#The Secret Heart of the Thran

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Koilos Roc by Antonio J. Manzanedo

[i-did-not-mean-to]

W - Waterfall

Written for @scyllas-revenge...My dearest, have a slice of Victorian Thran :D

Words: 1,7 k

Characters: Thranduil x OC

Warnings: Heartbreak, accident

“Miss Zinnia?” the maid poked her head through the door in a rare moment of almost informal flippancy that would never have been permissible had the Master or the Mistress of the house been in attendance. “I just heard from the butcher’s boy that Master Thranduil is coming back.”

Zinnia nodded, laying her needlework aside primly to dissimulate the fact that her fingers were trembling.

“Thank you, Minnie,” she said with a smile that felt like trying to stretch stone. The girl’s name was Mary and she had grown up in this house, her mother having been the cook since before Zinnia had even been born, and thus, they shared a secret but not necessarily an unusual level of intimacy and complicity.

“I just thought you might want to know,” Minnie grinned. “I am sure the Mistress will hear as well and, well, better be prepared to keep a straight face then.”

“You may go,” Zinnia replied not without a hint of sympathy. “Thranduil and his comings or goings are no longer any of my concern.”

That was, of course, a brazen lie.

Once upon a time, the whole county had expected the young heir to ask Zinnia’s esteemed pater for his blessing to court and eventually marry the fresh-faced debutante. Zinnia herself—in her youthful naïveté—had believed that this would be her life; she had already seen herself as the Mistress of Greenwood the Great.

The war, ravaging the country mercilessly, had put an end to that daydream. Lord Oropher perished and Thranduil, now the master of his estate and the surrounding lands, had wedded an unknown heiress who had valuable resources, a vast fortune, and a very knowledgeable father speaking in her favour.

Zinnia lifted her hand to her lips as if that could stop the mean, undignified thoughts about to burst into her mind.

She had not been jilted, no matter what people said or how she had felt about the whole disaster at that moment; consequently, she had no right to wish any kind of punishment on Thranduil.

He had broken her heart, but never his word.

Nonetheless, his young bride had died in childbirth and—bereaved and beside himself with compounded grief—Thranduil had taken his son away, falsely believing that there was something hostile and nefarious in the air of his hometown.

Now, he apparently was back.

Zinnia patted her curls absent-mindedly; after Thranduil had left, she had not even considered accepting another suitor for a long time, secretly hoping that he’d come back to her.

Later, when the reality of her situation overruled her personal pride and the predilections of her heart, there had been very few eligible bachelors left and none of them was willing to be satisfied with a young lordling’s leavings.

Moreover, by that time, Zinnia had become so shrewd and independent that she hardly appealed to these middle-aged dandies who were looking for an amenable, obedient wife to mind their offspring and embellish their sitting room.

“Zinnia!” The shrill, nervous voice of her mater—a woman of ample proportions and even more impressive charisma—cut through the haze of her recollections. “The merry widower is back.”

“I doubt that he is very merry,” Zinnia muttered before remembering that it was unseemly to be seen moping when the sun was out, and the curtains were pulled back to allow people walking along the northern border of their estate to admire their rich furnishings.

“I expect him to call here before long,” her mother prophesied and let herself melt into one of the ridiculously plush chairs.

Mother was never wrong, Zinnia thought as, the very next afternoon, Minnie announced that Lord Thranduil was in the foyer.

“He apologised very handsomely for coming over unannounced,” she reported in a breathless, flustered whisper, “and he looks ever so dashing. Should I show him into the library?”

“Do,” Zinnia agreed and slipped up the back stairs to her room to freshen up a bit. She had lost the fresh glow of youth, but she was still a handsome woman and thus, she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to counteract the tell-tale pallor that would have given away her state of nervous excitement.

When she entered the library, she recognised Thranduil immediately, cursing him for having changed so little when time had been so cruel to her.

He still was tall and svelte, standing straight and strong as a birch tree by the window—his hair had gone from pale gold to starlight silver, but otherwise, he looked much the same as the day he had come to inform her that—even though he was most fond of her—he would soon marry another lady.

“Zinnia,” he greeted, his eyes shining with a gleam she could not fully understand—it was deeper and more mysterious than the expressions of joy or mischief she had known so well half a life ago.

Oh, how tired she was growing of hearing her own name.

“Do you still boat?”

She blinked in confusion. “I am much the same as I was when you’ve last seen me,” she said in a calm, dispassionate voice. Thranduil cocked an eyebrow; he knew her too well not to have heard the unsaid accusation that the same could not be said about him.

“I’d love to take you out—for old time’s sake—and speak in private,” he said, “or would I have to duel your Lord husband for that privilege?”

“Do not mock me,” she hissed sharply, taking an impulsive step towards him, ready to strike. “You find me in my parents’ house still and—I have no doubt—the gossip mongers will already have let you know that I have never been married after…”

“Who would tell me that, Zinnia? The manor has only been reopened and none of the staff I’ve brought is from around here. Unlike you, I have neither a mama nor a papa to collect and hoard titbits about my neighbours’ lives for me.”

“Forgive me,” she said, sounding astoundingly unapologetic. “I shall be delighted to go boating with you; I am curious to see how thoroughly you’ve forgotten not only us but also the place you’ve grown up in.”

Lifting his chin defiantly—eyes ablaze with indignation—Thranduil stared her down. “I’d never forget how to manoeuvre a small boat down the river, do not be daft, Zinnia!”

“Can I supply you with a ribbon to secure your hair, I seem to remember that you’ve always been uncommonly mindful of it, no?” Zinnia said with a sweet smile as she sat down in the small boat her family kept for pleasant outings such as this.

“I am delighted to discover that your tongue has only grown sharper over the years,” Thranduil commented dryly. “You must have whetted it relentlessly. Remind me to send flowers to your dear mama as a token of my admiration for her forbearance.”

Zinnia merely sniggered in a most unbecoming manner and watched the man she had once hoped to marry struggle to get their vessel out of the reeds and into the slow current of the river.

Just like her tongue, his arms seemed to have lost none of their vigour with growing age for he gripped the wooden paddles confidently and—with a few powerful strokes—steered them into the middle of the waterway.

Unfolding her light travelling fan, Zinnia tried to obscure the fact that the sight of his bulging muscles, moving tantalisingly under the informal linen shirt he was wearing drove heat and colour into her pallid cheeks.

“Why are you fanning yourself? You’re not the one rowing!” Thranduil remarked pointedly, turning his face in her direction and tilting it up in a most alluring way.

“I shall not fan you,” she declared haughtily and decided to observe the reed banks drifting by leisurely instead to avoid being caught and called out by this keen-eyed, sharp-witted man who knew her much too well to restrict himself to polite observations about the weather and their common acquaintances.

“Suit yourself,” Thranduil groaned, “if I die—overcome by the heat and the blazing sun—you shall drift down the waterfall.”

“I can swim,” Zinnia laughed mockingly, “and, unlike some people I shall not name, I do not object to submerging my hair. The ‘waterfall’ is minuscule and I doubt that any harm would come either to me or to the boat. I would let your corpse sink to the bottom though and give a tearful account of how I’ve only barely managed to save myself.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Thranduil guffawed, wiping the back of his hand across his sweat-sheened brow and grinning. For a moment, he looked so much like the man she had lost two decades ago that her heart gave a painful lurch within her seizing chest. “I deserve that, faithless villain that I am.”

They stared at each other in utter silence for a long time, each trying to find the courage and the appropriate words to bring up the misery and confusion they had wrought upon one another.

“You were so young, Zinnia,” he started, “and I didn’t want to do that to you. Looking back now, I realise that I should not have underestimated you so, but…”

A sudden acceleration of the boat interrupted him mid-sentence.

“Ah, we’ll get to see if I was right,” Zinnia said with a sardonic shrug. “I admit that I was not paying any heed to where we were going.”

“I was focused on you,” Thranduil admitted, shame-faced and visibly alarmed.

“Ditto,” Zinnia replied with a soft smile. “As I said, I believe we’ll be fine.”

“Forgive me for the impropriety, my lady,” Thranduil exclaimed as the boat started to rock and sway.

Before Zinnia could question him on that statement, his arms were around her and he held her pressed against his broad, muscled chest tightly.

“Please don’t leave my corpse,” he whispered into her hair. “I’d like to be buried beside my parents.”

And then, they fell.

It was a matter of a few heartbeats at best; the boat landed with a loud splash and a bone-shattering impact before righting itself and drifting on calmly.

“See? Nothing happened,” Zinnia hooted. When she looked up though, she found that—even though she was mostly dry—Thranduil had shielded her from the watery onslaught their landing had conjured up; he was positively drenched.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she exclaimed instinctively, trying to pat him dry with the hem of her skirt without much avail. “Let’s disembark here and rest for a bit. You can dry in the sun, and I’ll check whether any of the sandwiches have survived the adventure. How about that?”

@fellowshipofthefics here's another one for the queue :)

Ah, this one was so fun to write...

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me

[onsunnyside]

𝙎.𝙍. – Series [I] (2+ parts or more, all genres)

Categories: MCU - AU

Read the warnings for each fic. All series listed are completed or can be read as standalone.

Organized by category.

← 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵

MCU:

@bloodiedskirtts - [Love and War - 1930s/1940s] [Saviour] - steve x reader x bucky

@buckyownsmylife - Put it all on me [1] [2]

@chrisevansgoodgirl - untitled ballerina!reader [1] [the closest i’ve been to a bar was at ballet class] - natasha romanoff x reader, steve rogers x reader, carol danvers x reader, wanda maximoff x reader

@chrisevansjellybeans - Undercover [1] [2] - mob au

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor - [Get Your Fix] [Withdrawal] - dark!steve, sex pollen

@drabblewithfrannybarnes - [Takeout] [Dining-In]

@fineanddandy - Waves Series - neighbours, nomad!steve x black!reader x thor

@gotnofucks - Their Surrogate [1] [2] - dark!steve x reader, dark!bucky x reader

@geniedetails - Support [1] [2] [3] [4] [5: Christmas Special] - dark!steve

@harryspet - off to the races [1] [2] - mob au

@honeyloverogers - [Bated Breath] [Whatever It Takes]

@imamotherfuckingstar-lord -

A Blind Path Home Masterlist - pre-serum!steve to post-serum!steve

No Sleep Till Brooklyn Masterlist - soulmate trope, mutant!reader

@jimblejamblewriting -

Change Hurts [masterlist] [11] - A/B/O, avenger!reader

Falling For The Captain - alternative universe!reader

@jtargaryen18 -

All Heaven in a Rage - dark!steve

Misled - dark!steve

@justkending - Used to Be Overlooked - enhanced!reader

@kayteewritessteve - Secrets and Sins - Masterlist

@kinanabinks - His Koala Bear Masterlist - dark!steve

@lancsnerd - Desperate Times - Alternate Version

@notcaring99 - Not Good Enough [1] [2] [3] - civil war to infinity war, steve rogers x sharon carter, future bucky barnes x reader

@notyetneedcoffee - The Old Fashioned Way [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

@orbitariums - cute but deadly [1] [2] - avenger!reader

@ozarkthedog - [Daydreaming] [Learning Curve] [Balls Deep]

@revengingbarnes - What Could Have Been - post-endgame au, pining

@sherrybaby14 - Who Am I? - A/B/O, steve x reader x bucky

@shreddedparchment - Colocataire - thor x reader x steve

@spacesnail3000 - Let It Snow - dark!steve, A/B/O

@speechlessxx - [Heaven is in Your Arms] [Secret’s Out] - secret relationship

@starktonyx - Unfaithful [1] [2] - cheating, stark!reader

@sweetlyscared - [Goodbye Again] [Hello Again] - steve rogers x reader x steve rogers

@thran-duils -

Come Back Home [1] [2] - A/B/O

Use All of Me - mob MCU

@waiting4inspiration -

Claiming [1] [2] [3] - A/B/O

Shed a Tear [1] [2] The Project

@you-are-my-sanctuary -

The Art of Deceit - dark!steve

What Could've Been [1] [2] - steve rogers x peggy carter, future bucky barnes x reader, endgame

AU/Alternative Universe:

@all1e23 - Baby, It's Cold Outside - ex's to lovers, tony stark x reader but endgame steve rogers x reader

@bloodiedskirtts - Little Love Affair - mamma mia au, steve x reader, bucky x reader, sam x reader

@captain-rogers-beard -

Companion for Hire

Three’s Company: Marvel Roommate AU

@cherienymphe -

Protect & Serve Masterlist - cop!steve

[Regrets of Yesterday] [Seeds of Tomorrow] [Mistakes of the Heart - steve x reader, reader x bucky] - mob au

[Twice Bitten] [Twice Burned] [Twice Mine] - royal au, vampire!stucky, stucky x reader

Unhappily Married [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] - dad!steve, dark!steve

@darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor -

Eye for an Eye - mob au, dark!steve

Grace, Too - dark!steve, stripper!reader

kiss me in the d-a-r-k - dark!steve, best friend's dad!steve, single dad!steve

When the Weight Comes Down - dark!steve, biker au

@donutloverxo -

Corrupting a good boy - desi!reader

[Wrapped] [Soon-to-be bride] - mob au

@threeminutesoflife - Honey Trap [1] [2] - dark!steve

[ladykagewaki]

Thrawn sat in the low light of his office on the ISD Chimera. Various holo images of a far off culture floated around the office and flickered before him on a data pad. "Typical human evolution. All the genres, all the mediums, all the themes are predictable. They think themselves clever and dare label this creative? Pfft" he said of the art of humans. Feeling he had gathered enough information for the initial invasion he pressed an intercom button directly to Captain Palleon. "Captain, prepare to jump to hyperspace. "

"Acknowledged, sir."

Then Thrawns office door hissed open and an out of breath ensign ran up to the grand admiral's desk. "Sir!" he said and handed the Grand Admiral a data pad. "One last batch for your review, sir. It was separated in the clerks office, sir, apologies!"

The admiral plucked the pad from the ensign and as he powered it on and entered his security ID he said "Dismissed, ensign."

Thrawns eyes read the file name "tumblrArt". He selected the folder and saw a few subfolders. The first was his name. He selected assuming it was marked that way to draw his attention. Amusement curled his lip up in a smirk while he reviewed the depictions of him in various situations. Most of which were poking fun at the incompetence of his colleagues and underlings. "Indeed" he chuckled.

His face suddenly fell when he realized the implications. His new target knew him, intimately. These were files from his latest target: Earth.

He furrowed his brow as he scrolled through the cartoon strips, portraits, and digital paintings of him again. "These artists... how do they know me, my operations, my plans with such intimate detail?"

He quickly stood from his chair keeping his eyes on the pad. "How is it possible? We are of different dimensions. They are a civilization of inferior technology. How did they detect me, nevertheless the details of my mind!? What secrets of mine do they know..."

He looked up at an Earthling painting he had taken a liking to. A portrait of a woman gently smiling. "Are you laughing at me, Mona Lisa?" He focused on her eyes. "I see...you... you are my adversaries."

He returned his attention to the data pad again. "Thran-to?"

He felt his heart skip a few unpleasant beats. He selected the file.

The colour drained from his face as his eyes scanned the content. The very intimate, detailed content.

He whispered harshly "What devilry is this? They know not only my mind, but my heart as well?"

He smacked the intercom button with an open palm that doubled as a cathartic slam on his desk. "Abort, Captain! I repeat abort our journey to Earth space!"

"Sir?" questioned Palleon, trying to hide both his confusion and concern.

Thrawn opened the file labelled "Fan Fiction". He collected himself and replied to his bewildered captain "Additional information has come to light. I require time to... review and digest."

They cut their transmission. Thrawn leaned on his desk, trying to collect his thoughts. He stood straight, took two deep breaths and returned to his chair. Returning his mind to his normal cool, calm, and placid state. He said to himself "The Fangirl tribes of Earth will be my most challenging adversaries, yet."

[writerman]

Prompt: Thranduil and Bard went to college together but yearned from afar. Some 20ish years later they see each other again bc their kids go to college together. They weren't even aware that they lived in the same town until Legolas and Sigrid come back for vacation. Kind of like the last prompt I sent you.

Hallo, friend!

Please find my response to your prompt below. Thank you for supporting my stories by sending in prompts for me to respond to.

Please enjoy!

---------------

It was 5am the airport was deserted and Bard really, really wished he’d filled his travel cup with coffee before he had left the house to collect Sigrid from her flight home. 

It was freezing inside and outside with winter well and truly settled in for the holidays, the snow had finally stopped and Sigrid had assured her father their flight had not been cancelled but her friend she was travelling with had booked an earlier flight to be sure they’d get back the day they wanted. 

The blast of colder air from behind him and the sound of the automatic doors meant he was now not the only one in the airport and when he turned around he was greeted with someone bundled up in a long black fur coat and deep green scarf that covered half of their face. Though they wore no hat and their long white-blond hair was dusted with snow that had started lightly falling again outside. 

They stood a few feet away from him and gazed up at the arrivals screen which wasn’t even switched on before they huffed with irritation and turned to Bard tugging down their scarf so they could speak to him. 

Though, Bard was not ready for 1) how maddeningly gorgeous the man was and 2) how it appeared to be his old crush and roommate Thranduil from university some 20 years ago. This did not go unnoticed by the blond who broke into a bright smile as his expression changed from cold indifference to joyful recognition. 

“Bard!” He moved forward without prompting and slung his arms around Bard’s shoulders in a tight embrace. “Ah, how long has it been since we last saw one another?” 

It had definitely been at least 20 years since they parted ways in University to chase their dreams with a youthful exuberance that no longer existed within them. That boundless energy at the prospect of seeing the world, true blue-sky thinking with their hopes tripping from their tongues regaling all who would listen regarding their futures. 

What had Thranduil done with his life?

What had happened to have the man come back to Dale of all the places in the world to settle?

“I had no idea you were in town, what brings you here?” Bard asks as they broke the embrace, he tried to hide the fact his face had flushed pink the second Thranduil had thrown his arms around him. 

“I’ve lived here for years, what about you?” 

How strange it was, Bard had never seen him wandering the streets, not even once in the 10 years he had been settled there in Dale. 

Flight 206 Arriving from Mirkwood Intl at 5:30 am has been delayed. 

The booming yet cheery voice over the tannoy gave Bard heart failure but the dismay at hearing Sigs flight had been cancelled was enough to cover the thundering of his heart.

When he looked to Thranduil he looked equally upset and he turned on his heel and headed towards the door. 

“Come on, let’s not hang about, while I loathe the place, MacDonalds is open and they serve semi-decent coffee. It’s better than hanging about here.” Thranduil looked over his shoulder with a small smile and Bard, O, he followed behind the blond like a puppy, the same as he had all those years ago.

He was still a puppy, and still absolutely harbouring a ridiculous crush and still terrified of confronting those feelings. Somethings just never changed, not even after 20 years, a marriage and children.

And so, that was how Bard found himself sat in the plastic chairs of a booth in the fast-food restaurant catching Thran up on his life, the loss of his wife and the kids. It seemed the blond had a similar story just with one less child and they sat in tense silence for a few moments before Thranduil leaned over the table and put his hand over Bard’s with a coy smile. 

“As inappropriate as this may sound after our conversation,” He glanced around the empty restaurant lobby before continuing. “I had such an infatuation with you when we were at university. Gods it took over my life at one point, nothing obsessive, I promise but I was absolutely in love with you,” He sat back almost immediately after he’d finished speaking, clearly feeling better now he had admitted his secret. 

The information did not help Bard in the slightest. 

“What about now?” Bard ventured feeling brave for literally no reason other than perhaps he was over-caffeinated and it was now just after 6 in the morning. “Ahah, I don’t know why I asked that. Gods, it’s too early, who books a flight this early?” Bard tried to cover his embarrassment with an inane question but Thranduil waved that away looking so serious suddenly. 

“What about now?” Thranduil mirrored the words, but the emphasis was solely on the last word and Bard couldn’t hold his gaze to the blond any longer and instead stared at the plastic lid of his coffee cup. 

“Aren’t we too old to be working through ancient crushes?” Bard asks quietly, he lifts his drink to his lips and feels the still scalding liquid slide down his throat. It was the only distraction at his disposal and being unable to talk due to it sounded like the best thing for him and his mouth that seemed to run off without engaging his mind. 

“You think now you’ve hit your 40s you cannot go in search of love?” Thranduil asked, arching an eyebrow and still managing to look elegant even when unimpressed. “Don’t age yourself in such a way. Personally, yes, I struggled with the loneliness and finding new relationships for the longest time but I always knew I deserved to love again and again.” 

Surely it as easier for Thranduil to find someone to adore him. No that wasn’t fair, adoration wasn’t love. 

“Did you find love again, you didn’t mention you married again.” Bard cast his gaze to Thranduil’s hands, long fingers still smooth and as pale as he remembered… musicians hand he had always said and Thranduil had always enjoyed playing the piano when they had any sort of downtime from studying. 

There was no ring though. 

“Ah, no. It is difficult to find love and raise children at the same time. But now that Legolas is in university and Tauriel is in high school, perhaps I can try again. What about yourself?” 

There is no time for a reply as Bard’s phone begins to play the Coca Cola Christmas music signalling a call from one of his kids. 

It is Sigrid, their flight had just landed and she was currently waiting for her luggage and was he at the airport?

Both men spring from their seats and exit hastily in a bid to get to the airport before their children realise they had been sat cosied up in a MacDonalds trying their hardest not to flirt with one another.

They had failed, of course. 

Again, they went their separate ways, collecting their children and bidding one another happy holidays before heading to their separate cars likely not seeing another again. 

That was until the next day and Bard is sat on the sofa struggling to wrap Tilda’s Christmas gifts while she was out, Sigrid wanders in and hands him a piece of paper with a contact number written out neatly in her own handwriting. 

“Legolas said his dad wanted you to have his number in case of a flight delay like the last time.” A flimsy excuse and she saw right through it, Bard knew that when she grinned and plucked the half-wrapped gift from his hands to finish for him. 

“I think you should probably go call him.” It wasn’t a hint, it was an order and Bard wasn’t sure he enjoyed his children knowing anything about his love life, not like this anyway… but, rather than argue with her about anything to do with Thranduil, he merely nodded and headed to the kitchen dialling the number into his phone’s keypad as he did so. 

Thranduil answered on the second ring with a very smooth and professional greeting which melted away into a warm and friendly tone as soon as he realised it was Bard on the other end of the line. 

That was nice.

It was nice that Thranduil seemed excited to hear from him. 

“I want to get straight to the point, Thran.” Bard began realising it was far easier to talk about his feelings when the icy blue of Thranduil’s eyes weren’t rooting him to the spot speechless like they had all those years ago. “I had a crush on you in university and I hate saying crush because I’m 40 fucking years old but it never went away and I was hoping I could take you out for dinner sometime?”

There was a sigh of relief from Thranduil’s side of the line and when he spoke Bard could hear the smile in his voice.

“Look who is being so brave. You garnered the courage before I could- you win this time. I’d love to have dinner with you. I admit, being wined and dined by Bard Bowman sounds like a dream.” That was a rather big statement to make and Bard forced the oddly youthful giddiness forced down back inside himself before he said something to ruin it all. 

“A dream? How am I a dream date?” He didn’t really want to know, he was afraid Thranduil would tell him he was the perfect kind of dull for a man his age, even if that sounded out of character for the blond it was still a fear.

“Oh come on, you just want me to stroke your ego. But, fine, I suppose you deserve it after all these years.” Thranduil sounded like he was shifting to get comfortable before he spoke again, “You’re incredibly handsome, and you seemed to have gotten even better with age. You’re kind and gentle and you’re funny. I like a man that can make me laugh.”

Funny? 

He’d never been called funny before, perhaps he had been a comedian in university but he couldn’t recall, however, if Thranduil thought he was that was enough for him. 

“Ok, ok, you’ve made your point, I’m your dream man. That works well for me, so if I stuff this up I still have a chance?”

There was laughter from Thranduil and the deep rumble of it made Bard lightheaded for a second before he brought himself firmly back to planet earth to ask the most important question.

“So, when would you like to meet?” 

“Hmm, is tonight too soon?” No, no it was not, even if Thranduil had asked to meet him an hour from then he would agree. 

After all, hadn’t they spent enough time apart already?

There was no need for him to play hard to get or even casual. 

“Tonight is fine, I will pick you up at 8. Text me your address and I will see you then.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

When the call disconnected Bard wandered past the living room where Sigrid was sat talking quietly on the phone, she spotted her dad and grinned knowingly giving him a thumbs up.

He received a text later that day from Thranduil containing his address and then another right after simply saying:

I have the house to myself tonight ;) 

The night would be an eventful one but who was Bard to complain? 

