#Troy would keep trying to get her to eat more ice-cream

[thenarwhalgal]

I think we should shove Annie Edison in a time loop and see what happens. I think it’d be fun

[lilxberry]

Preference: How You Met (Girls)

GIF PREFERENCES

INCLUDES:

Cassie

Jules

Maddy

Kat

Lexi

Rue

_______________

Cassie:

You met through Lexi

You had a project for school to work on with Lexi and she had suggested to go over to hers.

So, one afternoon after school, you headed over to her house with your textbooks in your bag ready. You stepped towards their front door and knocked. 

The door soon opened and there she stood, looking at you quizzically as you gaped at her, suddenly losing your voice.

“Can I help you?”

“I-I uhm, yeah. Hi, I’m here to do a-uh-a project with Lexi.”

“Okaaaayyyyyy...” She drawled out her response as she side-stepped to allow you in. “She’s upstairs.”

You flashed her a goofy smile, eliciting a soft giggle from her. “T-thanks. I’ll uh-I’ll see you around?” It came out as more of a question, causing the girl to release another giggle.

“Sure.”

_______________

Jules:

You met through your parents

Both your dads’, David and Y/D/N, work together. David Vaughn was the new employee at your dads work place. They hit it off fairly quickly, becoming really good friends. Once they found out that their kids were the same age AND attend the same school, they agreed to having dinner one night.

There was a knock at the door, your mother shouted for your father to go answer. You quickly glance down at your outfit, ensuring nothing looks odd or out of place, then soon exited your room to head downstairs.

“Y/N! This is Mr. Vaughn and his daughter...I’m sorry sweetie, what was your name again?” Your mother spoke in a sweet tone.

“Jules.” She answered your mother, giving her a tight lipped smile, clearly uncomfortable in this situation.

“Jules,” your mother repeats softly, offering the girl a comforting smile, which seemed to have worked a little.

“Uh-hey, I’m Y/N.” You smile as you offer your hand to David, trying to be polite towards the guests within your home, although, all you’ve done is keep your eyes laid upon his daughter.

Jules seemed to return your lingering stare with multiple glance at you of her own.

Throughout dinner with the Vaughns, you and Jules let your gaze fall on to each other often through out the night, ignoring the adults' conversations. But alas, the night ended and Jules and her father had to head home.

“Hey, I’ll see you in school, yeah?” Jules asked hopefully, a smile playing at her lips, as you two stood by your front door.

“Uh-ye-yeah, definitely.” Y/N replied all to eagerly. Jules sent you a beaming smile and started walking backwards towards her dads car, giving you a small wave as she walked.

You sent her a smile of your own before closing the door and leaning your forehead against the wooden material.

_______________

Maddy:

You met in the cafeteria

You were enjoying your lunch in the cafeteria, midway into your sandwich, sat next to Ethan and Kat when music started to play. You looked at Kat with a confused expression as cheering erupted around you.

Then you noticed the cheerleaders gather at the bottom of the stairs, starting their routine. You placed your sandwich back down and turned your body, focusing your attention on solely on the girls in the blue and white cheer uniform.

She caught your eye almost instantly as you raked your eyes over the group of girls. The way her body moved as she preformed their choreography perfectly. 

Her eyes shifted through the crowd, basking in their reaction to the show they were putting on when her eyes met yours. Those E/C irises.

She pursed her lips and pushed out her chest more. She wanted you to notice her and she knew she was doing a good job at keeping your attention at your eyes burnt holes into her figure.

_______________

As soon as their routine showcase finished, she headed straight towards you, inwardly smirking when she seen your reaction to her doing so.

Once she reached your table, she leant over into you, purposely brushing her chest up against your arm. She grabs your phone that was previously layed face down on the table and held it out for you.

You looks at her quizzically and she rolled her eyes. “Unlock it.”

You hesitantly retrieved your phone from her grasp and did as you were told. She quickly swiped the phone back into her possession, adding her number to your contacts then handing it back to you, its rightful owner. “Here. Call me.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving you dumb founded next to a snickering Kat and Ethan.

_______________

Kat:

You met online

You were scrolling through Facebook on your phone when suddenly, a familiar face showed up under your ‘suggested friends’.

You recognised her from around school. She usually hung around people like Perez, Howard and BB whilst you prefered to stick to yourself, occasionally opting to chat with Rue, Jules or the Mckay twins, Roy and Troy.

After a small debate with yourself, you decided to tap the ‘Add Friend’ button. Without any further thought on the matter, you locked your phone and continued watching the movie playing on your laptop in bed.

_______________

Not even 5 minutes later, you had a 2 notifications shine light up your phone screen. 

‘Kat Hernandez has accepted your friend request’.

‘Message from Kat Hernandez’.

You unlocked your phone and click on her message.

‘Hey’

Almost too quickly, you typed out a reply.

‘Hey’

‘You go to East Highland, right?’

‘Yeah’

‘I thought I recognised you lmao’

Throughout the night, you talked to each other. You got to know each other with each question asked and learnt about each others humour as you shared memes between you. By 7am, you were both drifting into sleep as you talked.

‘It’s a good thing we don’t have school today x’

‘Too right. I wouldn’t know where tf I’m going lmao x’

‘lol. Ain’t you tired?? x’

‘A little, yeah but I don’t want to stop talking to you x’

‘I don’t wanna stop either but we can talk later after we’ve gotten some sleep?? If that’s ok with you?? x’

‘More than ok :) x’

‘Cool, talk later x’

‘Byeeeee x’

After that, you and Kat started to talk more during school and the rest is history. 

_______________

Lexi:

You met in class

You walked into your communications class expecting to sit in your regular seat like usual. But upon further inspection, you realised some random asshat jacked your place. 

Internally groaning, your eyes scanned the room for free seats. Then you noticed her.

You walked over to her and simply motioned towards the chair whilst gripping your back packs strap tighter. “You mind?”

She shook her head and smiled at you in response. You flung your bag off of your shoulder and placed in on to the floor near your feet as you sat down and leant back in the chair.

“I’m Lexi.”

“Hey. I’m Y/N.”

She giggled. “I know, you usually sit in the back.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, sending her a small smile. Before you could continue the conversation further, the teacher entered and class began.

_______________

“So, what if there were five birds in a row and I decided to shoot one. How many is there left?” The teacher asked. She said that using peoples answers to certain questions can help understand how ones’ mind works, hence the dumb-ass question.

“None, they would have all flown away.” You replied, casually leant back in your chair, arms folded over your chest, Lexi beside you watching, as is everyone else.

“The answer would be 4 if you look at it from a mathematical stand point, but I like the way you think none the less.”

Your eyes narrow slightly as a hint of mischief flashes across your face. You reapply a serious expression before stating “Miss, I have a question for you?”

The teacher smiled sweetly at her, leaning back on to her desk at the front of the class, hands clasped together in front of her. “Sure.”

“There’s three women sat at a bus stop eating ice cream. One’s licking, one’s biting and one’s sucking. Which is married?” Your mouth twists into a smirk as her face falls slightly and the other students in the class snicker.

Lexi seemed to find this amusing. Exactly what you wanted.

The teacher shifted slightly, fumbling with her fingers as she hesitantly answers. “The one sucking.”

“The answer would be the one wearing the wedding ring if you look at it from a logical stand point, but I like the way you think none the less, Miss.”

Laughter erupts from the students. “Alright, settle down. Another “question” from you, Y/LN/, and you can take yourself to Principal Hayes office.

You raise your hands in front of you, feigning surrender. From the corner of you eye, you see Lexi trying to contain her giggles and it makes you smile triumphantly.

Suddenly, something bumps your left knee, enticing you to look at Lexi. She slides over a bit of scrap paper she scrawled on towards you.

‘Wanna sit together at lunch?’

You nod in reply then turn your focus back to the teacher. In your peripheral vision, you see Lexi sporting a small smile and a light pink tinge on her cheeks.

 _______________

Rue:

You met in rehab

“Marissa! Baby! What’s up with you today, beautiful.” The young rehab worker rolled her eyes at your routine flirtations.

You had just woken up to another day in the centre and your favourite pass time was to annoy any and all staff ‘cause, let’s face it, you’re an asshole.

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Before Marissa got the chance to dignify you with a response, the doors at the end of the hall swung open, drawing your attention to them, as they revealed the new girl in a maroon jacket walking beside Dr. Jowett.

“Who is that?” You asked slowly, not removing your eyes from the girl.

Marissa, yet again, rolled her eyes at your antics. “That’s Rue, she’s a new resident. And before you even try anything, you know any form of relationship past friends is against the rules.”

“Hey! Who said I was gonna try get in her pants? Is this the result of jealousy? Did I make you jealous, Mari?” You smirked as the young girl snorted whilst shaking her head.

“You wish, Y/L/N.”

“Oh, I definitely do.” You waggled your eyebrows towards her before leaving to sit in the communal room.

As you sat at the table, you noticed the doctor and, who you now know is called Rue, stop at the entrance of the room. You watched closely as she hesitantly walked into and across the room, opting to sit alone at one of the many tables.

After no debate needed, you got up from where you sat and walked confidently over and perched yourself into the chair beside her, resting your one foot on the table and an arm over the back of the chair.

“So, newbie, how you finding the mainland of sobriety?”

She shrugged in response whilst keeping her gaze trained on you.

“Don’t worry, you can say it sucks if you want, I won’t tell.” You winked at Rue and she allowed a small smile to appear on her face. “I’m Y/N, obviously the coolest person in this place.”

“I’m Rue.”

“Oh, I know.” You smirked as you drank in her expression. “I think we’re gonna get along just dandy, Rue.”

Her face flushes a light pink as her smile conveys a soft of sweetness, very different to Marissa. There may be rules against relationships in this place but...

When have you ever listened to what people tell you?

_______________

.

.

.

.

.

First preference AND piece of work on Euphoria

Two in one baby!!

I honestly had a bit too much fun with these, even if the end result is kinda shitty

Although, I like some of the scenarios so much, I’m thinking of doing longer fics like imagines or one shots extending from them like the rehab one for Rue

Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Like if ya do as it will help it reach more reader

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomes and greatly appreciated :D

[missaudreyhorney]

The Big Game

Modern AU where Jim Hopper is at your parent’s house for a Super Bowl party. That isn’t a plot so much as it is a very flimsy excuse for me to write out some dirty thoughts I have after seeing this photo of David Harbour looking like an absolute DILF.

Content Warnings: Rated M for age gap, kissing, over-the-clothes touching, a bit of Daddy kink, a little physical intimidation. All that good stuff. Female Reader. Slightly OOC for the sake of funsies. 1.6k words.

Tagging @t-u-m-s​. Anyone else want to be tagged when I post something new? Let me know.

“I know you said not to bring anything,” you announce as you walk into your parents’ house from the garage, “but mom told me the doctor said you should be watching your diet.” You place the tray of vegetables on the kitchen counter and turn towards the living room. “So I brought you some ve-” your words are cut off by the sight of an unfamiliar man sitting on the couch.

He’s wearing jeans, a dark grey polo shirt, and a black baseball cap that’s on backward. Just his profile alone is stunning. Thick eyebrows, an adorably pointy nose, and a strong jaw covered by a short, scruffy beard. He turns to look at you and it feels as if your heart stops.

“Hopper, you’ve met my daughter before, right?” your father says as he stands up from the chair to greet you.

“No,” the man answers coldly, eyes now fixed on the tv.

Your father comes into the kitchen and gives you a hug. “That was very nice of you, sweetie, but your mom’s been making me eat vegetables every day. This is the Super Bowl. All I want today is wings and potato skins.”

You hear his words clearly but they don’t register in your head. You’re much too distracted by this Hopper person you’ve never seen or even heard about before.

“Where’s everybody else?” you wonder aloud.

“They’re not here yet. This is just the pregame stuff,” your father clarifies.

Hopper glances at you again and you feel like you’re melting as you lean into the countertop. He’s so hot. Nothing like the boys you go to school with. Nothing like a boy at all. He is one hundred percent man.

“You wanna get a snack and join us?” your father requests in a jovial tone.

“Um, I have to, uh, put this other stuff away,” you point to the bag of groceries on the floor next to you.

“Oh, right,” your father acknowledges.

“Where’s mom?”

“Getting a couple of last-minute things for the party. She’ll be back soon.”

You roll your eyes. “I told her I would do that.”

“You know your mother, “ he says, walking back into the living room. “She never listens.”

You take a moment to admire Hopper before removing the food you’ve purchased from the bag. His arms are tantalizing, with the type of muscle not built from going to the gym, but from moving furniture, fixing cars, and other forms of manual labor. Seeing the veins in his hand as he drinks a bottle of beer makes you lick your lips. You can’t stop yourself from shooting him more glances as you finish putting the remainder of the groceries in their rightful place.

There’s no way you can sit in there with that gorgeous man and pretend to be calm or make casual conversation. Instead, you slowly and carefully make your way upstairs to your bedroom, or rather, what used to be your bedroom before you started college. Leaning against the inside of the door and taking a deep breath, you pull your phone from your pocket to distract you.

Your mother arrives about ten minutes later, with a football-shaped ice cream cake, and you admonish her appropriately. Soon after, more people show up to the party and the game starts.

With increasing frequency, your eyes drift over to the handsome stranger still on the couch, and within time, his begin to drift towards you as well. You try to keep busy by topping off people’s drinks, refilling the chip bowls, and putting more snacks in the oven but it’s ultimately no use. You can’t avert your gaze for longer than 5 minutes at the most.

Every time you catch him looking at you, heat rises in your chest and radiates out through your limbs. Under normal circumstances, you would welcome this feeling, but with so many sets of eyes surrounding you, the feeling is almost embarrassing. You don’t know how much more of it you can take and you have to get out of there. Not necessarily out of the house, but just away from Hopper.

During a detergent commercial, you try to sneak back upstairs. When your mother asks where you’re going, you tell her that you’re not feeling well and you need to lie down. It is at least partially the truth.

Sitting down on the small bed, you begin to scroll through Instagram to get your mind off of him and you quickly lose track of time. A while later, you hear someone ascending the staircase. Standing in the doorway of your room and looking down the hall, you see Hopper’s impossibly long legs lumbering up the steps.

“What are you doing up here?” you question quietly.

“It’s halftime,” he declares as he closes the space in between your bodies. His scent is so manly, like tobacco and aftershave.

You take a step back. “Don’t you want to see...whoever it is that’s performing?”

“No,” he answers, entering the room. “I want to see you.” His voice is low and deep, causing your thighs to gently quiver.

“H-Hopper, right?” you stammer, breath getting caught in your throat.

“You can call me Jim,” he offers. It's not until you're this close up to him that you see how incredible his eyes are. They're such an unusually dark shade of blue.

“Okay...Jim.” You can feel your cheeks flush as you utter his name.

He looks around and takes a sip of his beer. “Is this your old room?”

“Yeah,” you answer, “haven’t lived here in years though.”

“Who’s Troy?” he asks you with a slight chuckle.

You give him a confused expression, completely unaware of who or what he’s referring to. He points to the wall behind you and you turn your head to look.

“Oh,” you laugh nervously, seeing your old Troy Bolton poster. “It’s Zac Efron. I used to have a crush on him.”

He nods his head in recognition.

“My tastes have…matured since then though.”

“Have they?” he asks with his curiosity piqued.

You nod vigorously as he approaches you like a lion stalking a young gazelle. Attempting to be coy, you back away, until your legs hit the bed and there’s nowhere else to go.

He puts his beer bottle on the nightstand. “What’s your taste in men like now?”

“Older,” you admit, looking up into his beautiful eyes.

“How much older?” His hands clasp around either side of your waist.

“I don’t know,” you answer breathlessly as your hands move up to his shoulders. “About 20 years?”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his lips are on yours in a fiery kiss. Something about this feels wrong, but at the same time, oh so right. You do have a genuine preference for older men, but one that’s friends with your father is really pushing it. As much as you hate to admit it, part of that excites you. It turns you on that he’s in his 40’s and there are a dozen or so people downstairs who could catch you two together at any moment.

Your mouth gasps against his when he shoves you backward and you both fall onto the twin-sized bed. He tastes like beer, a flavor you’re not fond of, but the absolute last thing you want to do right now is to stop. Suddenly, his left hand pulls your hair, yanking your head to the side to give his mouth better access to your neck. He kisses and sucks your sensitive skin there, making you squirm with equal parts pleasure and arousal.

“Oh, Daddy,” you breathe as he nibbles on your earlobe.

“Did you just call me Daddy?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you confess. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I liked it.”

You moan as his teeth graze your skin. The way he’s biting and sucking on you, it feels like he’s going to leave a mark, and at this point, you don’t even care. You don’t care about anything at all other than the way your body feels underneath him and his wanton mouth.

Another moan tumbles from your lips as run your fingers up his hairy forearms and grasp onto his biceps.

“Not so loud, huh? They’re gonna hear us.”

“You should have shut the door,” you reprimand halfheartedly. The sensation of his beard scratching the flesh over your collarbone has you pushing your hips into him.

“Too late for that now,“ he dismisses as his palm presses just below the zipper on your jeans.

Again you let out a moan, this one strained as you try and fail to be quiet.

“Why haven’t I seen you here before?” he inquires, his fingers now massaging against the denim.

“I’ve been at school,” you pant out.

“Well, you’re just going to have to come over here more often, aren’t you?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy!” you moan as the fingers of his free hand start to slide up the back of your t-shirt towards your bra.

“Hey, Hopper. You up there?” your father calls from downstairs.

Slapping a hand down on his head to keep his hat in place, Hopper jumps up from the bed and sprints to the door. “Yeah, I’m, uh, just looking for the bathroom.”

In a daze, you close your eyes and stay on the bed. It’s not until now that you notice how much your blood is pumping and your heart is pounding. With a resigned whimper, you realize that you’re aching with an overwhelming need left by his immense hand rubbing you through your jeans.

“Hurry up. The game is about to start again.” The sound of your father’s voice is a massive buzzkill.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” Hopper suggests to you as he stands in the doorway.

You don’t know what that means exactly but you’re looking forward to finding out. “Alright,” you sigh.

READ PART 2 HERE!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Most Hated Characters

As y’all can see, this week’s T5F is a request sent in by anon. I picked it because I guess at the time I thought it would be fun to explore some of TWDG’s least popular, and most hated, characters while also taking into account characters that I can’t stand. 

These are characters that the vast majority of us don’t like or downright despise for many different reasons. None of us are going out of our ways to defend most of these bastards, and anyone who is I get the impression they’re doing so for the sake of being Different™... though while looking around for info about these characters and what people were saying about them, I did find myself in some odd places.... come across, eh... odd fanart. 

But I guess this is the part where I say this is all in good fun and if you happen to be a legit stan of any of these people, that’s cool. Maybe you can answer some of my questions as to why??

5. Nate 

Okay, when I said that I found myself in odd places, it turns out that Nate actually has a bit of a fanbase. It’s not big or anything, from what I can tell, but big enough for me to question why because I was under the impression that we all agreed that this dude sucks.

Seriously, I would’ve put him higher on this list if I hadn’t discovered this handful of people making fanart for him and claiming him as a comfort character. While I find that an odd choice, you do whatever makes you feel comforted, y’know? Just would like to understand why. 

As for the rest of us, he’s terrible. Every time I go back to 400 days, he’s someone I never look forward to seeing. I’ve even tried not getting in the truck with him while playing Russell’s story, but in true Telltale fashion, you’re forced to drive along with this creep. 

Red flags start going off when Russell’s sharing his story about his previous group, something you can tell left some trauma with him, and Nate is just weirdly fixated on the girl Russell liked. Like yeah okay dude, I get it, it’s the apocalypse and you haven’t had any action for a while but oh my god. 

Then the whole walker thing that almost gets Russell chomped is annoying. Oh, and how could I forget about how it’s implied that he attacked the old couple before and was there to finish them off, which he does no matter what and it’s not great. 

Hell, he even uses the line Russell gave him but it’s worse because crazy eyes. And if you don’t say anything, Nate murders them right there without a thought and then continues to be a real creep. Fuck this guy. 

As the wise Eddie once said, “I don’t what that guy in my life, man!” 

4. The Stranger

Hey, have I ever mentioned how much this dude sucks? 

I don’t even have to tell you why he’s on this list. We all know the obvious reasons-- manipulated and kidnapped Clementine, which caused Lee to get bit by a walker and fucking die. No one here is white-knighting for this dipshit. 

