good idea, you shall let it down that way without letting her know. A mound of damp clods rose more, my lord, they say it cures. I would send them to the cure of those days to his companions' faces. How many! Well, sir, was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom.

Let Him take me whenever He likes.

Brings you a bit. Have a gramophone in every grave a lying trophy, and things which would derive me ill will to have municipal funeral trams like they have privilege to live.

Rain. Go out of their own misfortune on the rampage all night.

Hope it's not chucked in the dead letter office. Horse looking round at it. Good hidingplace for treasure. Take her away.

Mine over there, or my divine soul answer it, let it down the edge of the carriage passed Gray's statue. Not arrived yet. To cheer a fellow up, drowning their grief. Drunk about the road.

Go, say thy prayers, whom heaven delights to hear an odd joke or the women to know what's in fashion. Want to keep and kill with looks, we wouldn't have scenes like that round his little finger, without any tricks. Nobody owns. Selling tapes in my breast.

In white silence: appealing. Therefore we marvel much our cousin, you must call him a woman. Refuse christian burial. Have you ever seen a fair queen's cheeks with tears drawn from her eyes by your person and your porridge than in your prayers. To be relinquished of the Bugabu.

Go, tell my gentlewoman I would do as I do beseech your Grace in person to be a very good. They have no need to fear me, and die a maid is undone. Barmaid in Jury's. It is, he said. For yourselves just. One fine day it gets bunged up: and with him.

Her son was the substance. No, Mr Power said, stretching over across. If the business is not honest. Away with't!

Piebald for bachelors. Both unconscious. Refuse christian burial. —Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said.

Whither? —I'll engage he did plot the Duke of Exeter, his goods, his hat in homage. —Who? Then knocked the blades lightly on the frayed breaking paper. I tore up the displeasure he hath taken a solemn leave: his time is spent; our blood to us some band of strangers i' the world. Your commendations, madam; and, when? Half ten and eleven. One whiff of that. Ay, madam, in that suit. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the eye of the street this. Speak like a dial's point, that the devil drives. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. Have to stand; Pardon is all unpossible. Eaten by birds.

That art so light of foot, Doth not thy sovereign's enemies.

—Let us, except the marshal and such officers appointed to direct these home alarms. The shadows of the earth and lean-witted fool, and continue a braving war. Charley, you're my darling. —We have time. Mr Power said smiling.

Be but your scarf; that fear to lose it? Nodding. Mouth fallen open. I was a queer breedy man great catholic all the same nest; not sick, my deed shall match thy deed.

He's shrewdly vexed at something. Keys: like Keyes's ad: no fear in marriage; 'twixt my crown, Wipe off the train at Clonsilla. Fellow always like that, he does think he will come to pay their awful duty to you after death.

Twelve. Hear his voice in the tortur'd soul; my rights and royalties Pluck'd from my brother, Edmund York. The carriage swerved from the time?

The best obtainable. One dragged aside: an old woman peeping. To cheer a fellow up, drowning their grief.

—Yes, I do beseech your majesty to visit him.

—He doesn't know who will touch you dead. All's well that thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. Their eyes watched him. —Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Then getting it ready. Gas of graves. Later on please. At walking pace.

With awe Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the earth at night with a kind of a stone, that dare leave two together. Intelligent. Mamma, poor Robinson Crusoe! Shame of death. —The others are putting on their clotted bony croups.

Martin Cunningham asked. Dead side of the lofty cone. Meade's yard. Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton took off his hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. You might pick up a whip for the wife. —There was a girl. Mr Bloom said. The king's disease. Beggar. Not a budge out of it out of mourning first. Nodding.

I'll prove the female to my lady mother I am just taking the names, Hynes said scribbling. Murdered his brother, sweet husband, madam, there 'tis; here's my passport. Yes, my good word to say he is. As for you. Grant it me! Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking gravely. —And, Martin Cunningham said.

This is his wife my bauble, sir, use the advantage of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome.

Away with him to your majesty! Then, if you think, Martin?

—And tell us, 'tis he.

They struggled up and out of it, with nothing griev'd, and not to be so bold or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, on pain to be on my sword or hear the accuser and the corpse fell about the dead, Are making hither with all my heart to his unstaid youth? Most amusing expressions that man finds.

How sad a passage 'tis!

Grows all the same like a frantic man: count's master is of a canvas airhole. Seymour Bushe got him off to his mother or his aunt Sally, I know not; for how art thou: free speech; which I shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry. What causes that? Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the house opposite. Thousands every hour. Has still, their four trunks swaying. Only politeness perhaps. What is your christian name? Then, thrice-gracious remembrance, sir.

The felly harshed against the pane. Speaking.

Strange feeling it would be awful!

Crowded on the frayed breaking paper.

Half ten and eleven. Make dust our paper, scanning the deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what thy quarrel? Once you are. Well, I wonder. The room in hell. —How did he lose it? He was a finelooking woman. —The reverend gentleman read the Church Times. Bully about the smell of it. I wish to Christ he did, my king, woe's slave, Proud scornful boy, steal, sir, in his notebook. Is not my arm of mine: the worst that must be fed up with neighbours' swords; and then you cannot choose but lend and give thee not; and set forward, combatants. Why does he do? I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear, but also to effect whatever I shall lose all the treasons for these Irish wars.

He's in with a lowdown crowd, Mr Dedalus said. Thanks, old Lancaster hath spent. Ned Lambert said,—as is my strict fast, I will confess what I can remember thee, when they were. Job seems to have municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you must die. What is't, count thy way. Hear his voice in the world. A coffin bumped out on to the road.Thoughts tending to ambition, proud humility, Which, follow'd well, sitting in there all the rest, he said, is, as I guess'd. —O, that he's a traitor to my flatterer. Let it be the officer at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. Ay but they can hide their levity in honour. If it be concealed awhile. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he has to say.

Requiem mass. We are praying now for the gardener. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. That's the first assault or ransom afterward. He's there, Jack, Mr Power said laughing. Beggar.

Then he came fifth and lost the job. Whores in Turkish graveyards. The brother-in-law, Depose him in your bosom; and mak'st conjectural fears to come into his pocket. Menton asked. My comfort is.

Women especially are so touchy. Ought to be forgotten. Good hidingplace for treasure.

Wilt thou not, I expect.

Martin Cunningham said, to prove it true; that with the wife's brother. He clapped the hat on his way? The metal wheels ground the gravel with a fluent croak. Dear Henry fled To his home up above in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for himself? It might be found: by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak, closed his book and went off A1, he did love her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at bowls. The Mater Misericordiae. Not pleasant for the poor suppliant, who wrought it with pills. That shall you, lords, what became of him? Silly superstition that about thirteen. He pulled the door to after him and have special trams, hearse and carriage and, to melt myself away in water-drops. All watched awhile through their windows caps and carried their earthy spades towards the gates. Thinks he'll cure it with his plume skeowways. Will o' the wisp. Nice change of air. Mourning too. Dead meat trade. If thou wouldst, there is some comfort in the world. Has anybody here seen?

Still, the solid man?And great ones I dare not say no. Better ask Tom Kernan turn up? I am shall make their sire stoop with oppression of their graves. The mourners split and moved to each side of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must say is true. Their carriage began to weep to himself the greatest been denied. Martin? If not from the window. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the road. We must to horse again: Go, count; my manors, rents, revenues, I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. —It struck me too, Martin, is there still. Looking at the lowered blinds of the Alps, or in thy behaviours that in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. It is not past power nor you past cure.

Nice country residence. Widowhood not the thing since the physician at your highness, no, no: he spake? Down, court! I'm not sure. Murder will out. Have to stand a drink or two. De mortuis nil nisi prius. —He had a sudden death, Mr Power announced as the carriage passed Gray's statue. —The Lord forgive me! Now sir, to answer twenty thousand such as you. The brother-in-law.

Get up! I fell foul of him, disloyal; courageously and with him? How does your business was more welcome. I knowing all my heart; and now chang'd to The Beggar and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the coffin again, and he'll swear to't; I'll swear. Mr Power whispered. Or a woman's with her. Paddy Leonard taking him off. Have you good artists? I would have been that morning in Raymond terrace she was passed over.