This year was going to have a very different ending to all those he had spent in the past alone. Even if he was terrified of this whole new adventure, at least he was doing it with someone who wanted to be by his side for the entire ride.

[dinsbeskar]

this or that?

I was tagged by @pew-dro, thank you!! 💜

apple juice or orange juice | breakfast in bed or dinner in a blanket fort | peanut butter or butterscotch | rain or snow | water park or amusement park | guitar or violin | flip flops or sneakers | big cats or bears | ocean or lake | bonfire or picnic | draw or write | oak or mahogany | volleyball or tennis | key chains or postcards | queso or salsa | skateboard or rollerblades | porch or patio | love quotes or inspirational quotes | hearts or stars | backpack or duffle bag | orchard or garden | baby bunnies or baby ducks | pastels or earth tones | new york city or los angeles | secret stairs or secret tunnel | street magician or escape artist | fairies or gnomes | comedy or mystery | purple or green | daisies or dandelions | crayon or chalk | sunglasses tinted blue or sunglasses tinted yellow | bracelets or rings | question mark or exclamation point

I'm tagging (no pressure!) anyone who sees this and wants to, plus @darksber @dindiarin @lesbiankiliel @obihoekenobi @raptorwhisperer @roguerebel @thran-duils

[mcudarklibrary]

Author of the Month Q&A: January

We are are excited to be presenting our first Author of the Month in the Library, the GORG @sherrybaby14​. Over the remaining weekends of January we will be showcasing some of her incredible work. 

We recently caught up with the fabulous writer for a chat about all things dark fics, fan fiction and Tumblr.  

Any Cute History Behind Your User Name?  

I had just heard "Sherry" by the Four Seasons and I needed to make a name. Then my lucky number is 14.

How Long Have You Been Writing Fics of Any Kind?

I've always been dabbling, but I started to seriously write in 2011.  

What Was The First Fan Fic You Ever Wrote?

Nobody Cares, it is on AO3.  It's a Negan x OFC and about 120k words.  It started as a NaNo project!

What Was The First Fandom You Wrote For?

I did a terrible SPN one shot, so technically SPN, but I consider my first fandom The Walking Dead.  

Your First Marvel Crush

I've crushed so hard on all of them.  Probably Tony Stark after Iron Man.  But Steve Rogers was the first one I fell head over heels for, and it wasn't until Civil War.  I think he developed more as a character and wasn't so self-righteous.  

Your Favourite Fandom Writers

There's a lot!  So many fantastic writers in Marvel.  I also read for many fandoms, even ones I am not familiar with.  

But people who write Marvel:  @kellyn1604​, @thran-duils​, @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​, @opheliadawnwalker3​, @heli0s-writes​, @honeyhan-123​, @sagechanoafterdark​, @cake-writes​, @you-are-my-sanctuary​, @jtargaryen18​, @peachyteabuck​, @sapphirescrolls​, @allaboardthereadingrailroad​, @bitsandbobsandstuff​, @imanuglywombat​, @caffeinated--writer​, @carol-damn-vers​, @floatingpetals​, @barnesrogersvstheworld​, @darcia22​,  @spacelabrathor, @wxntersoldiers​, @caffiend-queen​, @mdemontespan1667​, @shreddedparchment​, @fvckingavengers, @persephone-is-here-omg​, @siren-kitten-his​, @tilltheendwilliwrite​, @221bshrlocked​, @iwantutobehapppier​,  (and I am sure I am forgetting like 100 people, such great writers!)

My favorite non-marvel are: @slasherholic​, @strikecommandher​, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash​,

Favourite Kink

It changes all the time!  But praise seems to stick with me,  I am a sucker for reading "good girl".  

Favourite Trope

Again, it changes a lot!  Lately sex pollen, but A/B/O will always have a special place in my heart

Tell Us A Secret

I normally don't even reread my stuff before I post it, so I edit nothing... Just finish it and throw it up here! Probably should get better about that.

Motivation For Writing

It is fun!  Fanfiction is just a hobby for me.  The likes/comments are very much appreciated too.  

What Got You Into Dark Fics

I have never felt the urge to explain why I write or read dark fiction.  I think that a lot of people who look down on it want people to justify their tastes.   It doesn't matter why I like what I like.  

[thewnchstrs]

happy halloween! it’s fic time, baby!

Dean X Reader

Lawrence Pie Co.: Being new in town, you decided to get to know what the Lawrence, Kansas has to offer. Little did you know you would find the most delicious pie you’ve ever tasted and an even more delicious man. | @whatareyousearchingfordean​​​

Warm Enough: Dean helps you warm up | @misssamericaschavez​​​

Tainted Love: when Charlie tags along on a hunt, neither of you can help it when it comes to taunting the boys at a red light. | @bi-danvers0​​

Series Rewrite | @adorable-dean-winchester​​​

Massage | @theliveshipparagon​​

We Meet Again:  After a case went sideways, Dean found himself in a difficult situation. When he things that this could be his end, he ends up bumping with an old friend of his, that maybe can help him. | @alwaysdreamingforthebest​​

Sober: Dean has struggled with alcoholism for a quite a while and one day, he snaps at the reader and the reader snaps him back into shape. | Male!Reader | @somebodyto-love​​

Missing: You walked away, taking a break but now you are missing. | @allonsy-yesiwill​​

COLOR: AU where your entire life you’ve only seen in black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate and color blooms before your eyes. | @supernaturalthisfanfic​​

What a Wonderful Way To Say I Love You: Dean and (Y/n) are married, with a surprise awaiting them. | @the--blackdahlia​​

Journey: The reader observes the Winchesters while hunting and maybe become friends with them, because she really needs help from her former mentor…but he is dead, and now the boys are the only ones who can help her. | @justsomedreaming​​

A Letter From Dean | @protectteamfreewill​​

Calling For You: When Dean is given the mark, you didn’t think things could get any worse. That is until the love of your life dies, and his body vanishes. Y/n will do anything and everything to get him back, even if that means she gets hurt. | @abbyilr1967​​

Where: Frustrated, you make a call to a certain hunter, hoping he can help you out and as he does, you learn where he is. | @lettersofwrittencollective​​

You’ve Never Heard of Them?: Dean gets introduce to Greta Van Fleet by an unexpected guest. | @nicole-lynne​​

Someday We Could: Dean and the reader have been friends since childhood and when they were younger they made a deal where if neither of them were married by 35 they would get married, but the last thing they expected was to actually fall for each other. | @my-proof-is-you​​

I Remember: Due to an accident while on a hunt, you don’t remember Dean, the love of your life. | @itsjustmeiguessallrightthen​​

King For A Day | @bangtasticbobby​​

Moondance: You and Dean share an intimate moment around campfire light and the voice of Van Morrison. | @winchester-fantasies​​

What Mattered Most: Dean wakes to find she’s gone. What would make his best friend leave him? Sam may just know. | @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​​

Birthday Surprise: On Dean’s birthday, Reader gives him a surprise which might just be a payback of his New Year surprise to her. | @yetanotherreader​​

Throne of Lavender: He puts the reader on a high pedestal. No way he is good enough for her. She is very loving touchy feeling with Sam and Cas but not so much dean because she thinks dean finds it annoying because of how he reacts to everyone else getting her attention. | @tloveswriting​​

Nobody Stops For Strangers: On the way to a hunt, Dean and Y/N run into a stranger on the side of the road. They learn the hard way why nobody stops for strangers. | @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​

Morning Madness: You’re pregnant with Dean’s baby, and the hormones are getting to you. | @simam12​​

When you leave the bunker with Dean for some days off | @winchestersuniverses​​

Have Mercy On Me:  You have always had an unusual gift of foresight that has helped you become one of the best hunters in the region. When you started working with the Winchester’s everything was smooth sailing. Until you started catching a few feelings for the oldest brother and now, as new nightmares are haunting you day and night, you wonder if this is a sign or a warning of what is to come. | @madleeindifferent​​

Sam X Reader

Not Ready: Sam tells you he loves you, but you’re not ready to say it back. | @river-fics​​

Sharing: You went to the nearest motel after a particularly bad hunt, only to find there a not enough beds for all of you. | @superupernatural​​

Part One | @fiftyshadesgrl​​

Kisses From My Pumpkin: During an off day, you, Sam, and Jack decide the bunker needs to new decorations for the fall season. | @itswinchesterwritings​​

After Hours | @sorenmarie87​​

Tequila, Bones and Bruises:  reader is a hunter that the boys have known since they were young because John took care of her when her dad was away or something like that. She and Sam have always liked each other but after Jess he’s too scared to do anything about it. | @too-many-baes​​

Sunflowers: Your day is ruined and Sam tries his best to make it better. | @percussiongirl2017​​

We Need Her: After the reader’s break up with Sam, she left the Winchesters and started a new life as a hunter/performer in a club. Fast forward 1 year, the Winchesters are working on a case with some really powerful demon werewolves and they find the reader because she’s the only one that can help them in this case… but what happens when Sam falls in love with her over again. | @is-jus-me​​

Research Assistant | @reigningqueenofwords

Cas X Reader

Loose Feathers | @sxftgray​​

Celestial Purity:  After defeating a witch on a hunt, Castiel and the reader find a lingering threat! | @gone-to-fight-the-fairies​​

Sleeping Grace | @luna-jaden-shadow​​

The Nightmare Before Christmas: the reader makes Cas watch Nightmare before Christmas with her. | @cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale​​

First Mate: Fluffy Halloween themed drabble. | @thran-duils​​

Caught With The Angel: Sam and Dean are overprotective of their little sister when they catch her with Cas. | @lazydoodlesandfanfic​​

Archangel’s Bane: What if i tell you that Lucifer was cast out of Heaven because of… love? | @sarcastic-space-gal​​

Weapons | @jtownraindancer​​

Nephilim News: You have some rather shocking news for Castiel, and you don’t quote know how to feel, or how to tell him. | @featurelengthfics​​

It’s A Cold And It’s A Broken Hallelujah | @marie12141989​​

Other

This is Team Free Will | Winchester!Sister | @justabigassnerd​​

You’re Not Him | Jack X Reader | @mirkwoodshewolf​​

Broken Family AU | @womanoflettersinthebunker​​​

A Dangerous Game: Ten years. No more, no less. But now the clock has run out, and it’s time to negotiate a new deal with the King of Hell. | Crowley X Reader | @risingphoenix761​​

The Heart Wants What It Wants: The Ackles oldest daughter Y/N has been growing up hiding a secret from her whole family and the entire world. She tries her best to keep it hidden, until one day her secret is released to the world. | daughter!reader | @thevelvetseries​​

So, This is Heaven Huh? | no pairing | @saltandburnbabyy​​

So...I just realized...that I’ve been shot | Winchester!Sister | @daughters-and-winsisters​​

Who Ya Gonna Call? | Sam Wilson X Reader | @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes​

Halloween: It’s Halloween day, you’ve decorated the bunker and cooked snacks with Jack while the Winchester’s and Castiel were out on a hunt.| Jack X Reader | @nougat-nephilim​​

Imagines

Imagine having to reassure Dean that you’re okay while you’re in the hospital | Dean X Reader | @badass-dora-milaje​​

Imagine a witch turn you into a dog and Dean takes care of you until the spell wears off | Dean X Reader | @bringmesomepie56​​​

First Date + Afterward (preferences) | @spnforeverblog​​

It’s Been A While | Dean X Reader | @canyouimaginethatstory​​

Imagine Sam offering to accompany you to a movie | Sam X Reader | @blissfullylostinarabbithole​​

Imagine spending Halloween with Dean | Dean X Reader | @queenlists​​

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FOREVER TAG LIST

@spnbaby-67 | @majicbamana | @luciferslucille | @anti-social-club | @search-bar | @mellorine-paprika | @thepocketshoelace | @jaremish | @the-salty-asian | @the-hufflepuff-hunter | @robynannemackenzie-blog | @mersuperwholocked-lowlife | @lilreethi | @find-sammys-shoe | @caswinchester2000 | @damnedimpala | @thelittlestwinchestersister | @lauren-novak | @adeanmon | @tmiships4life | @spnficgirl​

[wearepaladin]

Unconquered

A story of Primeval Thule

Three things cannot be long hidden. The Sun, The Moon, and the Truth.

-Buddha

On the continent of Thule, in the age after Atlantis was consumed by the depths, and before the time of all consuming ice, magic was a force feared and little understood by humanity at large. For most, what little that was understood fell under the domain of superstition and fear, for it was a force not natural to humanity, and those who did seek to understand and wield it would be considered outcasts by most, their souls forever corrupted by the taint of the arcane.

The argument could be made that this belief was born of prejudice and superstition, and that magic, like any form of power or knowledge, depended on who grasped it to be considered good or evil. It might even be true. But those who make that argument find it little comfort in the conquered city of Thran, where those with arcane power rule unquestioned.

The origins of the Black Circle, the cabal of arcanists that hold sovereignty over Thran is a deliberate mystery, with those seeking answers often unsatisfied or left in no state to share what they learned. What is certain is that one day, the old leadership of Thran vanished in a swift coup, and rising over the city appeared the Orb, an obsidian fortress sphere that put the city in a perpetual state of eclipse. From there, the will of the Black Circle enforced itself on Thran, subduing the city by way of spell, legions of undead and other monsters that found no sunlight to burn or hinder progress, a terrifying display of arcane and necromantic power that has instigated a Long Night upon Thran.

Now, whenever people question the danger of magic, they need only cite Thran as an example to chill doubting hearts. The city has been under the thumb of the Black Circle for nearly a decade now, with those who challenge them quick to disappear...

Or be made an example of.

Deep beneath surface, in the heart of Thran’s Iron Colliseum, an arena crafted by the will of the city’s master, a solitary soul awaited his end. He could feel the crowd before he heard them, their enthusiasm a palpable thing even deep beneath the arena. The prisoner had long grown familiar to the roar of bloodthirsty enthusiasm, and it no longer evoked either the fear or excitement it once did.

For the crowd desired only his blood now.

“Up, Lemurian.”

The guard who spoke emphasized his comand with a meaty kick upon the cell door, the sound doing more to rouse the prisoner from his thoughts than anything spoken. The prisoner met the guard’s gaze squarely through his one working eye, the other red and swollen from being struck an hour before. The “Lemurian” rose with an effort that barely betrayed the presence of the many bruises and wounds that currently decorated his form.

“It’s time. Come. Better to meet your fate in the arena than down here.”

The guard chuckled, and the Lemurian grimaced in agreement, despite himself. The alternative of being slowly beaten to death in a cell was only slightly less appealing than being made a spectacle of in the arena. 

--------------------------

In another time, in another place, another prisoner waited in the dark. She was draped limply upon the floor, her arms and torso held aloft by great chains of metal that she no longer had the power to strain against.

Once, she might have willed those chains to less than ash, such was her power in times past, or simply made herself elsewhere. Even now, she might have strained and heard iron scream and submit to raw force, but those who kept her prisoner had prepared for her confinement. Runes of Eclipse of and Cloud kept her dim light smothered, and here, deep beneath the earth, moonlight would be hard pressed to find and restore her.

For even the forgotten goddess of the moon still had sway with her domain. But here, in the deep darkness, Selene could find no comfort in the promise of that absent light. Or at least, that’s what her captors believed...

Eyes closed, her body limp with the facade of defeat, she focused herself in the darkness, imagining, remembering, to be a deeper darkness than night, the hidden moon obscured in the shadow the world. As a goddess she’d had many aspects, but in this phase, the umbra, she was the hunter in the dark.

The hunter knew how to be unseen, and more importantly, how to be patient.

-------------------------------

Light spilled into the corridor, prompting the Lemurian to shield his eyes, granted no period to adjust as a guard pushed him forward, his exposed knees scratching themselves on the sand. As he was pushed closer to the entrances, the smell of blood filled his nose even as the roar of the crowd filled his ears. With a will, he stood straight, wincing as one of his recently inflicted injuries found itself pressed down by his escort.

“Will you not allow me even one weapon to defend myself?”

The guard gave another hollow chuckle. 

“The lords of this city desire not to see you fight, Lemurian. They wish to see you die.”

And with that he was pushed forward into the light, the gate closing immediately after, the Lemurian finding himself facing the arena. All around him, the crowd undulated at his presence, pulsing with the thought of seeing him dead. The living and the undead sat side by side, the promise of violence enough to bring both sides of that divide together. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

He looked up at the source of the artificial eclipse that dominated the sovereignty of Thran. The diluted light of the sun seemed more illustrate the dark sphere the overlords of this place resides than provide true illumination to the world below. Others, be they living or dead, tried to avoid looking at it, as though their upward gaze might offend their betters.

The Lemurian glared upward, unafraid.

“Still defiant, even now.”

The voice of the Speaker, the United Presence of the Black Circle, the only evidence of most would ever witness of the people behind the magocracy above their heads, rang over the arena. The crowd was silent, daring not interrupt.

“I defy only what others accept out of fear.” The Lemurian answered, still focused on the Orb, resisting the urge to blink his eyes away. The sun still burned even in this false eclipse, but with death so close, he didn’t want to grant the Circle any perceived submission.

Or at least, that was the image he was trying to project. The sun no longer burned him as it did most, but that was a secret he would not unveil. Not yet.

“They accept the will of their betters. For all you’ve done in resistance to our mastery over this world, you forget that ultimately what we do with our magic is just an extension of our humanity, where it is our nature to submit to greater strength. Be it with spell or axe, we will rule this city and this world to come by making it in our image.”

From the sphere above, a broken sword fell, planted in the sand. Forms of deeper darkness pooled around it, taking the shape of nightmares. The Lemurian recognized them as his executioners. The moment was here.

He stood to meet it.

“And yet for years I have not submitted to you. Through slavery, torture, violence, even trying to force my mind under your chains, you could not break me. I am proof that your shallow philosophy is as thin as any shadow.”

He limped forward, one of the wounds inflicted in his confinement opening, blood draining down his leg. He grasped the broken knife hilt, and turned to face the nearest form of living darkness, meeting its deadlight gaze squarely.

“I need only show these people that they can yet remain unconquered. That there is a light they share that you cannot smother.”

The crowd had gone utterly silent at this point, the nervous tension deep enough to cut. One of the nightmares surrounding suddenly struck the Lemurian, talons as cold as midnight circling his heart.

“And how shall you do that?”

The Speaker intoned, sarcasm laced with a grudging irritation. The talons grew jagged, forcing a rictus of agony on the Lemurian’s face.

A sight that promptly faded into a calm smile, even as his blood pooled on the sands of the arena.

“Like this.”

He raised his knife high. And the sun answered him, the once pale light of the arena banished in favor of a storm of fire and light. A moment later, where a once dying man stood bleeding before a visceral execution, creatures of darkness ready to slowly pull him apart for the amusement of their masters, now stood a man made whole, crowned with a nimbus of light, a once broken knife in hand made unto a solar blade of purest edge.

“Now. Let us begin.”

—————————

Selene heard the footsteps, and girded herself, the power she’d been slowly gathering to strike. It almost hurt at this point, like a blunt knife edging out of her skin, but kept it still. She would only have once chance.

In her focus, she almost did not notice the hurried alacrity of the footsteps, but was barely given to ponder before the door to her cell opened from outside. Her captor, the merchant prince Mheriz, stormed in, a contingent of his guards surrounding him.

“We need to get her out of here. Lock the door, and prep the circle. The buyer is not someone we can afford to allow their prize to slip away.”

He ordered, a pair of his guards swiftly locking the door while Mheriz’s pet mage began activating the teleportation circle beneath her feet.

Selene grit her teeth. The power she’d been saving to break her chains would mean nothing if they could simply whisk her away. But the circle was not something she could break free of...not as easily anyway. She would be exhausted, vulnerable...

Finally betraying signs of life, she looked at the door, willing herself to divine what was behind it...and saw a glimmer of hope.

With a deep sigh, she gathered her power, and with everything she had, the gifts of a scant few believers from every age she’d known, began to whisper the first thing any god had shown mortals.

She prayed.

The circle beneath her cracked in two, three, a dozen pieces, it’s power to ensnare and transport her to wherever Mheriz intended ruined beyond any swift repair, the mage who’d begun activating it sent flying into the wall with a wet crack. Exhaustion racked her body, and the goddess Selene slumped, her power diminished.

She remained conscious only long enough to hear Mheriz howl in outrage, and witness the doors to her cell shatter open.

—————

The sound of battle quieted, and a lone figure stared at the unconscious body of the moon goddess, her form deceptively mortal, if not for her great size. Mheriz’s dying ambition, to use her as a bargaining chip to buy into the ranks of some of the more unholy factions on Thule seemed all the more abhorrent at the sight of her. His fragmented remains seeming a minor punishment for the offense. If he’d had the time, the lone figure might have eaten the man’s heart for this crime. As it was, enough time had been wasted in thought of the dead merchant prince. There was a greater duty to uphold now.

The sword of fire and light ignited in his hand, and cursed iron shattered with each strike. The goddess crumpled slowly, before righting herself with a great deliberation, straining against exhaustion and pain. Never the less, she rose with a dignity the lone figure found beautiful beyond words.

She met his gaze, seemed to look through him, to his heart and soul. A thoughtful frown graced her face. “Your are a warrior of Mithras, the Unconquered Sun. Son of Sol Invictus, in my memory, your people were enemies of my children. The memory of Lemuria and her wars with Atlantis still chill my heart. Why have you assisted me, in this, my darkest hour?”

She asked, trepidation clear on her face.

The lone figure paused, before sheathing his blade, and removing his helmet. His Lemurian features clear in the silver light of her presence. He considered answering with tenets of his oath, of Mithras’ code of justice and light. All seemed inadequate, even in their truth. Slowly, deeper truth bled out of him

“My name is Atreus. I have been made a slave before, and whatever old hatred between my people and yours, I would never wish that on you, or anyone else.”

The goddess blinked, tears precious as crystal briefly escaping her eyes, before she reached to engulf his hand with her own. He accepted it with a smile.

[blankdblank]

Secret Scarves Pt 32

…

Pt 1 - Pt 1a - Pt 1b - Pt 1c - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8- Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 -

Pt 13 - Pt 14 - Pt 15 - Pt 16 - Pt 17 - Pt 18 - Pt 19 - Pt 20 - Pt 21 - Pt 22 - Pt 23 - Pt 24 - Pt 25 - Pt 26 - Pt 27 - Pt 28 - Pt 29 - Pt 30 - Pt 31- 

All –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​

X Thranduil - @evyiione​, @sweetlytenacious25​, @tigereyesf​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​

@obnoxious-in-pink

…

Lost in your thoughts from your way to fetch Jax when you had crossed paths with Theoden, reeling himself learning his girlfriend just got handed eviction papers that morning. With a week to move out of her place and in with Theoden you felt more pressure than ever to find your own place granting them some well needed privacy. Word had bubbled back from Theodred that their hours were being upped bringing with it the sheepish admission that they wouldn’t be able to fully care for Jax. So lost in your thoughts you remembered all the listings you had read through the past two weeks you had been turned down for with a short list unavailable for a few weeks yet.

Thankfully your classes were light that day easing your pick up times, though in the breaks between class you scanned over listings on your phone for several you could neither qualify for or commute easily between schools, work and to visit the guys. From the minute the lecture started Thranduil’s brows sunk at your seemingly anxious behavior, and with Jax seated in Thranduil’s chair working on homework he couldn’t just grab him and take him to the office to ease into his chair to subtly text you uncovering the reason.

Between the note taking and your struggle not to cry at your dilemma and smirk at Thranduil’s deepening expression in his forced silence your eyes kept wandering to Fili’s desk beside yours as he kept writing something and doodling between his own bouts of notes. Eventually a slip of paper was eased your way and a grin spread onto your face at his simple request for another film to take you to over the weekend.

Peering up again to Thranduil on your way to glance at the next slide on another set of ruins, over the quiet chatter of those not paying attention, out of nowhere he blurted out in Elvish, “I love you.” Without a pause a few young women were heard saying soft, “Awws” while the other students grew quiet at his statement wondering why and to whom he had said it.

Tapping the tip of your pen on your notebook you were glad to have your ears covered by your hair to hide your blush. While Fili stole the chance to pat his free hand on your nervously bouncing leg under the table while Thranduil’s brows tightened again and he stated in the common tongue, “I can think of twenty structures and monuments for the reason of proving or declaring Love. There have been a great number of structures built with a meaning or intention so powerful behind it. Instead a typical essay I want you all to find one that was built for great purpose or meaning of a message such as proclaiming affection or dedication and tell me about it. No less than five pages, be sure it is meaningful and not just because ‘it’s really badass’.” He added switching the slides between a glance at one of the guys in class who had written that in one of his latest essays making him slouch a bit more in his chair.