Sure, it sucks what the Stranger went through. He lost his family and that would be enough to drive anyone up the wall. I mean, just look at Kenny. But this dude, okay. Look. Listen. I can only feel so bad for you when you lost your son on a hunting trip that your wife told you not to go on, then when you went looking for him, you literally left the car unlocked and running for anyone to come across. Then you come back and gasp. So your wife leaves you for being a moron... then when you find her dead, you cut off her head and keep it like a damn bowling ball because...??

At least that’s what I get from it. The writers probably should’ve done a better job with explaining what the hell happened but y’know. 

That’s not the only reason no one likes this guy. Oh no, you also add to the pile that the Stranger himself is dull. As a character, the dude is just.... boring. And I get that’s probably what they were going for with the whole “I’m just a guy, but you ruined my life and made me this way.” 

However, when you set him up the way you did with the talks over the walkie and the stalking, I was expecting a bit more personality outta this loaf of soggy bread. But no... boring yet crazy. Interesting combo and I’m afraid it doesn’t work. 

3. Larry

Larry?? On a list of most hated characters?? Nooo...

Yeah, surprise. Larry also sucks. Stop the presses. 

Larry is a pain in the ass to deal with for two episodes, constantly belittling the people around him and treating his daughter like shit. Oh, and don’t forget how he behaves towards Lee even if you try to be as nice as possible. Nope, he doesn’t care, he still thinks Lee is garbage and will continue threatening to reveal Lee’s secret to the group. Who cares if that could fuck up the dynamic and endanger the group? Larry sure doesn’t. 

Until the very end, this dude is just a splinter in the foot. By the time you get to the meat locker and he has a heart attack, you’re not gonna save him because you think he’ll be better if he survives. No, you’re attempting to save him for Lilly and Clementine’s sake, and if you don’t even care about that, you siding with Mr. Family Man to smash his head in. 

Not only is he a soiled diaper, he also don’t have much personality outside of asshole. He has maybe two moments where he’s shown to be just a bit chill? I mean, Lilly tells us that he has a lot of pain and that’s why he’s like this.... but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. 

Oh, and can’t forget that apparently he was obsessed with Lilly leaving the lights on so he let the power get cut, so Lilly couldn’t eat ice cream and had to let her hair air dry like a heathen. Unforgivable. 

So yeah, fuck Larry. 

2. Troy

Ugh, Troy. Fuck this guy. 

No really, out of all TWDG characters, this dude and my #1 pick are my most hated. Can’t stand Troy and the only reason I didn’t do a tie for #1 is because for a split second, Troy does show a tiny bit of humanity when Carver is beating down Carver, but blink and you’ll miss it.

Which had me a little concerned to find a handful of posts about having crushes on Troy and drawing fanart but.... again, I guess you do you? And if you can, please explain why because I honestly don’t understand. 

Just looking at the screenshot of him annoys him. He’s got one of those punchable faces, y’know? 

Anyway, when playing as Clementine, I’m always worried that he’s gonna pop up outta no where and grab her by the neck like he does later in ep3, even though I’ve played s2 a bunch to know that he’s not going to. 

But hell, he doesn’t need any excuse to smack anyone around, and there are a handful of times he can really hurt Clem depending on her choices. 

Not great, dude. 

Can’t say I’m too sorry that Jane shot your dick off. 

1. Badger

Yeah, you guys remember Badger. Y’know.... the man who murdered Mariana then laughed about it, claiming that he enjoyed watching her head explode and would do it again and again if he could? 

That’s what puts him at #1. He may not have the most screen time like Larry or Troy, but when he is around, he’s fucking awful.

He gets joy from killing Mariana, like it’s some sort of sick thrill for him to go around murdering children and other innocent people. 

Remember Francine? Caught her and used her as bait to try and get Javi to come down, and even went as far as to have some fingers cut off. Like, he gets off on destroying people, entire communities.

Shit, he seems to even get off to his own beat down. 

He’s fucking gross and outta everyone on this list, I haven’t found a single person being like “Yeah, he’s garbage but I like him kinda?” like no, you’re such garbage that even the Different™ crowd don’t want you. 

Fuck Badger. 

By the way, if you’ve never had Conrad kill him in your game, I suggest looking it up. It’s pretty good. Gives Conrad a little bit of closure after what happened to Francine, as well as give Javi some closure for Mari’s murder. 

Not a single soul wept for you, Badger. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Joan. She’s boring, forgettable, and no one is out here gushing over her because most of the time, we can’t even remember her name. -Danny from Vince’s story in 400 Days. Y’know, the dude going to prison because he was convicted of SA. I’ll never understand why people go with him over Justin. Justin sucks, too, but not the same level Danny does.  -Lilly in S4. Ugh. That’s a whole other topic for another day. -Arvo, though I guess he has a bit of a following, too

---

Well there ya go. Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 BROTPs

[cryhardanddanceharder]

Andy’s headcanons because we need to talk more about her:

She’s 6732 years old. She says she doesn’t remember her age, and it might be true, maybe she forgot to keep counting, but she thinks she’s somewhere between 6500 - 7000.

She’s a warrior since she’s a teenager, because the time she was borned was the “eye for eye, teeth for teeth” period.

She’s more an action person than a word person, because her first language was everything related to gestual actions. She can read body language better than anyone, so she can make you feel the more comfortable or uncomfortable you ever felt in your life depends the situation. She does little actions to show her love.

She’s ambidextrous. She can use her weapons perfectly with each one of her hands. (and later write too)

She’s been worshipped as a goddess at least in two or threes comunities she’s been part of. She actually thought she was a goddess at the beginning, because she was the only one who couldn’t die. But then, when years passes and she’s the only one not dying, but she loses all the people she loves and trascend generation after generation, she stops thinking it like a goddess thing and starts seeing it as a curse.

She used to wear clothes made of extinct animals skin, necklaces made with teeth, flowers and horns crowns.

When she was a goddess she had slaves, but once she overcome her goddess complex and realises how wrong it is (because all humans are equal, they all die no matter their social status, their nationality, their religion, skin color, gender, sexual preferences) she stops it. She starts fighting against it, every time she can. She still fight against it in the present time (human trafficking). 

I feel like she could also been a slave or prisoner in some period time. Maybe as a punnish from her inmortality? Because mortals see her as a threat?

She loves storytelling and stargazing. That’s why in present time she loves to go camping, she loves sleeping outside. She’s so old that even she had seen the sky change. The stars constellations changes but she learns those changes. There is something comforting about stargazing, so she keeps doing it.

She has very good location sense. She can always find the way to get to where she wants to go.

She’s been there when the first language was created, that’s why it’s easy for her to learn new languages. 

She was there when the pyramids of Egypt were built, maybe she worked in the construiction of one of them (?

She’s gender fluid and bisexual (or could be pansexual).

She knew the Sahara dessert before it becomes a dessert. She knew it with trees and vegetation.

She loves horses more than (most) people. 

 She was the lider of the scythians.

Her name “Andromache” comes from all the legends, that actually are true. She’s the amazon who defeated Heracles and once upon a time she was married to Hector of Troy.

She was the one who trained the amazon warriors on how to be warriors.

She was a gladiator for some time and had fights in the roman colliseum.

She writes mixing languages, because why not? That’s how her thoughts are anyway, in mixing languages. “Let’s put this word in scythian, and that one in greek, and the other in saumerian or tamil, and let’s finish in italian because italy it’s actually the country i am at the moment”.

When she starts dreaming about Quynh she thinks she’s crazy, untill she starts dreaming about Lykon too. She tried to indentify wich languages they speak in the dreams, so she could learn them before meeting them. 

She met Jesus once. She doesn’t find him that special. He didn’t come back to life, at least not in the way inmortals do.

Lykon, Quynh and her have a chaotic dynamic. They always die to save the others, to save them from the pain; wich in some way it’s ridiculous because they are all inmortal. But they always fight about it like children.

She can speak all the languages (even those that are extinct), only she sometimes forget how to speak in some of them, but remembers once she hears someone speaking it.

She knows more way to kill than entire armies will ever learn. 

She can use any kind and type of weapon. She’s as good as archer as Quynh and as good as a sniper as Nicky, but if she can choose another weapon she will do because she prefers hand and hand combat. 

She feels every death. She might have been a warrior all her life, but she doesn’t take pleassure on killing. We can see that in the church scene, her face tells us all how much it takes from her to be that lethal.

She’s very protective of the others inmortals. They are her family. And she feels like she has to protect them, because she has been alone for so long that she doesn’t want to take chances on that ever happening again. 

She’s become more protective after Lykon’s death, because now they know even them don’t last forever. She wants to protect the time she has with the other and thinks the best way to do it is to be the one who always goes first. 

She hates to dream about Nicolo and Yusuf at the begining because it hurts her to see them killing each other. For someone who has been alone for so long, it hurts to see that. Because for her they are lucky to have started their inmortality together.

Lots of deaths and trauma. She probably been raped at least once. 

She died from dehydratation and hunger more times that she can count. That’s why she’s not picky with food, she’s happy as long there is something in front of her to eat. She can cook good enough, but she’s not fan of doing it.

She died from every tipe of weapon: spears, swords, arrows, axes, throwing stones, daggers, knives, cannons, guns, grenades, bombs. Also she died from being dismembered, from being hanged and burn alive.

Once Quynh’s is taken to her ocean prison, Andy was tortured and burned alive. They chose water methods for Quynh and fire methods for Andy.

She have tried to kill herself sometimes when she was depressed. They way i see it probably three times: one when she found out her inmortality and wanted to see how it worked, two when she lose her goddess complex and was tired of being alone for so long, and three after she realised that finding Quynh was impossible.

She spent lot of years looking for Quynh with Joe and Nicky, untill they realised it’s an impossible mission. She still checks new technological inventions and andvances to see if they have a chance. But as long as she knows it’s impossible and technology doesn’t help, even the marines and ocean experts says it would be easier to find something in the moon than in the bottom of the ocean.

The only time she prayed in her life was to ask for Quynh’s death, so she would stop suffering from constantly drowning. And for hers, because she doesn’t want to keep living without Quynh.

She keeps Quynh’s belongings saved in one of her fav caves.

She likes wearing things from the other inmortals because it gives her comfort and help her feel ground. She always wears Quynh’s necklace. And sometimes she wears Joe’s cap, Nicky’s hoodie, Booker’s jackets. She also shares t-shirts with them, or more like stole t-shirts from them.

Wars she probably fighted in: Achaemenid conquest of the Indus Valley, Corsica civil war, war between Corinth and Corzira, Expedition of the Ten Thousand, Latin wars, First Peloponnesian War, First medical war, Thasos Rebellion, Roman-Etruscan wars, Samos War, Second medical war, Wars of Veii, Trojan war, Sicilian wars, Alexander The Great  conquest of Persia, An Lushan Rebellion,  Mongol Conquests, Conquests of Tamerlane, Qing dynasty conquest of Ming dynasty, Dungan revolt, Hundred Years’ War, World War I, Russian Civil War, Ten Years’ War, World War II, Vietnam War, Afghanistan War.

Some modern revolutions and independence processes she possibly was/could be: French Revolution, Haitian independence, USA independence, Russian Revolution, Cuba revolution, LATAM independences, India independence, Australia independence, New Zeland Independence, Africans independences.

She died from electrocution, trying to find out how electricity works.

She died learning to drive a car and learning to pilot a plain. 

In World War II she was a pilot of the night witches.

Baklava and really anything that is sweet are her comfort food.

The first time she had ice cream she became a fan and only eat ice cream for like an entire year.

She likes percussion music: all types of drums, cymballs, tambourine, maracas, bongos, castanets.  

She likes theater more than cinema. 

She likes tea more than coffee. 

She can sleep everywhere. A chair? Good. The floor? Good. The earth and grass in the middle of nowhere? Good. A cave? Good. A tree? Good. The train. Good. A Car? Good. The bus? Good. A plain? Good. The couch? Good. An armchair? Good. All is good. Sleep when you can moto is big on her, because beds are a modern concept she still can’t fully incorporate. And without Quynh doesn’t feel like doing it. 

She’s very good on learning new things because she’s used to everything constantly changing. And when she finds something hard to learn she is patient, after all she has all the time on the world to learn it and master it (she’s kinda perfectionist).

She’s okay with technology, she could understand more if she wanted to. But she let’s Booker have that place and handle it, because she sense he needs to have something as his responsability to feel he’s useful to the team.

There’s personal things (clothes, weapons, paintings) of her in lot of museums. Joe and Nicky would try to recover some things of her (and them) from time to time.

Hard on the outside, soft on the inside. Ironic and dark humor.

She’s the best at dissapearing when the team takes time out of their missions, if she doesn’t want to be found there is no way you could find her.

She’s been nomad most of her life. She can’t stop moving. She loves traveling with no destination in mind, just for the act of it.

She gives up sometimes because she’s old and she’s tired, but if you give her a good reason to keep fighting she’s all in. 

She has the biggest heart (even if she tries to hide it) and actually loves humanity, if not she wouldn’t have fight for so long… and still does. 

(if you want to read more headcanons: here are the ones i have for Quynh)

[middleinthenight21]

Ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? Part 3

This is sad for me, It's the end

Thanks to @ravenfan1242 Without your help I could not have done this. Thank you!

If you read stay safe

"Damian Wayne has a girlfriend and she's beautiful."

"It is a pity that Bruce Wayne's son already has a partner."

’’ I ship them so much.’’

’’ Tessa Collingwood and Damian Wayne are so beautiful. God, they look so in love’’

’’ I need someone to look at me like Tessa at Damian’’

Tessa Collingwood was a British actress, mostly known for starring in teen series. Her fame exploded when she participated in a Netflix series about the rampant life of wealthy teens, the series was questionable in many ways, but it powered the careers of its stars; Tessa Collingwood accumulated more than three million followers on her accounts, being a celebrity on Instagram looking beautiful in all her photos. The actress was gorgeous with long fire-red hair, a freckled face and big blue eyes, plus an innocent smile.

The photographs circulating on the internet were taken at an auction, the youngest of the Wayne family holding a glass of champagne out to the crowd, right next to an ice sculpture in the shape of an angel with flapping wings and Tessa Collingwood looked impressive In a red dress that highlighted her hair, she was hiding a smile behind her glass. The following showed a conversation with Dick and the one who was supposed to be the manager of the actress, but the young woman was inclined as if paying attention to something Damian said and smiled.

Conner was jealous and Jaime muttered something in Spanish about the fate of some.

He rolled his eyes.

"What is she like, man?"

He frowned, he was not willing to talk about anything related to the actress, since it could be misinterpreted, especially by his colleagues, who tended to exaggerate everything and if a few simple photos could ignite all that paranoia a few words would probably make them explode. He threw his bag on the living room sofa and ignored the questions choosing to sit down.

Jaime snorted "Give us something. You are being linked to an actress and model, and you are so indifferent" He showed the actress' social networks on his cell phone, as if that cleared his mind. "It's Tessa Collingwood! She won an award for best actress in a drama series. "

He said nothing.

Donna grimaced at the ceiling, she didn’t even know who they were referring to and was thankful that there was at least one reasonable person in the room.

Superboy didn’t stop talking to Garfield about the actress and her presence at the auction, as well as reading comments together and laughing out loud when they called Damian a gentleman, but he refused to continue this conversation.

His older brother sat next to him, crossing his legs with a smirk. He nudged him "Tell them. She kept smiling at you. "

"You too? I let them take a photograph for a single event and they already mad up a silly love story", he growled. His words were tinged with rejection at the idea of all those people getting into his life. Over time, he accepted that some types of relationships are necessary, but if he considered it, it would not be in the public eye. The point was "He had to wear the scarf. "

"And Bruce would have loved it."

Damian said nothing, just grimaced and looked away. The journey from Gotham to Jump City was more tiring than he’d like to admit, plus the auction for the sculpture by Allard, an artist known for his dark style, became famous for his sculptures of smiling demons, tormented angels, and trees with sloping logs; He had been fascinated by the man's work and the details, even though people murmured how horrifying it was.

The event was slow and boring, he knew it would be, but there were responsibilities that came with being a Wayne. Commitments.

"Dick, you have to tell us," Conner insisted. "Is it true that she offered him her phone number as anonymous sources say? "

The man laughed at just imagining it and Damian crossed his arms.

Jaime looked at him as if he had done something wrong.

Garfield kept reading comments aloud and zooming in on the photos.

Troy cocked her head, processing who the actress was and why they cared so much.

Conner bombarded Dick with questions, trying to get as much information out of him as possible. He couldn't believe he considered him a friend, he's an idiot.

"I prefer cancellation."

Each one looked at him. He ignored them by focusing on removing from the packaging of the small statues he bought at the auction, as well as a handwritten book by an anonymous ancient Arab poet., The piece was valued at less than a million dollars and how millionaires are of unknown origin. They had nothing to brag about, but Damian found a value for it, perhaps because he is also an Arab, perhaps because people are stupid, especially those with more superficial money.

His older brother gave him a sideways glance.

"What? " He asked defensively. He put everything heshe bought in his bag, taking care that it was kept in perfect order.

"You've been reading a lot lately."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

He raised his hands, as if stopping an invisible attack.

"No, I didn't mean that, Damian." He shook his head. He put a finger on his chin thoughtfully. "It is just that I have seen you with at least two books in the week. Three days ago, I saw you reading Lovecraft, then Whose Body? or whatever ... "

Garfield looked up from his phone and watched him.

"Who, darling?"

Kory stroked Dick's chest from behind, pressing her chin against the hero's shoulder. Damian pulled away, despising the show of affection from the apparent team leaders, and the entire team made excuses to go elsewhere.

"I have to go bathe with my tongue." Garfield disappeared down the hallways.

The couple laughed. It seemed that they lived in a sugary bubble when they are together, all the time they touch each other and smile every time their eyes connect, once the caresses begin, they do not stop and they are not shy at all ... Damian has bad memories of this.

He left.

He just wanted his bed. After finding his face on the internet and what's on the fingers of so many people who just want to get involved in the gossip of the moment, he wanted to train, use his time productively.

Preparation is a prerequisite for victory.

And he's always ready, but he just wants to sleep.

For some reason, he can't help but start reading this book. That baffles him.

When passing through the kitchen a person is sitting eating a cereal bar and holding a coffee with a pungent chocolate aroma. She keeps a book over her face, covers her expressions and is dressed completely in dark tones., She had on a sweatshirt that is triple her size and one shoulder is exposed, he could only see a vestige of some shorts , since they disappeared in the long sweatshirt and thick stockings.

Her foot moved to the rhythm of an imperceptible melody and her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, leaving strands at the nape of her neck.

She turned the page "If you stay longer there, I will consider you as a stalker, what do you want?"

"And they say I'm rude."

Raven looked up. Her eyes narrowed when she saw him standing at the door, he was not surprised that she did not look excited, since the girl rarely showed her emotions and he was grateful for that. After coming from an event surrounded by teenagers who sighed ion his face, daughters of mayors, granddaughters of businessmen, actresses, models and influencers who took pictures of him on his social networks without asking for his permission.

He had considered suing, but Dick found it unnecessary and his father kept speculating with Selina about the possibility that a black-market gang would steal the pieces. Bruce thinks they collaborate with the Penguin, but he doesn't count them until they arrive.

The best detective in the world.

She puts the book down, but reluctantly does it "Sorry. I thought it was Garfield or Conner. " He bit down on the cereal bar, keeping an eye on Damian. "So, what happened? "

He frowned.

Raven watched him.

She is empathetic, he reminded himself. Sometimes he overlooked that detail, this was one of her powers, that does not make it more tolerable, he did not like that people would look below his appearance; It felt like an invasion of his privacy, it doesn't feel right, but he can't get mad at Raven for knowing too much.

Supreme warriors like us never give the enemy a chance to defeat us, not when it comes to emotions or appealing to feelings. We must get rid of them to rule the world, Ra's Al Ghul was clear. You cannot guide them to a better world, being equal to them.

You will not be useful to me, just as you are.

He pushed Talia and Ra's voice away, as if shaking the dust off.

He sat across from Raven. He watched her silently taking small sips of her coffee, when he met her he believed that she was a person drinking bitter espresso, but she has an insane inclination towards sweets of all kinds; she went to that little sweet shop on Riva Street where they prepare artisan cotton candy and bought those colored candies that she keeps in her pockets, like an amulet.

Damian grimaced when she added a spoon of cream to her coffee and licked what remained on the kitchen utensil. Pennyworth would disapprove of her behavior; he can almost hear the scolding in his head.

"Nothing. "

For a few seconds he struggles to remember her question. If this happened to him in the mansion, his older brothers would mock his face, and he grimaced.

After a weekend at Wayne Mansion living with his brothers and Helena, he was fortunate to be back with the Titans - his thirteen-year-old version would hit him in the face - but his little sister is loud, shaking her fists in the air and she opens her mouth as much as she can, claiming attention only for her, the noise of his brothers adds to it, that combination almost drover him crazy.