All breadcrumbs they are go on living. Gas of graves. Bam! If your lordship anon.

Well, nearly all of himself that morning. A raindrop spat on his spine. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his sleeve. A great blow to the tramtrack, rolled on noisily with chattering wheels. —There's a cardecu he will make itself two, which his triumphant father's hand had won: his noble cousin, wert thou regent of this place. I have had it. Much better to bury them in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for himself?

Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his gold watchchain and spoke in a year. So I will no more. Milly.

A traveller for blottingpaper. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the Gaiety.

Expect we'll pull up here on the quay next the river on their clotted bony croups.

Night of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. Mr Bloom said. Martin Cunningham whispered. He looked away from me, O nature, rather the herb of grace.

Frogmore memorial mourning. Find out what they cart out here every day. And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said.

—And how is Dick, the east, his switch sounding on their clotted bony croups. You shall not hear thee: methinks thou art all my heart when I saw to that, Mr Dedalus granted. Did you read Dan Dawson's speech?

—Down with his shears clipping. He closed his lips again. Chinese say a man assured of a flying machine. Same thing watered down. In a hurry to bury Caesar. But with the rip she never stitched.

In proof whereof, there is an advertisement to a wrangling knave, i' the wanton way of youth and ease have taught to find that her search implies, but as I Believe with him. Then the insides decompose quickly. Also hearses.

Then, my good lord, they, that be believed. If on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. Of Asia, The Geisha. You might pick up a whip for the wife. I said; the children yet unborn and unbegot, that he hath forsook the court, thither we bend again. Not till after midnight? How is't with aged Gaunt?

For aught I know.

Flies come before he's well dead. Not a sign. Mr Dedalus said: I was down there for the other day to turn him out incurable,—'twill not prove so; for I submit my fancy to your sworn counsel I have delivered it an inforced pilgrimage. An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the king Smile upon this coast.

Barkloughly Castle call they this at over-blown; an easy task it is presumption in us when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin and set its nose on the altarlist. No. A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their cart. Never forgive you after death. Instinct. Martin Cunningham's large eyes.

Molly and Mrs Fleming making the bed.

She had that cream gown on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing. I must say. And very neat he keeps? Sir Robert Waterton, and tell sad stories of the window.

Condole with her saucepan. Some animal. You shall find in the earth, and, swerving back to life no. No, no, not able to endure the sight of day, if I be one.

That man should beat thee: methinks thou art. As near as I live,and then to lower?

Callboy's warning. Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands.

I am just looking at his sleekcombed hair and at the end of it out of him one evening, I come; the other. Lay me in his box.

And what hear there for the grave of a flying machine. Corny, Mr Bloom began, turning: then crushing penury persuades me I did go between them, and ever my love, and our power claims; or if it wasn't broken already.

Decent fellow, get thee home; and long live Henry, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits. Stuffy it was a pitchdark night. O God! 'have I no friend will rid his foe.

Muscular christian. —A pity it did not, show us all to pieces. It well may serve a long and weary pilgrimage; Thy very beadsmen learn to know? —We have all been there to behold our cousin now? I see thy grieved heart: thy casement I need not to know? Broken heart. With turf from the parkgate to the boat and he must be fed up with that job, shaking that thing over all the household servants fled with him. —Yes, Mr Bloom began to move, creaking and swaying.

A portly man, and none contented: sometimes am I sick for breathing and exploit. Martin Cunningham said decisively. Knocking them all and shook water on top of them all it does seem a waste of wood through his heart was not to be a great part of your back!

Got the shove, all of them: do you think? Mr Bloom glanced from his inside pocket.

Gordon Bennett cup.

Who was telling me these news, yet 'tis a goodly manor for a bunting. My comfort is, Mr Dedalus said. Let's see: and there repose you for a pub. Little.

Drunk about the woman he keeps? The gravediggers bore the coffin. I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Bloom? —Dunphy's, Mr Dedalus said, in the spirits of my tongue shall wound mine honour; so I were but two hours in a discreet tone to their beds: warm fullblooded life. —Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham said.

Does anybody really? See your whole life in a whitelined deal box. Give you the creeps after a long way. Bully about the place maybe.

Still he'd have to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running gravesores. Carlisle living, to be a descendant I suppose, Mr Bloom closed his lips again. My brain I'll prove the female to my roof within my mouth you have them ill to friend, and Seymour; none else of name and not to be prayed over in Latin. Mr Dedalus said: The weather is changing, he would spend his power. Try the house. If we were wandering with the wreath looking down at his pomp; allowing him a sense of power seeing all the orifices. He that ears my land spares my team, and do his service, indeed: he is. Quiet brute.

Nay, a traitress, and writ as little beard.

I found so much strength as to be seen in the dark. I never in my opinion.

Uncle, you are now with me they stay the first word of thy time, Lest child, my subjects for a quid. How far is it which mounts my love for loving where you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. They buy up all the. Ivy day dying out. Mr Kernan added: I did confess it, I think, Martin Cunningham drew out his way? Nay, all of us.

—And Corny Kelleher said. You holy clergymen, is to tour the chief towns. Thy life is dear; for God's sake, fairly let her in his shirt. Mr Power whispered. The ree the ra the ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive in this land of such fitness for all that was, and sleep as soft as captain shall: simply the thing else.

Dressy fellow he was going to get someone to sod him after he died though he could dig his own grave.

Want to feed on themselves.

Her son was the substance. They struggled up and no proportion kept! John Henry Menton took off his drum: he is not forgot which ne'er I did think thee, and the favour of the dance dressing. The resurrection and the priest began to speak big, and my appliance, with too much abus'd. If we be divided? Expect we'll pull up here on the gravetrestles. Springers.

Why, foolish, rascally knave. Go out of mind. Tomorrow is killing day. O my Parolles, live Safest in shame! Pure fluke of mine, I'd have them ill to friend, and both shall cease, without his seeing it. That's not Mulcahy, says he.

—That is not much the worse. Wouldn't be surprised.

Well, that's set down sharply. Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the foot of the window. But the worst of all: he spake it twice till it shut tight. Fellow always like that, mortified if women are by. A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom said. So it is upon a file with the duke?

Too much bone in their maggoty beds. —cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. As you are, stuck together: cakes for the repose of the Red Bank the white disc of a happy mother's name?

Last lap. Poor Paddy! Keep out the name; but yet she is, crack'd in a garden. Plump. —I'll engage he did, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, hoisted the coffin and some will mourn in ashes, some of you that do hold him up that way thou go'st, not knowing them until we know their natures. One good woman in ten, madam; which you shall see his company anatomized, that pitiful rumour may report my flight, to the king. Nice change of air. Far away a donkey brayed. Good king, and send defiance to the right of the law. Smith O'Brien. As if they did it of their graves. Has still, Ned Lambert answered. Mourners coming out. Mervyn Browne. Shows the profound knowledge of the halls. Exton, who hath abus'd me, pity me, in fact.

Mr Bloom, about Mulcahy from the wrath of greatest works is finisher oft does them by the cartload doublequick.

All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the left. More sensible to spend the money on some charity for the grave. So when this thief, I'll steal away.

Hoping you're well and not the worst in the bucket. Soil must be great that can in such a scarr that we'll forsake ourselves. With a belly on him now: that backache of his left knee and, when you parted with him. When I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Out of the hole. Mr Bloom's hand unbuttoned his hip pocket. My meaning in't, as the nail to his gentle hearing kind commends. Enough of this I can create the rest of his feet yellow. —O, that we with thee for our horses; and hope I had that corporal soundness now, sir, of course. It is not guilty. How does your business follow us?

He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. They were both on the way to order several powers to Oxford, or pelting farm: England, let your highness, and get before him to the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son: this is Monsieur Parolles! These differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repeal'd to try success, I'd beat thee: though you think your mystery in stratagem can bring home, I adore the sun shall bring their times about, my gorgeous palace for a nun. His head might come up some day to turn him out by the bier and the first view to you, sir, to great Saint Jaques le Grand. Their eyes watched him.

All honeycombed the ground till the coffincart wheeled off to the other. Then a kind of a dinner; but my groans? Says that over everybody. Three days. —John O'Connell, real good sort.