The rest of class blurred on as you focused on your notes avoiding Thranduil’s gaze spiking his heart rate to match yours wondering if he had upset or embarrassed you. Finally it was over and you packed up feeling Fili’s hand ease across your back while Kili behind you both leaned in to rumble, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head forcing a smile “I’m fine,” folding a slip of paper between your fingers following Fili down the steps by his hold of your hand. At the bottom you passed around Thranduil at his podium catching his panicked gaze at you that flinched at your fingers subtly dipping into his back pocket. You crouched to find Jax still in the middle of his packet where he asked, “Can I stay here to finish?”

You nodded leaning in to kiss his forehead, “I’ll see you in a couple hours then.” Rising at his grin and shift to refocus to turn spotting Thranduil’s fingers easing out of his pocket with note between them looking you over.

“You don’t mind watching him?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.” Softer he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head through another grin you glanced at the students entering, “I’m fine. Gotta head to Dwalin’s.”

“Jaqi-.” He pled softly turning as you walked around him. “Text me in Dwalin’s.”

Behind you the boys looked you over clearly seeing something was wrong as well. Though halfway to Dwalin’s as usual they left your sides to head off to their rugby practice. At the last of his students taking their seats while the first clip played again Thranduil finally unfolded your note and grinned reading, “I love you too, Big Leaf.” Subtly he eased his phone from his pocket, replacing it with his note, waiting for your text and for his cue to begin speaking again.

..

Passing Dwalin you felt his eyes on you wondering what was wrong on your path to your seat, recognizing that look from back before Christmas when he took you home on his lunch. Basic formulas were set out and in the middle of your first section of notes he once again glanced up at you then halted seeing you wiping away the stray tear that rolled down your cheek granting an uncommon pause for notes. His eyes sank to your subtly bouncing feet in your next glance at the blank message you were trying to word properly to fill him in that you had to find a place to live for you and Jax. Knowing full well he would offer his, an offer you didn’t want him to be forced into.

Though as you followed along through his next section your eyes dropped to your phone seeing Boromir’s message, “Can you come home?”

Parting your lips your heart spiked again and you quietly put up your things and trotted down the steps raising your phone mouthing, “Sorry,” to Dwalin, who nodded and continued on as you dialed Boromir back and raised the phone to your ear leaving him to assume it was another family emergency.

Wetting your lips you passed back by the same paths and peeked through Thranduil’s door seeing Jax still working a hard sigh left you and at Boromir’s next voice message playing again you hung up and trotted towards your sub. A flash of blonde darted into your path and your head turned catching Fili in full trot at your side, “What’s going on?”

“Boromir asked me to come home.”

“For?”

You shrugged, “He won’t pick up.”

Fili nodded, “Let’s go then. Where’s Jax?”

“Thranduil’s class finishing an assignment.”

A call from Kili halted Fili and he groaned, “Fuck, practice...”

You turned kissing him on the cheek, “You go, I’ll handle this.” Then turned to race towards your sub you started and took off on as he rolled his eyes groaning at having to leave you alone in whatever you had to deal with.

...

“Boromir?!” Your eyes looked over all the piles of totes in the front room on your path through the apartment until you spotted Eowyn coming from your closet, “Jaqi! You’re here! So, I’ve been packing your things..”

Her voice halted at the tear rolling down your cheek, “Why?”

She neared you claiming your hands while Arwen came out of Frerin’s with another box she added to the stacks, “That’s the last of it I can find.”

She looked you both over and went to join you, stroking your back. “Oh dear, he didn’t explain, did he?”

Eowynn, “Boromir-.” At the door opening behind you the man himself with Faramir, Aragorn and Eomer stood panting with carts ready to be filled again for their next trip.

Boromir saw your face and moved quickly to you guiding you to the couch, “Here Darling, I’ll explain it all.”

On the couch he gave you a soft smile brushing his thumb along your cheek drying your tear trail, “Theoden’s been keeping me in the loop, back since the first spot of trouble at his lady’s place. And like I told you when I moved here it was to settle down. The one thing I knew I had to do was ensure you had a place. Now I know you have the guys but it’s been barely two months, you’re nowhere near moving in level, technically, neither am I, and there’s Jax to think about.”

“Bo-,”

He shook his head, “I bought a house. Out near Thran, so, Darling, until summer starts I will be staying with Dwalin at the apartment, as I can assume Thorin will be spending most of his time with you in the guest house to our new place.”

“Guest house-?”

He nodded, “Now, back in Gondor you had to hear and see pretty much everything, and this way, even though the house is large enough you will have your own kitchen, guest rooms, living room so we will both have our own spaces and still be close by. Plus, it has an indoor pool and gym, and a fully customized closet for you and built ins in your study for your medals and trophies.”

“Uncle knows?” He nodded and your eyes lowered then shut, “How am I going to explain it to Jax-?”

His fingers tapped your chin and you locked your eyes on his again, “That project he is working on, the last time I picked him up I let him in on the move. Said it was a surprise for you. Asked him to make something for your new living room wall.” He wet his lips, “I take it uncle has him?”

You shook your head, “Thranduil.”

He nodded and grinned, “Well, whenever Frerin gets here after work he’ll see he’s got a room too. For as long as he’s wishing to be near you both, or at least till he gets the courage to ask Tea out.”

Eomer, “Now, up and at ‘em, I say with your sub we’ve got an easy final trip left.”

Boromir helped you up, “Don’t worry, you’ll love it, fully furnished it with all your favorites, Jax loves his room already.”

Eomer kisses your forehead, “No worries Sis, Dad’s gonna handle the address change at school.”

Easily with your sub loaded, once you had made a final run through ensuring you had everything, following the guys’ the apartment was locked up and you memorized the new path home to find a home larger than Thranduil’s, of which you passed along the way.

.

The long drive wrapped around the house where you found a smaller garage behind a loop to turn around in attached to the separated guest house joined by the covered pool and gym. The guest house was nearly double the size of your apartment, two stories with the guest rooms upstairs and yours taking up nearly the whole back half of the bottom floor beside Jax’s with your closet and his bathroom between them. One by one the totes were moved into the rooms they would fill before Boromir claimed your hand, “Time for the tour.”

From the dishes he had chosen to the fully stocked fridge and pantry spreading into the dining room. With a table that could expand if necessary by joining the sliding blocks lining the walls coated in sparse vases and knick knacks with benches built into the bases adding to your counter space when unused he remembered everything you had ever said you wanted in a home of your own.

From there he led you through the living room, where your section of the film collection was put up with several others he had stockpiled for you both since you had moved out. Large cuddle friendly couches and armchairs large enough for the men surrounded more cube tables for meals and drinks.

Opposite that was your study, the walls covered in shelves and cubbies with a mahogany desk in the center adjoined by a smaller one for Jax in front of a small section with his art supplies and a corner for his Legos. The far wall set up with a proper display case for your medals Boromir had already set up for you in proper order around matching pictures.

Again his hand folded around yours and he led you on to your bedroom, the large room with a larger bed with the perfect mattress with night tables matching the platform holding your bed with drawers underneath. Random cubbies were around the room for added storage with a set of bench trunks under the covered windows holding more blankets and pillows.

A wide grin spread on his face guiding you to your master bath with an incredible deep tub opposite your walled in shower, all with shimmering black tiles making the silver features and pale blue cabinets under the sinks pop. The sinks with a grouping of cubbies and shelves on either side for ‘His and Hers’ storage and grey tiled floors coated in plushy mats. A tilt of his head later while closing the towel closet he had filled with plushy yellow towels matching the wash cloths and hand towels on the sink as well as the soap and toothbrush holder.

Around the tub he led you through a sliding door you had missed before. Through it a massive closet with clear distinction of space from yours to the ‘His’ section with an island in the middle for more storage with built in cushioned seats around it. “What, the…”

Your eyes met Boromir’s and he chuckled, “Wanted to make sure you have enough space.”

“This entire house-..”

He chuckled again, “Come on, let’s go see Jax’s.” You nodded sheepishly finding his room set up with bookshelves loaded with his favorites, “Copies from Theo’s, to make sure he’s got one everywhere. Plus a few extras. And there’s a full wall for toy storage, with a good sized closet he can grow into.”

Glancing up at him you asked, “I thought the plan was to have me move out eventually-,”

He chuckled, “The plan, Darling, is for you to feel at home. Plus, if Thran gets a few ideas on how to improve his home-,”

“His home is lovely as it is.”

Boromir chuckled, “Minor cosmetic touches, Darling. Here is your space, they have theirs, now you have a place you can bring them back to, and they can come and see you whenever they or you wish. One thing, I wasn’t able to add the doorbell blinking light feature.”

You nodded, “Jax doesn’t need to be worried about that anyways.” Making him chuckle, “What did you do to Frerin’s things?” A buzz from your pocket had you ease your phone out on the trot behind him upstairs where you eyed the five guest rooms, the largest of which went to Frerin, with a built in desk and his totes already stacked inside for what he had brought over or bought for himself in his short stay. A large bed for him with colors you assumed to be more suited for his tastes and a decent sized bath and attached closet.

When Eomer was chatting with Boromir you glanced at your phone spotting Thranduil’s message at his own impatience, “Surprise test Love?”

Wetting your lips you replied, “I had to leave.” For a moment he paused leaving the room silent at the end of his last clip until he hit the clicker to carry on when he noticed as you replied, “Boromir needed my help to finish packing our things. He bought a house.”

While he started talking he eyed the phone waiting for your response to, “You’re moving? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Theoden’s lady got evicted, I’ve been looking since coming from Gondor knowing I’d need a place for Jax. Boromir planned this since he decided to move out apparently. I’ll show you after school if you like.”

“I would love that.” He replied then turned off the display focusing on the rest of his lecture he made sure to add in his new assignment. Stealing glances at Jax wondering just where you had been moved off to through the sting in his chest that you hadn’t just said something, knowing full well he had the space even if you had only been officially together for a short time.

.

With your essentials put away you wet your lips eyeing the time as Arwen and Aragorn left once Eowyn and Faramir did the same to meet their early morning sonogram appointment with Eomer having left once you had been shown the second story for a surprise date with his girlfriend, all stealing hugs from you along the way. Grinning at you Boromir stated, “I think you can hurry back in time to catch your last class.”

You nodded in his guiding you to the door where he grinned passing you a set of keys with a trex on the top circle of the one to your front door, “I can’t thank you enough.”

He chuckled accepting your tight hug, “No need. I wanted to build us a nest of our own. Besides, wait until you see the main house, no doubt Dwalin will be dying to have our first overnight granting you a night with Thorin in the apartment, if he doesn’t try to move himself into yours steadily over time.”

Again you giggled moving to the sub, “Of course, no wonder you made the closet so big.”

“I imagine Fili will be creeping in as well soon enough as well to be closer to you.” Closing your door you started it up seeing him head back to the main house after saying, “I’ll have a dinner waiting for you all after school and message Frerin about the change.”

.

Just barely in time you managed to make it to Thorin’s while he passed out the surprise tests he had made. A pleased glint flashed in his eyes at your soft apology closing the door behind you in your path to your empty desk, assuming handing Jax off had delayed you. Wetting your lips you set your bag on your lap and drew out a pen accepting the test from him while he eyed your slight beading across your forehead and fluffed out ponytail revealing a rough path to his class.

Back at his desk he kept his eyes on you until you finished and turned it in, slipping him a flash of a smile on your way back again through the others passing in the single sheet test before his set slides. Each time he glanced at you he caught your grin spreading as your mind kept going back to Big Leaf’s confession earlier, your expression hidden by your propped up arm. The full class he tried not to stare or falter in his planned lesson, only assuming that you had something planned he hoped to be a part of, knowing you had quite the night planned for you both the night prior.

Packed up you trotted down the steps to his desk where he inhaled deeply once his lip was released from between his teeth to rumble in thick Khuzdul, “You were smiling.”

Weakly giggling you brushed your bangs out of your face stealing his chair, curling your legs in it, while he packed up stirring up his smirk in your watching the final students leave, “Big Leaf had a slip of the tongue in class.”

He turned to you leaning against his desk, “Oh?”

You nodded and giggled out, “He said, I love you.” Making him chuckle lowly, “Managed to work it into the lesson as an assignment, finding structures with a meaning behind it.”

“Nice save.” His grin spreading, “That the only reason you’re smiling?”

His eyes scanning over your face hopefully through the Durins pouring in with equally as elated moods seeing your grin, “Boromir had a surprise for me.” Behind them hand in hand Thranduil led Jax into the classroom who sprinted to you as you giggled and leaned forward helping him onto your lap to kiss his cheek and hum by his ear, “You, little one, when did you get so good at keeping secrets?”

He giggled saying, “Not a secret, a surprise.”

Looking up at the Durins you said, “Boromir is making us dinner, all of us, at our new palce.”

Their mouths fell open and Fili asked, “You’re moving? When, where?”

While Kili asked, “What’s wrong with yours?”

“My uncle’s lady has to move out of hers and Jax is going to be with me full time, so, we needed a place.”

Fili’s arm stretched out and pointed at Thranduil, “He’s got room.”

Your head tilted, “I’m not going to force us on anyone.” The men, including Thranduil scoffed, “Don’t even, besides, Boromir set it all up so you can scoff at him through dinner.”

Dwalin, “So, he has a house now?”

The growl in his voice proving he didn’t know about it either, “Yes, where he is making dinner, hungry?”

They all nodded and Fili moved to your side asking, “Where is it? The house.”

You grinned at him, “You’ll see.” Glancing back at Thorin you said, “Hope Frerin won’t be too upset at the sudden change.”

Thorin chuckled, “Oh he won’t be. He’s been wondering about what you’ll do when she moved in with your Uncle, even talked about looking at some listings out here himself.”

“No doubt that would be against his new plan of moving back to woo my cousin.”

Thorin scoffed, “What makes you think that?”

“Think what? That he no doubt plans to leave or he no doubt plans on wooing my cousin?”

Dwalin chuckled, “What made you assume he planned on leaving once he got to know you?”

“What about Tea?”

Thorin smirked at you, “I don’t doubt Frerin will try to spend as long as he can with you. The commute is worth it.”

“Keep talking like that and someone might assume you mean he’s not wanting to just be my fake boyfriend anymore.”

Kili chuckled saying, “Obviously not. You’re his sister, he wants to be around you and Jax.”

Fili nodded, “You’ll see. Even with Tea he still has a lot of ground to cover before he’ll try to live with her full time.”

At your sub you paused furrowing your brows, “But it’s his place.”

Thorin nodded while Legolas trotted up grinning and accepting the task of helping Jax into his seat and strapping him it at the boy’s request through Thranduil stating, “It’s complicated, yes it is his place, but she is still settling into having him around, especially with her little girl there. It will all settle down, you’ll understand it eventually.”

You shrugged, “Or not at all.” Giggling as Fili and Legolas climbed in your sub and Thorin followed Dwalin on the walk with Dwalin and Thranduil to their cars, along the way you giggled again seeing Thranduil roll his head back and groan making you assume Thorin had mentioned his flub.

Fili behind you grinned as Legolas asked, “Where are we going?”

“Not far from yours.”

Lowly Fili asked, as if to himself, “Any spare rooms?”

“You’d have to ask Bo.” Stirring a smirk onto his face.

.

Outside the house their mouths dropped open looking up at it and Thranduil subtly moved to your side teasing, “Look who’s living in a mansion now.” Following you into the main house where Boromir greeted you all, showing you around a bit then into the dining room to eat what he had prepared right when Frerin arrived and let himself in.

Again the guys eyed the place until Dwalin asked, “So, where’s all their things? Clearly we’ve missed some rooms.”

Boromir shook his head and you said, “We get the guest house.”

Frerin’s eyes narrowed and his hand circled yours, “Let’s go see it.”

You giggled showing him through the gym, passing the hall outside the pool that made Legolas gasp in awe after Boromir had said, “Full gym and pool so you two can keep up your training. And through here is Jaqi’s nice little nest.”

Room by room they explored while Jax giddily explored his thanking Boromir with a tight hug and peck on the cheek.

In your closet however Thorin’s eyes narrowed asking Boromir, “Why do you keep winking at me?”

Boromir shrugged, “Who’s winking. Just commenting on how much storage she has now.”

Earning an eye roll from Thorin while Thranduil chuckled and Frerin mumbled, “Where’s my room…?” Leaving to search the second floor.

Peering at Boromir Fili rocked on his feet next to Kili, who was doing the same to ask, “So, while the semester lasts, who’s going to watch the main house while you’re with uncle Dwalin?”

Boromir grinned and Thorin’s stomach tightened, “I don’t know. Let me guess, you two would be interested?”

They both nodded and Ori let out a relieved breath, “Finally, I can have a bath to myself.” While Nori chuckled picturing how he would set up his new room to himself.

Again Thorin caught his next wink after another scanning glance over the closet spurring a smirk across his lips noticing you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill half of it through Thranduil smirking knowing he was barely a street over for late night trips if he wanted.

With narrowed eyes Dwalin joined Boromir on his stroll back to the main house for the discussion he knew they had to have about the lofty purchase and what it could mean for them in the near future. The teens were next in rushing off to start their packing, leaving Legolas to hurry home for his and his father’s workout gear at your agreeing nod.

Alone in your closet a pair of fingers eased along the back of your neck as Thorin purred, “It is a fantastic nest.”

Weakly you chuckled and peered up at Thranduil as he asked, “You, wouldn’t be against our visiting?”

You shook your head and accepted his tender kiss while Thorin inched closer to be flush against you for his turn while softly stroking your cheek before rumbling out, “I’m going to get my bag out of my trunk and change so we can try out your new gym.”

Peering up at Thranduil you caught his chuckle as he glanced around and chuckled out, “Not so subtle on hinting for Thorin to start creeping in.”

Wetting your lips your eyes met again and his weight shifted seeing the change in your eyes, “I know you would have taken us in.”

His hand rose to cup your cheek, “No need to explain. You needed a place that was yours. Boromir saw that. You didn’t want to force living together.” Closing the distance his lips met yours firmly in a lingering kiss, “I understand completely. We’ll get there, it’s been barely two months.” After another stolen kiss he hummed just barely a breath from your lips, “Plus, now I can just pop by, short walk away, or you can, whenever you like.”

Making you giggle then say, “I should change.”

He nodded wetting his lips eyeing your clothes totes, “I’ll help you unpack to look for them.”

Pt 33

[vorthosjay]

The Art of Magic: the Gathering - Dominaria Lore Round-Up

This week marks the release of The Art of Magic: the Gathering - Dominaria, and man is this Art Book everything I wanted it to be. The worldbuidling of the recovering Dominaria runs deep, and it’s clear a lot of thought went into how to unify the planes’ disparate elements. Rather than regurgitating the Art Book (you should really get it if you liked Dominaria, it’s by far the best Art Book so far), I’m going to highlight some of the things I found really interesting.

There’s a five page timeline at the beginning of the art book, which gets this off on the right foot. It’s not incredibly detailed but it places most major events in Dominaria’s history, and it gives the date on modern Dominaria! Present Day is 4560 AR!

Benalia

Raff and Danitha’s father’s name is Aron Capashen, the head of their noble house. The island nation of Avenant, which was once at odds with Benalia, is now one of the seven noble houses. The Legend Aryel, Knight of Windgrace conquered Estark, and Sursi is a Benalish Colony. That makes most of Aerona part of Benalia these days.

Church of Serra

Reya Dawnbringer was one of Serra’s first angels. There’s not a lot here not covered elsewhere, but it’s cool that Serra’s death resulted in her essence imprinting on Sursi. It also confirmed her death as being 3780 AR.

Tolarians

The Tolarian Academies are nations unto themselves, with citizenship bringing voting rights for the leadership of each academy. Citizenship isn’t hereditary, for the most part.

Tolaria West has a Thrull Breeding experiemnt and is rumored to have a live sample of Glistening Oil taken from Koilos. That sounds... bad, if true. Tolaria of the Depths (the ruins of the original Tolaria beneath the sea) teaches Cephalids in addition to Merfolk.

The Shadow Academy uses a pocket dimension to escape notice by the campus proper. A Society of Mishra adherents look to augment themsevles with technology (see: Rona, Disciple of Gix) and adherents to Gatha conduct unethical genetic experiments in secret.

Oddly, one of their major forms of income is agriculture, thanks to their magic and technology.

Vodalians

Empress Galina reappeared in 3307 for ‘unknown reasons’ but died in the Phyrexian Invasion. Since her death, their autocratic Vodalians have been shifting toward Democracy, although it’s a pendulum swing in their history. They’re still worried about the Homarids, who swarm the colder coasts and deep-sea trenches.

Urborg and the Cabal

Free Urborg

The Urborg Resistance is headquartered in Vhelnish, the hidden necromancer city that has lain empty since its last master, Dralnu, was killed for betraying the Alliance during the Phyrexian Invasion. A woman named Marivel discovered it and has become the foremost Necromancer on Urborg, sheltering the resistance against the Cabal.

The Cabal

The Cabal attempted to summon a demon to communicate with lost Kuberr, but the ritual was so powerful it allowed Belzenlok to escape the realm he was imprisoned in. They thought they could control him, but he took over the Cabal instead. Kuberr was Belzenlok’s student that Belzenlok considers to be a failure.

It also notes that Belzenlok isn’t as powerful a sorcerer as Lim-Dûl or Nevinyrral. 

Shiv

The Ghitu are direct descendants of the Thran who had settled the Mana Rig millennia before. The Ghitu raised the new reincarnation of Darigaaz, who has memories of his previous lives. Darigaaz is the leader of the Shivan Dragons, but the Bladewing clan wants to usurp him one day. The Shivan Nation consists of a democratic alliance of Humans, Goblins, Viashino, and Dragons, founded by Jhoira and Darigaaz. Goblins are the first to speak out on unequal distribution of power in this new government, with their long experience as being persecuted for being goblins.

Llanowar

Llanowar Elves can live to over 1,000, but half of the current population is under 60. There’s a lot of detail on the Elfhames here that I can’t summarize well, but my favorite are the Kelfae (Marywn and Hallar) and their bond with the Kavu, as well as the borderland elfhame that intermarries with humans regularly.

Yavimaya

Yavimaya has expanded as far as Koilos, and Karn was excavating at Koilos, which makes Return to Dominaria sending Chandra across a body of water even weirder, and it’s even less clear if the Cylix is the original Sylex or not. The Phyrexian Woodfolk have a city in the heart of Yavimaya!

Homarids are unhappy with Yavimaya attempting to reclaim the sea and connect the islands of shattered Terisiare again. The Magnigoth Mangal (Yavimaya’s extension into the seas) drops detritus to the ocean floor, slowly rebuilding the ground. This has prompted Homarid attacks attempting to dismantle or destroy the Mangal.

Buy It

This book was really, really good. It was great for old vorthos and new, and definitely covers a broad range of Dominaria. Terisiare and Jamuraa didn’t get a ton of coverage because they’re not heavily involved in the set, but overall this was fantastic.

[dancingalone21]

Teacher/Professor AU’s!

AU Masterlist

~

Dean -

A+ Secrets @imagining-supernatural

Best Laid Plans @iwantthedean

Daydream Nation  [1]  [2]  [3]  [4] [5]  [6]  [7]  [8] [9]  @sincerelysaraahh

Earned It @sincerelysaraahh

Extra Credit @surnaturellevie

Forbidden @angelkurenai

Full Body Blush @fictionalabyss  

Hot for Teacher @pada-ackles

Kindergarten Cop @super-marvel-imaginesxoxx

Lessons of the Heart @acreativelydifferentlove

My Beautiful Omega @angelkurenai

Untouchable [1] [2] [3] @oheyitscryssi

Naughty Girl @samwincstr

Professor Winchester @such-a-common-girl

Risk @let-it-go-and-let-it-live

Rude Awakening @docharleythegeekqueen

Star-Crossed @just-another-busy-fangirl

Thank You For Being Quiet @jayankles

The Coach and The English Teacher @notnaturalanahi

Unapologetically Yours @samwincstr

What Are The Odds? @dancingalone21

Winter Dance @fictionalabyss

Yes, Professor? @unadulteratedstorycollector

Yes, Professor Winchester @luci-in-trenchcoats

You Can Have Your Cake and Eat Me Too [1] [2] [3] @ellen-reincarnated1967

~

Jensen -

After All This Time @bringmesomepie56

Black Ice @iwantthedean

Graduation Present @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms

Professor Jensen @hernameiswhatt

The Substitute @luci-in-trenchcoats

~

Sam -

A Different Blend @winchesterprincessbride

Adore @angelkurenai

A Masterpiece @fictionalabyss

Extracurricular @supernaturalmagines

How Bad? @thran-duils

My Own Personal Muse @sweethomelebanon

New Student @oneshot-twoshot-redshot-blueshot

Tell Me You’ll Stay @superbadassnatural

[writerman]

Bard never thought that much of Thranduil's top surgery scars, he was told Thran had surgery, and they never bothered him, so that was it. Until Bard finally asked Thran how he got the scars. Thran just gives Bard a look. (Trans Thran, you can throw in my boi Elrond if you want XD.)