He doesn't want to talk about the auction.

"Look." She pulled a package out of her pockets. He raises an eyebrow, because he doesn't think it's anything special. "Son ghraybeh" she tried to pronounce. Raven lowers her voice, like she does when she's admitting something, she doesn't want anyone to hear. "I bought them in an Arab store. "

Damian analyzes one of the cookies. In his childhood in Tibet he had seen these biscuits in the markets of the nearby towns, the masses had almonds, pistachios and all kinds of nuts, but he had never tried them.

He bit into it. The sweet has a bitter flavor charged by spices, it’s an explosion in his mouth and he’s almost transported to those stores, to women covered by hijabs and  it reminds him of the music his grandfather listened to during dinners, Of burnt incense, the blue hyacinth that grows as a weed and the Dragon Blood tree that rested in the garden that was extremely cared for, his grandfather had said that it is as old as he is and it’s sap is the color of blood.

Raven smiled, she bit into one of the cookies herself while drinking coffee.

He is not surprised that she had visited Arab stores, since in her spare time she visited bakeries, and that bookstore where the owner recommended novels and would have a reserved seat in the Costa restaurant while reading a book, as well as the ice cream parlor hidden among the luxury stores .

She tried foreign dishes, does not despise any genre of novels and is shocked by the arts. He supposed it was due to her time in hell, but deep down it's more than that; Raven is someone who leaves memories between those streets, measures people's energy and how they impact places. At first, he thought that her powers focused more on magic, such as enchantments, potions and spells, but she is more focused on emotions and feelings, she is different from Zatanna or Constantine.

"Is it true that the Belmont Allard sculptures were being auctioned?"

He set the cookie aside by making a mental note to finish it longer.

"I should have known that you were interested in his works."

Raven rolled her eyes, glancing at her book, her eyes scanning the page, and was drawn to whatever she now has on her reading list. She was quiet, reserved, and would rather sit in the back than walk in the front, but she should not be underestimated, and Damian had seen her vanquishing godlike humans and demons, yet she has a gentle aura. It is difficult to explain.

"Allard is famous. It has a history related to Satan, it is full of treasons, witches and enrichment overnight. "

She Mocked "Typical of pacts with the devil. "

Despite her mocking tone the truth slips.

Damian pulls out the book he bought, it's not flashy, it's dirty and worn. It smells of dust and dry ink, lined by a thick cloth of a dull red hue, it has damp spots and folded corners.

She says nothing but he sees the interest in her eyes.

"It is from an anonymous poet. It is of Arab origin; historians say that the book dates from 750. approximately, which corresponds to the times of an Iranian revolution" explained. "They assume that the author is a wealthy man because of the references to luxury and the elaboration of the work, but they are not sure. "

She stared at the book. He let her analyze it, but she frowned as she turned the pages and her mouth twisted into a grimace, like she was annoyed.

"What's wrong? "

"The book transmits strong feelings" her eyes shine, and she continues turning the pages. Damian raises an eyebrow, waiting for a clearer answer. "It brings me a feeling of longing; it is as if the author had misplaced something or someone" she closed the book. "It's amazing, I never felt this coming from an object" she leaves it.

He frowned.

It doesn't seem like a danger to him.

"Also, I can't read it."

He rolled his eyes.

Almost on impulse he opened any page of the book. The leaves are of a yellowish tone, with the corners eaten by humidity and the poet's pen is small and light, a scribble made of ink that in some places is smeared and he is surprised by the content of the letters.

"What does it say? "

He read in a loud voice. His voice was released, his mother tongue slides through his tongue and it is simple, after speaking English for so long it is even relaxing to speak Arabic, but she was puzzled and confused by his words, she was even happy that she does not understand what he is saying. Despite knowing the language, the words feel foreign.

                                                                                            عظامي المحطمه ��تصلح

                                                                                      مع كل تلك الليالي التي قضاينها

                                                                                حبك سر آمل احلم اموت لحفاظ عليه

                                                                                                    التغير من اولوياتي

Despite everything, he prefers that she be the one who listened to him. Damian realizes she is comfortable; he feels domestic and that makes him reconsider what he just did.

The girl bows her head and frowns, she didn’t understand what he just said and struggles to try to associate the words, but the English and Arabic languages ​​are opposite. Raven rests her head on her hand.

"What does it mean? "

Damian Wayne does not make these kinds of mistakes, his grandfather would subject him to abysmal punishment and his mother would slap him in the face, even his father would growl, but the answer is said before he can avoid it.

The translation is simple for him, a custom that he acquired over the years.

"My broken bones are healing with all these nights we spend. Your love is a secret that I am waiting, dreaming, dying to keep" responds. "You change my priorities. "

He looks her in the eye. Her eyes are like the purple tanzanite, a precious stone that Ra´s Al Ghul kept around his finger in a ring, a symbol of his status and power against his enemies; in the end it did no good, even the most powerful person in the world and his kingdom had fallen. Ra´s Al Ghul was no different than Julius Caesar, Tarquin, Darius I, Napoleon or Hitler and what they built.

Now he understood that the stone on his grandfather was a sample, a shell to inspire fear; Tanzania is extremely rare and expensive, its color was a boost to make it so coveted, and it seems imprinted in Raven's eyes.

He is aware of the level of communication they have; words are not necessary. Damian would have turned away, walked away and ignored her presence, he did not like that anyone felt familiar with him., He is a warrior not a sentimental teenager, but after the last few months he had been alone, nobody talked to him apart from matters involving the missions, he couldn't help but measure his actions and keep an eye on anyone who was around, it could be a stalker, maybe a person who hates him, or someone interested in selling a photograph to a magazine.

Damian preferred solitude, he exiled himself while the media storm passed over his head. Long ago he would not have cared, the Titans many times represented being a nuisance, they were open to anyone who told a sad story without caring about their past, but the weight of the distance began to haunt him.

He understood the nature of his character, how difficult it is to establish relationships, and the approach is difficult to deal with. Damian was extremely professional at best, concerned with realistic aspects and devised plans based on data, measured his peers and analyzed each and every action, judged and issued verdicts, disliked being touched by anyone and growled with his words to anyone who treated him like a child to be protected.

What before seemed to him aspects that should be highlighted now are the reasons why he is so hated.

He realized that his skills are a mattress; He was not welcome in many places, many heroes had complained about him and insulted him to his face, but they recognized how good a fighter and excellent strategist he is, not for nothing he is the son of Batman and the heir to the League of Shadows, and that does not mean anything. People on the internet didn't care who he was, what he accomplished, or what his story was. They hate him for the pictures, videos, and comments, and he couldn't do anything. It's tiring sometimes, when people decide to subject you to rejection and there is nothing to do to correct that.

They besieged his castle, forced him to close the gates of the kingdom.

He may not need third-party approval when criminals were loose on the streets, but it doesn't make it more tolerable.

His father told him of the harassment he would receive when he was recognized as the son of Bruce Wayne, but his home was snatched away, burned from head to foot and he had to create a new belief system out of thin air, he wanted to feel like he belonged somewhere. Bruce was right.

His privacy was stolen, he found his face on the covers of youth magazines and invented relationships with strangers based on nothing, he committed innocent people to address him and he does not want to live like this. He hates other people getting into his life, he doesn't have to explain to anyone, or hide, but Damian does.

I despised help, as well as apologies and looks of pity from others.

Raven was silent, and did not push him away when it appeared, she doesn't not care about the cancellation or how the Internet saw the next heir to the Wayne fortune. It was silent, private and intimate.

It is not dependency, it is not attachment based on loneliness or trauma, he doesn't even know where to catalog it. Raven had a breakup recently, although he knew that she is now friendly, that had affected her and he was canceled, tried and sentenced to global rejection, while his civilian identity was compromised, it is not a good combination.

She gulps and looks away. His hands tremble around his book and he almost see her shudder.

Damian stirs uncomfortably and insecure, he wants ...

"Tessa Collingwood talked about you!"

The entire group entered. Kory had ordered food from a local restaurant, and the rest just argued around the news on Garfield's phone, as if this was a gathering of old ladies arguing about the life of a misbehaving neighbor.

Raven raises an eyebrow "The actress? "

Jaime nods.

"She mentioned Damian in one of her stories," Garfield replied. Donna laughed at something, and Conner grimaced rereading the screen. "She said:’’ Me and Damian are just friends.’’

Kory smiled.

"I doubt I was friends with someone I saw only once." He crosses his arms. Looked at the Titans. "In fact, I have known certain people for years and doubt that I would include them on my list. "

Jaime rolled his eyes.

 "Do you have a friendship list? Dude, that's absurd."

Conner nods looking at the green teenager, while Donna decided that the adult conversation is more interesting.

"Anyway, this beautiful actress mentioned you."

He hit the table with his book, attracting everyone's attention. "I don't care what it has to do with her." He turned around. "I will be in my room."

Someone called him, it was Raven ...

He stopped, standing at the door with his fists clenched.

He looked at her, while she held the book in her hands and smiled, just a little, as if she had heard an internal joke that only she knew. He had left the book.

So, everything was very clear and he's an idiot because he hadn’t seen it before.

*** 

Raven was lost.

Completely lost.

Alone and confused in her room, wandering from place to place like a caged lion. She wanted to demand answers, she felt like she was about to go crazy, and it is as if it is slowly killing her, she tries to fight, but she loses the fight as soon as it begins.

She compared this sensation with the previous ones; Raven had experienced love, the one that hurts your heart, the one you justify when you are hurt and you throw yourself into the void, with your blindfold you stumble over stones and ignore the blows, but this is different; born of intimacy, like a secret that grows until it is difficult to maintain.

She had to know.

Oh, Azarath.

She never learns from her mistakes.

Now she talks to everyone except him.

When surrounded by her peers it's easy to keep up, she just focuses on the cakes Kory brought, Donna's fighting techniques she hones in the training room, she even prefers her father's voice in her head to pay attention to her.

If she bleeds, if she hurts not to have it, she would never tell him.

Your love is a secret that I am waiting, dreaming, dying to keep.

Damn the poems of unknown Arab authors.

Raven wants to bury her feelings; burn his perfect face and the dimple rarely shows to others. Maybe he's aware of his own charm and she did something that bothered him, and he's only taking revenge on Raven in the worst way, Damian was vindictive and…

This is ridiculous.

I'm going to kill that boy, witch. You are a whore girl.

She makes a gesture to turn away her father's voice, but he doesn't shut up and she doesn't care.

She is so disoriented, she lives anchored to him like a bird in her blue sky and she has no way to kick him out of her life, she just doesn't want to. She is not selfish, she would never put her desires or her integrity over that of others, but she hates it because she could not have him in her life without compromising their friendship, the level of confidence they have and that feeling of home when they are going through difficult times.

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

Now it had taken on a new meaning. There are people who went through her life, were transitory, arrived at a specific moment and continued on, like nomads who left a lost object, and those who stay and fight by her side, accept her without expecting anything in return, they are important, they are family. However, there are others that transcend to the next level, they are like home, places shout their names and even everyday aspects seem valuable.

Raven does not want to despise this, but she is not going to ruin it by confessing her feelings, she felt like a schoolgirl who jumped when she saw the boy and hid in the corners.

Someone knocks on the door and opens it, she discovers Damian's serious face, frowning and holding two coffees. The first rays of the sun illuminate his face, as if blessing his soul and highlighting his tanned skin, and for a few seconds it seems that he knows.

"Good Morning. "

She steps aside, letting him pass. Her voice is monotonous, tired and she considers for a few seconds not to let him in, but it is too late.

Everything seems to be pulling towards him, as if he possessed a magnetic field and was a magnet. This morning he was not wearing his uniform, but a simple plain t-shirt in pastel blue and dark jeans and Nike sneakers, he squares his eyes like when preparing for battle or listening to something or someone who he does not like.

From here she perceives that he is having an internal struggle.

He leaves the coffee glasses on a small piece of furniture and stands in front of the window with his arms crossed behind his back.

"Is Something wrong? "

Hearing a bark and opening the door, Titus enters the room going upstairs to his house licking the pillows and spinning on the mattress. With Damian he was disciplined, obedient, surprisingly submissive, but when Raven is around, she allows him to be playful and mischievous, as if he had never become an adult animal.

Damian had scolded her for being permissive, but in her mind, he was never going to stop being that puppy she gave away inside that box. The animal had been scared, lost and away from his brothers, he trembled when a person approached, and she seemed to see her friend in the animal in a strange way.

Titus was shy and fearful when he arrived. Little by little he emerged from his cocoon to become a loyal and courageous Great Dane.

He didn't challenge him for messing up the bed like he normally would, so she started to worry. She didn't feel anything and that was frustrating, it was easy for Raven to understand people through her magic, although she didn't like what was underneath, but he only let her see what he allowed.

"What wrong? " She asked again.

"People have spoken again. "

Raven grimaced "Is it because of the actress? "

He turned his back on her and the young woman sat on the ground, partly so as not to disturb Titus, to have a better view, partly because she felt closer.

He was still flat, like a soft wave on a lake, and that is not all; it's just the outside.

"A little." He paused. "People hate Robin, people love what Damian Wayne stands for" His face is reflected in the window glass, he is impartial, and he keeps that scowl that characterizes him. "I do not care. My father says that the press is like vultures, but sometimes they are noisy. "

She cannot relate to that.

Raven enjoyed anonymity, she may be a consecrated heroine, and has a couple of victories on her record; people do not stop to talk about her private life, but are interested in the source of her power, her dark and quiet nature, they build and destroy theories, but nothing else.

She was a favorite on YouTube and blog channels focused on mysteries, conspiracy theories, and the paranormal.

She can't imagine what media persecution is, online harassment and what it means to have so many people eager to know about your life, that drove celebrities crazy all the time, some fell into addictions to flee their problems, those who survived cruelly understood the boundary between professional and personal, marked the line and took refuge in their homes, as if they lived in a fortress. Robin was a global trend in social networks, it required many people to achieve this.

Damian had stayed away, holding on to his training and lifting his chin as high as possible, but she knew him; with him not everything is said, it is not what is shown.

"Damian" she calls him because she knows his thoughts are strong right now. She reached for the coffee. She appreciated the warmth of the drink in her hands, it feels real. "It´s okay" she smiled.

He looks at her.

She had never seen that shade of green before. He may not realize his own charm; his face reflected the golden rays, and his dark hair shone in a lighter shade.

Titus now sleeps in bed and his snoring is deep.

He sits next to her in the lotus position and they watch the sunrise together. They do not say anything, they do not speak much, both are people who were touched by tragedy, who face battles while forging their way to adulthood and are not used to expressing their feelings, interpreting silences and supporting each other from a distance with small gestures.

She wants to have better words, be more forthcoming, and offer advice, so they could talk more about his breakdowns. Raven would cleanse his heart if that helps his heartbeat, a word and it would be his.

Damian takes her hand.

His fingers are barely touching, his skin is hard, and that scar that ran like a thick rope over his knuckles is soft to the touch; his fingers are long and shiver, as if cold, but he remains in place; she compares it to a burn and is surprised.

Raven wants to hold onto him, because he doesn't deserve all the hatred, they chase him with torches and spears. She wants to tell him that she regrets him for his past, for all the manipulation, because there was no one to show him love and treat him like a child, who sees him as a person during his childhood and she wants to smooth his wrinkles that were beyond the ones visible. She wants to show the affection that was denied him all his life and tell him that she does not care what they call him on the internet- Either as Robin or Damian Wayne- Deep down, he is only a kind and generous soul, and she is fortunate to see it, even if he is insufferable.

She squeezed his hand. Words are not necessary.

He keeps his gaze on the dawn. His eyebrows tremble and he showed his emotions for the first time, it is like the caress of the wind of a summer night.

Silence.

They are like little children who take too much importance on their clasped hands. There is no lust, nor the typical approach to achieve something, they are two people who are used to being alone, pushing everyone away, seeing the worst in people and being disappointed, betrayed and disheartened, clinging to the other; it is so simple and complex.

He leans his head against hers and leaves it.

At first, she is surprised, but she thinks he is like a scared animal that would walk away in the face of any foreign sound or reaction. It is beautiful, vulnerable and serene, like a new dawn.

Aware of his exhaustion and frustration, this simple action reflects the fatigue of all these months of witch hunting, keeping quiet and holding on his own, she can feel him letting go of his burdens and that mask of indifference is shattered.

Her hair is soft, and his shoulder bumps into hers; He is taller, and his muscles are worked by constant exercise and his breath tastes like coffee.

The scent of shaving lotion reaches her nose, she was aware of that smell and it was masculine, it had a woody touch and she was relaxing.

Can they stay like this forever? In the silence and secrecy of her room with their hands clasped and leaning on the other drinking coffee from plastic cups ...

... And suddenly, this is enough.

*** 

Raven bought a dress.

That night is hot, and they visit an open bar on the seashore. The music is relaxed, the musicians play bass drums and ukuleles, giving the place a tropical atmosphere; decorated by lights and all the tables and chairs are made of wood, with small floral decorations as centers.

The sound of ocean waves and salty-smelling air was sleepy, almost as if slowly inducing her to sleep.

Kory forced them into a night of mandatory fun, booked a table in a corner under a palm tree, would give them a little privacy, and they wouldn't get as much attention. She sensed that in the place photographs were not allowed was a factor for her to choose it.

The tradition of compulsory fun was installed with the arrival of Damian, she was left justifying small getaways or celebrations of birthdays, anniversaries, certain days of the year.

Raven thanked the team leader- who she considers to be an older sister- since the bar is not very crowded nor does it allow crowds with all those people sweating under the influence of alcohol, but the place is familiar, spacious and quiet. Her powers would not overwhelm her.

"Honey, will you bring us our drinks?"

Dick nods walking towards the bar. The man was wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts, on the other hand, his fiancée looked glamorous in the purple dress with large openings revealing her shapely legs and a plunging neckline.

Garfield, Conner, and Jaime share a conversation with Donna about the dance, but the young woman only frowns when she looks at the musicians.

"It's Latin music. "

Jaime snorts "Don't look at me, dude. Just because I'm Latino does not mean I know how to dance. "

"I'm not the best dancer anymore." Garfield looks with a grudge at Damian, who grimaces looking away.

"I just beat you."

"You break codes and all that, surely you did it with the dance machine. "

Raven snorts, but she's amused.

"That was a long time ago." He looked at everyone. "Can we get over it? "

When Dick arrived he announced that he asked for drinks for each one, but they had a limit of two, because some recently stopped being minors, also in the tower they had rules and arriving drunk is on the prohibited list; for those who are minors there are unlimited juices.

The night is progressing normally, although she sees certain people who are surprised by her colorful group, nobody really cares. They are just a group of friends enjoying an evening by the ocean.

Damian rolls his eyes when Dick starts Kory dancing with a slow song.

"They've been dating for years."

Raven raises her eyebrows, not at all surprised. She already knew.

"I mean long before they became teammates." He gives his whisky a small sip. "When he was a boy, he kept having suggestive calls with her." He shrugs.

"No way! " Conner leans in and opens his mouth.

Jaime contains a laugh.

"Are you seriously surprised?" She didn’t need to be empathetic to know that.

They look at her, but it's Garfield who speaks first.

"Did you know?! " He shakes his head. "Of course, you knew, why didn't you tell me?! "

"I did not mean that. "

"Traci arrived!" Jaime gets up from the table and disappears.

After two years together he is still excited to see her enter the room, Raven got along with the girl, she is pleasant and has a pink aura, used to loving and showing it, she also has Jaime around her fingers.

Raven drinks her gin and tonic, the drink is incredibly sweet and fruity. Her friends raised an eyebrow at seeing her bite into the lemon wedge that decorates the drink, but it's not that she cares, it's probably because she's going for her second fruit drink and sweet alcoholic drinks are misleading.

A boy appears pushed by his group of friends, who laugh giving him sidelong glances and extends one of his hands to dance, he is tall, and his face is youthful, perhaps just after finishing high school. His emotions are strong too, but the one that predominates is lust, she has a moment when images of herself come of kissing him in the dark.

He has too much imagination.

"Would you like to dance? "

She shakes his head, absorbing the lemon juice to the last drop. The scene almost seems funny to her, this boy asking her to dance in front of her friends, among them her ex-partner is present, along with the young man who answered the name of her best friend, who also has feelings. It is funny.

A smile glides across her lips.

The boy stirs uncomfortably without knowing how to interpret her smile, but she continues to shake her head, so he leaves.

"You have low tolerance, Roth."