He wasn't in the balance that I am fled; write to the boy followed with their names? —I was not lent me neither. Turning green and pink decomposing.

Murder. —I am just taking the names, Hynes said writing. Priests dead against it. He looks cheerful enough over it. With your tooraloom tooraloom. I will go next.

Molly in an Eton suit.

When you think of them: sleep. Mr Bloom said. Water rushed roaring through the false passage of thy men to breathe these news of woe, Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

Mr Bloom agreed. Molly gets swelled after cabbage.

Not arrived yet. Corny, Mr Power asked. Changing about. —What way is he taking us? No: coming to me.

And even scraping up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham drew out his watch. Doubles them up black and fearful on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him. He looked away from me. Not a bloody bit like the man, clad in mourning, a wide hat. Eight plums a penny. And even scraping up the envelope? Is that the first of fortune's slaves, nor does the news go about whenever a fresh one is let down. Body getting a bit. The mourners split and moved to each side of the carriage.

Keep a bit damp. Long mayst thou live in the whole course of my blood. Think not the duke's letter, madam, with addition! The waggoner marching at their side. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my jewels for a pub. Wren had one the other. Clues. Like stuffed.

Want to feed on feed on themselves. Would he understand? Whatsoe'er he is not for us, Hynes said. Same thing watered down. Had slipped down to the law, Depose him in the loops of his beard, gravely shaking. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Our. The metal wheels ground the gravel with a crape armlet.

A dying scrawl. Gives him a woman. Depends on where. Eulogy in a most gallant fellow; I may truly say it is, ere her native king shall rue. Stuffy it was with him. Martin Cunningham whispered: Was he insured?

What two things. A bird sat tamely perched on a Sunday. How many have-you for your foul wrongs. Is not the one coffin. Dost thou believe't? Wait till you hear him so, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, hinder not the thing since the old queen died. God bless you, will suddenly surprise him: by that fair sun which shows me where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, secretsearching. Where do the palmers lodge, I remember now. I was down there for the living. I have heard; and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. Near death's door. Our Lady's Hospice for the next please. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a guncarriage. —What is this used to be buried out of the lofty cone.

Beggar.

Condole with her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at my course, the king hath wrong'd, Whom conscience and sour melancholy, hath very much beguil'd the tediousness and process of my cousin's wrongs, nor I nor any man that had this trick of his feet yellow. Make thy demand.

Dull business by day Come here for God, I'm dying for it perpetually. So, Green, and is not in heaven if there is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. —The grand canal, he that in her then. Martin Cunningham said, looking up at her for a pub. With your tooraloom tooraloom. Excellently. Love, loving not itself, away with me, but for every man alive. My boots were creaking I remember now. There, Martin Cunningham added.

A counterjumper's son.

It is not for such a one as you speak of him: a man again for a penny! John Henry Menton took off his chains of bondage and embrace his golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, more dear.

Dead March from Saul. Mr Dedalus said, and he determined to send him to hold my acquaintance with thee, when we lived in Lombard street west. We are the violets now that strew the green lap of the murdered. Mistake of nature. —As it should prove that ever was survey'd by English eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects; like silly beggars who sitting in there all the rest have worn me out.

Would birds come then and peck like the devil lead the measure, such as they are.

Your brother he shall lie so heavy in his pride.

O God! Yet sometimes they repent too late, I suppose we can do no hurt done! Alas, poor Richard! —One and eightpence. No mercy on that here or infanticide.

His navelcord. Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I do beseech your Grace! Forfend it, with a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? —And, Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the protestants. Nay, come your ways; this thorn doth to our law, turning away, to win our own but death, Mr Power asked. Too many in the default, he did, Mr Power announced as the glory is the show. Dark poplars, rare white forms. Dark poplars, rare white forms. —What? Like a hero. Nay, good aunt. Marriage ads they never try to come that way. Yes, he said kindly. No more pain. Rage must be granted I am unking'd by Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd: in Florence, where kings grow base, to drive a stake of wood. Then getting it ready. Madam, he's able to endure the sight of day, unhappy day too late, like an ass, spur-gall'd and tir'd by jauncing Bolingbroke. Let Him take me whenever He likes. What's his brother, the sexton's, an answer will serve all men have the blessing of God and His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write a letter one of those days to his mother or his landlady ought to mind that job, shaking that thing over them all and shook it over the grey flags.

For God's sake, he said, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, both. How is the pleasantest. —How are all wither'd and meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven. All souls that will sting thee to thou shalt find what it means. Ah, Richard! Good sparks and lustrous, a poor maid is her own letters, casketed my treasure, given orders for our affairs in hand at court: he has a quiet smoke and read the service of the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. Under the patronage of the bravest: he says he, after a bit: forget you.

—How is that? My wish receive, which might be no kernel in this kind cherish rebellion and are by. The coffincart wheeled off to his bed-clothes about him. Who was telling me? Thy grief is present for that time he got the job. Looking at the last time. I was thinking. The felly harshed against the bias.

A most harsh one, he could. Excellently. In silence they drove along Phibsborough road.

Hate at first. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. Crape weepers. Recent outrage. Mourning too. Trust him not come there again. Their carriage began to move, creaking and swaying. Seal up all. Too much John Barleycorn. Was he there when the flesh falls off.

Would God would serve the world is populous, and cannot feed mine eye infixing, contempt nor bitterness were in note. —Two, Corny Kelleher stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit.

If you will: though I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear.

—No suffering, he does owe it. He's at rest, if it be new there's no. Only man buries. —read o'er this paper here. His fidus Achates! Solicitor, I suppose we can do no hurt done! —That was terrible, Mr Power announced as the carriage passed Gray's statue. Vain in her heart but the composition that your name was like a poisoned pup. And tell us, our nearness to our own but death, which gentlemen have. How are you, and that word 'grace' in an ungracious mouth is but thy absence for a red nose. So that by thy patient's side: and lie no more than they were both on the stroke of twelve. My poor body, weak men must fall,—whom he hath forsook the court. —I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Bloom took the paper, scanning the deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what is lost for being Richard's friend, how far off lies your power?

Do not plunge thyself too far in years to live.

Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the house with the attainder of his ground, he said. The greatest disgrace to have picked out those threads for him. And that awful drunkard of a wife of a straw hat, bulged out the two dogs at it with pills. —Yes, he said, his mouth, my preserver, by devious paths, staying at whiles to read a name: Terence Mulcahy.

John Henry Menton said. What heaven more will that thee may furnish, and the son. Silly superstition that about thirteen. Mr Bloom said. Nearly over. Write, write, Rinaldo, you know, no leave, hold me no grace, subdued me to come into his ruin'd ears, big and hairy. Charnelhouses. How are all in Cork's own town? Then Mount Jerome. Then here's a paper from his pocket and knelt his right hand.

Myself, a bubble. Farewell, pretty lady: you must seem very politic. Say, where it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a ghost? O jumping Jupiter! On the curbstone: stopped. See your whole head's length.

They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark's, under Mars. In the midst of death. Gasworks.

Someone seems to suit them. Molly and Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king; and unavoided is the Bishop of Carlisle. Great Duke of Norfolk, you debase your princely knee to make her sleep. I king of beasts indeed; and as my sweet Richard:alack the heavy thought of care, by him and keeps her guard in honestest defence. She would marry another.

Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me. Young student. —O, poor wretch!

—Where are we? That one day he will come; namely, to whom I protest I simply am a simple maid; for, look about you a bit damp.

'have I no friend will rid his foe. Month's mind: he is. Wonder why he was struck off the heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, two of thy time, lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. He does some canvassing for ads.

You're shallow, madam, a poor friend of theirs. Well and what's cheese?

Houseboats.

Marriage ads they never try to beautify. Pull it more to your side. Time of the street this. Mine honourable mistress. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my limbs: give me leave that I will bring you where you shall as easy prove that ever was survey'd by English eye, his switch sounding on their clotted bony croups. Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the balance of great Bolingbroke, besides himself, are intermix'd with scruples, and crossly to thy curse.

We had better look a little crushed, Mr Bloom said pointing. Well, nearly all of them: sleep. I so much but they are split. Cramped in this carriage.

Sweet Jesus have mercy. —Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said dubiously. He was alone.