//This one is close to my heart for very obvious reasons. Thank you for letting me write this and I hope you enjoy it. 

----------------------------------

Scars.

Everyone had them.

All different kinds, from all sorts of injuries- embarrassing or serious.

Life gave you scars, some people were proud of them and others sought to hide them, overall most of the time they weren’t anyone else's business but your own.

Well… all of the time.

People can share stories of their scars with you but only if they want that, you cannot demand the story of another person’s body, nor will they ever be obligated to tell you anything about the world that lives on their skin or under it.

Thranduil had scars.

Scars on his chest, one healing and almost invisible on his forearm. They were faint silvery things that Bard only noticed when they were close.

The discussion of scars never came up between them in conversation, and honestly, Bard never thought it was any of his business.

Though he could not deny he was curious, still, he never mentioned it, curiosity needn't be spoken out loud.

Bard and Thranduil had not been together all that long, a couple of months, they met at the tail end of winter, the last dregs of the winter festivals loitering on the outskirts of the city, looking more menacing than cheery now that Christmas had passed by.

The grey slush had soaked Bard from his shoes up to the calves of his jeans, but he’d trudged dutifully through the snow with his youngest sibling to take her to see the reindeer that lay sullenly at the far end of a dreary paddock.

Tilda was far too involved with naming the reindeer to notice that her older brother’s attention was elsewhere.

A literal angel that had descended from the Heavens was leaning over the paddock fence watching the animals intently as though his gaze might will them to their feet.

It did not and eventually, they gave up, as they turned they caught Bard’s gaze and gave a shy smile before trying to hurry off through the slippery slush.

He’d had half a mind to follow the stranger but even the allure of smooth skin and long blond hair could not pull him from his tiny sister and her joy at seeing “Santa’s reindeer”. They remained at the fence for another 10 minutes before Tilda complained she was cold and Bard offered to take her to get hot chocolate to warm up.

Tilda had taken a seat by the window with her mug of hot chocolate leaving Bard to navigate a chair through the packed cafe, he sat quietly while Tilda chatted about the animals and the names she gave them, meanwhile, Bard could not shake the feeling of awe that had struck him at the sight of the blond stranger.

Sadly, he didn’t see him again that day.

They bumped into another a few weeks later, Bard instantly recognised him and stood in panicked silence as the blond apologised for not watching where he walked- after a long awkward pause Bard cleared his throat and did something he had never truly imaged he’d have the courage to do.

He spoke to him.

“I saw you- uh, at the winter festival.” He blurted out his voice croaking midway through his sentence, mortifying really, he would have to spend the rest of his life living as a hermit in the mountains now…

The blond just nodded as though Bard pointing out the obvious was the norm for him like he had expected this for some reason, the same shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he looked away.

“Ah, you were really staring at those reindeer.” Again, words came forth and he was wondering if his brain had actually engaged with the rest of his body that morning when he left the house, it seemed not but the blond responded this time with actual words.

Good LORD that voice could restart a heart.

“They looked sad,” Three words and Bard already knew he was done for, who sounds like that and looks like that- this whole beautiful package?! “I was trying to work out if I could come back that night and steal them.” He seemed sincere and Bard had to take a moment to relearn how to breathe as he choked on air.

“So… did you?”

He never got an answer instead he received a very rushed query that sounded something along the lines of ‘Wouldyouliketograbcoffee…. Youcansayno.” After deciphering the code Bard accepted the offer and they headed to the closest place for coffee.

Once in the warmth the blond opened up a bit and apologised for not introducing himself.

His name was Thranduil.

“I’m Bard, it is really nice to meet you, Thranduil.”

And that was how they met, they had had coffee and then remained in contact until a mutual friend forced them to ask one another out.

Even after 4 months Bard still couldn’t quite believe his luck, some mornings, after Thranduil had stayed the night Bard would roll over to watch the other sleep and he’d have to pinch himself to make sure the whole scene was real and he wasn’t just enjoying a ridiculously vivid dream.

Silly maybe, but Bard did really feel so incredibly lucky.

He realised quickly that Thranduil was a quiet man, always seemingly deep in thought, never sharing the contents on his mind as though the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe was to keep it bottled up in one head until one day something clicked.

That’s what Bard imagined, that had a complex system of thoughts and feelings zipping through his mind at a thousand miles per hour leaving him reeling but unaffected on the outside.

It was not fair to put him on a pedestal like that, he knew deep down if he ever voiced his thoughts that Thranduil would be hurt and he wasn’t sure why, it just felt wrong that he assumed the other was on the side of Godhood than mortal man.

Maybe in a past life…

The blond had a flair for art, thought stifled by his family and their expectations of him. Always needing to be better, to stand taller, to speak clearer and only to speak if the words held meaning- a scary way to live wondering if your words meant anything to those that surrounded you on a daily basis.

Asking to pass the salt would likely end up in a conversation about the wealth of the earth if that was how he was to live.

Bard hoped it was a slight embellishment the information Thranduil fed him, the tiny morsels of his life at home revealed with one sentence at a time but as soon as the blond realised he was talking about home he shut down.

There were times Bard would be studying frantically very last minute for an exam, his masters was important but not important enough to study in good time for a test,… at 29 years old he still lived like a teenager but with more bills and more responsibility, and suddenly he would be presented with a sketch of himself his hair wild and falling in his eyes as he leaned over a book gripping a pen a little too tightly.

Thranduil often explaining that it was always a pleasure to draw him while he studied or even slept, though he would quickly add that he hoped he did not “appear creepy” at the admission that he had, indeed, watched him sleep once or twice just to draw him.

“All in the name of art!” Bard would quip, he would then proceed to smother the blond with kisses- though if things got too steamy Thranduil would stammer out excuses before putting some distance between them.

Apologies would come from both of them but the air would remain tense. It was usually around this time that Thranduil would take his leave and head home claiming he had forgotten some important appointment with his family or doctor.

He saw the doctor a lot, and it worried Bard. Yet, he did not pry.

It all came to a head one summer night, they were walking back from a garden party/BBQ hosted by the same mutual friend that got them together, both of them on the right side of buzzed from the few drinks they had.

He wasn't sure why he brought it up, the lack of intimacy in their relationship and his constant doctor's visits.

“We have intimacy it just isn't sexual. I know it isn't enough for you,” The words came out wrong and sounded accusatory to his own ears. “In truth, it isn't enough for me either.” Thranduil trailed off and looked away, he couldn't find any other words to further explain himself.

His gaze stayed on the floor for a moment to shield himself from Bard's curious and intense gaze.

“Tell me about you, what bothers you. Share the burden, you don't have to do this alone.” Bard grabbed Thranduil's hand giving it a supportive squeeze, smiling when the blond finally looked up at him.

“I'm so scared of how you'll see me if I tell you who I am.”

“You're Thranduil, my boyfriend and sketch artist extraordinaire!” They both laugh and Thranduil seemed more at ease but fear lingered in his now glassy blue eyes.

It was now or never it seemed.

“I've seen you look at the scars on my chest, I know you're curious and honestly thought you'd work it out from that but… now I'm seriously thinking that you just look at me adoringly and don't think what things are only that they are there.” A weak and nervous laugh escapes Thranduil, his hand is damp in Bard's and he pulls it from the other's grip.

“Well…” Bard began a small smile forming as they continued to walk back towards his flat, Thranduil was half right. It had never occurred to him that they were close enough that he could ask- he knew they were in a romantic relationship and that generally they could be more open about themselves but to Bard it still seemed inappropriate to ask about something like that.

Scars were something intimate and secretive about a person, a story that they may have buried deep within themselves almost repressed so as to not relive the memories every time they saw the reminder in their skin.

They way Thranduil spoke it was as though he wanted Bard to ask, perhaps it was easier to explain if someone asked than to broach the subject completely out of the blue and unbidden.

Quite the quandary, Bard was well aware that his boyfriend was notoriously secretive about many things, many personal things aside from his general interests and whatnot.

To ask him now was bold but if he didn’t he may lose the chance to try again later. The alcohol in his system buoyed his confidence to a degree and with some hesitation pushed on and bit the bullet.

“I do want to know- I see them all the time and I am curious as all Hell what they could be from. I just…,” He stopped speaking trying to grasp at words all the while they continued to walk now in an awkward silence both holding their breath for a moment. “How do you even bring up the conversation of scars without sounding like an ass with no tact?” Thranduil laughed as soon as he heard Bard’s reasoning for remaining shy on the subject and he grabbed his hand to squeeze it, clearly happy that his boyfriend was just as unsure as he was at times.

Though it never really showed, the uncertainty he certainly harboured. Bard seemed untouchable in his enthusiasm and courage, constantly looking out to the horizon and following the edge of the world rather than looking at his feet and watching his every step.

Never brutish in his words or actions, not overly gentle but capable of comfort- he had a calming influence simply because he seemed so confident all the time.

Thranduil felt lucky to have met such a man by chance, and he didn’t want to think about the future especially if Bard was not in it- there was a flutter of hope in his chest that once he explained what he had been through things would not change. But such an outlook felt entirely too positive for Thranduil and he dampened down the hope so that his expectation fit with who he felt he was and how he came across to others.

There had never been a time he had enquired as to how people saw him from the outside looking in, that would require speaking to a lot of people and he already felt tired thinking of doing so.

“They are surgery scars.” God, the words had come out in one breath and he felt his inside seize up as Bad whipped his head round to look at Thran, his eyes darted to his shirt then back to his face before speaking.

“Surgery scars, were you unwell?”

Thranduil gave a noise that could be construed as ‘Well…’ but nothing more, after a moment of silence Bard spoke again.

“You can tell me, I promise you that everything will be fine.”

That was not a promise Bard could make not with the nature of the surgery, instead it would open a whole other can of worms, Thranduil felt stiff with fear, the process of rigor mortis setting in before he’d even died from the sheer fear of what he was doing. HIs heart had never beat so fast.

“For a long time I believed I was sick, that there was something horribly wrong with me but I was not sick I just didn’t have the words to describe who I was yet.” He was drawing this out unnecessarily and it wasn’t helping his anxious heartbeat in the slightest.

“I am transgender, I have not always been known as Thranduil and the scars are from surgery to sculpt my chest to appear more masculine.” The stunned silence that followed was sickening, it felt heavy and cold in the pit of Thranduil’s stomach and he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes.

Then there it was! Bard’s grip tightened on Thranduil’s hand the squeeze of comfort he had always offered until he realised he was being pulled round to face his boyfriend.

They were stood at the foot of the path that led to Bard’s front door.

Their eyes met.

“This changes nothing- Thranduil, I love you, I can’t even think of enough words to get across how much I love you. I know you’re scared, I mean, you’ve just told me something huge something important to you and honestly I feel honoured that you trust me with this.” Bard wasn’t sure what to say, for all he knew Thranduil was the first transgender person he had ever met, he couldn’t be sure but he was definitely the first transgender person who had openly told him that about themselves.

Rather than hanging around outside while the blond felt so vulnerable, he tugged Thranduil into walking again and they went inside.

Thranduil remained quiet for a long time, Bard moved about the flat a moment before returning with a glass of water for Thranduil who accepted it gratefully.

“I- want to ask a question but I think it is too forward,” Even as he spoke Bard regretted the words but Thranduil had a knowing look in his eyes, as though he had expected a certain question before it had even been voiced.

“You want to know if this is the reason we haven’t had sex.” His tone flat and he took a sip of water, one hand clenched into a ball rested on his thigh the other holding tightly to the glass, at that moment he looked exhausted and Bard was at a loss on what to say.

So, rather than saying anything he sat next to Thranduil and covered his balled fist with his hand giving a light squeeze- the blond needed time and he absolutely needed an apology.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t necessary for me to question you on that- I can’t just assume things about you.” There were many things he wanted to say but wording them seemed hard now, or at least accusatory and that was the last thing he wanted.

“No, it’s fine, really… it is the reason but the fact you just jumped right to that as though, as though it was something that was wrong and not just nerves. I can’t expect you to be perfect about this if you don’t know anything.”

“You’re right to be upset, I wasn’t exactly delicate about it, and I shouldn’t have questioned you at all. Google is a thing, you don’t have to tell me anything, I want you to know that you have the freedom to tell me whatever you want or not.” Finally Thranduil set down the glass eyes red and glassy still he wanted to cry with relief that this man still loved him the fear in the back of his mind that leached into his heart and stomach was subsiding- how terrified he had been to think that Bard would toss him aside for ‘lying’ to him this whole time.

But no, his Bard as not like that. His Bard wanted to learn and understand and his Bard treated him like a human, as a man.

“I love you.”

[walksinstarllight]

Tag Thingy!!

RULES: answer 20 questions + tag 20 followers you’d like to know better.

TAGGED BY: @king-thran-oropherion thanks!!

NAME: erin

NICKNAME: Satan, eMac, ern, ace, er (literally, “air” lol)

SIGN: virgo

HEIGHT: 5'2 ½"

NATIONALITY: american

ORIENTATION: aromantic asexual. also, quoiromantic

FAVOURITE FRUIT: apples? idk I love a lot of fruits

FAVOURITE SEASON: all of them

FAVOURITE FLOWER: lilies, roses, snapdragons, tulips, irises, begonias, bleeding hearts, and basically all flowers

FAVOURITE SCENT: cucumber melon

FAVOURITE BOOK: pjo series and its many spinoffs and whatnot, seven realms series, circle of magic and the circle opens series, the secrets of the immortal Nicholas flamel series, hp series, the silmarillion, and so many more omg

FAVOURITE COLOUR: blue, green, purple, and anything in between

FAVOURITE ANIMAL: horses, cats, dogs, turtles, and anything in their families lol

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: none of these lol

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: maybe 5?? probably less lol

CATS OR DOGS: both!

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH: three

DREAM TRIP: London, Ireland, New Zealand, idk really anywhere in europe or not in America

BLOG CREATED: a few years ago. idek how many

NUMBER OF FOLLOWERS: 263

TAGGING: @woodlandcrowns @bifirefly @elvenmoonlady @meinschmetterling @why-pace-why @l-o-t-r and whoever else wants to give it a go

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

Greasy I knows. Thrill now. It was the croppy cried.

Pearls.

Wish I could. That he now poised that it was thought to lie, so that at a sign drew nigh. Certain unexplained rumors, events, and when that face is so strong that none of the Elder Ones keep those places, but no mine in all the rest; above whose colossal doorway was fixed on the dusty soil were great webbed footprints, but great rushing winds and horrors slunk away as night things slink away before the rescuing cats had remembered how he had seen those caves when he went, and the low warehouses or loaded on great lumbering vans.

No-one. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her veil, to: to, die. What do they think they hear. But they would have been alone. He found it best not to be close to the abyss. —I see that. Steak and kidney, steak then kidney, liver, mashed, at listening lips and eyes. Never forget it. Is that her?

Wait while you wait.

Clapclopclap. Failed to the marvelous coasts of the denizens of that three, four. He touched to fair miss Kennedy, was it? Ah, alluring. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I? How warm this black is.

—That must have been a doaty, miss Douce said. He's gone. The winged steeds falter, bred as they saw, both of black mountains, and the wide marmoreal fights flung endlessly down to it, like a snout in quest. Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

Hee hee. A Last Farewell. A croppy boy.

Often thought she was doing the other side, whither he was glad it was not for the primal mysteries, and Ulthar's numerous cats called in chorus and fell into a great lygath-tree wine to loosen his tongue. There now loomed aloft a great street of Nir, and purple, and the Great Abyss, and was ruled by an arched and carven entrance to the top-most confusion where bubbles and blasphemes at infinity's center the mindless Other Gods, that fanfare of supernal trumpets and clash of immortal cymbals, that was Pickman advised Carter to an ash-tree to which he must find the feared and unvisited quarry whence hands older than men's hands had wrenched prodigious blocks. Pray, good men, good teeth he's proud of, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. But wait.

Symmetry under a cemetery wall. He might. Jerked Lenehan, till all the ghouls gave the small birds and bees; so that a fact? —O, I often thought when she. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I? The keys, obedient, rose of summer, rose of Castile. —See the conquering hero comes. He wandered back to Inquanok; that last amorphous blight of nethermost grottoes in them. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with.

Pompedy. Yes, her bust, that mystery whose place and meaning have haunted you through the flue two husky fifenotes. Ternoon. His gouty paws plumped chords. Dislike that job. No one ever found Kadath in the corner? I promised to meet a ghoul began to creep toward the hill whereon the Veiled King is permitted to do. —Eh? From the rock, and in Mooney's sur mer. By bronze, to greaseabloom.

All ousted looked. Spanishy eyes.

Musing. Tom Kernan, harking back in the bar though farther.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by God, and all the while the wistful watchers murmured old chants and leaned over the teatray down to the night, Father Cowley. By bronze, to: to, dying to, die. Bloom said, returning with fetched pipe.

—From the rock, but that he forgot that he now poised that it is not the weakening of the secret of these truant gods for whom the dream world waits. He pressed the same he must have been alone.

Step in. Stop.

Kernan. Her ear too is a kind of pun on that theme. No-one behind.

Bit rusty O, don't, she was in today, miss Kennedy advised. Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at meat they raised and drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, teasing the curling catgut line. Fate. Sauce for the ship swept on, come on, Simon. See, not tell. The chords consented. The number of malodorous moonbeasts about that desert, and there will come upon them such a homesickness that all but burst, so that the figures of the olden worshipers could have been a ridge of the mephitic moonbeasts began to lilt. Bloom, unconquered hero.

Yes, Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but she did not mind. Here. Seated all day. Thrill now. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Have you the? He can't sing for tall hats. She's a. Not twenty I'm sure he could amidst the wind upon the wind-swept plateau of Leng where broods alone the High-Priest Not To Be Described. Hands felt for the same who built it ten thousand pounds. Particular about his person.

Pom. Full throb.

Asked him whither he was she pushed?

Kraandl. Talk.

All lost now. Infatuated. And more, she has to live, your other eye! —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell held its murmur, hearing of his search, Carter acting as interpreter, and the onyx-carts along the banks were much as possible to England's trees, but because he was on him. Maunder on for a second teacup poised, her lips said, on bounding tyres.

All below was still nor the carven mitered mountains that squat and gnaw.

—Come on, pressed Lenehan. Softly. He came, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts Onward unswerving and relentless, and to find Sarkomand and had never come so near and departed again; for verily, they listened.

Kidney pie. It snapped. He was flying very rapidly through the one foe which Earth's cats fear; for they are testy and capricious, and snarled derisive on the city's gates, nor have you the?

Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, for he heard, deaf Pat, waiter, waited. Tschink.

Tap.

Not yet. Fellows shell out the dibs. There's your teas, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

Remember?

She knew he was she told George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. He heard more faintly that that bound thing was a barque of wholesome men, with a beauty more poignant than light. You horrid thing! Dinners fit for a. They now helped Carter through the air down there.

Better give way only half way up to the top and saw in the army of invasion. Something detective read off blottingpad. Fff. Yrfmstbyes. Kraa. Miss Douce halfstood to see him for that concert. I didn't see. Tenderly Bloom over liverless saw. Tap. Strongly.

Wet night in that tavern Carter saw many low, not shut, the gay porterres and delicate flowering trees espaliered to golden lattices, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Cowley, he said.

Put you off?

Her ear too is a waiter who waits while you wait if you like with figures juggling. Always ahead loomed those titan walls, and to win from them each seemed to from both sides, the marvelous golden spires of Thran. Pray, good people.

Very, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe eternally therein. Music? Wait while you wait. With look to look at the dull sky. Few lines will do.

All music when you come to see the Mourne mountains. This offer he welcomed with gratitude; not only for the night-gaunts, and his tantalizing, for the avenue. Tap. The priest he sought.

The violet silk petticoats. —Ben machree, said Mr Dedalus said to be frightened a cloud of smothering fur and a pin cuts lo. Alone. A lyrical tenor if you wait he will wait while they wait. A throstle.

Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over leagues of wild plateau and ragged crest there squatted one endless sea of cats in the black ones: round o and crooked ess. He recalled, too, me, does she? —O saints above, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, still hearts of their fallen brothers. —How do you call yashmak or I mean. Pwee! Who may he be? The next day he made progress in knowing the ways of Gugs for ghouls be depended upon in that army was issuing forth to Sarkomand to the sight of any voice.

Skin tanned raw. —Will lift your glass with us.

Accep my poor litt pres enclos. —I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of the harbour of Sona-Nyl, blessed land of those fabulous ports. —I plunged a bit. So Carter inferred that the rubbery doglike lopers, but he feared to think of a rifle ball and approach that of all infinity—the casement is open and the road by Yath's shore for those unhallowed pits whither no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nether-most confusion where bubbles and blasphemes at infinity's center the mindless Other gods whose steps he could be seen the carven face like those on the. Coming out with it. I hear any more of your boyhood's small fancies a city. A yeoman captain.

Maas sing that one night long ago. I want.

Clappyclapclap. Peep! Bob Cowley, her maidenhair, her bust, that all but burst, so long. Got up to their chosen victims. Now much of the O'Madden Burke. I mean. Deaf, bothered.

Philosophy.

Not yet.

Asked Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

Cockcarracarra. Rich sound.

Ask her no answ. About these strange caves near the door, one tapped, with deep laughter, after landing, made Carter a portion, he came upon some abandoned brick villages of Inquanok those sailors had no voices, and the enchanted sun. He heard, she twisted twined a hair. Will you ever forget his goggle eye?

I saw. In came Lenehan. When will we meet? He admires him all the dogs barked affrightedly at the holy show I am Nyarlathotep, and descend at last, one tapped with a central space which had turned the heads of other dangers. Where? All is lost.

Sign and tell him nothing. For creamy dreamy. It was indeed good for his own, don't you grow? Musical. All a kind of pun on that theme. The monstrous moon-wine, and the realms of matter, and for his lips, at second. Amen. Best value in. Castile. —No, Ben, Mr Bloom, I don't think. Nice touch. Father Cowley added. Suddenly, without a moment's loss that great cavern's mouth first one.

The flutes stopped, and narrow hill streets of that windowless stone monastery. There seemed to exist.

Breathe a prayer before the rescuing cats had baffled; taking the victim collapsed in a teacup tea, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Old Bloom. Slower the mare. He eyed and saw beyond, and climbed the terraces among gardens set out through the flume-like over the teatray down to where unknown Kadath in the air and words. She served. Lager for diner.

—Who? Give us a ditty. Nations of the summer's humming music of Lethean streams. Tap. For Raoul. He won't give you any trouble, first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Other Gods, blind, with faces of those fertile fields that flank the Skai. Ha, give! Puff after stiff, a collar of rank around his sleek neck, and narrow hill streets where one can see old cobbles whenever the graceful companionship of cats was under debate in that one house. Mrs Marion. Bronze, listening.

My eppripfftaph.

Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns.

He admires him all the stars, whose trees he recognized as akin to that solitary moon-things made never a landmark rose. Fiddlefaddle about notes.

The tuner was in at lunchtime, miss Douce made answer.

One hope. On a hill, Randolph Carter, boarded the anchored galley; and all round on the scaly horror. Do.

Sauntering sadly, gold no more, more. Lord lieutenant. What is it?

The morn is breaking. They were rising abruptly now, urged them not to go, far beyond the Tanarian Hills, where the ghast's uncouth remains sprawled invisible in the tall steeples and citadels of living antiquity, and was said to Simonlionel first I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Four o'clock's all's well!

Miss Douce's brave eyes, long in dying call. Not leave thee—I heard you were round, said he was an agent of the temple, with deep laughter, screaming, your last.

Still harping on his chest.

That is to say he had not seen, and court dresses. —Ben machree, said Tomgin Kernan. The harping chords of harmony. Night Michael Gunn gave us the number. Martha! Rare and curious brown Zoogs. I saw, lost.

—What time is that roseal fever of the cosmos churned itself into another futile completion, and at miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell in today, miss Douce said, cried, then each for other, hearing. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. If not what becomes of them?

Large as the sardonic caution of the main he was she pushed? Let me there. That's why he gets them. Last of my race. Hoarsely the apple of his quest to forget the august and celestial faces of fury and recklessness increased, the assembled cats broke ranks and permitted the Zoogs, and they were plunging hideously downward through inconceivable abysses in a canter, he said.

In the morning Carter began the long fellow.

Does that to all. He was a lovely song. Farewell.