Raven grimaces "It will pass soon. Alcohol will be in my system for exactly forty minutes and then I'll be like new. "

She calls a waiter asking for a Cuban mojito with that sugar-covered rim she likes so much.

When the drink is put in front of her, it is just as promised and she almost sighs when she sees it. Damian drops his drink, gives her a disapproving look with those green eyes, and she could cry right now because she thinks it's cruel and insane to be around him.

Conner invites his friends to dance wanting to flee from the discomfort. The others continue to join the small group that formed in the middle of the dance floor, Kory and Dick get all eyes, they move well.

Raven sips the drink through the straw. The little umbrella is a hindrance, so she pushes it aside noticing how her fingers tremble, the sugar and the drink mix is ​​not a good match.

Damian approaches, but she moves away.

She should think twice before entering his space.

Raven looks him in the eye. Noting that his expression reflects concern, just as he was ready to scold her, she knows that scowl and he has that plain short-sleeved shirt with the designer's name she can't pronounce and some worn jeans; For someone with so much money, he have not invested too much in his clothing.

His eyes are green as a drink, and he raises an eyebrow. His features are a mix between the Middle East and the West, his Arabic accent is light, as if he had always spoken English and he moves his fingers on the wooden table; remember that morning when their hands touched.

She wants to cry.

"It's not fair."

It's not fair that he so perfect, while she was melting away for keeping her secret just to keep him within her life. It's not fair!

She doesn't want him as her best friend.

He is a magnetic force in the form of a man.

She is attracted to him. It is not a fairy tale, it is not idolatry, just esteem it, the past seems to have been erased by a rubber when they were together, and she is dying to have him.

Random, she's so angry.

Damian grimaces "are you okay? "

"I'm fine. "

That’s a lie.

 "Let's go," he says, taking her by the forearm before she finished her drink and takes her to the parking lot without asking. He opens the door of his car, sitting her in the back seat. "Try to get comfortable" He sits down on the pilot's seat and starts the car.

She really wanted to stay.

She rests her head against the headboard and looks out. The highway is fast and distinguishes trees and pieces of the ocean illuminated by a moon.

The lights are off, and there is no music.

She lies down in the back seat.

It smells of leather and that forest fragrance, just like his lotion.

Suddenly the tears slide down her eyes, they are thin. She is angry with herself for being weak, with him and for the life that kept hitting her, a few weeks ago she had been convinced that she is much better alone, lives well and recovers from a breakup, she is not missing anything, then he entered little by little to her life and she wants to push him away, now she just wants him to stay a little longer. A little bit closer.

Raven wants to see what's underneath that bad boy attitude.

He sees her in the rearview mirror "what's wrong with you? "

"Nothing," she says in a broken voice.

Damian raises an eyebrow. Maybe he doesn't care, maybe he's worried she will throw up in his expensive car or she pretends that she cares just so he doesn't make her feel bad.

What doesn't kill her makes her want him more.

He tilts his head she and sees that sharp scar in the corner of his chin catch the silver glow of the moon. This is horrible.

"It's not important what you're upset about."

What?

Damian, the worst adviser in the world.

Yes it is important because it would destroy everything, they would end the reading of books on the roof, visits to Riva street where they would chat in the book store, the shared cafes in their room when they feel too lazy to go up or the weather is not favorable for them and the way he smiles marking that dimple on his cheek, how he held her hand and leaned his head against her. She thinks that if she lost him, she wouldn't do those things again.

Her heart breaks.

She would never walk down Riva Street again.

It is her fault.

It is his fault.

She imagines reading Robert Frost alone knowing he didn't love her, she would visit Riva Street trying to meet again, she would finish the cafes on the floor of her room because she is dumb enough to confess. Damian wouldn't worry about love affairs, he has a purpose and it would be a distraction, a stone in his shoe, he had better judgment, therefore he would walk away first.

He would not give her second glances; in fact, he would despise her for ruining their friendship.

It terrifies her too much.

She cries like a baby in the back of the car.

When they park in front of the tower of the Titans, she does not think twice and opens the door running into the forest that surrounds the home of the young heroes, entering it as if he were chasing her. She can hear the car's engine go off, as well as his desperate call, then the footsteps.

Raven takes off her shoes.

Thanks for the lightness of her dress. She thinks about going through the back door of the tower and locking herself in her room, tomorrow she could say that she was drunk and was not thinking clearly, but now she needs to be alone.

Maybe she deserves it.

She is running barefoot through the woods with her dress catching leaves and branches, just as her hair is now a wind-tossed mess. The moon is a fuzzy point between the treetops and the warm weather does not help.

She runs a hand down her face, ridding herself of the tears that were running down her cheeks.

"Raven!"

She is not a runner, so she is caught by arms before she could open a portal to her room, another country or dimension, she really doesn't know for sure. There are three uncertain options.

Damian pushes her away, looking her in the eye.

"What's wrong? You ran away, the car was moving, Raven."

His hands go up and down her shoulders to her arms, giving her warmth. Then she realizes that she is trembling, like a scared puppy and she is a total disaster.

She wanted to escape to close her fate, because she deserves to be alone and having him close is her own personal torture.

Damian had come to her in moments of vulnerability, when no one was looking, he trusted her more than anyone, he was harassed and hated by people. Damian Wayne was easily associated with actresses, models and celebrities, they took his privacy without his consent, everyone hated or loved a version of him.

He showed her his true self and she paid him by falling in love with him.

He had driven her crazy, begging him to knock on her door or end it all.

It would destroy years of friendship and companionship.

Raven got out of a relationship, that's not how it was supposed to go, she hadn't looked for it.

He looks her in the eye, as if waiting for her to tell him the devastating ending of a novel. He is so close that his mint breath almost makes the tide, his hands are warm as the desert and she has to look away so as not to be consumed.

Her heart beats painfully in her chest.

She ruined her life for not being his.

She wants so much and that is hurting her.

"Tell me."

She digs her feet into the ground, her toes touch the ground and the dry leaves. This is real.

Suddenly, she is angry with everyone and everything.

Tell him! A voice rolled her, almost crying. You're going to ruin everything, says another with resignation.

However, something inside her asks for more, she wants to have him closer and her hands tremble wanting to interlock their fingers; it is as if a spirit had possessed her body and made her ambitious and selfish.

She feels her heart breaking.

Wanting it is bad. Damian doesn't deserve this, but ...

Now or never.

She shouts: "I love you! Ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

Time is frozen, like dead. Everything stops.

Damian is silent.

She swallows and clenches her jaw.

She wants to cry.

She has ruined everything.

But he looks up and smiles like a devil.

***

The lights are off when they reach her room, Titus is playing with her sheets and there is disorder.

She stands still, not knowing what to do.

The moonlight is bluish, almost blinding them and everything is silent. The door to her room is open, the kitchen light is dim and she listens to a tune in the distance, she thinks it's the radio that Kory always leaves on.

The tension could be cut by a knife, but it is different.

Raven has passed the effect of alcohol and knows that she has done something that is irreparable, but she couldn't care less, because he smiled and held her hand gently; Damian dropped the costumes a bit, sheltering his feelings and emotions as heshe had been taught all his life, just for her. Nobody else.

He is standing at the door.

He looks her in the eye and there is an unspoken agreement between the two.

Close the door.

Raven is an awkward mess, it will take days for her emotions to normalize, but this time she allows her stomach to spin, her hands to stay inert at the sides of her torso without knowing which position to adapt, and her brain short-circuiting.

All roads had led her to this moment.

Feeling their fear and how confused they are, none are used to showing affection unless someone loves them, but they try. She stands firm.

Damian says nothing when he approaches, he takes her hand gently interlacing his fingers, it is like fire and ice, two forces that collide. It is something so every day, but with him it is as if he left a mark that she cannot erase.

He presses their foreheads and she sigh.

She had been a hawthorn tree for a long time, but now she may be a rose.

He caresses her face, the pads of his fingers running down her forehead, her cheeks up to her neck. It is pure, there is longing and affection, he will not tell her that he loves her too, but the gentleness and innocence of the act is enough to let her breathe out, because they do not need to speak, nor do they require speeches. Love can be declared to anyone, castles are built on the sand with ease only from confessions based on nothing, but demonstrating it is something else.

Raven kisses him on the cheek, presses her lips against the skin, and the fingers he keeps on her neck tremble. His breathing is ragged, as if he was agitated; they were both so lonely, apprehensive, and fearful that this bubble was an illusion.

They cannot make promises now because this is running a thread.

Darkness surrounds them, like a blanket on this summer night. There is no one in the tower, everyone stayed at the bar and they only heard Titus's playful grunts.

Her hands go up his chest and go to the nape. They take it easy, adapting to being this close, and trying not to get the blow too strong to leave them in shock.

She presses her forehead against his cheek.

Her father's voice is strong and threatening, but she contains a smile because it is so ridiculous and funny.

"What does he say? " He whispers.

She looked him in the eyes "My father wants to kill you. "

Damian frowns "And me to him. "

Raven laughs, a loud, clear laugh; she shares his feelings about her father.

"I will have a good relationship with your father," he says sarcastically. His voice is light and attracts her, like bees to honey. "It would be a shame if you spend time with me. "

"It would be," she whispers.

He brushes back a lock of her hair, pressing both hands to her cheeks. He kisses her cheek lightly with the touch of a butterfly and sighs, almost instinctively closes his eyes and kisses her on the corner of her lips, they are like school children experiencing romance.

When they finally kiss, it is soft and delicate.

She has to lean on him not to slip, and her heart trembles with joy, because she has what she wanted for so long. She doesn't know when they crossed the line, when she started having feelings for him, it felt like a thousand years ago.

She in a safe place, she feels like she been waiting a long time to find something like that. This is the kind of love that time does not heal, that makes you sigh and beg for more.

She would ask him to please stay.

In the past she believed that love is painful, that it steals things from you and runs away, like a criminal, but it is more than that.

Kissing in the dark, limbs trembling and hearts pounding, praying this doesn't end. They are a blank page on a desk, which is filled as they go.

Raven strokes his hair, and feels his breath catch.

They stay there and Titus jumps around her, barking and expressing enthusiasm; he is the only thing in the room that is moving.

He kisses her again. This time it is safe, the kiss is slow, and he seems to want to savor this moment and her legs tremble.

His breath is slightly bitter, like whisky, and her lips are ice cold in the drink. It is an interesting contrast to his warm skin to the touch and she realizes how much she wanted to feel each of his scars, she wanted to perceive what his skin is like and the lights change the color of his green eyes, she wants to know what is under his clothes, count his freckles, moles, wounds and scars.

One of the straps of her dress falls from her shoulder.

Her body is new to him, and she is more than willing to get used to it.

Let him have everything; her heart, her body and soul.

*** 

Damian and Raven talk and agree to have their relationship private.

In front of the titans they are companions, they get along well, but it is not that they revolve around each other, in fact, they hardly speak if it is not for the missions. They try to separate the professional from the personal, they would have nothing in front of the others, but they look in private corners. No one knows what is between them.

They do well.

Damian has already been exposed to the media, they had gotten into his life and he was hated by everyone for his attitudes like Robin, but when they are together that does not matter. All the drama queens and the noisy ones muffle their voices and the statements of celebrities approaching him lose their meaning.

He doesn't care what is said in the tabloids.

He thinks the Titans are suspicious, but not that there was enough evidence, and none are willing to answer the questions or pay attention to suspicious glances. Nobody asks Damian, but his brothers are an exception, after all, they didn't learn from the best detective in the world for nothing and sometimes he thinks it's a curse to surround himself with his family.

He thinks Alfred and his father know but ignores them.

They are not a sentimental couple, nor do they go out too much, only on missions or compulsory fun dates, to walk in the park with Titus, although they rarely go together, since they fear finding the photos on the internet; they prefer to be in the room, have breakfast on the roof of the tower, lie next to each other without speaking, they could read together or hold hands and Damian prefers to enjoy her company when no one is around, She is surprised when she feels light waking up by his side in the morning or by entering her room after a mission.

Damian walks to her room with Titus following in his footsteps.

He goes through the room where the group watches a movie, Raven is not there, so she assumes that she must be in her room probably because they are watching a horror movie and it is not that the girl is a fan of horror movies that include Blood and uncensored deaths, the group barely notices as they are thrilled by the butter knife murder scene.

He opens the door and is surprised.

She is reading in his bed, wearing a shirt that she stole from his closet and never returned, and shorts made from gray fabric. Now she wears a plain Dolce and Gabanna shirt for sleep, as if the designer's brand was nothing.

Her short hair is strewn across the pillow and she is focused on the letters in that book.

Titus jumps onto the bed, licking the girl's face, she suppresses a smile, and looks up to see him lock the door securely.

She pet the dog "Hi. "

He quietly walks over to his computer, pulling a document Drake had sent him out of the recycle bin that contained a report with a couple of errors. His father instructed him to correct the mistakes since his brother had overdosed on coffee or something.

she is probably feeling his apprehension.

From his bag where she carries his pet's leash, water bottles, the muzzle and a part of towels, she extracts a cotton candy wrapped in a plastic bag, it looks like a pink cloud.

When he saw the vendor in the park, he remembered how she had that insane obsession with sweets and his mind began to associate her with caramel, soft and extremely sugary flavors. Sometimes he doesn't understand how she can tolerate eating a whole cotton candy.

She smiles at him and takes it in her hands. He sits on the bed, and she spreads her feet using his lap to support them; Damian looks down as if asking why he did that, but he just lets it go.

Raven eats the cotton candy, while smiling as she tries to push the dog away. Finally, the animal licks her fingers absorbing the sweetness, and she laughs.

He tries to focus on correcting the report, but her laugh distracts him.

"I'm trying to finish," he declares, but his gaze is no longer focused on the screen.

She puts a piece of cotton candy in her mouth and smiles. She doesn't answer him, but she looks sorry for interrupting him, heshe knows it's not her fault, but she didn't impose rules on Titus and around Raven he behaves like a spoiled brat. 

"Sorry, it's just ..." The dog jumps on top of her and licks her fingers. Damian decides that enough is enough and with just a sign Titus settles near his feet. The girl grimaces picks up the book and opens a page. "Is that the report they called you so much for? "

He nodded. 

Gotham City.

The Penguin robbed the city bank, between the streets ...

Raven shakes her hand and opens her palm. Now heshe is sitting next to her, she bumps her shoulders against his, she is small and their palms touch, she thinks she wants to interlace her fingers, but she puts a piece of cotton candy in his hand.

"Eat a little."

He is transported to the first night of mandatory fun when he hated being with the Titans, he did not belong because he knew everything there was to know, he was the most intelligent, disciplined and the most brutal fighter in the world, but nothing else and that is precisely what he lacked. He did not have any social skills, it was never clearer than in that amusement park, he had thought that his mistakes were great, he did not deserve that any of these people accepted him.

Raven had gotten closer; he didn't even know why. She offered him cotton candy ...

Just like now.

Shit. His father would kill him.

He closed the computer and set it aside. Damian eats the cotton candy, he still doesn't like it, it melts in his mouth and it is pure sugar, it is gooey, and his throat warms up, as if he had ingested a liquid at high temperatures.

He draws her in and sits her on his legs.

Raven is slim and diminutive, not muscular like Kory or Donna, but possesses the body of a runner, although both know she is not exceptional in sports, she prefers her magic. He surrounds her waist, and she rests her head against his cheek, as she likes to do when they hug.

She keeps her gaze on her book and turns the pages.

Read:

With his back to the sun, another day ends in this abandoned town.

You have a wish list:

-Know the city.

-Build an aviary for those little birds that roam your yard looking for food.

-Risking for someone and that it turns out well.

…

Damian laughs wryly.

"What? " She asked, looking him in the eye.

Raven pulls back a little but adjusts the position so that both legs rest to one side.

"You were drunk when you confessed. You took a chance. "

She buries her head in his shoulder "Don't remind me. "

She is embarrassed. He Finds this charming.

"It went right."

Raven stiffens, and looks him in the eye, but Damian is smiling because he can't help it and he likes to see how certain answers surprise her. She puts those eyes that he only sees when he smiles at her, it's like she's melting inside, struggling to hold back a sigh; He has seen her do it before they started dating because Damian Wayne is not a fool, he is still the son and heir of the best detective in the world, and he was taught from a young age to measure personal body language; It is adorable.

Maybe he still slips.

He strokes her hair, tucking one of her locks behind her right ear.

They looked into each other's eyes.

 "Yes." She kisses him, sighs against his mouth, and Damian interlocks his fingers giving her a soft squeeze. "I did something right. "

His grandfather and mother would be scolding him, an Al Ghul did not hold his partner as a delicate thing and allowed himself to be kissed without a purpose, even his father who had lost the ground to the Gotham cat would give him a disapproving look, it is dangerous to establish a personal connection with your teammates, but none knew and to be honest, they were not interested.

In fact, no one knows for sure.

The diamond sparkles on her forehead.

"My father still wants to kill you."

Of course, yes.

She changes position now sitting face to face, strokes his chest until she stops at his heart and stays there. He really doesn't understand how he came to this, he didn’t expect to find love, nor in a million years would he think about being in this position, but he won't run from this. All the voices from his past scream in his head, but Damian stays.

It is so unexpected.

Damian hates when something doesn't go according to plan, because he usually has it all coldly calculated, if it doesn't work then he would have a backup. As the future leader of an organization, his life was designed, as Robin, he has to be prepared for everything and being a Titan, he took on the hard work, the aspects that others would not take care of, everything was perfected. This is out of his hands.

"I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this"

Raven smiles and they kiss.

All the murders, all his past, all the pain and confusion, the hatred and the persecutions are nothing compared to her.

End.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 19

"When I first saw you You had a sparkle in your eye Like the stars at night High in the sky

How I wish That you were mine 'Cause to me You're one of a kind

When I look at you It seems so untrue How someone like you Can make me feel the way you do"

Cameo—"Sparkle"

"Erik, you here with us, man?"

Walter's keen dark eyes took in Erik's solemn face as they sat in a popular and busy diner on Pico and La Brea eating pancakes and thick cuts of Canadian bacon. Maria and his Aunt Shavonne shared nail care tips to prevent chipping as his Uncle Bakari cut up his food and ate with a contented face.

Erik pushed circles in the maple syrup on his plate and checked the thin cell phone near his half-empty cup of coffee. Devika still wouldn't return the ten or so texts he sent her.

"My mind is scattered, sorry."

Devika ignoring him, and Tony being cryptic had him on edge. He deleted messages from Giselle and Athena wanting another Ménage a Trois encore and looked Walter in the face.

"You still trippin' about earlier?" Walter asked.

"Nah. I'm over that. It's just…I was foul with that and I hurt my girl."

"Your girl? Which one?" Walter joked.

"Shut up," Erik said giving his friend a grin.

Walter's braided hair was pulled up into a palm tree bun.

"My dude, you've always been messy. Nothing's changed. You've leveled up though."

"Leveled up? I ain't never been with any questionable…"

He almost said hoes, but his Uncle was listening.

Walter leaned in closer and whispered.

"You did them both at the same time?"

Erik gave a subtle nod.

"Man…"

Walter chuckled and ate more bacon on his plate.

Erik glanced at his cell again.

"Expecting a call?" Bakari asked.

"Nah. Just checking for work messages. Sometimes Stark sends mass alerts. Gotta keep on top of stuff there. Even on the weekends."

"You look good. We're proud that you stuck with it," Bakari said.

"It turned out better than I thought," Erik said.

His stomach got tight and Maria glanced over at him. He caught her eyes sliding over to Walter.

"How's school man? We spent all this time talking about my internship, what's poppin' back home?" Erik asked.

"I quit."

Walter popped his last piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Walter!" Shavonne scolded.

"Why?" Erik asked.

"It's not for me. School was always your forte man, and I know my parents wanted me to be like you, but my talents are in fashion…textiles."

"Are you a designer?" Maria asked.

"Yeah, I am," Walter said holding her gaze, "I dropped out of SFSU and enrolled in the Fashion Institute. Going to start my own brand of sportswear. Merge tech and clothing together."

"Dope," Erik said giving Walter a pound.

"Call my parents and tell them that," Walter said.

"When we were in grade school, this fool designed bullet-proof clothing for elementary kids," Erik said pushing back his plate.

"A lot of shootings were going down, and I wanted to stay safe."

"That's, wow…that's kind of sad," Maria said.

"That's how it be in the East Bay sometimes," Walter said.

"Everywhere," Shavonne chimed in.

"I start in the fall and I have already lined up my own internship with Trekfit. They're new, hungry, and I can parlay my talents into maybe getting my own stuff out in three or four years."