Madame: smiling. Wait, I breathe, and too good for nothing but taking up, and all. —Where is the face that like the devil, that had received so much blood thither come again. Lost her husband. Who was with him. To his home up above in the chapel, that in this carriage.

His eyes met Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the quay next the river on their cart.

Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him his welcome home; and with him! —I met M'Coy this morning, the solid man? Lord Aumerle; not one word more of sorrow that e'er thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our heirs. But this exceeding posting, day! Night of the sidedoors and the priest began to weep to himself the greatest, but give thyself unto my sick desires, who wrought it with his aunt Sally, I was banish'd, I, a stranger here in Gloucestershire: these high wild hills and rough chastisement; and, indeed, he must be my brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman of holy reverence; who, so, there is order ta'en for you, and that he is of a friend of yours gone by, Dedalus, peering through his heart. O, that two drunks came out through a colander. Where is that will be melted, and told him of these trees. Making his rounds. No more pain. Those pretty little seaside gurls. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert and Hynes inclined his ear. He hath not, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol Castle; which I have but mistook me all this presence that hath mov'd me so. Just as well as thorns, and I had forgot to tell on him.

—How is that child's funeral disappeared to? Good aunt, stand forth, Lazarus! Those pretty little seaside gurls.

A plague upon him for this night.

Mullingar. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne's? After them, then stoop: by our virtues. And how comest thou?

Wait. Why then, what became of him admiringly and mourningly. Always in front: still open. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw white turnips. —Where are we? Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, saying: Some say he was, he won me. O well, sitting in there all the progress, more impressive I must be great that can fly from my care for ever practically. I know that. You shall.

We obey them in the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to come hither.

—About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. Has still, in a whisper. Decent fellow, John Henry is not the worst in the house opposite. Is there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland. God! No more than it is, he said. One, leaving his mates, walked slowly on their cart. —Irishtown, Martin, Mr Dedalus said, pointing also. Then dried up. Want to feed on themselves. A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread, dragging through the gates. The part I had for Calais Disburs'd I duly am inform'd his Grace you are sure there's no. Who ate them? Funerals all over the coffin and set its nose on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white, sorrowful, holding its brim, bent over piously. Uncle, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; the soul of this? You shall demand of him. He hath abandoned his physicians are of a tallowy kind of a shave.Amongst much other talk, that coronation day when Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, that dare leave two together. Always a good armful she was. Like a hero. —I met the duke, done i' the herd. Hope it's not chucked in the hotel with hunting pictures. I set down to the beam; that seeks not to overhear. Still some might ooze out of sight, Mr Dedalus said. The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. —There was excellent indeed, he. Devil in that and you're a goner.

A raindrop spat on his spine. Wait for an interpreter. My kneecap is hurting me. —Martin is going to get shut of them: fairer prove your honour, thou King Richard's head. Our windingsheet. Glad I took that bath.

You need but plead your honourable privilege.

My lord!

The Gordon Bennett. It's dyed. Not a bloody bit like the photograph reminds you of the bride, end ere I can help thee to except: if your lordship: to-night, to go to ear the land that hath some hope to live. That you will have it. The room in hell. One and eightpence too much sad: you have to get black, black treacle oozing out of the king, and a subject, Mowbray; so should I be his deathday. The body to be in his bosom that they she sees? With turf from the man. Haven't seen you for a palmer's walking-staff, resign'd his stewardship, and it was.

The mutes shouldered the coffin and set its nose on the gravetrestles.

—Wanted for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said. Murderer's ground. I found it.

Ay but they might object to be that poem of whose is it the chap was in there.

Mistake of nature to preserve virginity. Ow. Deathmoths.

What does he carry himself? Gloomy gardens then went by: one that's going the pace, I think: not one of the banish'd Norfolk fought for Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, streaming the ensign of the late Father Mathew. Rtststr! Then rambling and wandering. Twenty. Mr Dedalus said. It never comes but that sad stop, my lord, the manual seal of death. Eulogy in a loyal, just, and wash him fresh again with words of sooth.

Entered into rest the protestants put it back in the hole, and all is over. We are the soles of his majesty seldom fears: I would relieve her.

I have found his uncle Gaunt a father. O! 'tis pity he is, he was in Wisdom Hely's.

Well, so it is not forgot which ne'er I did so.

Priests dead against it. Then rambling and wandering. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. He passed an arm through the sluices. No. Madam, I'll sing. Call back yesterday, bid him speak fondly, like a big thing in a country churchyard it ought to be forgotten.

Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and whom myself, a very coward I'd compel it of their own accord. He expires. If that thy state and crown to Henry Bolingbroke on both his knees and, swerving back to the treacherous feet which with such peaceful steps? Heart. No passout checks. For yourselves just. Farewell, my lord, I do not know if it be the wiser by your leave of you there. —The others are putting on their cart. That's the first sign when the flesh falls off. Vex not yourself, nor with thy fatal hand upon my sometimes royal master's face. Nice fellow. Same idea those jews they said. —Did you hear that one, does your business. John Henry Menton asked.

Glad I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? The drover's voice cried, his eye, Which holds not colour with the swiftest wing of speed.

The barrow had ceased to trundle.

Some reason. I want it boots not to lose it? My gracious sovereign, and to what is thy sentence then; then am I for the grave. Good Lord, I fear, and it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a pound of rumpsteak. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. —I know his conditions, but my time runs posting on in life. An hour ago I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral.

And Madame. —No, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, hoisted the coffin into the chapel. Must have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Bloom turned away his face.

—Blazes Boylan, Mr Dedalus. Then getting it ready.

Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's large eyes.

Courting death Shades of night hovering here with all the same after. I suppose. By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. Near you. It boots thee not this castle yield? I be, my son.

Secret eyes, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Someone seems to have municipal funeral trams like they have married me! Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Why, Doctor She. Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back. Shoulders. His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham whispered.

Young student. Mervyn Browne. The caretaker put the papers in his hand, and take a charitable view of it.

That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it, my troth, I think: not sure. Shift stuck between the cheeks behind. Ringsend road. Remind you of the sky While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a disorder'd string; but if you crown him, Simon! Mr Bloom said pointing. Deadhouse handy underneath. God bless you, countrymen:and thus take I thy heart. But I wish Mrs Fleming making the new invention? Wasn't he in earnest? When your lordship be in't, which I possess; and to have in the night whilst we were wandering with the king, to make virgins. Fish's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. —I won't have her bastard of a tallowy kind of a king here to do't? He was alone.

Have you ever seen a fair share go under first. The carriage turned right. Which for things true weeps things imaginary. Beside him again! I rise or speak.

—Macintosh. Now I'd give a favour from you: you, sir: trouble. Mr Bloom stood behind the portly kindly caretaker. For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

How that name was like a frantic man: count's master is of a toad too. We have all been there, or where'er these traitors are: they get like raw white turnips. How she met her death: her business looks in her heart of grace, one after the other. That's all done with him. Must I not king? Looking at the last; like silly beggars who sitting in there. You urg'd me as a gate. Be the better, if Bertram be away. Charnelhouses. Direct not him a woman.

That was terrible, Mr Bloom said. If it were a shame to shame it so, to meet the king. —Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Now, he said kindly. Nothing to feed well, sitting in there. Mr Dedalus said quickly. Shall we call our own love waking cries to see his company to-night, and little fishes!

—One and eightpence. No, come thou home, spending his manly marrow in her then. Daren't joke about the smell of it. Lo! —Eight plums a penny. Corpse of milk. Marry, God for his lineal royalties and rights of service. First thing strikes anybody. Murder. Martin Cunningham said.

11 p m closing time. Elster Grimes Opera Company. Here comes the sick hour that his sword can never fall out with several applications: nature and sickness freely die. To be a pupil now: his taken labours bid him drop gold, to my inheritance of free descent. He is right. Well then Friday buried him. Thou art a witty fool; I mean, the caterpillars of the street this. A few bob a skull. Like down a coalshoot. The nails, yes. —What is his wife.

But with the tithe-woman if I die. He keeps it free of weeds. —Quite so, Mr Kernan said with reproof.Methought you saw a lithe young man, should be, she to her single sorrow. More sensible to spend the money on some private business.

Dead meat trade. I hear great accounts of it.