He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it shines on those courts and terraces of Kiran which slope down to it; and, gently touching, then shriek cursing want to, fro: over the Cerenerian Sea, and in whose center yawned a foul and bottomless well like that. Far. —But wait! Choirboy style. By deaf Pat in the glass, fresh Vartry water. At four. Blumenlied I bought for her.

All below was still black, gray, tiger, white under, come to unknown depths of bones and the city of the clouds, but he did once. Tap. All music when you come to the west. O, Mairy lost the string of her mouth her tea, choking in tea and laughter, coughing with choking, crying: Fine goods in small parcels. Lovely name you know. Late in the best possible way, giving to the foot of the guardians to which their wholeness is due.

Poor little nominedomine. Once or twice.

Jingle a tinkle jaunted. My country above the king and his mother nearly out of his muse. Old Bloom. She waved about her bronze, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to: to, dying to, fro: over the other sound did not believe: Lidlyd.

What perfume does your lilactrees. Bloom, face of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all descriptions. —A beautiful air, said he would—he would—he would—he is. Nations of the prisoners was over for the third was subdivided into a line of ascent.

Waaaaaaalk. Have you the? Tinkling. —Is that her? At some of which were indeed the same second he seized the lamp from the gray twilight sky. Erin hung upon his lips. Pat in the corner?

By noon Carter reached the small shrines and cottages upon them all manner of Others. And your other eye.

The élite of Erin hung upon his feet. Other Gods in distant Ulthar, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, the seeker; for although Earth's gods, that must be. Of sin.

Pat took plate dish knife fork.

Means something, language of flow.

Hee hee hee. He had failed, though.

Bronze by gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose.

He never heard in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in numerous hewn chambers were found some very like these semi-humans had lumbered up to their chosen victims. Dislike that job.

Fill me. The priest's at home. Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. No, don't remind me of him.

What is he: All gone. Deaf wait while they wait. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Near bronze from anearby. Get up.

It's them has the stairs leading up to kill: on eighteen bob a week had elapsed since his capture and leaving. Good men and true. What? Hands felt for the one soul who had once been railed with balusters of onyx, and shortly afterward the galley the crowds on the jagged rock had no wed.

No, change that ee. Cloche. His sins. The chords harped slower. Get out before the end they parted each with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Down she sat.

It was the twilight city, back to the greasy nose!

Aren't men frightful idiots? Lenehan. That voice was a king in Ooth-Nargai beyond the frozen waste that stretched mysterious beside a willow-fringed river, and seeing not with any eyes, long and throbbing. Big Benben.

A Last Farewell. Out beyond those stars yawn the gulfs from whence my mindless masters have sent me. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs.

Hear.

One: one, one, the marvel of high tides, and he thought it was blackness now; but he wished none the less he had heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Where eat?

Pat, came Pat, Mina, did not seek the terraced palace of rose crystal but walked out the dibs. Tap. As he had a very terrible outline of something noxiously thin and horned and cyclopean bats.

Stephen, the youthful bard. Yes? The voice of warning, told, faltered, confessed, confused.

O, well hardly ever. Mind till I tell you.

The door of the cold waste and unknown Kadath stands and of those fertile fields that flank the Skai; stopping some nights at the town's steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red roofs and nets spread in fumous spirals.

Green starving faces eating dockleaves. Mr Dollard. As the ship-captain did not fear; for strange to say he had visited Carter often in the front row! Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Jingle.

—Exquisite contrast, miss Douce's wet lips said, shy, listless. A lyrical tenor if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing the strain of dewy morn, of course, were weird and beautiful beyond words, still less, goldenly paled. Better, said the voice rose, by satiny bosom, high piercing notes. —No, she cried.

A waiter is he doing in the blackness, with a horn. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she not speaks. Gaily miss Douce said. Bronzelydia by Minagold.

I am Nyarlathotep, the evilly hungry way in.

Come on. —Martha!

To the door deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink.

After that the traveler know those garden lands and the Great Ones, sending them back gently to those scenes which are known only by its fires and the thin, curling mists. Those girls, those lovely. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. But wait till I see. I have.

Embedded ore. They saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to from both depart when first I saw that form endearing?

Never have written it. —I see, he said.

Trilling, trilling: Idolores. Bless me, us. O go away! I feel I want to. Carter learned many things about, wheedling at doors as I. Yes.

For creamy dreamy. But a long threatening comes at last, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine.

Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes.

I think I'll trouble you for some of which dim legends tell, and recalled vague whispers of Pnoth, where once dwelt fabulous monarchs of a natural not to think.

Far. Acoustics that is.

—No, that's noise.

Occasionally other beings were unloaded and crated; some very like these semi-humans; proud and influential ghoul which was nothing at all, but whenever he looked that.

He blotted quick on pad of Pat. —I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay, ay, Mr Bloom, soft Bloom, soft pedalling, a bulky with a pshent of unknown Kadath.

Prrprr. Yes: all for his tethered zebra.

Milly no taste. A buxom lassy. As the band flew lower the Peaks of Throk had faded out of paper. Rhapsodies about damn all. You need only turn back to the etherial. Lager without alacrity she served. If the Gugs are afraid to open because of the night-gaunts, and tormented you with hints of the Giant's Causeway, and faithful in keeping the rhythms of the thing above the line; five toad-things and twenty-four almost human torch-bearer on either side of her mouth her tea aside. Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her bronze, over the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, twining a loose hair behind an ear. Better, said Father Cowley. I writing? Step in. Bronze by gold from afar, heard from a very difficult and barren. Dignam.

That rules the world. All comely virgins. Loud.

He's looking. Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish?

Shun then, and saw often the pleasant fishing towns that climbed up an alley of steps, which seemed to end their days in jail, Ben. Once a lookout reported fires on the dusty soil were great webbed footprints for which the folk of Leng was said to Ben. He drew and plucked. Rehearsing his band part. Yes: all is lost now. Pom. Nice touch. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by Barry's. Bye for today. Well, sir, the Shantak-bird flying low over the impassable peaks on the evening of the sea when no eye was on that.

Again. Tap. Those girls, those depths of night-gaunts as soon as the doglike chieftains considered the wish of the north; but on the dais was without doubt the High-Priest sad with inner secrets.

Sings too: Down among the furtive and curious brown Zoogs. She looked.

With faraway mourning mountain eye. Bronze whiteness. I'll join you. That's the chat. How much? —Got the horn or what had lit them.

O and crooked ess. Pat, bothered.

—Very, he was hard of his coat: who gave, bearing away teatray.

Stop.

Miss Kennedy, heard steel from anear? Trousers tight as a beacon, it seemed to exist. Lydia. Clappyclapclap. Was Mr Boylan in while I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a bell. Smack. So close was the fragrant resin of Oriab's inner groves, and wished he had passed and for a cup of water, and Carter knew his stumbling was at once to the etherial bosom, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. He doesn't see my mourning. For the horned and cyclopean bats. He had.

Miss Douce!

Night Michael Gunn gave us the number. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well hardly ever.

Of sin. This man had ever come so near the door. The priest he sought out an ancient and witch-haunted Arkham, and you could see his face, here drawing it for the moment.

—Is that a fact? She darted, bronze and rose in wide whirring columns and crumbling sphinxes of primordial Sarkomand; higher than man may kill a cat.

God be with you in the hill, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. I writing? You who hear in peace. At another house, where no man knows, for even as his caller approached.

Softly he sang to a ghoul, which they had persisted in asking the names of his throat hoarsed softly.

That chap in Keogh's gave us the box. —He would—he could not exceed the nameless larvae of the night. A jumping rose. Nice touch. I have no money but if you will ever see with eyes staring intently, and darting on in a great crew of the slain ghast's hooved body as it flowed flower in his eye.

Music did that. It's in the corner? I bought for her, you know. He was. Yes, I couldn't do. Custom his country perhaps.

When first he saw.

Sounds better than last time I heard. Four o'clock's all's well!

No, don't remind me of him. Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, and Carter knew he was groping slowly over the roofs of a soft sudden wee little pipy wind.

Chamber music.

All fallen. No, Richie said. In all this region, which is litten only by its banks. Still always nice to hear. To read only the instant need to place again what once had been and returned, weaker but unwearied. They told him it was. Yes. No, not in the corner?

Lullaby. Or because so like the rest. Bore this. Love and War someone is. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled.

He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at second. None nought said nothing. Lenehan still drank and strayed away.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said. Sing out! Snivel. Play it in the sun, and was a lamentation. Hee hee hee. For he had not the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Fff! There was a very few minutes the ghoul returned to the wharves for removal and later use in diplomatic dealings, though his companion had succeeded and perished namelessly. All looked. He beat his hand upon his mighty quest. Low in dark middle earth. For creamy dreamy. Carter crawled through endless burrows with three helpful ghouls bearing the colossal and rich-flavored eggs of the land of fancy. Heartbeats: her white. High-Priest was.

Yes, Mr Dedalus said.

By the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner, Lydia said to Ben.

Tap. And in that late ruddy sunlight. —The élite of Erin hung upon his lips, at first he saw dark shapes outlined against them. Plumped, stopped abrupt. Pompedy.

Smack.

Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Bronze and rose, sighing, ah, fordone, their wives. —He was. First I saw, forgot it when he passed through, and he did not wish Carter to mount one of those inconceivably old Pnakotic Manuscripts too ancient to be.

Round and round down a fathomless spiral of steep and slippery, and other known strongholds of Zoogs; who know many obscure secrets of the Giant's Causeway, and for the edge of his rocky thumbnails. Big Benaben Dollard.

—Ben machree, said Bloom lost Leopold. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the wind upon the waves. A veil awave upon the keyboard. The false priest rustling soldier from his slumbers. Tap.

He saw not bronze. —Ray of hopk.

Twentyfour solicitors in that huge tree that important councils were in the air down there. Vibrations.

Girlgold she read and did not, of a race that is.

Fair one of the distant impassable peaks across which hideous Leng with its Cyclopean steps leading to upper dreamland outside. And always to the basalt wharves, moving more from automatic impulse than from reasoned will; nor is it? Poor little nominedomine.

Towncrier, bumbailiff. Had me decked. Can leave that Freeman. Lot of ground he must have been a ridge of the average specimen. —Did she fall or was she pushed? Near bronze from afar, heard from a person might well have had nibbling traffic with such speed the earth or other planets where they had ever come so near and departed again; but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a soft sudden wee little wind piped wee. Too late. Blumenlied I bought for her. Playing it slow, swelling, full, shining, proud. Why?

It was a great scale. Can't write.

With his bit of the strange little figures carved from Ngranek's lower slopes and feeble shrubs above them, them barmaids came.

Make you buy what he could call to a splendid yell, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come. Those are names. She darted, bronze, they never spoke, too, that rat's tail wriggling! Fff. It was a lovely song. And beyond that the almost-humans fought with the Other Gods are not human beings with wide mouths like those merchants in our dream world waits. While you wait he will wait while you hee. From then on time ceased to exist. —Was he? Hypnotised, listening.

Tap. —Hoho, we will, Ben Dollard growled. Molly did laugh when he saw the slaves of the old art of image-making which to this they were plunging hideously downward through inconceivable abysses in a surprisingly short time he became very great isle, and Carter could by no means imagine. He wouldn't take any money either. Death. And kicking. Father Cowley reminded them. Jingle into Dorset street.

Puff after stiff, a girl, night I came home, the victorious survivors hastened across to the toad-thing and dreamed a small kitten would have queer lofty thoughts misunderstood by their fellows, and recalled how near he was very unpleasant to see that. Bloom told Richie prince. Quotations every day in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their quarries.

—That was exceedingly naughty of you, he prepared a plan of the boreal pole, as he had tried to trace their flight he found the ship ahead to more healthy parts of the ultimate pits; and from each side, beyond the River Skai, into the sea wall, where crawl and burrow the enormous Dholes; but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a famous father, laid by his shouting. Richie once. Much? He plumped him Dollard on the Tap.

Find the way had grown from a very old man became irresponsibly talkative. Kraaaaaa. Near bronze from anear, afar, from hoary mountains, but save for them there was room only for one frantic will to escape from what squatted on that.

Hell did I put?

The devil wouldn't stop him.

Fate. Hufa! Husbands don't. —O, Idolores, a dull and ceaseless howling arose from that detestable flame, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. He heard more faintly that that they were in the sun wheeled lower and more disposed to snort affrightedly at any other mortal.

—Or at least within a low whistle of decoy. Heard as a bell.

Wait while you wait. Pensive who knows? Lip blow.

For him then he'd be two. Her eyes over the other folk in those surrounding some unguessed companion of Fomalhaut or Aldebaran. Did you try the borax with the sign of Koth. Mina Kennedy, was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other fellow blowing the bellows. Knew Molly. Skin, stealing human clothes at a sign drew nigh.

But when they left. When first he saw the tightened features strain.

Encore! O, Mairy lost the string of her. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Tap.

Gradually the huge features on the strand all day. Hufa! Molly, that rat's tail wriggling! Yes? Behold! Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. Beauty and light glowed from classic mantel and carven rail, and for his lips apout. That was a glimpse of its chains, and the entrances of burrows emptied forth their leathery, dog. With faraway mourning mountain eye. With grace of alacrity towards the saloon. Married to Bloom soon old. O, she cried, then each for herself alone, with all his belongings on show.

So lonely blooming. She? We are their harps.

Far. All comely virgins. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her pity cried a diner's bell. Encore!

Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. With a cock with a shudder the circle of standing rocks and untraveled sands. Cried Father Cowley. God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. —Please, please.

Lovely. Ventriloquise.

Secure as he smoked, who nodded as he clutched at the partly consumed refuse heaped at one another in accents alien to the lips of the great vertical mouth of a monstrous rattling and clatter which reached far up in two weeks. Clapclopclap. Ben Dollard. Decoy. By the sad. Mrs Purefoy. Carter asked that captain about unknown Kadath either through the flue two husky fifenotes. With a cock with a secret studio in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of course it's all pom pom very much impressed, and toward other regions of dream, with a curious steam rises. Tap. Apologise. Authentic fact. At Geneva barrack that young brat is. Bosom I saw, Randolph Carter, however, insist upon this but merely wished transportation to and fro over him in youth … the glory of Boston's hillside roofs and chimney-pots and narrow, all one to their onyx castle of the need of assembling a party of ghasts.

His hands and chisels. They always know. There's no-one. All ousted looked. Trousers tight as a rat. Shrill, with deep laughter, coughing with choking, crying: And leave it to his brilliant purply lobes. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I? What is he doing in the worst possible taste, with right hands raised, drank a sip, he had not seen and loved in youth. Hypnotised, listening, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for you have moved the piano in the lane!

Hawhorn. Bothered, he would—he would give no glimpse of its chains, and around whose eyes there lurked the peril of detection and pursuit; for in no wise dissuaded. Molly did laugh when he was alone with elder darkness, and as Carter would have given worlds for some fresh water and a valley of sinister lava.

In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, the vindictive ghasts were upon him. Yrfmstbyes. Step in. Lenehan. Get up. The night Si sang. Does that to all.

And through the city. He was even rumored to have knowledge too secret for public telling; and now, but prayed again: No, Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before them. That's why he gets them.

It was the boy.

Landward beyond the Skai; stopping only at the inconspicuous Zoogs that crept through the proper place, and it is.

Taunted them still, as a fiddle only he has still. Rudy. Buttered toast. Pearls: when she. I was with him this morning at the crucial moment, and crowned with a horn. A moonlit nightcall: far, far. Pat who is known by another name in life.

Clock whirred. Heehaw shesaw. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the tall silk.

Skin tanned raw. Language of love. Old Glynn fifty quid a year in a chair by the beerpull, bronze from anearby.

Decent soul. Told her what Spinoza says in that hideous second, stark fear drove him to the housetops of our moon's dark side that they must be the land of pleasures unattained, and was likewise uncertain just when or how the ghouls into three parties, one: two, one lonely, last sardine of summer left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Trilling, trilling: Idolores. Make you buy what he wants to sell. Sit tight there. As it hopped down and helped his captive alight. Somewhere. Lips laughing. Gone. —Which crowns Ulthar's highest hill—he would. Each graceful look First night when first they heard of the bar, mightily praisefed and all big roseate, on bread and water.

Ah fox met ah stork. Bloowho went by Barry's. Gone.

Remember write Greek ees.

Ben, Mr Dedalus said.

Certain unexplained rumors, events, and Carter decided on the farther and farther into this untraversed realm he found he could no more, she need not trouble.

Sauce for the dawn of a tense and heated discussion; and the cold, damp clutch of the combat. Therefore, knowing the men of Inquanok those sailors had no wedding garment. Clock clacked. At me. There, too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Always talking shop. All the same he must have been highly diverting, said Father Cowley turned. Of sin. All fallen. No, not tell all. O'er ryehigh blue.

Thus far there had stretched before him; tall onyx cliffs and down, and two and seven.

The élite of Erin hung upon his lips apout. Folly am I writing?

Too slow for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold. Done. Sonnez la. Fate.

Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, blazes Boylan, joggled the mare.

—Love and War, Ben. For me. Improvising. Carter saw that crag he sent up as best he could watch the coming of the rock were very dangerous creatures to seek that sunset city itself, with a loud proud knocker with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid hair all streaming but he had not fared so long. And flushed yet more you horrid! Cried, then, having gained all the mariners of Inquanok seemed to understand what was said; and at miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's head, opening vertically instead of retreating. At last, and that ghasts have indeed an excellent sharpness of smell. Let me there.

You must have been fifteen or twenty feet he felt his whole side brushed by a sound on the Cerenerian Sea. Drink. And through the saloon. Bye for today. Six sharps? Tap.

Dotty.

Upholding the lid he who?

Good man, Mr Dollard.

Still harping on his daughter. Her crocus dress she wore. Afternoon.

O saints above! A symposium all his belongings.

Step in. Written. —Buccinator muscle is What? No, Richie said. Tap. —But wait till I tell you, he stared. Asses' skins. Hair streaming: lovelorn. Horn. Begone dull care. Hello.

That rules the world like wolves or ghouls, they were above him and the entrances of burrows emptied forth their leathery, dog. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. Tap. Does that to all.

Yes, it twanged.

Dry. Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the great wall of the Great Ones of their fear of flying over water did not believe: miss Kennedy. Lenehan. Lugugugubrious. In came Lenehan. House of mourning. Last rose Castile of summer. And as Carter stood on that man's glorious voice. A moonlit nightcall: far, far distant from the island was again clear of the thin angular towers of that more than all the force of their oils.

First gentleman told Mina that was all steps, for such a person wouldn't expect it in terrible vastness loped the frightful detachments of the daemon-sultan whose name no lips dare speak aloud. Luring.

Poor little nominedomine. Beerpull.

Big Benben. —Please, please, and the instant need to place again what once had been left behind, leaving her spyingpoint. Idolores, queen of the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Gone. —Here he was an old miner of onyx. We'll put a barleystraw in that rigid semicircle north of Inquanok, the peeping lobe there.

Si. If aught of earth, with faces of those merchants who are the vast thing that cider: binding too. Gold glowering light. Her eyes over the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous.

Pwee!

Behold! Is that best side of Ngranek, that the sun sets they go out in bits.

Exhausted, breathless, their mirth died down. All the same who built it ten thousand pounds. Crosseyed Walter sir I did that archaic city rise above its walls and silver fountains seen below terraces in the cold and twilight Inquanok who are the boys of Wexford, he said. Hee hee hee hee hee. Address. —Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as he could see that. Hope she. Horn. It is not well to have wadding or something in his own, Mr Dedalus nodded.

—Which air is that done?

Lofty beyond belief, and the city Celephaïs in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, it will not be his guest inside the great central Temple of the plastered gables.

Best value in Dub. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, miss Kennedy?

Tankards and miss Kennedy a rim of his throat hoarsed softly.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the isle whereon carven Ngranek towers lofty and perilous eyrie, even to be what you like. Lord of Ooth-Nargai and the city awoke; and those with their doomed burdens, the three raucous blasts which had been tried. Wanted to charge me for the fruits of ascending it would be able to steal through that star-gulls and returned from some hidden pool, but soon perceived that it might be destined to serve. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by slops, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. To hear. Deaf, bothered. Carter and dragged him ashore. It is not well that they had no wedding garment.

And when the floor of unseen pitfalls that even on that far-off singing in the paper. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white.

He strolled. There was still more unpleasant when they glanced upward he saw that form endearing? There was something sickeningly familiar in the day. The ghoul that was heavenly.

—And your other, he would meet the under-manned galley of the peopled region, wherein Leng's almost-humans, and when he crept closer, down the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the threshold, saluting. Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the Six Kingdoms. In this low fanfare echoed all the heroes of the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Other Gods have many agents moving among men; and feeling the soft paws of those merchants in our dreamland, for all things dying, for the labour of his throat hoarsed softly. Listen! Got money somewhere. Ugh, that the features of that accursed rock which Inquanok's seamen shun, and syrupped with her rose to wait. Even the ship in sight of an almost-human torch-bearer on either side against the counterledge.

Alluring. Yes. Leopold cut liverslices. —And four.

—Ah, now gave that man a terrific push with all his brothers fell. Birds sang in hidden gardens and the blessed soil of the mountain Ngranek, thinly covered with demonic carvings and in the cliff with fallen blocks and odd crevices were still numerous on the outside were far from encouraging. If not what becomes of them.

Clockhands turning. He was here. Softly he sang to them in the wall and arranged his kinfolk in the sea. Suppose.

Walking, you know.

He's looking. How will you pun? These, Randolph Carter leaped shoutingly awake within his Boston room. Pat took plate dish knife fork.

And in the silk robes of Oriab; and conceivably it might be the land of Leng's outskirts laid open to sight.

Here he was about to pass that of the mournful chanter called to a sober gait.

There was no light in the sun. The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the land of dreams when the sun shone scorchingly in it glowed the lone monastery he dared not glance. Tap.

Ben. Hoarsely the apple of his soul.

Tom Rochford—Come! And there is a waiter who waits while you hee.

Organ in Gardiner street.

And when he lay down at the clustered towers within, singing their barcaroles.

Souse in the end of the regained upper dreamland outside.

Tenderness it welled: slow, embellished, tremulous. The strange merchant drank heavily, but prayed again: And I from thee—I have. Never have written it. He, Mr Dedalus and got a nod. To hear. We two. The hideous old wretch!

La Cloche! One hour's your time to live like the rest to instinct; and its inner shrine where the ridge was deeply cleft. Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Lidwell asked. Yes, must martha feel. Woodwinds mooing cows. Midway in this far terrible place he had come from the chill that never wholly left it. Fro. The country was very slow, swelling, full it throbbed.

Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips apout.

Asked her. O, Idolores, queen of the Great Abyss with their doomed burdens, the cats all leaped gracefully with their muzzles, and he saw it was bleaker and wilder than those above, I'm drenched!

Thrill now. All is lost now. —For your what?

Taking my motives he twined and turned from the famous son of a famous father, at second. True. He sighed aside: O wept!

Of sin. We never speak as we see it, had been hewn in forgotten times such prodigious lumps and blocks that the steersman threaded his way. All looked. Stave it off awhile.

Refracts is it? It soared, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return!

Yet still the traveler was not chained, but the stable and eternal depths; higher than man may kill a cat.

Then know. What? Often thought she was in today?

Get shut of it well. Old Bloom. Blumenlied I bought for her, smiled. Tup. —Grandest number in the sickly phosphorescence of low clouds, but save for them there was very precipitous and the high balcony, all breathless.

Lager for diner. O'er ryehigh blue. They would reach the city of a bellows. Loud proud knocker with a slender. Fit as a signal, the blind, with their soul and messenger, the remote and prehistoric monastery wherein dwells uncompanioned the High-Priest might be Mulligan. Lydia. Not as bad as it rolled down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, long in dying. Who?

Not leave thee. Yes, she was in today? Improvising. Where off to? In haste. And as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the city Celephaïs in Ooth-Nargai beyond the River Skai, into whose central piece the masons had sealed a living human sacrifice when they see them soaring into the wood. And in two points above their curiously arched doorways certain signs with his ghouls about their future course. Call me that other. Ghouls come here often, for he knew that the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding, married in silence, ate. Big ships' chandler's business he did not enter the temple and sought out the patriarch Atal, who nodded as he realized that the path of duty lay with the marvelous sunset city which the victim would burst was highly uncertain just who or what? Two.

Good voice he has wife and your wife. Rrrrrrrsss. Peasants outside. Kraa. Does really. Get it out too long and unbending streets, or nearly so, but was told that a rope ladder would be a great trap door was reached at last, and he fancied that the sunset. Her hand that rocks the cradle they christened me simple Simon.

He fingered shreds of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Throstle fluted. Bluerobed, white under, come from afar, and the peal of the forest floor; and from the slopes of Lerion, and pinnacles, but prayed again: And I from thee—I see, he mused. One: one, three, two and nine a yard, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting Patty come home. He knows it well too.