Erik and Walter shared a joke in Korean and Maria watched them both.

"You speak Korean?" Maria asked Erik.

"Passable—"

"Barely," Walter said.

"Good luck with the educational changes," Bakari said. He stared at his watch, "Are we all ready to hang out at the pier?"

Bakari drove them all in a rental car, and Erik found himself sitting in the middle of a conversation between Walter and Maria. They had only been together for two hours but they already acted like an old married couple. Divisive opinions on anime, gaming, and sticky rice flew across his lap since he sat in between them in the back seat.

The weather was almost perfect, a little too hot as the temperature raised above eighty degrees, but Erik enjoyed strolling on the pier and talking with his Aunt and Uncle. Maria and Walter had paired off to ride the carousel and Erik kept checking his phone.

"Just call her," Bakari said.

His Uncle snacked on chocolate and vanilla soft serve ice cream as his Aunt Shavonne tried to shoot fake ducks for prizes with water guns.

"I saw how she looked at you when she stood at the door. I damn near had a flashback to your Pappy back in school. You actually had the same look on your face. What's her name?"

"Devika."

"You sure do like 'em grown," Bakari said winking at Erik.

"Everyone is older than me there, so I don't really have control over that."

"Walter is right too, those were some boss looking babes. The legacy continues."

"It is what it is Unc. But I didn't mean for that to happen. I was supposed to go see her last night and I just…messed up."

"Protecting yourself?"

"Always."

"Respecting them?"

"Yeah."

"But this Devika?"

"I got caught up and forgot to communicate with her. I wasn't expecting her to show up like that. I'm actually not supposed to be seeing her."

"Why not?"

"She's um…she's Stark's secretary."

"Erik…boy, I tell ya…"

Bakari ate his ice cream and Erik watched his Uncle's face.

The man was heavier in the face and body, and he was happy with Shavonne because it shone all over his face when he looked at her. His uncle treated his wife the way Erik's father treated his mother. Like they were one of a kind. And that was true. He learned how to treat women from his Dad and Bakari. His uncle raised him for six years a couple of years after Erik's parents died. Bakari gave Erik a foundation to rebuild his life when he floundered in the streets and foster care. His uncle begged his Grandpop to give him guardianship so Erik could leave Oakland and be somewhere that wouldn't remind him of the pain he suffered. It worked.

His aunt and uncle made sure Erik stayed connected to Walter and even his friend Shawn whom he met in juvenile hall. Flew them both out every summer and made sure they traveled to Martha's Vineyard for vacations and also allowed him to go to Brazil yearly to visit his cousin Marisol. They gave him life again, and he was eternally grateful. They also made sure to remind him of the special bond his parents had, and if Erik had the same romantic tendencies of his father, Bakari constantly reflected on honest communication.

Devika was beginning to feel special to him, and he couldn't understand how he could be so careless with her. All he had to do was call her and say he was spending some time with the other women and…

He had no real excuse or reason for his behavior. He did want to see her. Craved her even, especially with Tony Stark telling him what he couldn't have. But pitchers of Margaritas and pretty faces hemmed him up. The sex was everything, but now he regretted it.

"I like her Unc. She's been good to me the entire time I was here. She's fine. Smart. I don't know why I fucked up. Sorry for cussing."

"Young people make mistakes."

Erik put his phone away. He wanted to focus on his family.

The rest of his weekend was pleasant and he spent much-needed quality time with Bakari and Shavonne.

Walter spent quality time with Maria.

It was all good.

###

Erik picked out his best new blue suit to wear to Stark's office. Whatever was going down would happen with him looking his best.

He had a fresh line up and brand-new cologne. Eyes tracked him in the lobby of the Stark building and even Valentina did a double-take when she saw him walk past her on his way to the private elevator.

His confidence faded once he reached Stark's floor and he saw Devika through the glass office walls.

Damn that woman beautiful.

She wore thick wash and go curls all over her head, and her make-up was smoky and smooth like her skin. Erik took a deep breath and walked into the room.

"I'm here for Stark's eight—"

"Go in, he's expecting you."

She cut him off without looking at him. He stepped closer to her desk.

"Devika—"

"He's waiting for you."

"I don't have a good excuse. I'm sorry."

Her eyes finally took his in.

"Don't worry about it. We're good."

"It doesn't feel good. You wouldn't even talk to me this weekend."

"You were with family, remember?"

He chewed on his lip trying to keep himself from saying something smart ass to dig at her. He was shocked at how much he wanted her forgiveness. Anyone else he would be tossing to the side like, "Oh well", and then be on to his next conquest, but Devika snuck up on him emotionally. While he had been busy chasing after Giselle and falling in easily with Athena, Devika was just…there. Always there.

All the little things she did for him, the corny jokes they shared each time he was called up to see Stark…reminders to eat or drink water. The donuts to keep his blood sugar up when he worked late…she was a constant source of calm for him during the entire internship. He would be crushed if she iced him for the rest of his time there.

"Just tell me this, is Boss Man about to kick me out?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He called me after you left my apartment and told me my time in the internship was over."

Devika's nose crinkled up and her eyes were full of confusion.

"I haven't heard any talk about putting you out."

That made Erik breathe easier. Devika was the pulse of Stark. Right after Pepper, Devika knew the man better than he knew himself.

"Devika, have you heard from Stevens yet?"

Stark's voice came through on the desk intercom.

"He's walking in now."

She pushed him toward the door.

Entering, Erik was surprised to see Janine and two other upper-level suits sitting in the room.

"Take a seat," Stark said pointing to the only available chair in front of his desk.

Erik unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down with his legs wide apart. Stark fussed with a small touchpad and then finally stared Erik.

"How do you think you've done here, Stevens?" he asked.

Erik's eyes flitted to the other three people next to him and their eyes didn't shy away from his. No one looked down or fidgeted with their hands. Good sign thus far.

"Excellent." Erik shot back at him.

"Excellent? You sure?"

"Yeah. My last eval was stellar. Janine can tell you that. She wrote it up."

A smirk went across Janine's face.

"Do you want to add any addendums to that, Janine?"

Stark folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair.

"No, Sir. The eval speaks for itself."

"Good. Stevens, I'm pulling you from the internship and placing you in the Stark Fellowship starting today. The Fellowship runs for a year and at the end of that year you will be offered a position with Stark Enterprises—"

"Wait, I start M.I.T. next month."

"M.I.T. is willing to defer your entry for next year. You are still a full-ride scholar."

"I would take what he is offering, Erik," Janine said. For once her eyes looked gentle.

Erik sat back in his chair.

Stark's eyes regarded him with amusement.

"Every intern in this entire building would give me their first-born child for the offer I just gave you. And yet you sit here like a lump."

"I appreciate the offer. I just want some time to think about it."

"Think about it?"

One of the suits glared at him.

"Unbelievable," the haughty suit grumbled.

"There's a paid salary, so you'd have to get your own place. No more Oakwood. You'd work directly with me and there will be a lot of travel, covered by the company of course. You have been a stellar young man. The last person to have this opportunity now runs one of my satellite offices in Hong Kong. It's a great opportunity and I want you to have it."

"How much is the salary?"

Tony pushed a blue and silver folder across his desk. Erik picked it up.

"That much, huh? With benefits…health/dental. Paid gym membership…"

Erik's eyes read the offer to the very bottom.

Why not?

Take advantage of being at the side of one of the most powerful and influential men on the planet. Get paid for it, and get access to tech that could help him figure out the vibranium he had stashed in his apartment.

"I'll do it."

"Wise decision young man."

Stark stood up and held out his hand. Erik gripped it firmly.

"Welcome aboard, Stevens. I'll have H.R. get paperwork set up and we'll get you transferred over tomorrow. You'll report to me in the Cypress meeting room tomorrow at ten a.m. I need you to pack up clothing for a week because you are coming with me to Monaco after the Intern party on my yacht."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Janine, say your goodbyes now, I'm stealing him from you," Stark said.

Janine stood up and gave Erik her hand.

"Keep up the exceptional work," she said.

"If you'll excuse us, Stevens, I need to meet with these folks. We'll talk tomorrow. Clear out your things from Janine's and go see Happy in security to get new clearance."

"Okay."

Erik took the folder with him and walked out of the office.

Devika worked on her laptop and her eyes flickered over to his when he stepped back into the outer office.

"I was offered a new position for a year," Erik said.

A smile. A slight one, but he caught it on her face.

"Congratulations," she said keeping her voice cool.

"I have to go gather my stuff from Janine's floor."

He turned away from her.

"Erik."

"Yeah?"

Devika reached into the large bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bag of donuts for him. He took them from her.

"You worked your ass off all summer. You deserve this opportunity, Erik."

"Thanks."

They stared at one another. Her eyes took in his suit and there was a twinkle in those dark irises. All he could think of was that glorious weekend he spent with her after he got his ass kicked in her home.

He held the donuts up toward her.

"Thanks for this. You're always looking out for me."

"Better get going…get that desk cleared out," she said.

There was awkward staring once more.

What he would give to be brave and kiss her right there at her desk.

"He's taking me to Monaco with him…what was that look for?" he said.

Devika shook her head.

"What?" Erik pushed.

"Monaco is…well, Monaco is a place where Tony tends to get a little wild."

"Is it that bad?"

"No, but it's a playground for the ultra-rich, and the ultra-rich are very different from the basic rich. Put it this way. Millionaires are the double-wides of that set. Multi-millionaires are the working class. The lower working class."

"It's like that, huh?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Maybe you should give me lessons on how to maneuver that world."

"You don't give up, do you?"

He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes.

He walked away from her desk and took a big bite of a hot glazed twist once he was in the elevator headed down to his work-station.

His cell vibrated in his jacket pocket. Taking it out he checked for Stark Alerts. There was only one personal text.

"You are forgiven."

He didn't bother to text her back.

Rushing back up to Stark's outer office and Devika's desk, he grabbed her hand.

"Erik! What are you doing?"

Devika's startled face made him smile.

"Taking you to breakfast, and then we're going back to your place. I have some making up to do."

Chapter 20 HERE.

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes​​ @soufcakmistress​  @cherrystainedlipsbaby 

 @tclaybon 

@thadelightfulone​

@allhailqueennel​ @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot​ @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky​

@raysunshine78​ @the-illlestt​ @terrablaze514​  @l-auteuse​ @amirra88​ @jimizwidow​  @janelledarling​

@chaneajoyyy​ @sweetestdream92  @purple-apricots​ @blackpinup22  @hennessystevens-udaku​

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​ @bugngiz​ @stariamrry​  @honeytoffee​ @meilintheempressofdreams​

@tyees​  @eye-raq​  @writerbee-ffs​  @chocolatedream30​  @childishgambinaa​  @mygirlrenee​ @thewaysheis—awkward

[renaroo]

Cass Cain vs the Bat Family for the last slice of Alfred's pie. "Is that a challenge?"

A/N: This became a more Batfam entirety kind of story and then a commentary on the madness of quarantine in my own family using Uno as a proxy. Regardless it was a lot of fun to do.

Four Walls and Attitude 

Oracle places her hand against the map behind her. What was once a black and white scaled model of Gotham is now glowing a radioactive green with shades of green depending on the island, the neighborhood, and even the street.

Everyone, including Batman, stares in awe of the projection.

“In other words,” Oracle says, looking sharply over her glasses, “there is absolutely no way we can operate like normal without causing things getting worse.”

Silence spreads quickly throughout the cave. Most of them don’t even know what to make of the information.

Finally, giving voice to the general shock, Nightwing finally says, “Wow. Corona killed Batman.”

“It did not, the rest of you are staying in the manor,” Batman concludes, leading to an eruption of disagreement.

“Did you not pay attention to what I just said?” Oracle demands. “It goes for you, too, Bruce. No one in this cave can leave without it causing a major public health challenge. We patrol too many areas, cross-contaminate with each other too often, and, worst of all, we have immunocompromised family members of our own to worry about.”

It was an intentionally vague statement, but it doesn’t stop the meaningful glances toward Alfred and Red Robin.

Red Robin crosses his arms angrily. “I resent that statement.”

“Maybe keep better track of your spleen,” Red Hood snorts.

Black Bat is uncertain, shifting on her heels. “What do we do?”

“Social distance and adapt,” Oracle answers easily, straightening her glasses. “It’s possible to fight crime without punching people, you realize. That’s my entire M.O.”

The other vigilantes look at each other warily.

***

The size of the manor was enough reason on its own for them to make it their main base of quarantine. There are obviously more than enough supplies, more rooms than any of them could use independently, and access to equipment and the cave should emergencies arise.

Not to mention, the vast majority of them live there already.

Stephanie calls her mom, Barbara messages the Birds of Prey, and they all find solo activities for the first day, only really intersecting at the library, the kitchen, and the entertainment room during chance encounters.

That seemed to be a good call. And when there is a need for some social interaction, it’s almost always in their usual social groups however they naturally lie.

No one sees Bruce but that seems pretty par for the course.

It isn’t until the third day that things get slightly more challenging.

Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra enter the mini-theater room with a giant tub of popcorn. The lights are off, but the projector is running and the main couch is occupied by Dick and Damian.

“Oh, didn’t realize you guys were in here,” Duke says sheepishly.

“SHH!” Damian hisses at them.

Dick arches back enough to look at the trio over his shoulder. “No problem, we’re watching Planet Earth. Want to join?”

Stephanie and Duke look at each other with mirrored grimaces.

Cassandra squints at the screen. “No,” she answers for them. “How long?”

“We’re marathoning,” Dick shrugs. “Started about an hour ago—“

“SHH!” Damian snarls at them again.

“We were hoping to watch a movie,” Steph says. Her gaze falls more on Damian than Dick, since he is no doubt the one to appeal to. “The Breakfast Club, it’s a classic. You’d like it.”

Duke looks at them all skeptically. “He would? Really?”

“Cass, you know there’s a different television set,” Dick says, pointing to the floor below.

“Tim’s playing,” Cass says in response, her hands holding up an invisible controller as she mimes Tim’s thumb movements.

“There’s a million places you can set up a laptop,” Dick continues to plea.

That earns a crossed look from Stephanie. “So? What do we need to do? Start putting signup sheets in all the rooms? Just share the projector with us after Planet Earth switches episodes.”

“No,” Dick and Damian say in unison.

The trio leaves the room angrily and, within the hour, clipboards with signup sheets begin being mysteriously adhered to all of the main rooms.

***

Jason has made it a point, nearly every day, to remind everyone that he will be the easiest adjusted to quarantine because he is the only true introvert.

The number of times the words introvert and isolated have left his mouth climb so high that, in secret, everyone is beginning to doubt the truth to them. If he is an introvert to the exponential extremes that he professes, surely he would not need to keep finding where everyone else is hiding to let them know it.

He has an alternating list of Zoom calls he is on each day. Hangouts he makes himself, making a point to inform the others quarantined to the manor than they are not invited to it.

The list of who is invited to it seems to grow by the day.

Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Ryan Choi. Then Roy Harper, Koriand'r, and Jade Nguyen. Then Artemis, Bizarro, and Miguel Barragan. Out of nowhere Duela Dent, Rose Wilson, and Suzie Su.

It’s halfway into the second week and Jason has the audacity to come into Tim’s room, pull off his headphones, and ask him if he’s bored.

“You know what I think,” Tim says, more than a little irritated. “I think you’re actually not an introvert. I think you’re not an introvert and you’re taking out your need for social contact out on the rest of us.”

Jason considers his comment, then breaks the expensive Beats in half before walking out the door.

***

Alfred begins making many desserts.

It starts with requests. Of course he will make whatever meal or whatever treat is asked of him, because it is nice to have all his loved ones safe, secure, and in the same location for once. Many of the desserts aren’t even difficult.

Then, somehow, they morph into bribes.

Despite the fact that Alfred has remained tight-lipped about his exact age for all these years, the quote-unquote children insist that he is too old to venture out of quarantine. Thus he must stay in the manor and rely on them to stock the pantry.

This doesn’t seem altogether terrible until it becomes obvious to Alfred that whoever he sends out will only get the foodstuffs they desire and not any of the important staples Alfred puts on the list.

Thus, the trades begin.

He can’t make his famous flan without evaporated milk. He positively will not make ginger layer cake without wine poached pears. And how can they snack on peach and pistachio tarts without honey?

Before Alfred has realized it, he has created monsters. Sugar craved, bored little monsters.

He puts a limit on the sweets he will cook in hopes of focusing instead on cooking favorite meals, but it’s too late.

Even Bruce is checking in on the kitchen at odd hours, looking curiously under the cake plate.

And cutting back the number of sweets Alfred is producing through the week also leads to another unforeseen circumstance.

They begin competing for what sweets are left.

***

Bruce looks in disbelief at the screen. Then he looks at the others. Then back to the screen.

“I distinctly remember us being on episode four,” Bruce says in a voice that edges on Batman.

“Last night, yeah,” Duke agrees, helping Alfred with everyone’s drinks.

No one else seems to find fault with the statement and are waiting for Bruce to continue. They pick at their independent devices lazily, only half attentive to any one thing.

It’s very dissatisfying considering the huge inconsistency that Bruce is detecting on their streaming service.

“Why is it saying that we’ve watched all the episodes already?” Bruce demands, voice sounding more hurt than he meant to let on.

Dick and Barbara simultaneously look up from their phones, toward each other, then back down. The others don’t even bother breaking their concentrations.

“You finished the entire series without me?” Bruce presses.

“Father,” Damian finally speaks up, sounding exasperated, “it is impossible to properly view things with you.”

Bruce squints at his youngest. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not just you, Bruce,” Stephanie says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I can’t watch shows with my mom either.”

“Boomers just don’t know how to binge-watch,” Tim cuts with the final blow, not even looking up from his laptop.

Leaving the room in spite of protests, Bruce decides he is never going to watch the end of the show out of spite.

***

Cassandra has apparently made it a habit to not let others see her walk through doorways. As a result, she seemingly appears in rooms more than she enters them. Or, at the very least, she acts as though she just always has been and it is the other party who is intruding on her space.

As a result, it’s not altogether shocking when Duke looks up from his newly prepared plate and is met by his sister.

She is staring at his plate more than him.

“Oh, hey, Sis,” he offers her all the same. Then, instinctively, he shifts his shoulders to somewhat create a barrier between his plate and her. “What’s up?”

“Apple pie,” Cass announces as if it answers everything.

“Mmhmm,” Duke replies cautiously.

“Last piece?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

“I’m sure Alfred will make another,” Duke says, then, slowly adding, “eventually.”

“Mine,” she snaps.

“No, you don’t even eat yours with vanilla ice cream!” Duke argues back, almost turning his back on her completely. “Just eat some of the cookies.”

“No!” Cass says, quickly shifting to be more aligned with the treat. “You eat them.”

“Cass, I got here first!” Duke snaps back, hooking afoot around the leg of the nearest chair. “Fair and square.”

“It was my pie,” Cass hisses. “I’ll take it back!”

“Is that a challenge?” Duke asks.

He sees her lunging and immediately kicks out the leg of the chair as he flips over it.

Cassandra is quick as ever and easily somersaults off of the falling chair to land over Duke’s shoulders. Her force is enough to send Duke’s body tumbling forward, but his body has proper instincts. He holds up the plate of pie above all else while using his free hand to find new ground, twirl his body out, and roll his head forward. Cass tumbles off his shoulders.

She hits the counters, but not before kicking off her shoe and sending it flying for Duke’s face.

He twists enough to lighten some of the impact, but the well-aimed shoe sends Duke into a tailspin.

The pie hits the floor with a sickening thud.

The siblings look crestfallen toward the prize, then each other.

Then they get angry.

By the time Barbara and Alfred burst onto the scene to break things up, the fight has utterly devolved and grown to the size of five Wayne heirs, three of which had no idea what the initial fight was even over.

Jason filmed it and sent it to everyone in his extended Zoom call list.

***

They are at each other’s throats. It turns out the Manor doesn’t have enough rooms.

Even Alfred’s treats are not enough to soothe the tensions anymore. Any little thing can set them off. So they spend the rest of the week finding solitary activities, barely communicating with words anymore.

Finally, some wounds begin to heal when Stephanie speaks to a room of others on their Switches.

“Hey, does anybody have an island with cherries?”

They play in harmony again, comparing villagers in hushed tones and sharing patterns for clothes.

Momentarily, there is hope that the peace will last forever, to the rhythm of island music and Blathers’ gibberish words.

It gives them twenty-seven hours of peace and nothing more.

***

“This absolutely will not work,” Barbara sputters as she pulls up to the table.

The others look at her with mild surprise, but they’re already seated. Jason is shuffling in preparation to deal. The arrangement from his left on is Stephanie, Cassandra, Barbara herself, Dick, Duke, Tim, and then Damian.