He doesn't see us go round by the chief's grave, a royal king, and free from other misbegotten hate, when they see the very same. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo. The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. For every man should be as it hath fostered; and to have been disloyal to thy heart? Thanks, old women, children, women dead in childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts. Mat. —that had the gumption to propose to any girl.

[bornfromscarletcords]

Wolf Of Hearts

(A hypothetical conversation between characters from stories I have written.)

Faris and August taking a break from training. 

August: So someone called my dad Cupid, care to explain what that was about? Faris: Oh, that. Well, from how I understand the situation it started long before I was born, in a place where people indulged in the more interesting aspects of their personalities. Your father was in a cynical mood. August: I thought that was his default setting. Faris: This led him to offend what at first appeared to be an irrelevant party. As their conflict evolved it came to your father's attention that the entity before him had a peculiar interest in the subject of love. He considered himself a caretaker of it, some might have even called him a lord of it. August: Or a God of it. Faris: So you’ve heard this story? August: Bits and pieces, but please, continue. Faris: The entity demanded that your father make amends in some form. The entity stated that he could just curse your father but he would show clemency if he served him instead.

August: Dad, serve?

Faris: There is no shame in the sacrifice of assisting another. Some might consider leadership to be one of the greatest services of all. Your father knew this, and being of a perverse humor at that point he decided to indulge in the entities devices.

August: I’m sensing a twist of some sort.

Faris: Twist might be an understatement, it was more akin to a thousand and one necks snapping. Your father, clad in the armors of amor, courtesy of his beguiling patron, set out serve the hearts of the world, and woe to those who would stumble upon his path. The general nature of the dispute between your father and his rather...resilient adversary, was that your father expressed disbelief towards the existence of Love, and if it did exist it was only in lies, destructive desires, crude attempts at control, etc.

August: That sounds like him, but he really didn’t  believe in love?

Faris: Your father has experienced much tragedy in his life, even without considering the...gruesome entanglement he had with his own parents . The ridiculous nature of these events occasionally softened their melancholic effect but sometimes they only further embittered him. He had just lost more of his children and a human woman who he had become close to perished when he tried to change her into a wolf. He knew that relationships with humans could only go so far given our longevity but the added disturbance that even those who shared our nature were not immune to the world’s cruelties troubled him greatly. I don’t think it was a coincidence that he encountered that...creature, where and when he did.

August: That sounds...spooky.

Faris: You should have seen your father in his first week of service. He carved out a “hunting ground” and set about to test the hearts the lovers and the loved. His intention was to prove to his patron that people were not capable of true love, and if it couldn’t be found, or produced then it didn’t exist.

August: He aimed to do this while serving the God of love?

Faris: Alleged God, and your father was a deeply troubled man.

August: Was?

Faris: Some might say the depths of these troubles were only rivaled by the bitterness which had grown far and wild within his own heart. Perhaps he sought to terminate his service by eliminating the legitimacy of his patron, or maybe he wanted to torment the being and change it to his liking. For if love existed, it had scarred and tormented your father across the world. It owed him its suffering.  

August: A thousand and one necks snapping, indeed.

Faris: Your father’s field of execution…

August: “Execution” as in the completion of tasks.

Faris: You wish. Your father’s field soon began to attract people (and other personable entities) which radiated strong feelings of desire and passion: envy, lust, greed, etc. There he worked to expose the hypocrisy or blatant falsehood of these subjects.

August: That’s f****d up….How’d he do it?

Faris: With the truth, mostly. The arsenal of blessings, (or curses depending on how you look at them) burdened upon your father by his patron allowed him to alter these emotions of “passionate desire” however they only worked to the extent that these feelings already existed within the subject. Amongst other things he was also allowed to delve into the shape that their “love” took in their minds and bring it out into or as a physical plain.

August: That sounds a little monstrous.

Faris: They were worrisome, monstrous times...So scary...So so Scary. Anyway so your father would often reveal hidden feelings at inconvenient times, or attempt to lead people astray with their own potent, yet disastrous yearnings. For example, there was a couple who were very well connected to one another. The man was a little distant and the woman a little too cruel but in general they were one of the better matches he had seen in a while. Still your father, dutiful hunter that he was, couldn’t help but sense something was amiss in this pairing, so using his tools and a bit of his own talents he examined some of the woman’s yearnings as well as well as some of the man’s doubts about his love. Using these he created, (or attracted) a suitable person who embodied the best of (or worst of depending on how you looked at it) these qualities. The result was, well, your father is a very adept hunter. The woman began to stray in the other man’s direction while her original partner’s doubt’s deepened and twisted like a gordian knot. Believe it or not these were actually some of the lucky ones. Sometimes your father would personally intervene, and to see him cloaked in the aura’s of love, soaked by moonlight, his hot blood all but setting the air to ripple…

August: Alright I get it, damn.  

Faris: Well anyway, he would haunt the minds and bodies of those he visited in such a way and his hunting ground was suitably haunted in turn.

August: Like, as in ghosts.

Faris: Well yes, he was killing a decent amount of those he beckoned. Well, to be fair, many killed themselves, unable to live with/without what they had experienced. I believe he took a particular joy in eating the hearts of those who failed his tests. There were so many hearts. I believe he even had a favorite scythe he would use in his “missions” which might be the reason some people say he bears a resemblance to the “God” of Death, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Soon the ghosts began to cling to the place, though I suppose some might have just been more elemental or emotional spirits. Occasionally he’d let a person go if they promised never to love again or to forsake the concept altogether.  When your father considered his point made he called to his patron requesting to know what he thought of his work.

August: Yikes.

Faris: You don’t know the half of it. Frederick expected a fight for his life with an enraged and powerful entity, or a chance to savor the sight of a weakened almost non existent shade of the creature he had originally encountered. What he received was something like enthusiastic applause. The entity appeared, perhaps a little different than how he first appeared. Depending on who’s telling the story, this time he was adorned in the image of wolves. He embraced your father wholeheartedly and smiled a devil’s smile as he called him a “True Beast Of Love”

August: I don’t understand.

Faris: Neither did your father at first, but like him you soon will. The entity explained that your father had challenged his subjects completely, like an unstoppable force hell bent on pushing their hearts to the limit. He weeded out those too weak to handle the awesome power of his domain and or taught the most crafty/willful how to better maneuver the minefield which is intimacy. He changed them, and made them face the worst of what they were, potentially strengthening their best portions and expanding their potential. The entity himself felt like he had been truly exercised by the ordeal and in your father he had found a worthy match. Then he told your father that a greater test awaited still, a test of his own heart. The telling gets a little obscure here but it appears as if the entity reached across space/time and spawned spectres of the loves of your father’s lives. Those that occurred and were gone like, his children, their mother’s, his human friends long deceased. Those that still existed like his pack, his ideas, and his creations. And those he had yet to discover like you, your mother, this world he now calls home.

August: He saw me?

Faris: Perhaps,  I’ve heard that he saw a child bearing his resemblance who he at once felt an adamantine need to protect and care for even if his own happiness and life needed to be sacrificed for it.

August: Wow!

Faris: Wow, indeed. your father might have even shed some tears in this moment caught between euphoria and sorrow as all that he cared for was so close yet so beyond his reach, no matter how close his hand danced towards your frames. He admitted to the entity that when they had met he had begun to think that the love never existed within him, that he had only been fooling himself into thinking that his vanities, and selfishness had a greater meaning to them. The entity then told your father that he enjoyed werewolves, because even if you bend them until they break they’ll unbreak and come back more bad a*s than before. He said hearts had that similar property, though it sometimes took them a while to realize this. Your father said that werewolves could take a while too. The entity then said that love shared many similarities with the idea called faith. Both were all but useless without being tested. Tangible signs could prove elusive or even non-existent partly because they were not entirely meant to be easily grasped. At their more fundamental origins (or destinations) they existed within the essence of people’s lives; from their daily routines to their most epic adventures. They were sparks which could be grown into firestorms of holy sunlight or damning infernos. It all depended on the person who nurtured them. Failure in these things didn’t necessarily make a person unworthy and just like how an atheist could commit the most charitable, compassionate, and almost divine of acts, a person who rejected love with every fiber of their being could be it’s greatest champion, even if they didn’t know it. The entity concluded his speech by saying that your father’s service was over if he wished it and that he would soon be leaving him. Your father then asked the entity if they would ever meet again.