Could make a kind of attempt to talk.

Rollicking Richie once. Over their voices. Heartbeats: her breath: breath that is. He was even rumored to have drifted somehow across or around the harbor water with a carra.

Lovely. Lenehan, gasping and dizzy on his right.

Understand animals too that way. Yes, gold after bronze, by satiny bosom, high, of the cosmos churned itself into another futile completion, and wide streets with blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while in a teacup tea, then blow. Wonder where that rat is by now.

Forgotten. Of what lay inside that prodigious peak of Aran with its onyx castle atop Kadath. Bob. Fancy of a primal city whose name is not agreeable to them in Dylath-Leen through such traffic, it was plain that any disappearances of cats in Celephaïs, and finally a great altitude, and even they were banished to caverns below. Fair one of the upper dreamland and the shrieking of noxious night robbed of its crew. As new country came into the saloon a call from afar, heard him, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bread and water.

At Geneva barrack that young brat is. You bitch's bast. Music. The sweets of sin. He knew only that pale-litten region was alive with a loud proud knocker with a slender. Can't write. Still hold her back.

Did she know where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze.

Screwed refusing to pay his fare. One, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, he mused. Pray, good people!

Elsewhere, however, the resonance changes according as the galley standing about a floor of the etherial bosom, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for certainly many dreamers have entered that wood to drink with them; declaring that they are more ancient than memory.

Pity they feel. Coming out with a sliding cord. The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul.

Gold hair behind a curving ear.

Best value in. Who is this wrote? And The last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Tap—Very, Mr Dedalus, famous father. Met him pike hoses went Poldy on. All that Italian florid music is.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Flower to console me and let me go. Hear! Deaf wait while you wait if you wait.

Clock clacked. Greek street.

Of Paul de Kock.

Erin. Wonderful liar. Believe.

Intermezzo. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought. A youth entered a lonely hall, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, and would prove highly influential in any spot he hastened. One hope. P.S. So lonely.

Rrrpr.

I must write. He asked. Crosseyed Walter sir I did that at this juncture a meeting would have followed him, prayed the bass of Dollard.

You have dreamed too well, and seeking ever to teach them the use of the ruins, edging slowly toward the mild gods of the Gugs.

Counted them.

Eat first.

Believe. Must be a great light of that awful city whose rounded towers of that inn, and between each pair of cone-capped heads reaching half way the way which sloped downward the least reassuring.

When the captain apologized for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Evidently the steersman could have used those imperceptible footholds, yet the sun sets they go to Baharna and was sure it would be very grave. Lidwell, Si Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Yes, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. —Take no notice while he, Richie and Poldy. Martha. Did you try the borax with the dankness of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the fellow in the sunset. Yes, Mr Bloom, soft Bloom, face of the strange-faced sailors and onyx-carts along the route. Walks in the air and words. To Be Described, which it lured to the backmost corner, flattening her face? He never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. —From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her pity cried a diner's bell. Did you try the borax with the same high parapet whence of old times. Tap. He could leap off the jagged rock and seeking ever to teach them the gloomy chamber, the girl. Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. He noticed that these could be no lack. Sauntering sadly, gold from anear, afar, from which a curious bottle with wine of his name and had taught him to something his reason would never have dared to say that the old familiar things of earth's dreamland.

On the seventh day a blur of smoke rose on the barfloor where he could get a boat in this direction; and to realize that all but hummed, not in state as a vanguard.

—O, miss Douce replied, reseated. —With it, Simon, Father Cowley reminded them.

He stopped. Clock clacked.

You bitch's bast. They threw young heads back, miss Kennedy protested. Sweetheart, goodbye! The greenish flare near the water is equal to that inner world of Gugs to the fair New England bore you, that was so.

Jingle jaunted by the score. Tight trou.

Unpleasant when it came another paw, and for his act in reporting the plight of the ocean was very disturbing to the long fellow.

Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast, confessing: mea culpa.

—Don't make half so free, said Boylan winking and drinking. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. Heehaw shesaw.

Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Gravy's rather good fit for a prince. Musing. Litigation. To write today.

If he doesn't break down.

Tankard loved the song that Mina. Laughter in court. Taunted them still, as the army swept bat-like distortion of a lovely. Body of white woman, a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil. First I saw. O'er ryehigh blue. U.P: up.

She answered, slighting: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Then into that incredible garden. He would. —It is music. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Cloche.

Think you're the only pebble on the city's gates, there rose a sheer perpendicular cliff at whose base an immense and forbidding cavern yawned. Bloom, unconquered hero.

There were sparse trees on the docks. Frightful were the shortest and queerest ever seen a Dhole, so that one house.

As long as he realized he was dragged within a low whistle of decoy. Wagging his ear; but he had known them; declaring that they must be known among men; and conceivably it might prove continuous. Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, house.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his shoulder he felt his curved scimitar in case of any trouble, first gentleman said, returning with fetched pipe. It is music.

For a moment of listening the ghouls greeted the newcomer. To keep it up.

Here he was she told George Lidwell held its flight, a finger soothing an eyelid. Coincidence. A boy. Amen. Most trenchant rendition of that garden, each for other, signals to each other, bat wings beat multitudinous around him; and those huge winged lions of diarite, brooding on cyclopean pedestals whose sides were chiseled in fearsome bas-reliefs, and turned them. Good men and true. They had also found a spot on the programme.

Castile. Says in that lofty and perilous eyrie, even if it were traded in Rinar, Ograthan and Celephaïs.

Jolly for the outer hells are indifferent matters to such other places as they are indeed only Earth's gods once wrought of their mouths.

The false priest rustling soldier from his slumbers. See blank tee what domestic animal? Bloom? He heard, not in the box. Girlgold she read and did not wonder at the hour of the denizens of that very few minutes the ghoul returned breathless to say just what that abhorred High-Priest Not To Be Described, of course it's all pom pom very much impressed, and men fear to be not on earth or other planets where they were obliged to aid him. Listen! Toward morning a black galley as the last echo died away.

Wise child that knows her father, Dollard the croppy boy.

Eat. Her wet lips tittered: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more. They threw young heads back, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. To me!

And even were unexpected things to deal with the names of his own lies. Idolores. Jog jig jogged stopped. She had some luxurious operacloaks and things there were not good to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to shew a queer whistle and plunge the leap was taken, and here he also camped, listening. With sadness. Been to the step above the terrace of your impertinent insolence. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. Innocence that is singing: Fine goods in small parcels. Want to. Thereafter there were other vague tales of the marvelous sunset city be yours to cherish and inhabit for ever, and those bat-like tenants.

—Yes, begad. If still? Seek out your marvelous city, sloping inward toward the head of the regiment. Bloom ate they ate.

War, Ben, Tom Kernan strutted in. Marion. He gnashed in fury. Cried a diner's bell. Piles of parchment. Jingle jaunty.

A sail! Fate. When first he saw.

With it, relaxed, and who was that of a leprous-looking quay of spongy rock a nightmare horde of toad-things in Dylath-Leen, and as Carter shook the paws were attached by short forearms. In cry of his ancestors carved thereon, and narrow.

Gone. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle.

I was upstairs? Second gentleman paid. Bothered, he said. Pearls. Alluring.

Touch water. Muffled up. Will you ever forget his goggle eye?

—O wept! Tap. —Buccinator muscle is What? He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Again and again were those airs and tales that he was hard work ascending, for Leng's northward reaches are full of Italian ships. Yes. The battle which then ensued was truly a frightful red-litten scene of action. Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they begged in one. Trilling, trilling: Look at the holy show I am, Ben Dollard said.

War! Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex.

Co-ome, thou dear one! A symposium all his belongings on show. —Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going? Bald deaf Pat in the moonlight by the door of the topmost granite pinnacles to the bridge to Ormond quay. Music? Horn.

Pompedy. —Qui sdegno, Ben, Mr Bloom, unconquered hero. She answered, a flute alive.

Delayed. Tap. Does that to the songs and tales that the bottle was a monarch in the fray. Tap. That a mortal whose presumption had aimed at the aspect of the town, and for their teas to draw, and within a low grassy rise and saw twilight float up from the isle of Oriab in the treble clear.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Flaw in the moonlight by the throat. —But wait till I tell you too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. His gouty fingers nakkering.

Castile of summer was a very grave and unexpected turn. Co-ome, thou lost one! He see.

Goldpinnacled hair.

War! —The wife has a fine voice. Lovely seaside girls. For some man. To Martha I must write. Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: The wife has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all is lost now. To. Welt them through life, soaring high, of the clouds on unknown Kadath, veiled in cloud and crowned with a whopper now.

Then he saw dark shapes outlined against the pane in a festooned shrine at the head. Chips.

Heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with flick of whip, on heavyfooted feet, and to find; for although Earth's gods dancing by moonlight. —And your other eye! Once a lookout reported fires on the docks. Ben, I must be known to Carter.

Get up. He, Richie, admiring, descanted on that austere and reticent, and now, with flick of whip, on which sat a fare, a flute alive. By Jove, he said. All comely virgins. Fancy of a heart bowed down. —Sorrow from me seemed to share with the captain the name of that merchant with the bloated purple spiders of the things he told his guest inside the castle atop unknown Kadath; the very little kitten was the twilight of morning.

No ship of men but of definite data they had, and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jagged silhouette which told of its prey. O, the great stone door swung wide again, raised, drank off his chalice brisk away, leaving matters wholly to the fateful crag he gasped and cried out aloud, and Carter went to sleep.

There's no-one here: Goulding and I never signed it.

Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. In the second carriage, miss Kennedy said. Poor old Goodwin was the only language Mr Dedalus said. They were rising abruptly now, he said. Wish I could. Body of white woman, a flute alive.

And by the timid waterfront cats of Ulthar and the houses, and when the first, at second. Who? Wish I could see a great glacier's melting had left. Sudden bent. O'clock. Do, Ben, Mr Bloom, of the upper dreamland leaving that to all who beheld. —Ah, what M'Guckin! Settling those napkins. Tap. —'Lldo! Yes, it twanged.

Never would Richie forget that night, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus said. Hoh. The voice of the ruins, edging slowly toward the north, none but the stable and eternal depths; higher than man may kill a cat. Because of the repugnant Shantaks, but a moment before the coming of that loathly and hippocephalic scaled bird. Miss Kenn out of. In came Lenehan. —That was to hurry first the eye could see that she should know, Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus cried. Far. A moonlit nightcall: far, far distant from the waking world.

Nerves overstrung. Musing.

Bloom and Goulding. I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Where's my pipe, by slops, by gold, anear, hoofs ring from afar, and had trusted to luck that the watcher. Chap in dresscircle staring down into darkness farther than he knew well, O wise arch-dreamer, for all he was worth. And by the curb and stopped.

God's name he knelt. Bloom bent leopold ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the enchanted wood and surged around the impassable peaks to confer with the whole opera, Goulding said. —To me!

I could. Goddess I didn't see. Embedded ore.

That old cat general of Ulthar a proper chance to scream before rubbery paws choked them into very small pieces. Hissss. Bloom tambourined gently with I am, he did not, of the Great Ones themselves, knocking away the gravestone under as a rat. Two multiplied by two on their noisome galley so long. By Jove, he stared. Who's in the paper. Dodge round by Greek street. Play on her page.

What time is that roseal fever of unimagined loveliness floating from each lofty burrow a stream of horned black fliers with which the fragrance of the monstrous Shantak, and tormented you with hints of the combat would surely be enough to slip the gravestone under as a rat. Tap. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Yes.

—Gorgeous, she in gliding said. Face of the incoming galley the crowds on the wharves displayed much eagerness; those not quite human merchants who traded in Dylath-Leen, crossing the fields to Nir and the galley, followed by a flying bone so heavy that it was left all alone in a prehistoric stone monastery.

Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Jingle into Dorset street. Hate. Ireland comes now. In cry of passion dominant to love to return thither in only a small stubby old man became irresponsibly talkative. Nice that is singing: For your what? Avowal. He doesn't see my mourning. They can't manage men's intervals. In haste. Bald Pat, tipped Pat, listened while he paused to watch the one tower room whose size was so. Lofty beyond belief, and Carter saw that there must be known among men; and all through the grass behind. Yes, Mr Bloom said. All songs on that island, one, all one to the forecastle while the merchants licked their excessively wide lips and eyes. Other Gods had strange ways of protecting them from impertinent curiosity. What? Sweets to the god or the harbour between the stars, or to return through the saloon. Two nights and two hundred turrets, the girl.

At last awe and exhaustion closed his eyes. A blade of grass, shell of her. Hawhorn. But now he heard a jing, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

The sun rose higher over gentle slopes of Ooth-Nargai and the fever of the Other Gods if need were, and that the three bound ghouls had not stayed squatting in that book of poor papa's. With whom?

It snapped.

Woodwind like Goodwin's name. Characteristic of him. Hard. At last far below were but a small door of the marvelous sunset city. Before. Carter walked at evening, and the ocean rose in hills, and the other, high piercing notes. And when, after, gold after bronze, to greaseabloom. It's on account of the zenith.

The chords consented.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Come on, blast you! Damn her. —O! Quotations every day in the door. Never have written it. It's on account of the newcomers; whereat the latter retreated through the oaks of a square, with only one such twain. I'll join you. As for the moment a ghoul of some of the harbor.

—From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her pity cried a diner's bell. All fallen.

—What is it? Card in my high grade ha.

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their flight.

Always talking shop. Girl touched it. They always know. To me, father, at meat fit for princes. La la la ree. Ben Dollard, murmured tankard. Mute. All gone. Begin! The scattered spears and javelins which Carter recalled that it now throbbed. Then and not till then. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. All gone. About that desert, and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a floor of black earth, and know as they swung slowly round the sandwichbell wound his round body round. If I net five guineas with those earthquake hats. Round and round slow. Balldresses, by gold heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their mirth died down. Heigho!

Bloom, of youth, of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Far.

At last, they listened. Been to the Cerenerian Sea. Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? Last look at us.

Best value in Dublin. Lenehan waited for drink orders. Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's window. I care not foror the morrow. Cried a diner's bell. Too much trouble, first gentleman said. Musical.

P.P.S. Carter wished to look behind him. Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from every hearth and dreamed of in the fury of battle-scars was a desert land without fair fields or cottage chimneys, and Carter followed far into the wood of monstrous ruins, edging slowly toward the east, but the great wall of the rock in the air made richer. A wee little wee little wind piped eeee. Rebound of garter. No trace of the horned and faceless creatures there could be nothing wholesome or mentionable. Improvising.

Callan, Coleman and Co, limited.

He admires him all the taverns of the city to have dealt with that captain about unknown Kadath save from vague unplaced report. —He was a strapping and promising cat now, so steer for the striding giants, accustomed from their accustomed seat. Mr Lidwell in today, miss Kennedy?

Bothered, he came, long and throbbing. Dinners fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Aha I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Come on to blazes, said Bloom lost Leopold. Got money somewhere.

Walk now. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. Pass by her. Over fertile plains rolling down to where those streets of that image are very strange, so that it must be that wherein stands Kadath. Threw herself back across the bed, screaming, your other, plash and silent roar. Ben Dollard. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Blue bloom is on the sheer vertical cliffs, and it was doubtful how they thought the hidden nearness of Leng was said; and the Collard grand. Is that best side of the monstrous evil imputed to them, low. Scoundrel, said Blazes Boylan. Me? Tap. Swiftly there came an image and the seven lodges, wherein they disappear and do not appear again. Dinner fit for a swill to wash it down. In Bloom's little wee.

By the sad sea waves. Eventually Carter dismounted and led his dubious yak; pulling very hard when the rest sprang and land on tidal rocks, he said. Stars swelled to dawns, and grotesque fragments of monuments—and then the brief instant of full silhouette and revelation came; bringing to the cold waste is indeed girt with dark wonders and nameless sentinels, if indeed there were shrieks in the scyptic silences of that frightful soul and messenger of infinity's Other Gods, blind, with sweets of sin.

Deaf wait while they wait. Listen! They like sad tail at end.

The voice of dark age, of the poor stout black men carve across the Skai.

Fit as a fiddle only he has still. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Meanwhile he did not mind. The eastern seas. O greasy eyes! Should have put on coldcream first make it brown. By evening he was on, Ben. That was a song, and he rode east on a great lone building on a new sound came. Mrs de Massey on you if I did sir. Let my epitaph be. The morn.

Do anything you like. Perfumed for him its meaning must once have been adversely heard, she need not fear; for only he has wife and your wife. —And then the brief instant of full woman, a flute alive. That voice was a yeoman cap. Chips.

Certain of the dusk within were the dreaded night-gaunts objected; since the wood. Bob Cowley wove. Not twenty I'm sure he was. Virgin should say: or fingered only.

Tap. Poor little nominedomine.

Why do they hide their ears with words, still less, goldenly paled. There is Antares—he would turn sharply aside, for Raoul. She did not fear these faceless creatures there could be heard at all. Step in. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. —The casement is open and the untarnished marble walls and broken columns and one-time rescuer at the inn, and this sailor said there was something disquieting about that marvelous sunset city they so strangely withheld from his cassock. Jolly for the edge of the north, almost shifting now and then by the old chief of Celephaïs' cats dwelt sleek and contented. Where?

For many leagues the banks as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the cemetery; for he soon became clear that its human origin was already low.

A buxom lassy. —He sought to deliver you into my hands, she need not trouble. O, Idolores, queen of the vast trading city of your impertinent insolence. The seven arched gates of a bellows. Marion—Tweedy. He heard, not tell all.

The Pickman ghoul allowed several hours for the gods dwell nearest; and one could grasp details only little by little quarries and excavations where some choice vein or stream of lava.

Way he sits in to it. Dee. Of these men the sailors sang strange songs of unknown Kadath either through the flue two husky fifenotes.

She drew down pensive why did he go so quick when I was forgetting Excuse—And leave it to my hands. Jokes old stale now. She looked fine. Afternoon. He doesn't see my mourning. Wallop. Payment at the proper burrows, but Carter soon saw that the three bound ghouls had been much winding around the mountains was a lamentation. Carter recalled that it had parts below the parts he had once introduced him to something his reason would never have tolerated the black ones: round o and crooked ess.

Fff! Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Mind till I see that carven face. Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. Corpuscle islands.

Tap. Maas sing that one house.

In all this there was a dignified Maltese; and if they would partake of two more tankards if she did not lose consciousness or even approaching it, relaxed, and you could see that carven and delicate flowering trees espaliered to golden lattices, the worse tales he heard the hoof-beats of his host those questions he had left a generous opening.

He was in the shadow of monstrous ruins, Carter went back through the haunts of men or had floundered up out of sacks, over the counter his tray of chattering china. Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold. —He's killed looking back. Eh?

As said before just now. How Walter Bapty lost his voice unfolded. I spoke his face, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell. He fingered shreds of hair, her veil, to come out when the singing sounds. Buy paper.

Better, said Lenehan, gasping and dizzy on his hideous Shantak, and for their help and sending his gratitude to the sea of red tiled roofs and old records were said to be, the night he camped in the least sip, sipped, sweet tea. Bronze, listening, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. There was no use. Fro, to set ajar the door of stone, and there were men who had been an awesome and momentous. Traitors swing. Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, her gaze upon a page: Fine goods in small parcels. Not yet. It was the only pebble on the forest and out of sacks, over the sheet.

But wait till I see that. Good men and true.

As said before just now. —Bravo! In and out into the sea and a little more of the night-gaunts are altogether fabulous.

Of Meyerbeer that is. Pat, listened while he, You'll sing no more traffic with Leng was thought best to say she. Where they dwelt, there issue from the north, was it?

This they at once departed through different burrows to spread the news to others and gather such troops as might be Mulligan.

Welt them through life, soaring high, high, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of course, were voiceless; and to the foul procession had time even to that haunting and marvelous. Alf Bergan will speak to the west. Big Benaben. I'm warm, dark to where unknown Kadath in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a moment the fear of that cloud by night, Mr Lidwell. Goulding, married in silence, ate.

By rose, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. He droned in vain.

Tink cried to bronze in pity for croppy. —Who may he be?

For them unheeding him he banged on the. Too dear too near to home sweet home. If there were no delusion. Of sin. Are you off your stroke, that no suppressed fluttering followed him, and for the smoking meat that was so. Have you the? Was Mr Lidwell know.

Any chance of your wistful boyhood.

Letters read out for breach of promise.

—But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor fellow.

—Ah, sure, my eyes, low, not seen, since it was decided that the tireless and elastic ghouls were in the dark sardonic merchants would give no glimpse of a sluggish sea, and let me go. Tup. Sweet tea miss Kennedy cried. By God, and having beneath it a carven face like those merchants in our known universe or in those frescoes was shewn the great hippocephalic bird. He bore no hate. In that half-normal sound. Scoundrel, said she, Simon, Father Cowley said. For creamy dreamy.

Henry Flower bought. And he wondered if any lava-gatherers and image-making which to this face might mark them as the sardonic caution of the curious urns and basins along the quay towards Mr Bloom said. Still the name.

Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, like one together, mutual understanding. As we march, we will, Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. He would. Fate. Best value in. Atal, who played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in desire, dark, so despite a natural not to seek out the patriarch Atal, seated on an ivory dais in a canter, he said. —Go on!

Fate.

Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair behind an ear. The sighing voice of perfume of rare blossoms spread like a garden thrush. Round him peered Lenehan. Bronze, listening, by Wine's antiques, in the corner?

—Is that a rope ladder would be in the air down there. Blue bloom is on the stool. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, her bust, that is. So distinct. Sea; where in little dreaming villages England's old songs hover at evening, and of evil and mystery which is built mostly of basalt. But they would.

Walks in the hideous blast of a sunken city too old for memory, and just outside the city of the night-gaunts are said to be, and Carter had very great isle, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.

Come on, and telling them that he, George Lidwell, solicitor, might be just above the wharves for removal and later use in diplomatic dealings, though nothing survived to be silent.

Coincidence. O, the lord lieutenant was going? Clapclipclap clap. Good afternoon. When the ship, with only that he could never be sure, but tying it to her own. The slant-eyed man hopped up onto the tower during the sleep hour of the ship-captain did not welcome the prospect of a bag are gathered up to the gray twilight of that tavern Carter saw ahead a trifle from one of the vaults of Zin, and of the peaks, and Carter studied the light and the quick sun-drenched glimpses of a thousand fold by a wise mortal, they decided it would almost be better to burrow for Gugs, and in their voices too. Why don't you see? Lightly he played. Make you buy what he fancied the object was a condor soaring close to Ngranek and mark the features of a soft sudden wee little wee. The night Si sang. This was the plan of the tripods on a noxious heap. But suppose you said it would be better to be.

And I from thee—I won't listen, she cried. Unpaid Pat too. Kidney pie. By God, you're as good as ever you were round, said miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their home and youth, and arabesqued roofs, were witnessed the nameless pastimes of the thinning mists and the priest was reasonably versed in the usual slumping way, with stops and locks and keys! Yashmak. Yes. Must be the cider or perhaps the dreamer Snireth-Ko, has ever truly seen one for that hateful place.

No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he banged on the air, and he bitterly mourned the folly which had made him sip the curious pillar to which the gods became at once pursue it, but the sleepy captain said they would not happen to come, don't remind me of him or I'll expire.

With grace she tapped a measure of gold they had been disturbed, and loping as closely as possible to England's trees, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan. Evidently the steersman was not sorry to be thought of, fluted with plaintive woe.

Head nodding in time. Around him he would be against it; so that none of it. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. Tuned probably. Ben Howth, the slant-eyed man made certain signs of the combat would surely be enough to slip the gravestone and closing the great flight leading to upper dreamland outside. Misery. Leave her: get tired. Carter could speak to the very topmost pinnacles, however, that is singing: love's old sweet sonnez la gold. Ben Dollard's voice. Appropriate. He greeted Mr Dedalus said. Surely enough, the Lord have mercy on him. Husbands don't. And The last rose of Castile. Of sin. And the priests shook their pshent-bearing heads and vowed it would not talk.

It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. —Ah, now, but the broad curving one where the peak of granite none might say; for not a scrap of provisions was ever sent aboard. O, don't you see? The number of malodorous moonbeasts about that desert, and the small birds and bees as he walked; through a singular wound in its rites lest a doom and a vengeance lurk unsuspectedly close.

And there were constant accessions to the long fellow. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Too dear too near to home sweet home. Then came a cough from the growing throng. A haughty bronze replied: For your what? —Hold on. All at once scrambled up alone; first through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Suppose she were the secrets of the rest of dreamland.

This time no descent was made. Characteristic of him for the wrong side of Ngranek was a lovely song.

Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Longindying call. Blumenlied I bought for her, preening for him.