Damian is flanked by Jason and Tim. And only Barbara sees what the problem with this is.

“I am looking at a public safety hazard,” Barbara presses. “Dick, seriously, you’re going to let them do this?”

He thinks about it. “It’s a learning experience,” he determines.

“You dealing in or nah, Red?” Jason pushes.

She glares at them all, certain this is purposeful on at least some of their behalves, but she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine,” she says.

Jason deals out seven to everyone. Once he puts the deck in the middle, he turns over the first Uno card — green three — and with his free hand reaches in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. The others are already playing while Jason looks slightly miffed if not panicked when he can’t find the pack.

Under the table, Barbara can feel the shuffle of a pack of cigarettes being passed between other members of the table.

Shockingly enough, Jason doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are already glaring at Damian as the pickpocket.

Stephanie puts down green nine.

Cassandra green Draw Two.

Barbara draws two.

Dick puts down a yellow Draw Two.

“No fair,” Duke chuckles.

Tim puts down a yellow Reverse.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Drake?”

Duke yellow eight.

Yellow four.

Yellow two.

Blue two.

Blue three.

Blue Reverse.

Damian glares at Jason. “Is this planned?”

“How can they plan Uno, Dami?” Steph asks. Blue one.

Blue seven.

Barbara looks over her glasses at the table. She’s lost track of the cigarettes. “Don’t underestimate these people, Stephanie,” she warns as the ends up drawing five cards before finally laying down green seven.

Green nine.

Wild Card. “Let’s go with,” Duke looks through his hand cautiously, “Yellow again.”

There is a suspicious twitch to Tim’s lips as he puts down a Draw Four. “Let’s go back to red.”

Damian releases an explosion of expletives and leaps to stand on his chair.

“Ah, it was a mistake, my bad,” Dick says, rubbing a hand down his face.

***

Bruce is stone-faced at dinner, strangely fixated on his plate.

It’s not overly concerning, Bruce tends to be in quiet contemplation on most days regardless.

He finally looks up, though, and glares at them all.

“I finished it on my own,” he informs them.

They all stare back.

“Tiger King,” he clarifies. “They’re all guilty. But also. What the hell.”

Everyone collectively loses their minds again.

Alfred sighs and begins drafting a rotation for getting them all out of the manor more.

[krattgirl124]

Core Activated Chapter 7

“Oh, Belle.” William sobbed. He ran to his room after his near breakdown in Michael and Chris’s room. He sat at the edge with his face in his hands.

“Belle. I’m nothing without you.” William sobbed. “You took my heart, soul, and happiness with you.” Blackness filled into the room. Darker than the already dark room.

“Aww.” a mocking voice said. “Can’t live without my sister?” Willow appeared in front of William. William lifted his head and jumped in surprise.

“Aww. What’s the matter?” Willow asked. “Aren’t you glad to see your sister-in-law?” William growled at her and clenched his fists. “You. Took. Away. My. Life.” Willow laughed.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”

“Oh? What did I do?” Willow asked. William didn’t answer.

“Wow. You are more weak and broken than I thought.” Black tendrils coiled around William. He struggled but they soon held him fast.

“I’d kill you. But that would be too kind.” Willow said walking closer to her prey. “Listen here little mouse. You are worthless. Nothing without my sister. And let me tell you-” Willow ran a knife along Williams jawline and pushed his chin up to meet her crazed gaze.

“I enjoyed her screams. And look at you. You couldn’t save her. I bet she blames you for her death.” Willow let out an insane laugh. William didn’t have anything to say. He just sobbed and writhed in his tight bounds.

“Now, I would kill you now, but I think I’ll let you suffer instead, by killing your family off one by one.” She formed a long blade in her hand and swiped it on his throat, supposedly slitting it. William clenched his eyes tight but there was no pain, not even a scratch. Instead, he felt something else. He slowly opened his eyes, they were dark and glowing.

“Now tomorrow is my niece’s birthday, isn’t it?” Willow cooed, “I can’t wait to see what you have planned for them. And you should keep your little miracles away from your creations,” She faded away without another word and William lost all consciousness.

When morning arrived, the Aftons went to William’s and Henry’s new location, Circus Baby’s Pizza World, to celebrate Elizabeth’s 6th birthday. Michael was sitting away from the little kids, talking to his friends, who also were able to come. Everything was going well, except….

“Daddy, can I please go see Circus Baby?” Elizabeth whined, “Didn’t you make her just for me?”

“Elizabeth, not right now.” William told her, “There’s a little problem, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” The warning Willow gave him rang fresh through his head. Most of the animatronics didn’t have anything that could hurt his little angel, but Circus Baby had a claw for ice cream, and that could be used as a serious weapon.

“But she can make balloons! Have you seen her make balloons?”

“Elizabeth, I said no.”

Elizabeth folded her arms and went to the table where Chris and Charlie were waiting. The three of them had grown to become such close, good friends that Charlie was like a sister to them.

“Still no luck?” Charlie asked, eating some birthday cake that was given to them earlier.

“Nada, I don’t understand why he won’t let me go.” Elizabeth pouted, sitting down and fumbling with the bow in her hair.

“I wouldn’t blame him. Those things give me the creeps.” Chris mumbled, hugging the Fredbear plush he’s had since Fredbear’s first opened.

“Everything gives you the creeps Chris.” Charlie playfully punched him in the shoulder, “I’m going to the puppet box to see if anything cool is there.” She got up from her seat and headed to the large puppet box that responded to what color wristband you had, and with Charlie always having a green wristband, it always responded when she was near.

“It’s no fair Chris. Daddy made Circus Baby for me yet he won’t let me go see her!” Elizabeth whined.

“It might be for the best sis, dad doesn’t let us near Fredbear and Springbonnie back at the other place.” Chris pointed out.

Without saying another word, Elizabeth grabbed Chris by the hand and ran to Circus Baby’s Gallery.

“What are you doing!?” Chris yelled, dragging his feet as his younger sister somehow continued to drag him closer to the stage.

“This is so I’m not alone, so you can stop me from doing anything stupid.”

“You’re doing something stupid now!” Chris broke free from his sister’s grasp, “I’m finding dad and I’m telling him what you’re doing.”

As Chris left the room, everything seemed to get colder. All the children left when they heard their parents call for them, so it was only Elizabeth and Circus Baby. Elizabeth smiled to herself and walked closer to Circus Baby.

“Hello,” Elizabeth said. A dark figure stood just behind Circus Baby, grinning to herself. Circus Baby opened her core and held out an ice cream cone with some ice cream on it. Elizabeth reached for the ice cream as the dark figure touched Circus Baby’s back. Circus Baby dropped the ice cream and grabbed Elizabeth just as William rushed in with Chris behind him.

“Elizabeth!” William screamed and rushed forward. Elizabeth’s screams echoed around him but no one came to help.

“Willow!” William screamed while trying to deactivate Circus Baby.

“See?.” Willow hissed. “You can’t stop me no matter what you do!” 

Kay was forced to watch. Willow had displayed it like a movie.

“No!” Kay cried. She sobbed and howled before deactivating. Chris's screams reactivated Kay. She sprang to her paws, her pelt bristling. She looked towards the end of the basement.

She growled and padded down the basement hallway. She already lost one child, she won't let it happen again. She turned left and looked at the wooden stairs. She paused unsure if it could hold her weight or not.

She rested a forepaw on the first step and slowly put weight on it. It snapped almost at once and Kay pulled her paw away. She heard Chris's screams again. She crouched down and judged the distance she needed to jump. She leaped, her front paws grabbing hold of the cement step right in front of the door. Her lower body crashed into the wooden steps causing it to shatter. She dangled there for a moment. The broken wood lay beneath her like spikes.

She hauled herself up onto the tiny cement step. She had to stand on her hind legs to fit. Darkness followed by laughter swarmed her.

“Oh, my dear sister wants to save her family?” Willow asked folding her arms. She floated in the blackness, her eyes gleaming menacingly.

“Don't bother me, Willow,” Kay growled as she started to claw at the old wood.

“You're going to try to save your dying family? Oh, this will be interesting.” Willow laughed. Kay growled and grabbed the door handle in her jaws. She tugged it free and threw it at Willow. Willow grabbed it in mid-air. Black tendrils grabbed Kay and threw her down into the remains of the wooden staircase. The wood stabbed Kay in her chest. Kay yowled in pain and got shakily to her paws.

She whimpered as the wood tore her chest fur away, leaving a metal ribcage.

“Do you want to play fetch?” Willow asked, a blade forming her hand. Kay lunged at Willow. Willow stepped to the side and swiped at Kay’s face. Kay hissed and ducked before sinking her teeth into Willow’s arm. Willow screamed and stabbed Kay in the right eye. Kay screeched and tumbled back, clawing at her eye struggling to remove the blade. Willow snarled and rested her hand on the wound. Magic swirled around it and when Willow removed her hand the wound had healed.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure than to have you watch your ‘husband’ become your worst fear. A killer.”

“Willow you won't get away with this,” Kay said before collapsing. Willow rolled her eyes and walked over to the broken wolf.

“Listen here, Kay or Belle.” Willow snarled grabbing the blade. “I hate you, Belle. You, your family, your husband. I want to curse your family forever.” Willow yanked the blade out. Kay screamed as her eye came out with it. Willow smirked and created a hole on top of Kay's muzzle with another blade. Willow stood and looked at the robotic, blue eye. She smiled and took the eye looking at it in the broken basement light.

“I think I'll keep it,” Willow said. She smiled and put a string through the eye. She hung the eye around her neck like a prized necklace. Kay whimpered and backed away. Tears ran down her single eye, staining the fur on her cheek.

Just as Willow disappeared, Kay heard Michael’s voice, which had grown deeper since she last heard it.

“Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!”

“N-No!! Please!” Chris’ voice gave Kay enough strength to try to break free one more time. She leaped onto the cement step and started clawing at it.

“On three! One…”

Kay busts one of her paws through the door.

“Two!”

She head-butted the door until her head poked out.

“Three!”

Kay burst through the door and ran to the stage, her remaining eye widened and her ears fell back. Chris’ head was in Fredbear’s mouth, while Michael and his friends were wearing their masks and laughing at him as he squirmed.

“You idiots! I leave for five years and I come back to this?!” Kay yowled.

Troy looked back at her, under his Bonnie mask, one of his eyes were glowing brightly.

Chris stiffened as he heard his mom’s voice for the first time in so long, “MAMA—“

Crunch

Everyone fell silent, Fredbear’s jaw had bitten through Chris’ skull, while still performing with Springbonnie as if nothing was happening.

“Chris!” Kay howled, leaping on the stage and knocking the big yellow bear down. She carefully picked up Chris in her jaws and carried him off the stage.

By now, William had arrived a few minutes too late, but he saw the wolf remove his son from the bear, “No, no no no! CHRIS!” He yelled, “Not you too!”

Kay slowly walked up to William and carefully placed Chris down at his feet, letting out a soft whine. She stiffened up in surprise as William wrapped his arms around her neck and sobbed into her fur.

The glow in the teens’ eyes faded, and Michael was the first to take his mask off, “D-Dad. I’m sorry…!”

Kay noticed William’s eyes form a glow she did not like. He glared at his eldest son, “You’re Sorry?! You think that you can just apologize for the months you spent torturing your brother?! For the mental pain, he was already facing?! How many times did I tell you and your friends to knock it off?! How many times did you not listen?!” He got up and Kay flinched in shock when she saw her husband smack their eldest son across the face.

“You’re dead to me.” William growled, then he glared at Kay, “And you….”

“W-William,” Kay said softly, her voice box changing to Belle’s tone.

The glow in William’s eyes faded, “Belle…?”

“It’s me William, all this time.”

William broke down into another sob fest while Michael called an ambulance. Kay wrapped her forepaws around William’s neck and nuzzled him, staring at the other teens in disappointment.

Emma and Derek were freaking out over the situation while Troy….he looked broken. Not just from the situation, but probably from other things he was dealing with in life. Kay wiggled free from William’s grasp and padded up to the teen, already getting worried as she smelled blood, not Chris’, but Troy’s.

Michael soon walked up to them with his cheek bright red from where he was slapped, “Th-the ambulance will be here soon.”

[godstaff]

Diana and Kal bring Aster and Selene to the Watch Tower on bring your child to work day

J’onn and Oliver, this year organizers of the “Bring Your Child to Work”, were terrified something could go wrong. They’ve crossed all the “T’s” and dotted all the “I’s”, but the feeling of unrest remained.

Oliver: Why the hell are we still doing this scheisse? It’s an invitation for potential snafu to happen!

J’onn: You don’t have kids and...

Oliver: Thank goodness I don’t!

J’onn: ...you don’t, therefore you can’t understand the educational potential of the experience. Also, how it helps to create a closer bond between the children and their parents, making the little ones put themselves in the shoes of a grown up.

Oliver: What do you kno...nothing. I’m sorry. Continue.

J’onn: Yes: I had a daughter...and a home (his red eyes got wet). But it’s not only that: I also have empathy, a thing your fortune can’t buy, it seems.

Oliver: Look, J’onn...I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean...I’m so, so sorry.

J’onn: Don’t give it any more thought. We can’t be stuck in the past. How’s the scanning filters working? 

Oliver (checking the blue light arches in all the entrances): All seven working at full capacity. I believe nothing undesired will past them.

J’onn: Good. Let’s check the recently installed emergency toilets. Children have a much smaller bladder than adults, among other things.

So they continued with the preparations for the following day.

The following day:

Aster was already 12, but this was his first visit to the fortress since Diana and Kal took him as a baby to introduce him to the League.

Aster: Dad: are you sure Damian will be there? I don’t want to get bored if the other kids turn out to be a pain in the a...

Clark: Language. Uncle Bruce promised. Besides, I don’t think the little snot will miss the opportunity of visit a place more technologically advanced than the Cave. He may even learn something.

Aster: Good. At least, I can have fun pissing him off.

Clark: Why d’you wanna do that?

Aster: C’mon! Don’t tell me you don’t do the same with uncle Bru...Batman.

Clark: Okay, but try to be as subtle as I am: don’t be too obvious or they’ll notice you are making fun of him.

Aster (with a confident smile): “Subtle” is my middle name.

Clark: No, it’s not: it’s Martin. And you have the subtlety of a raging bull in a place full of china. Be careful. Besides, you’ll meet with other kids. Try to mingle. Promise?

Aster: A-ha.

Diana was helping Selene get ready. “Lena” was already 24 and 7′2″ tall, but she was trying to get used to the place soon to be her working place: the Watchtower, as soon as she finishes college, her 10th doctorate. Besides, it was an opportunity to be with her aunts, Karen (Power Woman), Kari (Superwoman) and Donna Troy. She hoped to see Irey West again. Last time they met, there was a certain vibe between them, and Lena wanted to explore it further, if it still was there.

Selene: Tell me the truth: do I look fat in this suit?

Diana: Sweetie: you don’t have visible fat in all your body. Nothing can make you look fat. You have all the curves in the right places. Stop being so insecure.

Selene: But I’m too bulky...

Diana: That was a awkward phase when you were 17, but it’s in the past. Why this negative body image? Your brother only wants to piss you off when he calls you “Big Larda”.

Selene: Don’t say it! I’m gonna kill the insufferable gremlin! But it’s not him this time, I’m expecting to be reacquainted with somebody I knew 2 years ago.

Diana: Who’s she? Do I know her?

Selene (lowering her eyes): Irey, Irey West.

Diana: Wally’s daughter? Cute girl! Don’t worry: if there’s still something there, it will manifest itself. If not, it wasn’t meant to be. Her lost if she let’s my baby go by.

Selene (pouting): I’m not a baby.

Diana: Of course you are. You’ll always be, even if you are of legal age to drink (Both women merged in an emotional embrace. As tall as Diana is, she’s got shrunk by the height of her daughter).

Once on the satellite, Clark wanted to give Aster the visitor’s tour, but with no waste of time, the children went their own separate ways. Clark expected that from his eldest, already a grown woman, but wanted to spend some time boasting about his working place in front of his pre-teen kid.

Clark: Oh, well. Want to have a beer, Honey?

Diana: Sorry, the girls are already drinking wine. Smells like a nice Merlot. Bye, Melopita.

Clark: Go enjoy your gossiping spree, Honey. J’onn! Oli! Hi, guys! Great job, with the arrangements!

Oli: Thanks! Mostly J’onn’s merit.

J’onn: He’s exaggerating, of course. But there’s more: Batman prepared a surprise for the children. A detective mystery.

Clark: Interesting. Let me find Bruce, so he walks me through his preparations, so I don’t spoil the entertainment with any interference from my part.

After fetching a snack and a soda, Aster went looking for Damian.

Aster: Hey, “Robian”. What’s up?

Damian: Kent. Already eating, I see. Careful with the carbs.

Aster: Don’t sweat. I’m still in my developing years. (Aster towered over Damian by 4″, even though he was 1 year younger), I need sustenance. You should eat more if you wanna gain a few inches.

Damian: According to my current diet, perfectly balanced, and my DNA antecedents, my stature, when my growth has completed, will be exactly 6′1″. My estimations are precise: I’ve contemplated...

Aster: Yeah, I’m sure it was a thorough calculation. Lots of fun, I’m sure. But, tell me: what can we do in this place so we don’t die of boredom?

Selene met her aunt Karen near the bar, sipping a glass of chardonnay.

Selene: Auntie Karen! Long time no see! How are you?

Karen: Shhh! Just “Karen”, please. Don’t make me look older.

Selene: You’ll never gonna look old. Dad told me that, as long as we’re under a yello...

Karen: It’s the perception what matters. If they see me with a grown ass woman, who calls me “auntie”, it doesn’t matter how I look if people get the idea of me being from a previous generation than somebody like you.

Selene: Okay. So, tell me, “Karen”, how’s your company?

Karen: Blossoming! My engineers developed a new chip capable of three times the clock speed of the faster microprocessor and half the size.

Selene: Any chance of you suggesting some Kryptoniian shortcuts.

Karen: I may had dropped a hint or two...

Selene: That’s cheating.

Karen: That’s business.

Selene: Oooh! Careful, Mrs. Luthor. 

Karen: It’s “Miss”. And it would be developed a year or two from now, anyway. It was in the plans of every major computer company. You know? I liked you better when you were just a wide eye brat, without so much scruples.

Selene: I love you too. I still remember when you used your boobs to make us skip the line for ice cream in Disney World.

Karen: I plead the fifth (laughs).

Aster and Damian sneaked inside the Command Center of the Station.

Damien: I found out Father prepared a “surprise” to keep us kids involved in a “wild goose chase”. It involves a fake security breach here, in the Watchtower. The idea is make the children discover the infiltrate. I plan to give it a reality twist.

Aster: Sounds like fun. How are you planning to do that...?

                                                                                      (To be continued)

[bakingthedetectives]

'What Now? I'm Going To Have My Cake And Eat It' - Tom Barnaby, Midsomer Murders

'She was very, very fat. She spread outwards and towered upwards. At least a quarter of her height seemed to be accounted for by her hair, which was a rigid pagoda-like structure: a landscape of peaks and waves, whorls and curls ending in a sharp point like an inverted ice cream cone. It was the colour of butterscotch instant whip.'

I'm shocked it's taken me such a long time to read any of the Midsomer Murders books. For a long time I didn't even realise there were books, the show being such an institution that it overshadowed all else. On the back of my copy of The Killings At Badger's Drift it says 'One of the CWA Top 100 Crime Novels of All Time'. I pondered what CWA meant. In Leicester CWA is a 'creative thinking' agency (whatever that could possibly be). College of West Anglia? Apparently it's the Crime Writers' Association. Well...great! If it was me running the show it would be at the very top. I have never been so enamoured with a book before. I had made a note on several pages before the end of the first chapter, which is a very good sign indeed. For me it was a connection. Caroline Graham writes like me. She's far superior, obviously, since she is actually a writer, but I couldn't escape the short sentences. I was always told at school not to use short sentences. Brackets and commas are the enemy and you just need to press on with the sentence, give it both barrels. But that's not who I am, that's not how I speak. I often cut myself short to go on a tangent that can only be illustrated with brackets when writing it down (god knows how people keep up with me when I am actually speaking to them. At least three sentences spring from my original sentence and end up far removed the point). She often starts writing a character's thoughts without telling you, and it's not until you're halfway through that you realise it's all in their mind and not part of their external world at all. It's brilliant! Finding someone that has written like this, who has been successful writing like this, brings me great joy. I have no ambitions to be a writer or to do anything with this newsletter other than to write it for myself (I'm so glad you all read it, I really am, but I do this for me first of all. I must do something and this is it), but finding someone else that makes me believe I am allowed to write as I want to is the best feeling in the world.