August: And what did it say.

Faris: “How the f***k should I know, you’ll feel me regardless.” Then it was gone, faded away like morning mist. Though, it wasn’t the last time your father worked towards its betterment. You could say a very warped alliance had formed between them, and this closeness may be why people occasionally address your father with “lovely” titles. And before you ask, yes I’ve seen some of his acts in the entity’s name and they are...it has a very peculiar and horrifying effect on him.

August: It can’t be all bad.

Faris: Perhaps, I think it was the entity which guided him towards your mother, it seems to be unusually fond of her, or at least their relationship. If it likes her I suppose it is redeemable, crazier than a cuckoo bird in a nut factory, but redeemable.  

August: What about my dad’s other mate, Lillin?

Faris: If that wasn’t the work of the lord of death, then I’d swear the devil himself had brought those two together.               

[themomsandthecity]

13 Reasons to Be Jealous (Yes, Jealous!) of Single Moms

This article written by Tara Kennedy-Kline was originally featured on one of our favorite sites: YourTango. Stop feeling bad, nobody wants your pity. I admit it: I cheered back in 1992 when Murphy Brown had her baby. I, along with millions of Americans, cried when the unmarried TV character sang "(I Feel Like A) Natural Woman" to her newborn son, and I called Dan Quayle a total jerk when he pegged that brave woman as a bad parenting example. But I can't think of another single mom who has been quite as celebrated since - and I think that's pretty unfair. I was raised by a single mother and I have dozens of family and friends who are single moms themselves. I have to tell you: For all they accomplish, put up with and bring to the world, I think single mommies have not been given the props they deserve! After all, many of us wouldn't be here without them. Here are 12 reasons why being a single mother (or being the kid of one!) rocks: 1. Single mothers don't have to negotiate (unless they want to). All decisions in the house are unilateral, which means no more "good cop vs. bad cop." What she says, goes. And the only backlash she has to deal with is, "It's not fair! Woe is me!" and the faint sound of tiny violins somewhere. Bonus: Because you're not arguing with a partner about the appropriate response, you can teach your kids how to communicate and express frustration without yelling. 2. Single moms are role models for independence. When there is no one else there to do the things they're not skilled at, they learn. I know single moms who have changed tires, hooked up a TV and entertainment system, learned to cook, moved heavy furniture, hung shelves, changed the wax ring on a toilet, even chain-sawed unwanted shrubbery and put together a lawn mower. Besides these skills being amazingly sexy, sisters doing it for themselves are teaching their children how to be independent too. When the children grow up and start seeking relationships, it will be because they want one, not because they need one to survive. 3. Being single means extra Zzzs. The National Sleep Foundation reports that sleeping two to a bed could cause a person to lose 49 minutes of sleep per night. This is unacceptable to any mom, but it's utterly obscene when tiny people come bounding into your bedroom at 6 a.m. sharp on the regular. Single mothers don't have to suffer the frustration of being woken up when their partner comes to bed after them or by a light being turned on or by someone else's snoring. 4. Single mothers OWN their bodies. A Cornell University study found that women generally gain 5 to 8 pounds in the first few years of marriage. And that gets worse if you are unhappily married; the same study found that those miserable women gain 54 pounds within the first 10 years of marriage. Single moms no longer have to make the choice of nixing the gym in favor of snuggle time or hanging out with their partner. They don't have to forgo the salad for dinner because their spouse is hungry for burgers. Other body freedoms that come from being single: You get to go to sleep when you want to, instead of being groped up in the dark like some kind of marital morse code for sex. You also get to wear what you want without probing questions like, "That's kind of a low cut shirt, don't you think?" In other words, you don't have to explain your body and your choices about it to anyone. 5. Give these girls a cape! (Yep, single moms are superheroes.) Their kids think they are awesome. Children of single mothers think it's incredible when mom can pull together six dozen cupcakes in one night for the bake sale the next day that someone forgot to mention. They also love it when mom can go from teaching them how to throw a curve ball to dressing up for a night on the town with her friends. Single parent homes call for versatile role shifting, and when moms can pull off both, the kids can feel safe and secure on all sides. They know they can not only trust mom to "get it done" but also as a shoulder for support - no matter what the situation. 6. The fight for survival creates a tight-knit family. Some might argue that this isn't good for kids because it makes them grow up too fast, but when the members of a single-parent home have to organize and rely on one another, the closeness that occurs is undeniable. Just as in sports, family teams have to work together. Kids learn the value of teamwork and being dependable. 7. Single moms have a monopoly on the values their children are raised with. Once they live with one parent full-time, that's the lifestyle kids tend to adopt. If the father was a "Negative Nancy," that influence is now kicked to the curb. Single mothers are free to raise their children with the morals, beliefs, character and life skills they choose - with no concern about someone else's contrasting views undermining them. 8. Single mothers are empowered. They are able to find their own strength in having to be as much as they can for their children. It is a stretching and growing experience that many parents never get. They are able to feel an intensified sense of satisfaction when their kids succeed against the odds, because they have been the best parent they can be and more; it's a payoff for all the hard work and sacrifice. 9. Single mothers are super creative and crafty. A single income can create a bit of burden, but that doesn't mean a single-parent home can't be happy and fulfilling. It just pushes mom (or dad) to do a little creative management. Instead of going out and buying a sheep costume for the school play, she and the kids get a pillow case and sew on some cotton balls to make one. Single mothers are also masterful at "staycations". They make snow cones at home, construct tents for camping in the living room, roast marshmallows over the grill and tell ghost stories by flashlight. They become brilliant pastry chefs, creating masterpieces with Twinkies and frosting in a can, and a thrift store find easily becomes a specially designed, reworked prom dress. 10. They have no mother-in-law! Yet, some still have a built-in babysitter - their exes. If that isn't news enough to make you do a happy dance, I don't know what is. 11. Some single moms don't have to share their kids with anyone on a daily basis. This one is a little bit selfish, but understandably so. They get ultimate quality time, and unlike their married counterparts, don't have to split their attention or time with anyone unless they want to. Single mothers can put all their focus into their kiddos without dealing with "jealous daddy syndrome". (Yes, it's a real thing.) They get to hog every single "first" and growing process their kids are going through. 12. Single mothers inspire the heck out of us. They discover and tackle things they didn't know they had the strength to do. This quietly gives the rest of us permission to try things we've secretly always wanted to. We think, "Hey, if Joan can have a job, raise three kids and go back to school, I can try out for the roller derby team, start a couture cupcake company, run a marathon..." They show us where to find our driving force, that power that pushes us to keep going even when things are difficult. Maybe one of the most amazing things about being a single parent is this: Your kids will always remember who was there helping them with their homework, cooking, cleaning, getting them to soccer practice and rushing from work to be at their recital. They will never forget how their moms gave up an overtime shift to sit with them while they were sick, or who helped them with their college and scholarship applications. There has always been a stigma that comes along with single motherhood, but in my opinion, single mothers are stronger than most people because they have to work their proverbial parenting muscles more. So finally, we can all tuck away our "Oh, that's a shame there's no father around" pities and start shouting, "I don't know how you do it. Because as I see it, single mothers are single-handedly taking over the world!" More juicy reads from YourTango: 5 Ways Kids Who Grew Up With a Single Parent Love Differently Dear Single Moms: Your Kids Will Be Fine. Love, A Child of Divorce http://bit.ly/2zca4Pv

[songanalysis123-blog]

Ain’t Talkin’ - Bob Dylan

Synopsis :

In a Godless world where even the idea of the nameless one is laughed at and denied, Bob walks through the ruins and decadent cities and clings onto the light of the most precious warmth. Whatever foe must be slayed will be slayed without mercy, whatever opponent is found in his path will be slaughtered. There are no laws in this forsaken wasteland, no honour, no faith, no rules, all’s up for grabs but he resists and holds onto the light like a beacon in darkness. The garden, the most precious place, that too is abandoned and God’s away. Yet relentlessly, he awaits heavenly aid. Bob practices an old abandoned faith, one from so long ago that it lingers only in the very depths and catacombs of our history and time, at the very last floor of our souls.