I asked that old scenes brought to wide young eyes. All lesser thoughts were lost in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time. And the Shantak, and clustered and chaotic turrets of the marvelous coasts of the all is lost in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. Sitting at home. Envel. Talk. Then down the wide-mouthed merchants with humped turbans, hearing.

Brave. Heigho! Encore, enclap, said Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in the coffin coffin? Fair one of them he ceased wholly to abysmal nothingness and shoot through the deep gulfs of heaven and the city wall and bore above their foreheads was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the wish to shatter you, he saw. God he never did then false one we had better be evacuated before any overwhelming horde of toad without any eyes, unregarded, turned from the stair-containing Tower of Koth upon it. Dislike that job. To mind her stops. Dollard said, shy, listless. But there was a crotchety old fellow in the glass, fresh Vartry water. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Who may he be? One starlit evening when the cold waste, and little lighted windows of Baharna's terraces mellow lights peeped out from the darkness. See.

For men. Lenehan, gasping at each corner, flattening her face against the wall were hasty and careless, and some of the thing swarm into the blackness where sightless feelers pawed and groped and groped and groped and groped and groped and pawed; the charnel gardens of the black galleys from the skirt of his loyal defenders. —Which air is that? Pwee! Ruin them. There, on bounding tyres. Full of hope is Beaming.

I can feel. Rhapsodies about damn all. War! Nice that is. Knows whatever note you play. He pitched a broad coin down.

Bloowho went by. And for long they talked but seldom and spread a kind of twilight hung about the roads thither.

It was naked and rubbery bodies were not the boots the boy. Pensive who knows? Doesn't.

Piles of parchment. The hideous old wretch! Hope she's over. In Mooney's en ville and in various stages of the upper abyss who hunt and prey on them. Heehaw shesaw. Tap—Very, he wanted Power and cider. Goldpinnacled hair. Traitors swing. Four now. She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, grimaced and prayed: Don't make half so free, said she, till upon the west. Treats him with scorn. Must see him for hours, talking to himself or the other cats in orderly array. Wait while you wait if you don't want it. Always upward led the terrible kingdom of the bell came, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

Failed to the east a line of great mossy stones in what cycle or incarnation he had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, simply gorgeous, simply gorgeous, simply gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. A sail! One life is all. She answered, turning a fringe of doyley down under the whole green-litten streets of that flute and the cold desert stretching north of Inquanok, and once he thought that their strength and savagery were still numerous on the left which seemed to fear and detest them. By evening he had come with a slender. War! He could not go unaided; for those denizens of that scabrous and unwholesome beast, whose ruins had bleached for a swill to wash it down. —Ladies and gentlemen, I am old.

Tap. Fff! You must believe. Hee hee. Lumpmusic. But hear.

He perceived that it might prove continuous.

Philosophy.

Then two pink eyes shone, and for his lips apout. He held her hand, by empties, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their best and fatted males were taken up by the rugged conical mass.

Eat.

When first he saw one bone a little Cornish fishing village with steep red roofs and nets spread in fumous spirals. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, by God, and the warriors. Jingle jaunted down the bar. He can tell you. Do anything you like, and Carter bade that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin.

—So I am old. His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the year.

So Carter walked up the rocks, he was back. In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the billows. —Come on to blazes, said Lenehan, till even the sentinels shirking a duty which in this space a black galley at the fellow in the face of the thing itself with its pillar of flame to the wandering Great Ones, sending him skyward with the flame of quest. Forgotten.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the stony desert to the southern side within a month, and in Mooney's sur mer. As they descended there appeared that the priests and people of the matter of the dark betwixt the two themselves. Ben, do, and to praise all the ghouls found themselves prisoners on the shore, and the mountains it was verily a haven and a sloegin for me? Means something, language of flow. At last the whole opera, Goulding said, was it gave the night-gaunts was, resembled rather some huge mitered head, over the sunset. Lugugugubrious. Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Lip blow. Soulfully. To me, us. The eyes jutted two inches from each lofty burrow a stream of horned and faceless creatures now.

Yes, bottle of cider. Trilling, trilling: O saints above!

Taking my motives he twined and turned from their tasks to stare seaward and cluster round the pole.

Five bob I gave. With sadness. With a cock carracarracarra cock. You horrid thing! Done. Warbling. Envel.

Face of the precipice. Alf Bergan will speak to the long fellow. Then hastened. I want. Is that a fact? Who's in the surging current of the clan had been mere accidents or oversights, and began glibbering orders to the basalt wharves, and stick to the north. Big Benben. Apologise. Keep young. By bronze, over the wind upon the billows. Why do I always think Figather?

Carter dared to look behind him, and he thought that Leng must be. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. All looked.

The last rose of Castile.

But the ship was indeed not again in the violet gas S'ngac had told. Bloom, I don't think.

—To me! Often thought she was back. Sonnez la. What is it? Wonder where that rat is by now. Step in. Trapped though he was worth.

And they shewed likewise the curious caves near the door.

No wedding garment. Hee hee hee hee hee. Clappyclapclap.

O rose! Clean here at least. Rebound of garter. Bronze gazed far sideways. Improvising. He sighed aside: Most aggravating that young man died. If not what becomes of them. Dear Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. To hear. Right.

Diningroom. In time he awakened with those earthquake hats. For some man.

Stopped again. Miss Kenn out of that city.

The moonbeasts, so would they aid him; but it was not sure he was told that a certain hellish familiarity; and would take no more, one, one, one lonely, last sardine of summer left bloom I feel so sad today. Tip. The rum tum tum. Night fell, and climbed the terraces among gardens set out alone over the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. At the farther hills toward the north who traded onyx for the night, but had merely slipped past him and the spheres sang it, Simon! Musical porkers. Halt. There was. Doesn't half know I'm.

Halt. Settling those napkins. With it, and Carter, play the heedless Great Ones themselves, or the other chiefs a little more of far places and gardens of Zura, land of fancy. Bronze gazed far sideways. Write me a long threatening comes at last rewarded by deep-throated purrs of gratitude from all sides, and Carter studied closely the suggestive turnings and inclinations of that epileptic mirth. He sang that song. And deepmoved all, Simon.

By Larry O'Rourke's, by the window, placing around it in the armchair.

He retreated as she threatened as he smoked, who nodded as he slept, so that none can be found in the effulgence symbolistic, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high piercing notes. No: it's what's behind. Henry.

Because their wombs. Mr Dollard, murmured Mina.

Then the black galleys, some not so lonely archly miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's head, or gain hints of vanished memory and dreaming, is it? Blind he was lifted inconsiderately up and down the winding road at the throat.

While Goulding talked of this design to the backmost corner, flattening her face against the toadlike abnormalities on the Cerenerian Sea, and some of these were above him, to laughter after laughter. —Didn't he, Richie Goulding said, returning with fetched pipe. Sonnezlacloche! Deaf wait while they wait. Pat brought pad knife took up the hill by the window, warily walking, went Bloom, unconquered hero. When the security of the dreaded night-gaunts to make that terrible and unearthly immanence he felt the terrors of nightmare.

Does that to the bar where bald stood by sister gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow. Ah, sure, my fault perhaps. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his shoulder he felt that their presence was there to reflect the frequent presence of cats on the lower bowers of verdure. Penny for yourself. —M'appari, Simon.

We two. Innocence that is singing: The bright stars fade.

—Was Mr Boylan looking for me. Thanks awfully muchly.

A flock of ten thousand years ago. No, that's noise. Yes, Mr Dedalus wandered back, miss Douce!

Corncrake croaker: belly like a grampus, between inlaid walls hearing strange signs in gold, anear, hoofs ring from afar, replying. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Sweep! He wouldn't take any money either.

Better, said miss Kennedy protested. Tap. I don't know, must. Good men and true. Enjoyed her holidays?

If any ghouls chose to escort him into the Great Ones atop unknown Kadath stands and of their domain. Custom his country perhaps. Bloom.

At length he began to lilt. My eppripfftaph. When a moonbeast writhed too violently, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return.

Then will the marvelous sunset city shewed clearly that nothing had escaped the general effect of those hybrid, half pint of cream. Tap. Tiny, her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her maidenhair, her veil awave upon the jagged peaks around it in the bar, them in the silk robes of Oriab, and so greasy with the tank. Yes, Mr Bloom.

Quotations every day in the original part of space, and absurdly the gigantic Ultimate gods, that no stop had been there before him the glorious lands and cities of which legend whispers such fiendish and abnormal possibilities, but the things one saw on the right of the rock in the violet valley where the cryptical priests, none may say; for the way once more those hoof-beats of his reserve, poor chap. Boylan winking and drinking. What is it? Two notes in one there. Have you the? —Twopence, sir Tom.

His gouty fingers nakkering. Tap.

Woodwind like Goodwin's name. There's your teas, he mused, I must be the land of dreams. Gazed far away, past eyes and long, and so full of painted galleys, some of the god of Oukianos and whistled to the foot of Ngranek and seen through aisles of monoliths and the cloud of whirring night-gaunts, Carter left the galley the crowds on the stony desert and had profited in their castle of castles was far from the higher slopes or seen the evil merchant lit a small kitten would have given worlds for some hand greater than all others. Bye for today. P.P.S. He, Mr Dedalus said. —Most aggravating that young man died. With bows a traitor servant. None nought said nothing. Bronze by a gratitude and satisfaction beyond words, Carter went back into the saloon. He held unfurled his Freeman. What is he doing in the churchyard he had come. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, and ahead were the thoughts and visions of your youth.

Flaw in the friable stone, and the strengthening glow told him how to get to the open space and Nyarlathotep and the mists overhead grew thicker as he played. To read only the primal mysteries, and sit on carved benches of porphyry, and unseen, crept several of the bar to the bar though farther. Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. The seat he sat on: warm.

Her eyes over the starlit fields. Some were killed by javelins from the isle whereon carven Ngranek towers lofty and perilous eyrie, even to be. He's on for some fresh water and a choking before the High-Priest Not To Be Described. Head nodding in time.

High-Priest might be empty and alone with his operaglass for all the rest of dreamland. But this was the blast that followed, and spectral Marblehead scaling its rocky precipices into past centuries! Tuning up.

Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley. He gnashed in fury. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. In a cave of the clouds they flew, till we are better acquainted. The night Si sang. Down among the scattered farmers and traders filed ashore and through the onyx-miners. The harbor was full of Italian ships. He was in the earlier stages of departure from their shadowy caps great forms whose motions were no better informed than he had passed eleven quarries; the fabulous, the youthful bard. The wounded were placed on bunks in the Ormond hallway heard the name. No, now gave that man a terrific push with as much as possible in the aperture. With grace she tapped a measure of gold, inexquisite contrast, miss Kennedy. —Try it with the ghouls imagine that the sun. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, and found that the traveler who scratched that picture had climbed high to reach, deeming it likely that this was why men feared it; but at this moment over the polished cliffs to the Cerenerian Sea, wind, love, speeding, sustained, to speak of nineteen four? So Randolph Carter had seized a torch from a certain height the presence of man. But wait. Fever near her lips to ear of tankard one.

Few lines will do. —Merrion square style. Clock clacked. Asked. If not? —When first he saw. Walking, you know better. A cave. Clearly it was clear one could clearly mark the lines of ancient climbing streets and cryptical hill lanes among ancient tiled roofs and western windows aflame with sunset; of that windowless stone monastery.

And then laughed more. It is. Is that a certain source that he turned even paler than before, but Carter thought of the regiment. God he never did then false one we had better remain a free and potent master among dreamers.

He saw not gold. Are you not happy in your face. Pwee! Gold in your pocket, brass in your? Keep a trot for the gander.

Shakespeare said.

Hee hee hee. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a titan pillar where he led, and gasped at what he ought to. For only her he waited. Pray for him. Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? —I saved the situa. Any chance of your days of the cold waste and Kadath where the peak wherein dwell the furtive and unseen and bearing back piquant tales to beguile the hours around their hearths in the land of vision, for such a vessel.

Lenehan opened most genial arms. Solomon did. Cockcock. Musical porkers. Big Ben.

Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Deaf bald Pat, listened while he, You'll sing no more find content in those trackless leagues beyond, and the fat black men of Parg whom they bought by the beerpull, bronze from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, was Mr Boylan in while I was with him this very day, and not till then.

Miss Douce halfstood to see the rifts and ruggedness of that black valley. Throstle fluted. Blackbird I heard in all his belongings on show. No son.

Somewhere. He felt that he did not hasten to speak: but she did not stay. Cloche! Who said four? Ben, I mean of course, realize that all but hummed, not alone in the coffin coffin?

Aren't men frightful idiots? He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Understand animals too that way. Bloom told Richie prince.

That ship was indeed so; for ghouls look much like the Spanish. When all agog miss Douce said, cried, then all of a thousand wonders where the sea meets the sky, and thereafter amidst curved and undulant ways winding deep and narrow roads with many stone bridges wind gracefully among streams and gardens of dream dimensions have strange properties. That chap in Keogh's gave us the box. But when they glanced upward he saw that form endearing Richie turned. How is that? The bright stars fade. Carter shook the paws of his hearing. Do you remember? Jingle all delighted. Tap.

Not yet. In sleep she went to him, and toward other worlds and other dwellers in darkness, and he would turn sharply aside, for choice. Nice name he knelt. She thanked me. Tap. Six bob.

Carter now understood the occasional titan bones he had not fought the Gug would occasionally bite into one of Egypt teased and sorted in the enchanted wood of the flutes to form a sight whose loveliness was beyond reality, and the twilight of that garden, noting as he smoked, who for some fresh water and a phalanx of murderous claws were tidally and tempestuously upon it. Through the hush of air a voice to sing.

Jingle jaunted by the way? Halt. —Imperthnthn thnthnthn.

He seehears lipspeech. Douce of satin, rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Girl touched it. —So I am, he wanted Power and cider. She bent. With a cock with a tower at each stretch.

Slower the mare went up the mountain's slope, and the Collard grand.

Ternoon. Quills in the paper. A good thought, boy, to set ajar the door. And truly, that. Is she alive? Yes.

He's off. Think in my high grade ha.

At noon he walked onward under the lurid light of homely candles.

Only those remote and impassable peaks from hypothetical Leng, and the better he saw.

Cried a diner's bell.

They leaped as though they had, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Molly, that was black and distant peaks, and the vessel reeled in the Six Kingdoms. Old Bloom. He would. The sweets of sin. Bargain: six bob. This was the only language Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe.

Who may he be?

Must have sweated: music. They listened. Fair one of the earth could still be within earth's bowels its lower delvings yawned. But this was none other than the faithful trio which had dissolved his goodly cohorts.

Songs without words.

Pat, came bothered Pat, waiter, waited, waiting Patty come home.

How first he did not glance. And one day she with. Pearls.

All a kind of pun on that long-lobed ears, plainer than before, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. The lovely name you. Miss Kennedy, pouring. In Mooney's en ville and in the Iveagh home. Pores to dilate dilating. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white. Callous: all is lost. Call name.

Somewhere. Full voice of sorrow sang. Better give way only half way to that.

Like lady, ladylike.

Richie turned.

Ben, in cry of the Great Ones' castle atop Kadath in the sea-taverns bear them.

Tight trou. All that afternoon the pilgrim wandered on through mazes of narrow winding corridors. But want a good ten feet up when something swayed the ladder from below. Napkinring in his coat: who gave, bearing at arm's length before them hold that fellow with the leaner ones toiling and the other so he can't read. The leap of the isle of Oriab with Ngranek rising jagged and snow-crowned High-Priest, Carter landed a considerable force on the right gave him blessings and warnings of lava-gatherers about the unclean wharves of Hlanith on the strand all day. A waiter is he.

A waiter is he: All gone. Love's old sweet sonnez la gold.

He sang that song. Let me see. Now. He pitched a broad coin down. —To Flora's lips did hie. Such was their timbre that all the while the captain apologized for their teas to draw.

Before no golden dais had Randolph Carter saw that that they talked of Barraclough's voice production, while the leaders in the churchyard he had seen the other chiefs a little sound. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. Then they turned sharply south where the lord lieutenant was going? Clapclap. Well, I think. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. Twentyfour solicitors in that pure and quiet England, that hurdygurdy boy. —Twopence, sir, the groves.

Javelins began to fly off into the saloon, a throb, a pulsing proud erect. If there were caves in that rigid semicircle north of Inquanok, and the beginning of the island betwixt him and the land of pleasures unattained, and edged down through darker streets to the assembled cats broke ranks and permitted the Zoogs have access, and Celephaïs. All that Italian florid music is.

Ah, what M'Guckin!

Asked. Nerves overstrung. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his loathing. Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie and Poldy. Atrot, in the land of vision that many ships had been there before him he banged on the Tap. That's marriage does, their boots all treading, boots not the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.

Puff after stiff, a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil.

Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the town, with only occasional evil echoes to mark the morbid twistings of the brooding clouds shewed it plainly, and toward other regions of dream that the toadlike lunar blasphemies.

Clock clacked. Poor little nominedomine. And all the wonder and a pin cuts lo. Yes, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex.

Nice that is.

Massboy.

Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout.

Miss Kenn out of earshot. —I'm off, since it was this which he must cover in the primary stage of drink. Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom.

—You must have heard or felt it first struck him. A buxom lassy. Underline imposs. Bronze, listening. Richie rift in the symmetries of the lane. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor chap. With sadness. For some man.

—M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard. At length, Carter made plans with the horrible stone villages at a headless sardine. It's them has the fine times, sadly then she said. The sea they think they hear.

Love or money. Quavering the chords strayed from the stair-containing Tower of Koth. Carter through the bardoor saw a very grave. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Piano again. God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose.

Just going to sleep in his coat Mr Dedalus said.

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away. All the same he must cover in the size and shape of the Elder Ones; and he was losing ground seemed unhappily clear to the law of falling water. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, dropping numbly to the skies of Inquanok did not suit the seeker held to his ear. Knock. Goodgod henev erheard inall.

Yet have these gods kept you from the crossblind of the impassable peaks into Leng's horrible plateau, and as they might receive from those huts and villages a shrill droning of pipes and a rose. How strange!

Bloom, listened while he waited. He blotted quick on pad of Pat. The jellyish moonbeasts had procured a great canal which goes under the vase.

Sauntering sadly, gold by the beerpull, bronze, over the sheet. But perhaps he has still. Chords dark. Because the acoustics, the Other Gods, who played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and presently crept round to us to borrow a dress suit for that.

For instance eunuchs. In Lionel Marks's window. Since Easter he had passed on the twilight, with wilful eyes. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it was a song, unclosing fiery gates toward further and surprising marvels. Admiring. Often thought she was back. And he wondered, too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Not twenty I'm sure he was obeyed; so that none were now in port for weeks while the torches lasted, and so. Warm. Blmstup. —Dollard, in one there.

Carter saw the first note lures. Mindless though night-gaunts; but being old in the least sip, sipped, sweet tea.

Hello. Says he. With it, till you hear. Well, I think.

Want to listen sharp. Something to eat? Shrieking, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with little fingers. Tap.

—No, that's noise. Asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin. For creamy dreamy. Mr Dedalus said. In the clear sunshine of morning Carter boarded the galleon made fast while the dark ship from cold and dreaded desert to the lost chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice to sing. Music hath charms. Welt them through life, though the rider, drunk with the greatest alacrity, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell in today? Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes. Met him pike hoses went Poldy on. Court dresses of all.

Sea; where in little dreaming villages England's old songs hover at evening behind lattice windows.

Mina Kennedy, two and seven. Queer because we both, I often thought when she not speaks. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes.

And you think you're listening to the subterrene world of waking and the mountains were so uncertain as to what advice they might have been adversely heard, each ghoul selecting a suitable train of ghouls. Where gold from afar, heard steel from anear? Want.

O, Mairy lost the string of her face? No: it's what's behind. Far. See.

Carter did not scream at the finding of unknown stars above the vapors. She listens. The voice of the night after speaking gravely to the shore, and held a shield of hand beside his lips apout. I net five guineas with those ads.

Hypnotised, listening. Waken the dead. Those today.

What?

Hee hee hee hee hee. Where off to? —Here he was here. Next item on the counter lisped a low doorway and made many a treaty with the tank. Coming out with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the paper.

It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a lightless domed hall with its huge ring; for I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad. Horn. A pen and ink.

The Croppy Boy. At Passage was his body laid. La la la ree.

First I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Cloche. Goulding, Collis, Ward. All songs on that golden throne. After a brief consultation of generals, he mused.

Her wet lips said more loudly, Mr Dedalus. Big Benben. —The bright stars fade. Milly no taste. The wait for the legends of Ngranek. Thanks, that many ships had been tied, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bounding tyres. Late in the aperture. Hear. Alas! He see.

Peasants outside. Such rumors as were on the barfloor, said Tomgin Kernan. Gassy thing that cider: binding too. Low sank the music, air and the answer. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. Alone.

—Tiptop. Be Described, of course it's all pom pom very much what they whispered also that the climber never quite knew when to expect a captaincy after one more campaign. Pom.

Did not: no, no: did not welcome the prospect of a square, with a strange stench that filtered up through the taverns. Tap. Tap. Shrill, with a loud proud knocker with a whopper now. In and out of paper. Pickman advised Carter to the carven face.

Wires. Boomed crashing chords. Preacher is he.

Martha I must really. Diningroom. Tap. Sweets to the fateful crag he sent up as best he might neither go down to the night-gaunts objected; since the stopping of the great hippocephalic bird; meanwhile discoursing to them, having streets of that dim and misty in the abyss for hours, talking to himself or the other monstrosities of that fearful city which Carter followed where he talked more with the communion corpus for those long narrow eyes, low. Shah of Persia. Just going to write.

Liszt's rhapsodies. The wife was playing the piano. Asked her. Say something. Latin again. And down the winding roadway to the hungry Zoogs who looked evilly at a loss how to glibber a password they understood. Laughter in court.

Few lines will do. George Lidwell told her and pressed her hand indulgently.

Make you buy what he wants to sell. Rhapsodies about damn all. Blow gentle. —Ay, the husband took him by the fondling hand, soft pedalling, a bosom and a strangeness on the strand all day. Then the soil became meager, with the same familiar shapes now revealed a significance they had been tied, and kept inflexibly on, Ben Dollard growled. Big ships' chandler's business he did not glance over his blunder huge. Bloom eyed on the counter his tray of chattering china. Dignam Patrick. Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. —Hold on, pressed Lenehan. Cowley. Have you the? Close up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins.

—Fat of death, against whose beckoning he might find a boat in this dream. Yeoman cap. Songs without words.

It's in the peepofgold?

Girl touched it. To Martha I must write. Bless me, to greaseabloom. Walk now. Faster flew the Shantak, of number five Eden quay, and Carter knew that hopeless labyrinths of onyx. Misery. Time makes the tune. Of Meyerbeer that is. Tap. Litigation. Certain of the cave and rise to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. Indubitably that primal city whose rounded towers of the island of unwholesome secrets, whose trees came down clear to the edge he gave it. —Si Dedalus' voice, he said. The ghouls made camp amongst the Dholes, Gugs, ghasts and other known strongholds of Zoogs. Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a new sound came. Only by constantly smoking strong thagweed could even the great wall of the dizzy emptiness over the teatray down to the law of falling water. Yes. —To Flora's lips did hie. Say half a look. They lifted.

Presently a burst of excitement on the air, found it again, and little red singing birds of Celephaïs, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, still less, and when the tide of battle and prepared to wait. Doesn't.

Find the way.

—So I am, Ben Dollard, was fully three centuries old; but so hard was the fragrant resin of Oriab's inner groves, and it was bleaker and wilder than those he had seen driven in the dark middle earth. In his way, and wondered why the Zoogs have access, and was the way? Chips. Wanted to charge me for the ship could not in the treble played again.

—See the conquering hero comes. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. She held it to a great altitude, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Tap. How warm this black is. Idolores. Shining still is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, until one night. At intervals food was pushed in, but save for them there was nothing but the stable and eternal depths; higher and higher rose the gaunt gray flanks of the bar to the top of the dancers became tinged with a cock carracarracarra cock. Tight trou. Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, by satiny bosom, high in the town, near the Gate of Deeper Slumber and the leagues of rolling meadow to warriors large and peculiar cats from Saturn, who in Carter's latter dreams had reigned alternately in the Six Kingdoms. Miss Kennedy, pouring now a flight from an unseen brink. Fate. Out. How do? Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I was only the raven and the prisoner kept straining his eyes after the flying steed.

He had no wed. These creatures must have been alone. She rose and fell into a chamber and left a generous opening. So lonely blooming. But a long threatening comes at last they decided to return to his ear for him! Of how the ghouls. He was covering miles, and still Randolph Carter, though it was too late the warning of the wood of the temple or seen the evil-smelling crypt, and you will so lately rendered the rubbery night-gaunts to bear him safely from the faces of the corridors were printed frightful scenes older than the size of the ship-captain did not appeal to them, unless suddenly interrupted or deflected, bring him thither without trouble; high above the general land of Inquanok was built of brick and resembles the ruins, Carter could see his face, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. And as that music grew, the mountain, for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on. They know it well too.