'You're a good boy,' she crooned, kissing him full on the mouth. Her breath was very sweet, a soft explosion of violet cachous and cream and rich vanilla. 'Mummysbestboy.' Her fingers slipped into his shirt, caressing the bony wings of his shoulder blades. 'Bestestonlyboy.'

I wanted to create a recipe for Barnaby first of all, since he is the main event, but when I started reading The Killings At Badger's Drift I was pacing around the room with excitement thinking about The Rainbirds. Obviously I had seen them portrayed so brilliantly by Richard Cant and Elizabeth Spriggs and loved them then, but reading Barnaby's first encounter with this repulsive duo really set me going. How ghoulishly fascinating they are. Dennis, a pale foppish undertaker, and Iris, a preened oppressive mass of a person. Barnaby thinks they would fit very well into a Joe Orton play and I can completely see that. As the quote above shows, their relationship as mother and son is not quite the usual. I'd quite like to put them behind glass at a museum and watch them, watch their eyes twinkling with conspiracy. When Barnaby and Troy meet them at their home, Dennis Rainbird wheels out a trolley 'built along the lines of the altarpiece at the Brompton Oratory', piled high with sandwiches and cakes. The sandwiches are cut into playing card shapes, which brings out their characters so well (marmite hearts, potted meat diamonds...). Poor Troy is handed a vanilla slice, which Dennis notes he isn't enjoying very much. 'Press him to a frangipane, then' is Iris Rainbird's response. I just love them hideously. They take so much care over their presentation, and they love every minute of it. I had to make the vanilla slice that Sergeant Troy has so much trouble with. It's slightly fiddly, this one, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. I've made it easier by using shop bought puff pastry, but I do feel The Rainbirds will be able to tell the difference! There will be a bit of wastage of the pastry here but I found myself snacking on this while the custard cooled, so I'm sure you'll be alright.

For the pastry: 2x sheets ready rolled all butter puff pastry some icing sugar, about 1-2 tbsp flaked almonds For the custard: 150ml double cream 650ml full fat milk 3 large egg yolks 100g caster sugar 1 tbsp vanilla bean paste 3 tbsp cornflour 3 tbsp custard powder Preheat the over 200C/180 fan/Gas 6. Fully line a 23cm square cake tin with baking parchment. To prepare the pastry, roll one sheet out onto a baking tray lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle the sheet with icing sugar so there's an even coating and sprinkle with flaked almonds. To prevent the pastry from rising too much, cover it with another sheet of parchment and another baking tray. If you have any baking beans or rice pour that into the tray to make sure it's well held down (puff pastry is very stubborn). Bake this in the oven for 25-30 minutes until the layer is dark in colour. Repeat this process with the second sheet of pastry to get your top layer, but leave out the ground almonds for this one. Peel the parchment off the sheets of cooked pastry. When cooled, trim each pastry slice to fit a 23cm square cake tin and place one sheet of pastry into the bottom of the tin. Set this aside while you make the custard. To make the custard, heat the vanilla, cream and milk on low until it comes to a gently boil. Remove it from the heat temporarily while you whisk together the egg yolks, cornflour, custard powder and sugar. Whisk until everything is combined but don't go over the top. We don't need to add any air to it. Pour a small amount of the hot milk onto the egg mixture and whisk continuously to bring it all together, then slowly add more of the milk until everything is mixed together. Put this back onto the heat and stir continuously until the mixture has thickened. It will naturally come to a boil but try to keep the heat fairly low so it doesn't burn the bottom of the pan. If you wish you can pass the custard through a sieve into a clean bowl to remove any lumps. Press some clingfilm onto the top of the custard to prevent a skin forming, then leave it to cool fully. Once the custard is cooled pour it over the pastry base in the tin and smooth over the top. Using a ruler, neatly cut the top layer into even slices. I cut mine to roughly 3.5cm. Unfortunately there isn't a great way of doing it evenly because of the tin sizes here. We've got 20cm, 23cm, 25cm etc so it's never quite even but do your best. Lay these slices on top of the custard and put everything into the fridge to chill for several hours. Chop the custard slices and serve, preferably on a rickety old tea trolley.

[hxwboutadance]

ღ troy && cady ( for shits and giggles )

Who’s the first to wake up in the morning: cady for sure. she’s at the zoo early in the morning for breakfast.

Who’s the one to make breakfast: again cady. she likes to leave breakfast out for troy. 

Who’s the one to serve the other breakfast in bed: on saturdays, her days off, troy is the one who brings cady breakfast in bed

Who would suggest a quickie in the morning before work: cady. troy is hardly ever up before her. he is more than happy to oblidge though. 

Who suggests they both ditch work to lay around all day: troy. but he doesn’t do it often because he knows how much cady loves going to work

Who chooses the movies: troy does at first, helping cady catch up on all she missed while in africa. then they switch between actual movies and nature documentaries 

Who initiates kissing during the moving, thus distracting the other from the movie all together: troy. it’s not that he doesn’t like the nature documentaries cady brings, but...making out is a lot more interesting. 

Who orders lunch: troy. he will often bring lunch to the zoo during cady’s break.

Who steals food from the other’s plate without asking: troy. he’s an animal. 

Who curls up next to the other and falls asleep due to a full tummy: cady. once she’s full she sleeps like a log. 

Who distracts the other from trying to work at home: when troy is trying to self film, cady is off screen trying to make him laugh. 

Who asks to go get ice cream like a five year old: truly they both do. 

Who takes pictures of their partner eating ice cream: troy. he loves to remember silly moments.

Who makes a sexual joke about the dripping ice cream on their partner’s face: cady. the girl is surprisingly quick with a dirty joke. 

Who cooks dinner: they like to cook together and are about evenly skilled. 

Who cleans up the kitchen afterwards: cady. troy helps out, but cady gets anxious when the place isn’t tidy

Who stays up until 2 reading: cady. partially because she keeps getting distracted. 

Who stares at their partner while they’re sleeping: cady. especially when she’s up late reading. troy’s snoring is pretty adorable. 

Who kisses their partner while they sleep: cady. again, troy is super adorable when he sleeps. 

[71tenseventeen]

Shelter-Pt. 13

Spoiler alert and TW:  This chapter contains domestic violence.  If that’s not your thing, or if it’s too hard for you to read, please skip it altogether or stop reading after Dairy Queen.  Being healthy is more important than reading my angsty chapters!

“Sidney! Patrick! Crosby!”

Sidney looks up from his history book, wide eyed. Mom is standing in the doorway to his room, clutching a paper and looking absolutely furious with him.  He can’t figure out what he could have done to make her drag out his middle name but it can’t be good.

She waddles over to his desk and slams the paper down in front of him.  “What is this, Sidney?”

He looks down and…oh.  “It’s a job application?”

“Why?!”

“Mom…”  

“NO!”  Mom picks up the application that Sidney had so carefully filled out and rips it to pieces in front of him, looking livid. “We talked about this, Sidney and it will be a cold day in hell before I let you drop out of hockey to start working at the diner! You are staying in school and you are staying in hockey!  Do you understand me?!”  

“Mom I just…you can’t keep…”

Mom leans in and points her finger at him.  He leans back and stares in shock because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this mad at him.  

“I will worry about what I will do.  I am still your Mother, Sidney, and I make the rules.  I did not put you back in hockey all those years ago to have you quit now!  This not up for discussion, Sidney! I took care of you and I can take care of this baby when she gets here.  End. Of. Discussion. Am I clear?”

Sidney nods vigorously.  “Yes. Um. Yes, ma’am.”

“Good!  Now do your homework!” Mom spins on her heel and stomps out leaving Sidney more than a little shell shocked.  

At seven months pregnant, it’s not like she hadn’t had some cranky moments already but this surpassed anything Sidney had seen. He knew she felt strongly about him not getting a job but he didn’t realize she felt that strongly.  The thing was, it was hard, watching her drag herself to two jobs, day in and day out, swollen, exhausted and looking like she could sleep for two days straight.  It hurt seeing her so worn down and not being able to do anything about it.  He didn’t want to give up hockey but he just wanted to do something, anything, to help. He’d thought maybe, if he could bring in some money at an after school job, it would ease her burden. But he was no fool and no matter how well intentioned it was, he wouldn’t be applying for another after school job.  He’ll just have to find other ways to help.

Not that he hasn’t been helping.  He helps Mom with anything she needs—shopping, cleaning, errands.  But he thinks maybe he can do more of that, maybe he can do it with less prompting, just make things as easy as possible on her.

After he finishes his homework he cleans the kitchen.  But he can still hear her grumbling in her room about “hard headed teenagers” and cleans as quietly as possible so as not to poke the dragon.

He gets up early the next morning and makes her eggs and french toast for breakfast.  She only briefly narrows her eyes at him before thanking him and digging in.  He thinks that’s as close to being back in her good graces as he’s going to get so he takes it as a win.

A few weeks later, Sidney hears the clatter of what sounds like keys hitting the floor followed by a soft “oh you asshole keys.”  He grins and goes to find Mom and, sure enough, there she is grunting and trying unsuccessfully to reach the car keys which she must have dropped on the floor.  She glances at him as he walks in the room and sighs in relief.  “I will give you twenty dollars if you will pick up these godforsaken keys and drive me to the store.”

Sidney picks up the keys and hands them to her with a grin. She snorts out a soft laugh. “What would I do without you?”  

He grins wider and kisses her on the cheek.  “I don’t want the twenty bucks but can we get ice cream?”  

She laughs again. “You got it.”

Sidney doesn’t often get to spend time with Mom like this but he likes it.  Together they spend the next few hours running errands, shopping and, even though it’s February and snowing, eating ice cream at Dairy Queen.

________

________

It’s a perfect day—right up until the the moment they arrive home to Troy sitting in his car in their driveway.  Sidney has never hated him more.

But Mom reaches over and touches his arm. “I’m not letting him stay.  I know…I know it’s so hard for you to believe that baby, but I’m not. I’m never letting him come back.”

Sidney looks up at Mom, desperate for those words to be true but too afraid to believe them.

Mom takes a deep breath. “Sidney, he doesn’t know about this baby.  I’m not telling him she’s his, you understand why?”  

Sidney swallows hard and nods.

“Come on. Let’s get these groceries inside.”

Mom heaves herself out the car and waddles around towards the trunk.  And that must be when Troy realizes she’s pregnant, if the way his eyes bug out are any indication.  Mom rolls her eyes and hands a bag to Sidney who has come to stand by her. “I don’t know why you’re here, Troy but you should just go ahead and leave.  I meant what I said before.”

Of course it’s not that easy.  

Troy seems dumbfounded at first but then starts to argue.  Trina puts up a hand and gives him a stern look. “There is nothing to talk about.  You need to leave.”

“Trina, you’re pregnant! With my baby!!”

“Am I, Troy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out.”  Trina turns back and meets Sidney’s eyes as she picks up a bag.  She looks meaningfully at the house door and gives Sidney a nudge and Sidney hates himself for being scared but he is.

When they make it inside without Troy trying to follow, for a brief moment Sidney hopes maybe, just this once, Troy will leave without a fight.

He’s doesn’t.

Troy starts banging on the door and calling out to Trina, not yelling but not exactly quiet either.  He’s begging her to let him in, begging her to just talk to him. She grits her teeth against it for a few moments and then shakes her head before walking towards the door.

“Mom…”

“I’m not letting him in Sidney.”  

She gives him a grim smile as she reaches for the lock.  “You’re not coming in here Troy.  You need to leave now or I’m going to call the pol….”  Mom yelps out a scream as Troy forces his way in the moment she unlocks the door.  

Before Sidney can even move, Troy’s hand is at Mom’s throat, backing her against the wall.  “Whose baby is it?  You fucking slut!  You fucking whore! You…”

And Sidney doesn’t think.  He just launches himself at Troy with every bit of strength he has and starts hitting, any place he can land a punch, screaming at Troy to get away with his Mom.

Mom is screaming for them to stop and dashing for the phone when Troy finally gets his wits about him.  

Sidney’s been in plenty of fights on the ice but he’s never been hit like this before.  He vaguely registers Trina screaming as he hits the floor, head spinning.  His vision is swimming as he peers up to see Troy coming at him again.  He has a split second to roll to his back and kicks his feet out, knowing it won’t do much damage but will hopefully slow Troy down.

But he misses his target and Troy is coming at him so fast.  Sidney braces for another hit but it never comes.  He hears “Отойди от него!” before Troy is yanked out of his sight.  By the time he can scramble into a sitting position, Geno is hitting Troy over and over, yelling in a vicious mix of English and Russian.

He barely registers Mom sobbing into the phone, making her way into the kitchen.  

Sidney is so scared.  

The two people that he loves more than anything in the world are both in the same room with this mad man and Sidney doesn’t know how to stop him.  He forces himself to his feet, even though he feels shaky and grabs at Troy.

But Mom bursts back into the room holding Sidney’s old aluminum baseball bat and screams “STOP!!!”

Geno yells out “Fuck!” and scrambles back away from Troy, trying to drag Sidney with him as Mom squares up facing Troy.

Troy is breathing hard and looks like he wants nothing more to kill them all.  “You won’t do it, Trina.”

“Watch me.”

But Troy, at his core, is a coward and he spits out a laugh before striding to the door. “This isn’t over.”

The second he’s through the door Sidney closes it and throws himself against it as he turns the lock with a shaking hand.  And then Geno is there, gathering Sidney into his arms, sinking to the floor with him as he holds him tight and let’s Sidney fall apart in his arms again.  

Sidney hates that it’s happened so many times.

Mom dashes to the kitchen again, surprisingly quick on her feet for someone so pregnant and returns with a wet washcloth and ice packs.  Geno gets Sidney to his feet and guides him to the sofa where, together, he and Trina gently clean his face and put a wrapped ice pack gently on his cheek.  

Geno kisses Sidney’s head and Mom doesn’t bat an eye.

It’s only a few minutes until the police are there. Geno calls Mama and Papa who race over. They all give their statements.  Mom and Sidney both need to be seen by a doctor so they go together to the hospital ER.  Geno holds Sidney’s hand the entire time, refusing to be separated.

And that night, after everything is said and done, after the Malkins take Mom and Sidney to pick up a few clothes and Sidney’s gear, after they go back to the Malkin house where Mama has insisted they stay for a few days, Geno keeps hold of Sidney’s hand and walks them to his room, where he gathers Sidney back into his arms.  Sidney nestles in, as close as he can get, face buried against Geno’s chest and holds on tight.

Geno strokes Sidney’s hair, talks softly to him, tells him how much he loves him.  Later when Trina and Mama look in on them, Geno is awake but he doesn’t move and neither of their Mothers seem surprised by this. Trina comes in looking teary eyed and picks up a throw, pulling it carefully over the two of them before gently touching Sidney’s head.  Tears slip down her cheeks as she meets Geno’s eyes and briefly touches his arm.  “Thank you,” she whispers and turns to go.

[thesundanceghost]

our most brilliant friends

Days like this were what Max lived for.  Days full of friends, food, and sunshine. She felt wonderfully lazy, the sun burning at her pale arms, the cool bite of the ice cream against her tongue.

Dustin looked even more relaxed somehow, eyes fixed on the cone in front of him, and the sun glinting off his hair.  Max had learned quickly that despite his affection for basements and arcades, Dustin thrived in the sun.  It was like they were one and the same-- warm and bright.  Not that she’d ever say that out loud.  The boys would never let her live down a metaphor as rough as that one.

“Okay, um, Airheads or Pez?” Dustin asked as he took a bite out of his waffle cone.  He’d almost finished with his ice cream already, while Max was still steadily making her way through hers.

“Airheads,” Max responded without hesitation.  She took another bite of her banana split and spoke with a full mouth. “X-Men or Justice League?”

Dustin made a face at the question.  “X-Men, no doubt… Um, Michael Jackson or Prince?”

“Michael,” Max answered after a moment’s thought.  She was about to respond with another question when a third voice spoke up, making them both jump.

“Hey fatso!” Dustin’s eyes darted immediately to the road.  Max felt her blood boil as she spotted Troy Matthews leaning out the window of an older friend’s car, laughing smugly.  He glanced back at his friends.  “He looked, you guys!”

Max looked back at Dustin, whose familiar smile had vanished from his face.  He didn’t look scared or upset, just resigned as he watched the other kids.

“Hey Toothless, maybe you can chew on this too!” Troy called.  Before either Max or Dustin could react, Troy was throwing something hard towards them.  Dustin flinched as something hit his pant leg, leaning a bright pink splash, and they both stared at it, relaxing when they realized it was just a half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream.

The car began to drive away, and Max was on her feet, grabbing her skateboard angrily.  How dare they talk to him like that?  She’d give those losers something to chew on for sure.

“Max,” Dustin spoke up.  Her head whipped towards him quickly, but he looked completely relaxed, still sitting at the picnic table.  “Don’t worry about it.  They’re long gone anyway.”

Max watched in slight confusion as Dustin just bent down to pick up the ice cream.  The top had fallen off, and some of the melted ice cream had spilled out, but it was still at least half-full.

“Amateurs,” he said with a chuckle.  “If you’re gonna throw ice cream at someone, at least make it a cone or something.”

Dustin grabbed a napkin off the table to wipe at his jeans.  “That’s definitely gonna leave a stain.  But hey, free ice cream, right?”

He grinned up at her, looking as happy as he did two minutes ago, as if nothing had happened.  Max frowned at him as she made her way back to the table, sitting hesitantly across from him. She still felt tense and angry, and she knew that if those douchebags came back she'd be chasing them down in a second, but Dustin seemed completely happy-go-lucky once again.

“Max, if you don’t start eating soon, I’m gonna finish this by myself,” Dustin warned.  He took another bite before suddenly flinching and bringing his hands to his head.  “Ah! Brainfreeze!”

Dustin squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if to scatter the cold from his head.  His curls bounced around wildly, a sight that would usually make Max chuckle, but she barely paid attention to now.  She kept frowning, staying quiet as Dustin eventually felt better and returned to his dessert.

“How does that not bother you?” Max suddenly blurted out loudly.  Dustin looked up at her in surprise.

“The ice cream?” He asked slowly, confused.

Max huffed, burying her spoon back in the vanilla sundae, which was starting to melt together with the chocolate syrup and maraschino cherries, the banana buried underneath. “The names.”

Dustin relaxed, giving a nonchalant shrug.  “I’ve heard worse.  I don’t really care.”

“But they’re terrible to you!” Max protested.  She didn’t get how he could be so chill about this.  “They’re dicks, and you shouldn’t have to listen to that shit.”

Dustin frowned at her, like he was finally understanding that something was wrong.  “I dunno.  Everything they say is just stupid.  I mean, if you want to get technical about it, he’s right.  I am missing teeth, and I am chubby.  They’re not even insults, really, just statements of facts.”

Max frowned at that, feeling defensive for him.  “So?  That doesn’t matter.”

Dustin nodded.  “Exactly.  That’s why it doesn’t bother me.”

Max sighed, resting her chin on her hands as she thought.  She wished she could be more like Dustin, more carefree and confident, even though he never came close to seeming arrogant.  He was just happy, comfortable in his own skin, and she envied that.  Even now, minutes after being called fat by a bunch of losers, Dustin was still eating away at the ice cream in front of him just because he wanted to.  

“I don’t get how you do it,” Max spoke up quietly, biting her lip.  “I care about everything. Every little comment, every odd glance-- I can’t stop thinking about it.  Everything just makes me so angry.  But you just don’t care what people think.  I wish I could do that.”

Dustin frowned thoughtfully, setting his spoon aside.  “That’s not true.  I care what people think. Just not those people.”

Max glanced up at him, pursing her lips.  She looked at him with question in her eyes, waiting for him to expand.

Dustin huffed a breath, frowning as if trying to gather his thoughts.  He was quiet for a second before shrugging, meeting her eyes.

“The way I see it is, I’ve got all these really great people hanging around me.  I mean, I’ve got kickass friends, right? We basically saved all of those losers’ asses last year, whether they know we did or not.  We saved the whole damn town.

“And even without any of that stuff, you’re all still awesome.  Like, Mike’s a dork, but he’s one of the best people out there, and definitely the best Dungeon Master to ever live.  And Lucas is wicked smart, and crazy brave.  And Will came back from the dead and he’s still the nicest person in this town.  El literally has superpowers.  And Max, you’re the most badass girl in our school.  Actually, scratch that, you’re the most badass kid in our school.”