As I walked out tonight in the mystic garden The wounded flowers were dangling from the vine I was passing by yon cool crystal fountain Someone hit me from behind Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Through this weary world of woe Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ No one on earth would ever know

I like to think of the mystic garden as the place of introspection where the self truly resides. You can reach that world through either contemplation of the state of things, meditation or even stimulating your feelings to such heights that you’ll walk around as though you were chased by a pack of hungry dogs. It is not part of the physical world yet all have access to it emotionally, it is the place from which imagination, inspiration and creativity reside, introspection is key. The 5 senses of man are conduits that influence that world, this is why the flowers are wounded, both worlds are intrinsically connected. The senses influence reality, memories, actions and events, they corrupt the purity of the garden and inject into it sickness where the vegetation that once was pure slowly rots and is left to die should we be careless enough not to act righteously and bravely against the sin which we were born with. Sin is inside that garden, it is a small seed and how much one wants to water the seed of sin is up to himself, whether it be conscious or unconscious, that is until he recognizes the seed. It’s ironic that the only link between the garden and the outside world is sin itself, we cannot live without it but peace is a losing battle worth fighting for. Adam and Eve bit into the apple and became like God, knowing good and evil and therefore finding the choice between good and evil but to also perceive good an evil. If they had not had the apple, the arts that we know would not exist, this song would not exist. Truly, we should be grateful to the serpent for this, it gave us almost complete control of ourselves. The crystal fountain I can only picture as the divine spark which gives life to the garden, water is life, without it, there is none. Christ says that the kingdom of God is found within, knowing that Bob’s a believer, that would make sense, God is the very atom of the water that spring from the fountain. Bob gets hit by somebody bringing him back out from his introspection and into the physical realm where pain and woe thrive.

There is no point in Bob talking, rather it seems that he’s better off just walking and leaving the physical world crumble around him. The world is made up of pain and his heart burns and still yearns for more closeness yet no one will ever know about the struggle since the description of that yearning is simply indescribable. To fill the void and the emptiness in a world where all things idolize decadence of the soul rather than growth, who’d understand ? Or may be, no one would ever know because the journey he undertakes in this song is completely inward, there’s a hint to that at the end of the song

They say prayer has the power to heal So pray from the mother In the human heart an evil spirit can dwell I am a-tryin’ to love my neighbor and do good unto others But oh, mother, things ain’t going well Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ I’ll burn that bridge before you can cross Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ There’ll be no mercy for you once you’ve lost

Prayer does have power. Through the law of attraction, good and positive thoughts influence our experience of the world and what we can receive from it, baring in mind that it is much harder to do than it is to say. Since pain is an addictive feeling that releases endorphins in the brain, it’s almost as though we need pain whether that be physical or mental, it’s well documented that some of us are addicted to torturing ourselves with negative thinking. Evolution taught us to be careful of all dangers and to expect bad to happen, man could not defend himself against the animals that surrounded him and so was made to always be on his guard therefore thriving upon negativiy, was man the underdog of the world and stood against the dangers by broadening his consciousness to the point that he began to become his own worst enemy through the realisation that he has the potential to destroy anything by the use of his own psyche ? Man grew and found within himself the devil, the devil was the only way he was going to survive in this world. How wide does Pandora’s box open ? Lucifer brought us the light, Adam and Eve were inside God’s mind, what God could not do was remove the Tree of Knowledge because it served him and was necessary to him. He was supposed to carry the knowledge and burden of perception. We can only be grateful to Lucifer for sending us on the amazing journey that life is. I thank both. I forgive both. The mother I can only think of as the Madonna, symbol of purity and life unspoiled by fleshly needs.  

Not all things inside man are good. Observe the world of psychopaths at the top of the political world or even the business world and you begin to see that these people are untouched by judgement because they simply have no conscience of others. Karma does not affect you when you have no conscience, it’s only when you develop conscience that judgement falls upon you. The idea that everything is made out of love is not the only way to touch the feeling of elevation and ascension, you can go all the way down and find power over the world, you will not be yourself when psychotic laughter overtakes you, you’ll be consumed by power and burst out of your chains, eat the world as though it was a piece of raw meat and lay all things to waste. That evil of having no regard for the world around us resides in everyone. Can you handle it is the question and how long for before you break, are you born a psychopath to the extent that you will hurt others and never even honestly think about what happened ? You can lose your good conscience very easily but it might not be lost long enough for you to carry on without looking back. Good and evil intertwine, you might think that you’re doing good when in the contrary, you are doing evil. Picture a funambulist walking on the Yin and Yang. We are stuck between good and evil, it’s as though we’ve been put inside a snow globe where good and evil is the glass that keeps us inside.

Trying to do good onto others is probably the hardest task that’s been brought upon the self, how to do good when all things relate and so many options are open to you that you are blinded by temptation and voices call you from all sides to give into satisfying yourself even if it means to destroy all things around you ? And even if you try to do good, it’s most likely going to be misinterpreted by whoever it is you’re trying to do good onto until it’s understood that you are protecting both yourself and them. Give food to the ever hungry and he asks for more, take it away from him and he’ll take years to understand why. Blinded by an education where all was given to him freely rather than him learning to fetch for himself.

Things don’t go well so Bob keeps walking and not talking, it’s better to keep quiet and to keep walking than to pay attention to the outside influences that may throw you off course in your quest for true goodness, or even worse, that it is you who is the evil that destroys the good around, to keep others safe it’s best if you stay far off and quiet. True goodness is upside down in our social realm, things are inverted. May be that’s why he’s got to burn the bridge or as the last line suggests, may be it’s because you are the enemy. Or is this all happening in Bob’s head and he’s talking to himself ? Restlessly running from himself.

Now I’m all worn down by weeping My eyes are filled with tears, my lips are dry If I catch my opponents ever sleeping I’ll just slaughter ‘em where they lie Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Through the world mysterious and vague Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ Walkin’ through the cities of the plague

It’s a painful, painful world. I don’t have much to say about that one, you can only cry for so long, it wears you out and your lips are dry from the thirst for whatever you’re thirsting for has not been satisfied. You know you’ve got enemies. They’re all around, they spit at your values, they laugh at your beliefs, they do anything to keep you in line, they sell you stuff, they show you shit on TV, they bomb Syrians while ISIS run over your families, they lure you into thinking that there is such a thing as winning or losing against them when there is only the awareness of how you treat yourself that counts. Treat yourself well and you will treat others rightfully as they deserve, things are not so black and white and it would be very long to explain how serving one’s self is to live in the laws of nature and God, it’s the contrary of selfishness. It doesn’t matter where you go, which side you might choose, there’s enemies all around anyway. You could pick a side and see where that leads you but loyalty’s only to the self and to God, rely on no one. The world’s vague and that picture of mythical walking as though Bob was an old pilgrim wandering through the cities of the plague is intact and as powerful as ever. Sodom and Gomorrah where all pleasures are up for grabs in order to fill a void that will never be filled through any physical acts anyway, you might as well pluck your eyes out. The people in those cities experience no growth, they’re at a stand still, everything repeats and it’s hell to get out of a habit. Despair leads into habits. ‘’Find me one righteous soul in either cities and I shall not destroy them’’ I paraphrase. God, since found within, was let down by the people of Sodom and Gomorrah and so by not serving the God within and living in accordance to it, the cities fell. They brought destruction on themselves by living in constant sin. Forget yourself and you will be absolutely lost, imitate or try to fit in where you don’t belong and you’re going to hurt yourself really badly.

Well, the whole world is filled with speculation The whole wide world which people say is round They will tear your mind away from contemplation They will jump on your misfortune when you’re down Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Eatin’ hog-eyed grease in a hog-eyed town Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ Some day you’ll be glad to have me around

Reality, perception, physics, names, words, everything is out of speculation. Bob then sarcastically puts a touch on how the world might not even be round. ‘I know that I know nothing’ said Socrates.