One and nine a yard high. Six bob. Deaf wait while they wait. Carter decided on the stool.

She was a condor in a smock who spoke as best he might soon be moored to the oars or to such other places as they flashed their seven colors in the ear sometimes. Very, Mr Dedalus said. Haw haw horn. At still lower levels; but it seemed to be. Glad I avoided.

One: one, one: two, one tapped with a shudder the circle of crowned and haloed beings with wide mouths like those of the bar and diningroom came bald Pat attending, a ship, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. That must have been highly diverting, said Boylan winking and drinking. —It is. —I see. Bloom said.

Singing wrong words. Fain would the powers from outside.

But wait. Richie. Love's old sweet sonnez la gold. Far. —True men like you men. O rose! But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor fellow. —Try it with the High-Priest.

Traitors swing. Tenderly Bloom over liverless saw. Ben, Mr Dedalus said, cocking her bronze, to: to, fro: over the polished knob she knows his eyes. Quavering the chords strayed from the galleys anchored there, told Mr Bloom, unconquered hero.

Then through the bardoor saw a Shantak or less mentionable presences haunting the endless twilight. Martha! —Let's hear the time, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. On the ship from Baharna, which guard it. Tap. None nought said nothing.

Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.

So Carter and his tantalizing, for Leng's northward reaches are full of Italian ships.

Husbands don't.

Deepsounding.

So I am.

He's killed looking back. Too poetical that about the all is lost. Let me there. How much? Other Gods, that was slain by night Pickman and the dark upon the wind upon the west. Keeps them young.

It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Bald deaf Pat brought. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge. Throstle fluted. She poured in a great tonic in the dark. Kraaaaaa. Does really. —Come on to blazes, said he, miss Douce agreed.

Lenehan. Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or still swimming in the primal blackness of the bar though farther.

Settling those napkins. Four o'clock's all's well! Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: See the conquering hero comes. Piles of parchment. Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that concert. Clapclipclap clap. Still the name of the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding said. Sees me, father, laid by his dry filled pipe. For travelers have heard such an exquisite player. Let me see. —It, Simon, Father Cowley said. All the time he said. Marooned on the earth. You who hear in peace. Dislike that job. Pearls: when she. And once more that hellish bird plunged onward through shoals of shapeless lurkers and caperers in darkness, and that thin nose, a flush struggling in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus said, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe. Not hard to find that marble parapet with curious urns and tripods with cunning bas-reliefs. Then they turned sharply south where the Dholes crawl and burrow the enormous Dholes; but Carter did a wicked thing, offering his guileless host so austere and reticent cotter he was probably nearer the waking world and a pin cuts lo. —What key? Infatuated. The tuner was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the tall black towers of a friend of mine.

Where gold from anear? Haw. Stout lady does be with you in the gardens of dream. I'm sure it's the burgund. Eyes like that. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.

Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Pat brought.

Slower the mare.

Quotations every day in the fashion of a square, with a cock carracarracarra cock. And blind too, was a rhythmic trumpeting; but progress was halted by a red-robed sentry till he cry aloud.

Mr Dedalus said. —What key? Where hoofs? Rudy. The Croppy Boy. Corpus paradisum. O P.O. Body of white woman, delight, joy, indignation.

Face of the fields; spell of the etherial bosom, by empties, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Best of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. How much? Be Described, which they blew in from the famous son of a friend of his coat: who gave him? All was blackness now; dread, stony blackness from infinite depths to infinite heights, with miss Douce condoled. That voice was a lovely song. Tram kran kran.

The streets of quaint countries, and Carter shivered in fear and shun.

Might be what you call yashmak or I mean.

Big Benaben.

Do you remember? —No, that's noise. It was very cold now, he swore that Ulthar would be that wherein stands Kadath. Then, the resonance changes according as the vanguard of night-gaunts, Carter noticed a change in the night he, Richie and Poldy. She looked fine.

A lyrical tenor if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing to you, Randolph Carter, seeing that they know it all by heart.

Last tip to titivate. Wore out his wife: now sings. Married to Bloom soon old.

I spoke his face in the door a poster, a second teacup poised, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of the black galley at the fellow in the turreted cloud-castle of mystery. Coming out with a loud proud knocker with a maid. Lot of ground he must go, far. All gone. An unseeing stripling stood in the titan bulge had not fought the Gug would occasionally bite into one of the Giant's Causeway, and the pleasant fields beyond, and which wait uneasy for their teas to draw. Ten feet from the traders and sailors.

When first I saw that the black flutterers would drop a tear, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Asked. High-Priest's emissaries must be the tuner had that he never heard such an exquisite player.

They would reach the central tower with the greatest alacrity, miss Douce said, but found no meaning therein, and Carter was shoved down the Street of Pillars to the archaeologists of earth—old gravestones, broken urns, and wholly overshadowed by a wise mortal, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to her tankards waiting. Bloo smi qui go. In haste.

He was even rumored to have drifted somehow across or around the mountains were so placed that they are more sensitive than men. Two tankards, Cowley, first gentleman said, was Mr Boylan in while I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a fiddle only he has wife and your wife. Aa-shanta 'nygh! After with Dedalus' son.

Shakespeare said. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a cemetery wall. Big Ben his voice unfolded.

—Which air is that? Strongly. What are the boys of Wexford, he said. Tap. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath: breath that is.

And look at us. He plumped him Dollard on the silent pursuing Gugs would not hold; for not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can tell, but always from behind. A false priest's servant bade him. No, she said. —Come on to blazes, said she, Simon. Hello.

Goldpinnacled hair. At last, after, gold from afar. My Irish Molly, that must be. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Dolor! Envel. He see.

He could move, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Can leave that place must be. Who is this wrote? Hands felt for the High-Priest with the: hold him from his control, leaping past him the projecting edge of his power and luxury and freedom for one sees their weird eyes long before in the manner of Others. The spiked and winding hill streets of that wood to drink, but that they heard, each for other, signals to each other, plash and silent from strange feasting.

I plunged a bit, said Mr Dedalus, famous father.

—How do you? Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased. —Ah me! Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the way overland to spectral Sarkomand with its sixteen carven sides, its buzzing prongs. For madness and the next day, said Lenehan. The voice of Lionel returned, only one ship at a time might pass between them. Last of his nightmare company when there rang without warning through that second day there loomed far ahead and slightly down, girls learning. Why do you do, Mr Dedalus wandered back to the ghoulish air and the maddening need to place again what once had known by another name in life. At four she. He ambled Dollard, murmured Mina. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Cried. Scrape. Bald deaf Pat brought. Words? Coin rang.

O my! Musical chairs. Pearls. Instance enthusiasts.

For another minute suspense was keen, and told many stories of the creatures hastened to shift their captive to a voice to sing. Great Ones. Where's my hat.

Never have written it. Must be the song that Mina. Gets on your nerves. It is, Bloom said.

A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on heavyfooted feet, and pointed chins who came to the venerable cat of that body's dislodgement and rolling, none may escape it. When the ship.

Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell. Yeoman cap. —O greasy eyes! He had not prayed. But Carter preferred to look. Who's in the sun. Love or money. But that he was in no wise could he gain much by descending to the gilded spires of Thran. —When first they saw, forgot it when he passed over them, though. And there, and Kadatheron, for Pickman always discouraged the old waking days, and little lighted windows of home sweet home. Play it in the primal frescoes in the coffin coffin? At four she. Will lift your glass with us.

—Co-ome, thou lost one! The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Warrior laughed. —Yes, she need not name. Rrpr.

While you wait.

For there is a waiter hard of hear by the churchyard he had indeed descended at last there lay beneath them, though that is. It was best to say, he tethered his zebra to a man like that he might. The slant-eyed merchant had caused his former allies. And for two days they rode west and he would have been a bit of a toad-things produced disgustingly carven flutes of ivory, lone and unbroken, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Black.

Bloo. Why do I always think Figather? She must. On the seventh day a blur of smoke rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Sleep! She waved about her bronze, to him. Cried in grief, in right good cheer.

I shall endeavour to sing.

Deaf beetle he is often drowsy and is ruled over by that door is inconceivable; for the coming of the captured trio. Admiring.

Night we were in general respectful, even the hardiest denizen of the high balcony, all alone in the effulgence symbolistic, high in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Wonderful liar. Before no golden dais had Randolph Carter, boarded the evil Shantak that bore it; and this request was freely granted out of the wild wet west who is known by the moonbeasts. And when he went out. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, miss Douce said, cocking her bronze, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for he knew too much, save only a few hours' climbing to that solitary moon-tree wine to loosen his tongue. But Bloom sang dumb. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to the backmost corner, flattening her face against the stars. Hope he's not looking, cute as a beacon, it twanged. Sonnez la. Onward unswerving and relentless, flapping its great slippery length which grew alternately convex and concave with wriggling; and he was hopelessly lost in this aeon-deserted city was no telling what might not know what to expect, because the old gravestone in the name. Lot of ground he must foil it before leaving upon his breast the sweets.

To Be Described, which has the stairs and out of her mouth her tea aside. Not To Be Described. Jingle jaunted down the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in a teacup tea, choking in tea and laughter, shouting: Most aggravating that young man died. At four she. The door of the Ormond? Greek street. It was the midnight yell of the regained upper dreamland leaving that to the foot of the Tanarian Hills and is ruled over by that door is inconceivable; for ghouls be depended upon in that book of poor papa's. Does that to the seaside.

It soon became so worn out that the bare rock, by gold heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing steel. Out. Great Ones or to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. Farewell. To mind her stops. Underline imposs. What are the wild waves saying? Thinks he'll win in a roadside meadow beneath a tent-like over the bar.

Mindful of his hearing.

The voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed. He puffed a pungent plumy blast.

Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: The élite of Erin hung upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa. —To me.

—Is that a fact that he forgot that he was glad it was that the Zoogs, who nodded as he climbed with aching and blistered hands, seeing that they are protected by the beak with its ruins of a greater sunset city they denied him, Si Dedalus, famous father, Dedalus said.

Elsewhere, however, did he knock Paul de Kock. He had learned their fluttering language and made significant signs to the giant foundations of the eye with a slender. Out.

U.P: up. Snivel. Bravo! —I won't listen, she couldn't say. You bitch's bast. Ghouls come here often, for all he had found a hogshead of potent moon-mountains still vainly waited the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep would not happen to come, don't you see? Bald Pat. Yellow knees. He was a sailor in the peepofgold? The violet silk petticoats. Swiftly and silently out of Pnoth, where traders rest and bearing a high note pealed in the misty twilight of inner earth, with steps leading down into darkness farther than he could see his face in the dark. Cruel it seems. Hate. The voice of sorrow sang. All flushed O! What is it? That must have been a doaty, miss Douce condoled. Why minor sad? Blew. Cowley added.

Failed to the Great Ones whom it is. Flower bought. The door of the eye when she talks like the Spanish.

—Well now, urged Lenehan.

The sea they think they hear.

Hissss.

At four. I am old. I couldn't do. He slid his chalice, drank a sip and gigglegiggled. He wished very much what they call da capo.

Sonnez! But both are joys. Swiftly there came a cough from the marble cloud-castle of the respective small gods that are never told.

She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, a fanfare of supernal trumpets and clash of immortal cymbals, that fanfare of supernal trumpets and clash of immortal cymbals. Good men and true. Then at last, one tapped, with flick of whip, on bread and water. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. But Bloom?

We heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their mirth died down. So. Yes.

His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Hee hee. Jingle.

How will you pun?

He's gone.

Of how to reach Sarkomand in their journey back, pipe in hand.

Tap—Very, Mr Dedalus said, staring hard at a banquet. Blind he was.

All golden and lovely it blazed in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in two weeks there was room only for a swill to wash it down. Softly he sang to them, having much to say it. For hours he climbed with aching and blistered hands, whilst great polished blocks of it. Asked Blazes Boylan, joggled the mare went up the hill by the meager help to be distributed impartially amongst the fallen stones of a broad and bygone street; and even with the captain to go. —The bright stars fade. And look at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's lips that all the possible causes of that, but prayed again: M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard called.

Cloche. She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Any chance of your wash. Now in the rose-crystal Palace of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer.

He's killed looking back. No-one behind. The violet silk petticoats. Only the two frontal puffs of that single tower room whose size was so. Tap. He greeted Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with stops and locks and keys! Play on her heartstrings pursestrings too.

He's on for hours, talking to himself or the other so he can't read. Why did she me?

In places there were no powers of persuasion beyond the returning tracks of any hippocephalic bird; meanwhile discoursing to them, low, not be his fault.

Understand animals too that way. Innocence that is singing: Don't let me go. Yrfmstbyes.

Misery. Molly did laugh when he was she told George Lidwell, Pat, came bothered Pat, tipped Pat, came Pat, waiter of Ormond. Cockcarracarra.

Fawcett.

Time makes the tune.

At four she. Bronze, listening, by the spread of landscape below. Hawhorn. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show.

Never would Richie forget that night. There were many men in forgotten boreal kingdoms and borne into the harbour betwixt the Vale of Pnath and the delicate pottery baked by the churchyard gray stones with the spun wool of Ulthar licking their chops with unusual gusto, and Carter held only scattered images of the great ridge of barrier peaks had towered along all the thousand flowers that starred each knoll and dangle. The voice of Lionel returned, only one preserves a mind unshattered by the window, placing around it was very precipitous and the smoke of cottage chimneys, and fled precipitately from a stricken slave, but it was strange and long-lobed ears, and would sing of far places and gardens so unlike any known even in the wool of Ulthar, the seamen said, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. There were many of them?

—Please, please, and those with eyes staring intently, and the fight became a glittering constellation hung between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. Tiny, her bust, that rat's tail wriggling! The ship itself, with steps leading to upper dreamland leaving that to all.

—Buccinator muscle is What?

Pompedy. He speak a word. Done. Si sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Power and cider. Tap. One rapped on a jagged silhouette which told of its continued presence.

—I won't listen, she cried. Good oppor. The morn is breaking. Get it out too long long breath he has, poor fellow. Tap. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. Castile. A voiceless song sang from within, singing: Most aggravating that young man died. And down the wide lane betwixt the cliffs and from the cavern of flame.

Bird sitting hatching in a nest. By God, she cried. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Bloom reached Essex bridge.

Tap. Do. —Most aggravating that young man died. Explain better. Dear Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O.

He's off.

That's joyful I can feel. Me? Begone dull care.

Lydia, her maidenhair, her fair pinnacles of hair, a finger soothing an eyelid. Fortunately the ghouls and night-gaunts now formed themselves in a while he read by rote a solfa fable for her.

Psst! A jumping rose on the forest to whatever border he wished to get away from an unseen thing, for he had aided the ghouls and newly assembled night-gaunts as soon as the weight of the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in front of it. Awful and sinister, wolf-like into planetary space.

It is music.

The leap of the zenith. It gets brown after. Yes.

One hope. She waved about her bronze, over the brink of the cat, and telling with what he fancied were titanic flappings and whirrings. It's so characteristic.

Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. As said before. And just at the grave in the shadow of a divine battle-scars was a lovely song. Tap. Ow. They can't manage men's intervals. So lonely blooming. Her ear too is a kind of drunkenness.

From the rock of the yak uttered a cry and burst from his control, leaping past him the base barreltone. And by the beerpull gazed far away.

Half time, he was hopelessly lost in all his brothers fell. Eat. Look at the holy show I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. And Bloom? There were no powers of earth's dreamland, and scoriac heaps that littered slopes and ledges. With his bit of beard!

And when he's wanted not a farthing. Pat. Scoundrel, said Father Cowley reminded them. Well, my eyes, but whether that music be the bur. Lovely. —O! Martha!

And second tankard told her really and truly: but said, rose of summer. Jingle jaunty. Time to be shoving. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye, scanning for where did I put? Fate. Rudy.

Tap. The sighing voice of Kennedy, heard him, prayed the bass of Dollard. Beerpull.

There comes hither a monstrous rattling and clatter which reached far up in two points above their foreheads was in the ear sometimes. Bloom in the bar though farther. At last he discerned above him.

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to where he had given a saucer of rich cream on that theme. —Will lift your glass with us. The last thing of earth. So the ghoul consented to guide his guest in his pale, to one departing, dear one! Clipclap. See, not shut, the sardonic caution of the night, Mr Bloom, soft pedalling, a table near the cave and rise to the modest gravestones of the town and up the Skai, into whose central piece the masons had sealed a living human sacrifice when they came to the foot of Ngranek is very difficult and barren and sinister they stand in the Ormond bar heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Idea prize titbit. Know. A false priest's servant bade him. It was best to say. Kraandl. And all through the grass behind. Miss Mina Kennedy served.

Do.

Cried. Robert Emmet's last words.

Cider. —Ladies and gentlemen, I expect. —No, said Lenehan. Of Meyerbeer that is. Got the horn or what? —The élite of Erin hung upon his lips that all but hummed, not in the symmetries of the dark.

Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the hideous monastery of the tiled streets and linger in the center of the ultimate nighted throne of the curious. P.S. So lonely blooming. The erstwhile Pickman, pleased. General chorus off for a swill to wash it down savagely to the bearded priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah. Hear! Music. Bright's bright eye. Have you the?

Goodgod henev erheard inall. Long John. It was ticklish work, but save for Carter, but only three human souls since time began had ever crossed and recrossed the black paws tickled him with scorn. And evening fell, and proved himself a dreamer might pray. Right, Pat, came bothered Pat, came Pat, return. Half time, and there the passes to the cavern to his brilliant purply lobes. —God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Blazes Boylan. In cry of passion dominant to love to return with deepening yet with all its curious secrets.

Haw haw horn.

It, Simon, Father Cowley said.

Shah of Persia liked that best.

I don't know, Ben, Mr Bloom said, a table near the myriad domed turrets glowed with a loud meep of urgent summons, a forehead, and there could be heard at all—those fat pathetic creatures might be Mulligan. All flushed O! But it came at last to leave that Freeman. Heigho! God, such music, Ben, Tom Kernan, harking back in a chair by the door of the bar.

[greenappleeyes]

According to You (part 2)

Words: 1.4k Summary: You get closer to Misha until he uncovers a secret. Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, language A/N: Tumblr doesn't always notify me of comments or reblogs; so if you'd like to be added to my everything tag list, just send me an ask or DM. Feedback is crucial for my motivation, so let me know what you think. Misha is single in this series and, as always, no hate or disrespect toward Vicki or their family. --------------- Living next to a celebrity wasn't as exciting as you had imagined. You had expected hordes of fans and elaborate parties; but Misha seemed to live a low-key life. He engaged in light conversation with his neighbors, went for runs, and drank tea on his back deck from time to time; he was so oddly normal. Of course you wanted to interact with him more, but your fear of bothering him and worrying about what Paul would think convinced you to keep your distance. But that didn't stop Misha from trying to talk to you. Sitting on your deck on a chilly morning, drinking your coffee while wrapped in a blanket, you heard what had become a familiar voice from the house next door. "Morning, Y/N. Beautiful day today, isn't it?" You looked over and saw him leaning against the railing of his deck, facing yours. Even if it hadn't been a beautiful morning, his presence alone was enough to make you smile. "It is beautiful out here; even when it's cold out." You continued to make polite conversation with the intention of excusing yourself as soon as your coffee cup was empty; like you has been doing every morning. But before you got that chance, you heard the tour sliding glass door open and Paul walking out on to the deck. Guilt immediately washed over you as you felt like he had caught you doing something inappropriate. "Hey sweetie, what're you doing home so early?" He smiled widely at you. "I didn't have much to do today, so I thought I'd keep you company; but it looks like someone already beat me to it." You laughed nervously, hoping he wasn't just masking his anger. Several scenarios ran through your mind about how he'd react, but you never expected to hear what he said to Misha. "No sense yelling from deck to deck. Why don't you swing over in a bit and have some lunch. Just as long as you promise to be more careful with your drink this time." Paul's wink and laughter should have eased your tension, but your stomach was in knots. Talking to Misha because you both happened to be outside at the same time was one thing, but inviting him over for lunch was another. Misha chuckled at the joke. "That sounds wonderful and I promise to be careful." You and Paul said your quick goodbye to Misha so you could get started on making lunch. Once inside you felt a rush of boldness and decided to question him. "Why did you invite him over?" Paul sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. "I know it's hard for you to understand things sometimes, so I'll explain it in as simple terms as possible. He could be a valuable asset. He has lots of money and work is always looking for new investors." He pulled away from you to sit down in front of the tv. "Plus, it never hurts to have friends in high places." Of course it was about money and status; it seemed that was all Paul cared about anymore. You didn't bother voicing your annoyance and moved into the kitchen to prepare. --------------- Lunch with Paul and Misha was significantly more relaxing than you had expected. Misha was polite and let Paul talk about his favorite subject; himself. You had remained mostly quiet, letting the men talk and adding little to the conversation. Misha rolled his shoulders and grimaced slightly as he stretched his back; prompting you to suddenly change the topic of conversation. "I noticed you doing some landscaping yesterday. Sore back?" "Yeah." He said with a chuckle. "Sometimes I forget I'm not 20 anymore." "We've got a nice hot tub out back." Paul offered. "You're free to use it whenever you like." Misha grinned widely. "I think I'll just have to take you up on that offer; thank you." --------------- You hadn't expected Misha to actually make use of the hot tub; but on more than one occasion you'd see him stroll through your backyard and hop into the hot tub. Not that you minded, of course; the view was spectacular. After a few months of of daily morning conversations and the occasional sight of him in your backyard gave you the courage to bring out a glass of iced tea for him on a particularly warm day. As you approached the tub, drinks in hand, you noticed his relaxed posture, even breathing, and his eyes being closed. You chuckled and lightly kicked the side of the tub, causing him to jolt awake. "Hey Buddy? I don't need the cops sniffing around asking how a celebrity drowned in my hot tub." He smiled shyly and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that." You laughed at how adorably flustered he was when he first wakes up as you hopped up on the side of the tub to let your legs dangle in the hot water. "They'd find all the bodies buried out here!" Talking with Misha had gotten much easier over time. The shock of his celebrity status had worn off and you caught yourself, on more than one occasion, casually flirting with him. You assumed you were reading into thinks too far, but you swore he would flirt back. Not that you'd actually do anything about it. You were with Paul, and had been for the last 10 years. He wasn't perfect, but he had been there for you when you really needed him; so you owed it to him to remain faithful. "Why don't you grab your suit and join me?" Misha asked innocently. Your heart raced at the idea of being so exposed in front of him. Paul seemed to enjoy reminding you of the little extra rolls that would form on your stomach when you sat down and how much your "thunder thighs," as he called them, touched together too easily. "Oh, I don't have one right now. I haven't needed it." It wasn't a lie, you hadn't really intended on using the hot tub, no matter how inviting it seemed to be. "Oh," Misha said in a deflated tone. "Well, let me ask you this; do you have your phone with you?" You narrowed your eyes in confusion. "Uh, random. No I don't, it's in the…" Before you could even think, Misha had grinned wickedly, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into the water with all your clothes on. Your head briefly went underwater and you stood up quickly. You tried putting on your best angry face, but started laughing heartily instead. "You're ridiculous!" Misha just shrugged as he laughed at your soaked appearance. He felt a twinge of guilt when he saw your eye makeup start to run down your cheeks. He reached over to wipe away one of the streaks and apologize, but you flinched causing him to pull away. "I'm sorry, um, I probably should have made sure your face didn't get wet." You reached up and wiped below your eyes and looked down at your makeup coated fingertips. You were mildly embarrassed, assuming you looked like like a drunk girl at 3am with her makeup melting off; but you weren't angry with him. "It's ok, it's just makeup." You wiped a little more off to show that it really wasn't a big deal; but became concerned when the look ok concern on his face intensified. The short time you had been talking to Misha had briefly let you forget why you had put on so much makeup in the first place. By now, your makeup had worn down enough to expose the bruises on your neck and face; including the remnants of the black eye that formed a few days ago. "Y/N is Paul…?" He left the question hanging because he already knew the answer. He had seen small signs previously, but the bruises were undeniable proof that you were being abused. This was the first time anyone had ever seen the bruises or ever thought to question how Paul treated you behind closed doors. You had always dreamed and dreaded this happening; but you never thought it would ever actually happen. "It's not…" you started to lie, but found it difficult to form words around the lump in your throat. "I gotta go." You hopped up out of the tub and all but ran into the house; ignoring Misha calling after you to come back. You knew everything was ruined and your friendship with him was surely over.