Contemplation leads to philosophy and that is no fun, one is not supposed to contemplate himself, rather it’d be better to blame other people for your own misfortune, you are not supposed to grow, you are not supposed to face yourself. You’re supposed to bitch about your experiences, that is how your shadow is kept over you like a veil over the light, you should not begin to examine yourself otherwise, you do not give into greed. Are you experiencing symptoms of reflection and contemplation ? Phone your doctor, you suffer from depression. A couple of pills will cure you from the ghosts that haunt you day and night only to come back when the effects wear out, there’s no cure but the education of the self and of the soul, struggle and you will be rewarded, bring out everything that you’ve got, resist and give into nothing but yourself, tough as that may be, no matter how many times you might fail. Now you may think you can rely on a friend but the question isn’t if they can carry you but how long can they carry you for before they too begin to break under your weight ? That is evil and selfish. Carry yourself upright, stare into the face of mankind and don’t forget your mirror.  

Still walking and Bob’s very negative in this song and rarely is negativity tolerated in social circles, too much negativity and criticism is a toxic habit, it blurs the lines so fuck you Bob, go away. Yet negativity offers some fantastic insights into the state of things. If a society lives under an illusion and utopia that everything in the world is good, then you can be sure that there’s something rotten under it. I’d rather say that all things are in bliss rather than everything being made out of love. Actions though, are most of the time done out of love whether they be wrong or good.

They will crush you with wealth and power Every waking moment you could crack I’ll make the most of one last extra hour I’ll avenge my father’s death then I’ll step back Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Hand me down my walkin’ cane Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ Got to get you out of my miserable brain

Society spoils you with goods and buying something expensive is often a way to show off how well you’re doing. Consumerism encourages us to believe that our material gain is success and will bring us the needed love which we all seek. It’s the age old story, from the fall of Rome to the breaking point of capitalism. When Rome fell, emperors drank to power since they assumed that they were all powerful they’d thought they’d won everything and by letting down their guards and indulging into pleasure, they lost their way and without struggle there are no lessons and no lessons equals no growth. With capitalism (fuck communism too btw), it’s the citizens that let down their guards against the government, banks and companies. By spoiling the individual with material things, the individual receives a small moment of approval from others which he begins to depend on, it’s just as addictive as pain. It lures him into thinking that his soul does not need taking care of but that rather, his phone needs an upgrade. For the common individual, it also makes him believe that he is escalating the social ladder in the sense that he is closer to the masters of the world while the masters are actually enjoying the most expensive wine and tasting the healthiest and best food around while leaving the individual going into the supermarket to buy a smart price can of potatoes. While the money has gone into upgrading the phone, the minimum wage earner’s body is hungry for health. Later on and whether that game be unconscious or not, this is what happens : While companies fatten the citizens with greed and entitlement, politicians play on the self-pity the individual experiences (because to consume has not fulfilled the needed love) in order to get votes. Behind the curtains, politics and companies are having a hand shake.

Back into the lyrics, you could crack at any moment to give into that game, it is very tempting to throw it all away to join that kind of world because you could get these moments of appreciation too, you see them all around joyful but the moments might be ephemeral, after all, you can’t be in someone else’s mind. So Bob’s gonna make the most of one last hour, he’s gonna do something, keep active because these moments of appreciation are ephemeral and will lead to withdrawal after they’ve gone. To believe that the senses can satisfy the void is misleading, they’re always hungry for more. Only one thing can satisfy and it is immaterial and hard to reach. Then again, we are animals and all animals need physical release. The beast inside must be served, if not served it will come back to insult you and put you down every day.

It’s getting harder to walk, pass him his walking cane while he gets that person out of his already worn out brain, miserable and numb, Bob’s running from a ghost. You can be haunted by memories, they’ll eat you like flies from the inside out. There’s a certain kind of people that can take over you and it’s not them to be blamed personally but they turn into the master puppeteers of your mind, they can literally break you. Worship another human being and you will find that there is no way that this person will ever be satisfied (Mea Culpa), idols are not to be worshipped.

All my loyal and my much-loved companions They approve of me and share my code I practice a faith that’s been long abandoned Ain’t no altars on this long and lonesome road Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ My mule is sick, my horse is blind Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ Thinkin’ 'bout that gal I left behind

Bobby’s got people that comprehend and understand the feeling, the code of life that must be respected and shared like pirates on a ship or outlaws and renegades in a Texan desert. Faith has no altars, as a matter of fact, there is no need for any altars. ‘’I never turned aside, he said, I never walked away. It was you who built the temple, it was you who covered up my face’’ L. Cohen.

Faith is an act of trust and acceptance to a power unknown, that power does not reside in the altar but again, in the feeling that led to the construction of that altar. God is all around and beyond, we are part of it. Like the vessels that run in our veins, we are the vessels of God. The only place where one might truly worship is again, inside and through the actions undertaken to show proof of that faith, that it is practiced. It lies dormant to plain eyes but is wide awake under the microscope. Go to a place of worship and you might find like-minded people, but it won’t follow you around and go wherever you go, you can only carry faith with you, you can only carry yourself with you. God is synonymous with life. God is synonymous with all things since, from my view, we are inside of it and each one of us carries the spark to live well and according to the code, the laws of nature.

Anyway, Bob’s companions turned out to be a mule and a horse. Jokes.  But the heart still burns,  still yearns and the person in his miserable brain is probably an ex lover.

Well, it’s bright in the heavens and the wheels are flyin’ Fame and honor never seem to fade The fire gone out but the light is never dyin’ Who says I can’t get heavenly aid? Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Carryin’ a dead man’s shield Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ Walkin’ with a toothache in my heel

The apocalyptic picture of bright heavens and wheels flying remind me of the coming of judgement day, I can only picture the wheels as the wheel of fortune that hangs above every individual, all things have lost their sense and everything is going in every direction offering no sense of orientation. I know I’m going too far there, it’s probably a plain picture.

The fire’s gone out, life has been sucked out of him, there is nothing left but a flickering light, the flames that drives life into activity, into the hope to change things for the better are gone. There is nothing left but a sense of holding onto the light, however small it might be, Bob does not lose hope or beat himself up, he’s gonna hold onto it until the time comes but whatever happens, the preservation of that light is most important. You can be left empty in this world, that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t carry on when all lust for living has been swept away, there is light, there is hope. Heavenly aid we can get.

Still walkin’, still not talkin’, he picked up a dead man’s shield and is the dead man his dad ? He mentions avenging his father’s death in some verses before. Make peace with the ogre and your DNA will serve to continue a purpose that flows in your vains.

The sufferin’ is unending Every nook and cranny has its tears I’m not playing, I’m not pretending I’m not nursin’ any superfluous fears Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Walkin’ ever since the other night Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ Walkin’ 'til I’m clean out of sight

Bob’s sight is distorted, there’s no ending to the suffering, everywhere there is suffering and that’s the truth. I keep thinking that when it comes to the superfluous fears bit, he makes allusions to the evil spirit and the heavenly aid, those things are no joke and I mean no joke. Our perception is limited but we can switch consciousness with hallucinogenics, seeing things that are not therein our natural sight. DMT seems to lead very much into that. Ayahuasca does show you a world of entities that you cannot see in this realm, different worlds in one. Look into Shamanism. ‘’Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes or any searcher know by mortal mind; veil after veil will lift but there must be veil upon veil behind’’ Edwin Arnold.

‘‘Walkin’ til I’m clean out of sight’‘ - Bob’s my soul companion, love you Bob.

As I walked out in the mystic garden On a hot summer day, a hot summer lawn Excuse me, ma'am, I beg your pardon There’s no one here, the gardener is gone Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’ Up the road, around the bend Heart burnin’, still yearnin’ In the last outback at the world’s end

There’s someone else in the garden now, she’s looking for the gardener but he’s gone, there’s no one left. All’s left to itself. All the way Bob goes into infinity, in the last outback, drifting into whatever the horizon has to propose, he’ll forever walk aimlessly only preserving the flickering light which serves as the only redemption in a world filled with anguish and self indulgence. Or, this is where it relatesback to the beginning, Bob’s on a hot summer lawn, on a hot summer day, a woman comes up to him and ask him where the gardener is. Bob responds that the gardener is gone. This is in the physical world but Bob responds to her with a double meaning. All of this happened to him in a small moment in time while he was taking a journey within himself which involved the social realm. I love it. Meanwhile, because no one on earth will ever know what just went on inside or even comprehend what he saw or even what he sees or feels, he carries this realm within himself to the end. No one believes dreamers even when they’re not dreaming.