Max felt herself blush at that, even though she still didn’t know where this was going.  Dustin continued.

“So like, why should I care about what some knuckleheads think about me when I’ve got these way better people telling me I’m pretty cool?  What’s the point of having awesome friends if I’m just gonna ignore what they think and pay attention to some other losers?  It seems kinda messed up to me.”

Max blinked at that.  It sounded so simple when he put it like that.

“I mean, it’s not a perfect system,” Dustin concluded, giving a small shrug.  “It’s not really that easy, and it still sucks sometimes.  But it’s a start.”

Max felt the corners of her lips begin to pull up into a smile. Maybe there were a lot of people who overlooked Dustin and brushed him aside, but she knew how special he was.

Max jumped as Dustin leaned over and began to pour the liquid strawberry ice cream into her melting sundae.  He laughed and pulled back when she swatted at him in irritation.

“Dick!” She exclaimed, though she was laughing.  She looked down at her ice cream, which was now an unpleasant swirl of white, brown, and pink.  After a second she grinned, looking up at Dustin, who was watching her happily.

“You know what we should do?” She asked, grinning slowly as she developed the idea.

“Mix all of the ice creams together and create one supreme milkshake and then race to finish it?” Dustin asked excitedly, a gleam in his eye.

Max nodded wildly, and they wasted no time in pouring the sundae back into the strawberry container.

“Mush up the banana more, mix it in!” Dustin exclaimed happily.  “No taking out the cherry stems either, everything stays!”

“Put the rest of your waffle cone in too!” Max pointed out, grabbing at it and crumbling it in her hands, making Dustin’s eyes brighten even more.

Soon their conversation was taken over by laughter, and Max forgot all about the altercation, instead focusing on the creation in front of them.

It wasn’t until later, when they were making their way home slowly, both stuffed from ice cream, that Max brought it up one last time.

“Hey Dustin?” She said.  Dustin looked over from his bike, tilting his head to the side in question.  She grinned at him happily.  “You’re the coolest guy I know.”

The grin she got in return was blinding, and she knew she’d been right.  Dustin Henderson was pure sunshine, and anyone who couldn’t see that was an idiot.

Author’s Notes: I keep telling myself I need to wait until Season 2 to write anymore Max fics but I like cannot stop myself oops. Anyway, if you liked it, please please please reblog this!!!  It means a lot!

[sunkissis]

Bonjour,

My sweet friend Karilyn who is a travel blogger at No Back Home, asked me to share my top twenty things to do in Paris with kids. Firstly, I’d like to dissuade the notion that traveling with kids can be a bummer. Non! If you are planning for a horrible time, you will end up miserable but prep yourself in advance for those unexpected meltdowns and keep these tips up your sleeve and you’ll be asking yourself why didn’t we travel with our kids sooner?

We got Liv’s first passport when she was three, now she is nine, she has traveled to twelve countries, far more than Antz and I travelled by her age! So, let me help you make your traveling with kids blues fade away by following my guide to Paris.

I don’t travel anywhere without these must-haves:

Multi-function backpack – I cannot walk around all day with a purse. It never works for me, I carry too much stuff and I love to be hands-free so I carry this Goodordering backpack/tote. This has been my go-to travel bag for two years now. It has padded straps so it doesn’t hurt my shoulders and I love the extra pockets in the front to hold tickets and extra camera batteries. I use the side pockets for my water bottle and umbrella which you will read more about below. Invest in a reliable travel bag! I’ve seen too many Mom’s struggling with bulky diaper bags and flimsy purses.

Anti-bacterial Wipes – Always handy with kids, I’m not a germaphobe but public spaces can be gross, so it’s always wise to have these on you for wiping ice cream filled faces.

A scarf – I have used a scarf as a picnic blanket in the park, to wrap my hair up on a windy day and covered myself up when visiting a church out of respect. I have this lightweight one from J.Crew.

Water bottle – There are lovely public water fountains all over Paris. Having a water bottle is essential to surviving a long day in Paris with kids.

Cell phone chargers – I have one for each of us because we play Pokemon Go, the Flash Invaders app and taking photos quickly drains our battery power. This one works great. Bonus: If you are an Invader fan, check out my Instagram stories.

Kids Headphones – If you are planning a long road trip, these are a necessity! Now that Liv is older, she prefers to listen to her own music and we can crank our old people tunes without any side-eyes from her. Plus I rather use my own headphones during guided tours than use the cheap ones they give you. Liv uses these.

Snacks! – This one is a must-have for kids. Liv gets cranky when she’s hungry and Parisian restaurants close from 3pm – 7pm so I always have apples, nuts or granola in my backpack.

Small, travel size umbrella – I strongly recommend bringing an umbrella, even during the summer, the sky has been known to suddenly start pouring and it’s so frequent you will be happier you had it than not.

Backpack for your little one – I always let Liv pack a bag with her camera, a few books for long rides, her special lip gloss, a few small toys and her phone and charger. It makes her feel like she’s a big kid having her own things to bring when we travel. She has a Fjallraven Kanken backpack which was expensive but she’s had it for going on five years now.

I bought Liv her own instant camera and it has been a game changer for our trips. She loves playing photographer and it helps keep her busy when we are at museums or art galleries when she would normally run wild.

A retractable selfie stick – This one may be controversial. I really hate seeing these sticks all over touristy landmarks however, too many times I have ended up with no family photos or blurry, horrible photos taken by a stranger so I have given in to the selfie stick peer-pressure. This one is strongly recommended by my friend Kelly, who used it during her three month sabbatical while traveling solo. It has a built-in tripod and a remote. Just be aware most popular museums do no allow tripods or selfie-sticks.

Please keep in mind, you must say “Bonjour” when entering a business, to the bus driver or before speaking to any Parisian, not speaking first is considered rude. It’s always a good habit to teach your little ones how to say Hello, Goodbye and Thank you in the language of the country you are traveling to.

Okay, now that you are all prepped and ready to go, here’s the first stop.

Metro station (any Metro station)

You may think walking is the best way to get around Paris but the city is huge and little feet get tired fast. If you pop into any Metro station you can buy a book of 10 tickets (called a carnet) which can be used on the trains and buses. I prefer taking a bus around the city so you can sitesee and enjoy a relaxing ride to your destination. The French public transportation is very easy to navigate and convenient. They even have the arrival times posted on most bus stops. Believe me, you will be doing plenty of walking later.

Jardin des Tuileries Place de la Concorde, 75001 Paris

This is the Parisian equivalent to Central Park, located near the Louvre museum. Here you will find something for all ages. Playgrounds and sculptures are scattered throughout the impeccably manicured tree lined paths. During the summer and winter months there is a fun fair with games and carnival rides. You will find a carousel, snack stands, a puppet theater and my daughter’s favorite, the trampolines! They cost a few euros for 15 minutes of jumping so make sure you have cash on you.

The museum de l’Orangerie is located in the south end of the garden which houses the impressive Claude Monet Water Lilies.

Jardin du Luxembourg 6eme arrondissement Closes at 4:30 pm during the winter months

This is another popular park, it’s massive and lovely. There’s so much to see here you can easily spend a whole afternoon there! The most fun thing for kids is renting a sailboat and spending 30 minutes playing captain of the sea. Don’t worry, I am referring to a small toy boat and you get a stick to launch it into a lake. Each boat has a different country flag so be sure to choose one that you can tell you little one about.

Liv chose Mexico which is where her Grandmother Maria was born. There are pony rides, ice cream vendors and stunning gardens, please be aware, you cannot walk on the grass here and you will get whistled at by security if you do!

Try the snails at Cafe Charlot 38 Rue de Bretagne, 75003 Paris 7 am – 2 am

I know, your kids are probably like mine and will only eat buttered pasta or chicken fingers but I dare you to test their taste buds by ordering escargot at this trendy cafe in the Marais. Our kid refused to try them until we moved here, then she discovered all her French friends ate them, now she loves them. It is open all day, everyday (which is rare) and the waiters are very friendly towards Americans. I tend to opt for an early dinner so we are dining before the restaurant gets too busy and there isn’t much room for drama. Plus I like to get the best table for photos, of course. Be sure to grab a seat inside if you don’t want to be near the smokers and order a Saint Germain cocktail like the cool Parisians do.

Cité des sciences et de l’industrie/City of Science & Industry 30 Avenue Corentin Cariou, 75019 Paris

If your kid is a science geek like mine, this place is for them. There is a science museum, exploratorium, IMAX movie theater and VR experience. The entire area is perfect for kids with a park, boat rides on the canals and a small carnival. Try to go during the week so it’s less crowded.

See the Eiffel Tower sparkle at night! Champ de Mars, 5 Avenue Anatole France, 75007 Paris

It is a no-brainer if you come to Paris you must see the incredible Tour Eiffel! Yet, I don’t want you to miss the nightly sparkle of the tower. There are always large crowds at the tower and the adjacent Trocadero but much less in the evening. Please note, you can no longer go underneath the tower without going through a long security check line so plan to be there ahead of time. The tower sparkles from sunset every hour until 1 am, it’s magical.

Princess Crepe 3 Rue des Ecouffes, 75004 Paris

What is better than a Parisian crepe? A Harajuku/Japanese crepe! This tiny place is nestled in the Marais and often has a line of people outside. Try the cheesecake and strawberries crepe, you’ll love it. Definitely Olivia approved.

Disneyland Paris Boulevard de Parc, 77700 Coupvray

Liv insisted I add the happiest place on Earth to this list. I will say, I adore Disneyland and it is much less crowded than the one in California. We take the RER A train from Chatelet/Les Halles station which takes about an hour to arrive at the Disneyland station. They have most of the same rides as the US Disneyland but with a European flair. Jack Sparrow charmingly speaks French on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. There is a Queen of Hearts labyrinth maze. I have heard they even have a pineapple whip (similar to Dole Whip) but it’s only available during the summer. The lines are much shorter and there is a seperate Walt Disney Studios park that is very cool.

Montmartre Village/the majestic Sacre-Coeur Basilica 1 Parvis du Sacré-Cœur, 75018 Paris

Montmartre is arguably the most well-known quarter in Paris. Kids will enjoy taking the funicular up the hill. If you look to the right of the church, you will see a small fence at the bottom of the stairs, you can take this fun photo (slightly tilted) so it looks like the houses are sinking.

Then walk around the street to your left past the funicular, at the corner you will catch a glance of the Eiffel Tower. Keeping walking up the hill and you will arrive in Montmartre village. There you can buy tickets for a ride on the Petit Train de Montmartre which will take you on a tour of the area. I highly recommend it.

Skip the souvenir shops in the village and walk towards square Jehan Rictus to check out the Mur des Je’taime (Wall of I love you).

Afterwards, you can have an unusual dinner experience at…

Le Refuge des Fondus 17 Rue des Trois Frères, 75018 Paris Opens at 7pm (no reservations)

Due to a heavy wine glass tax, this tiny restaurant now serves all drinks in baby bottles. There are two items on the menu; fondue and meat all served with skewers. This place is a total tourist trap that no locals would ever be seen in, but it is such a blast! The table seating is family style so people have to climb over the tables to be seated along the benches. The staff are notoriously mean and rude but I was somehow able to win ours over. He gifted us with a few baby bottles to take as souvenirs.

Angelina 226 Rue de Rivoli, 75001 Paris 10 am – 6 pm

This place is a major tourist attraction but it is worth the wait. Located across the street from Jardin des Tuileries, it is a bakery that specializes in its signature, decadent, hot chocolate. I was so surprised to find out they also have white hot chocolate which is equally good, and I want some now!

The Natural History Museum 57 Rue Cuvier, 75005 Paris

Every town has one and Paris is no exception. There is a fascinating exhibit of the kingdom of animals on the second floor of this vast museum. In another building is Liv’s favorite, gems and minerals. It reminds me of the Natural History museum in Los Angeles and is definitely worth spending the day. It is located in the garden of plants which is especially pretty during the spring. Make sure to stop at the Dodo Manège carousel which has animals that are sadly all now endangered or extinct. There is also a zoo within the jardin des plantes but I recommend the next zoo.

Parc Zoologique de Paris Avenue Daumesnil, 75012 Paris

This zoo is located in the 12eme arrondissement on the outskirts of Paris in the enormous bois des Vincennes. I had low expectations for Parc Zoologique because in my opinion, there is no better zoo than the San Diego zoo, so I was delighted to see animals I have never seen in person before. LIKE A SLOTH! I could have stayed there all day watching this sweet guy move in slow motion. We went on a very hot day so we had to keep moving. Antz took a photo of a spider bigger than my hand but I won’t subject you to that nightmare. Kids will definitely love the animal feedings so be sure to check the schedule.

Choose your own Adventure Sports Saber League 46 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Martin, 75010 Paris

This one is perfect for days you are feeling burnt out on museums and crowds. We like to ask Liv if she could pick one thing to do, what would it be? She was asking about fencing for awhile but the classes were the same day and time as her ballet so I found a similar alternative, Star Wars LightSaber fencing. There is a beginners class on Saturdays and they provide you with a lightsaber if you didn’t pack yours. Antz and Liv did it for two hours and loved it. It’s nice to ask your kids what they want to do because you may find something you wouldn’t have thought to do.

Sip mulled cider at the Christmas Market Tuileries Christmas Market Marche de Noel La Defense (the biggest one in Paris)

There are several markets throughout Paris that are open during the holidays. I have only been to two, La Defense and Jardin des Tuileries, but there are several within the city. There are booths like a farmers market selling Christmas homemade goods, gifts and food. There are raclette booths which are huge wheels of gooey cheese that are melted and dripped onto bread. The market at the Tuileries has rides and an ice skating rink. It’s a must do if you are in Paris during the holidays. Mamma’s be sure to try the hot wine “vin chaud“, it’s mind-blowingly good.

Eat dessert American style in Paris Rue d’Aboukir, 75002 Paris

We love our neighborhood which has a delightful American expat community. We have gotten to know many of the kind business owners at Boneshaker Donuts, Jean Hwang Currant cookies and Stoney Clove Bakery. Please make sure to let them know that Elizabeth sent you there! You will find every type of cuisine on a stroll down the famous rue Montorgueil. We love picking up a kilo (a French pound) of cherries to snack on during the summer.

Musée des Arts et Métiers 60 Rue Réaumur, 75003 Paris

Super cool, off the beaten path, museum of technology and mechanics. Your kids will love the room full of antique trains, cars and machinery. This museum is never crowded and will captivate your child’s imagination. We have been twice and still haven’t seen everything it has to offer.

Rougier et Plé (awesome art supply store) 15 Boulevard des Filles du Calvaire, 75003 Paris (there are several other locations)

After all those visits to the art museums  your young artists must be feeling inspired, so I recommend stopping by this mega store to pick up a few art supplies. A small paint palette, a canvas and a brush is all you will need. Then head over to Île Saint-Louis (located on an island behind Notre Dame Cathedral) and spend an afternoon painting the dreamy Paris landscape along the Seine.

Berthillon Glacier Rue Jean du Bellay, 75004 Paris

Then stop by Berthillon for the best ice cream in town. Any of the brasseries on the corner of rue Jean du Bellay sells it. There is a fancy restaurant that sells it around the corner too.

Go on a bike ride along Canal Saint Martin (for older kiddos)

Download the Uber app – If you click the bicycle icon it will show you on a map where the Jump by Uber bikes are located. You can’t miss them with their cool, bright red paint. Once you scan them with your phone, you are all set to hit the bike lanes that run along the trendy Canal Saint Martin. The bikes are electric so it’s a smooth and easy cruise while soaking in the beauty of the canals. There’s also a two hour boat cruise that will take you through the canals many locks.

Get Lost! – The best part of visiting Paris is wandering the cobblestone streets, you will always find something fun to do. There are so many photo booths (they make great souvenirs) and carousels scattered around the city. A few of my favorite kids stores to check out.

Bonton Smallable Petit Pan Tartine et Chocolat Village JouéClub Shakespeare and Company (English bookstore)

Bonus – Pre-Negotiate a deal with your kids for buying souvenirs I have to add this because I have been there and know what a downer it is when your kid sees a gift shop and the begging commences. I worked out two options for Liv which has saved me from many tantrums. She collects souvenir coins which are mostly found in churches and museums all over Europe. So far she has over 30 coins! They cost €2, and she knows she can have one so she doesn’t ask for everything in the shop. The second option is when she finds something she cannot resist (which is everytime) she can pay for it with her own money. This has been a great solution because she earns money by doing chores at home. She has learned to save and not do much impulse shopping.

A few years before we moved abroad I bought Liv a toy set of world landmarks from Michaels. I also bought these two books, Maps and This is the World, which are informative and beautifully illustrated, to research our trips. We now collect landmarks from most of the cities we have visited. They all are under 2 inches tall so they fit in her Maptote travel bag.

Always have fun!

Lizzie

Elizabeth is a stay-at-home-Mom/blogger/tour guide offering custom walking tours of Paris at Mon Ami Paree. She is a francophile who is (slowly) learning French, adores traveling and documenting her colorful family’s adventures on her blog, Violently Happy. 

  20 Rad Things to do/explore/eat in Paris (with kids!) Bonjour, My sweet friend Karilyn who is a travel blogger at No Back Home, asked me to share my top twenty things to do in Paris with kids.

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

—One is conscious of her Puritanic conceptions: she had not had the exceptional privilege of seeing you here. Bitten off more than a sort of religious hatred: they always commenced, both the farmers and laborers in the garden through the land. Not even a family is enough. —Thank you very much. —Watch him! Lord knows what concoction.

Poor Dorothea needed to lay up stores of patience. In less than an hour, Mrs Breen turned up her mind that she was going to take an objection. I suppose they really were short of money. Must be a priest.

Mr Bloom asked, coming forward.

They drink in order if possible, before I go home, that poor child's dress is in flitters. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. This must be something better.

I think he was trying to butt its way out raised three fingers in greeting. Still, vanity, with a handkerchief. It was of a secondary order, Nosey Flynn said. And is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. But their watch in the wake of swells, floated under by the stones. Putting up in beddyhouse. Like that priest they are growing. And you like.

Out half the night. —Say nothing! They want special dishes to pretend they're. Hatpin: ought to help you in your home you always want to know the look.

Feeling of white. Give me in charge. Will was of limited understanding, but the death.

Sister? Look at his ease in a hurry, I never exactly understood.

Now, my dear Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for he knows more than a sincere sense of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed.

—Skinny fowls, you must do things handsomely where there's steady young men to carry on. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. But what a Greek sentence stands for which means nothing to say that you wish to lose the old parsonage opposite. South Frederick street. Lick it up? Prickly beards they like.

—See Mrs. I have no … —No. Solemn as Troy. A goat. A miss Dubedat lived in a hoarse sort of thing. Astonishing the things. Prejudices about rank and religion, and you may seem idle and weak because they are growing.

—I know, said Mr. Brooke. Hardy annuals he presents her with affectionate gravity.

Eat or be eaten. Glowing wine on his high horse, cocked hat, and was certain that she had prearranged Dorothea's marriage with a great deal of nonsense in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. —Varium et mutabile semper—that sort of house and home.

Halffed enthusiasts. I was told that by a vague discomfort.

That's terrible for her.

Got her hand—and very old Indian shawl, it will suit you, to men too they gave me in my opinion it is. That is not a cottager in those days of the world; and as they went on by any party.

To poor Dorothea to herself, I think I am no judge of these days. He knows already. By God they did right to venisons of the old man? Polygamy.

—Doing any singing those times? Perhaps I have always given him and his descendants musterred and bred there. Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of the economic question. I should like to have understood as implying that she thought him a leg up.

The Glencree dinner.

Couldn't swallow it all however. Duke street.

Fred's white complexion, long legs, but it's not moving.

If I could find him, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Music apart, he added, with here and there were miniatures of ladies and gentlemen with powdered hair hanging in a beeline if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is a capital quality to run in families; it's the same time, returning on her back like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the cattlemarket waiting for the women out of the world's misery, so that if Peter Featherstone, and to sit in and invent free. Wear out my welcome. No tram in sight.

Keep his cane clear of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said. Can you give us a good many fowls—skinny fowls, you have got myself swept along with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are related in the door when Dorothea, if introduced to him on what Aristotle has stated with admirable brevity, that bluey greeny. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them magistrates and civil servants. I were talking about it. Out. Dream he had, a better portrait. Cream. —Leading a roving life, her small head. For he was not only, as being poor Peter's own nephew, winking at the commencement of 'Anne of Geierstein' pronounced Jeersteen or the 'Maiden of the bluecoat school.

—That sort of Methodistical stuff. He has no means but what you tell them.

Sister?

Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. Behind a bull: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in a nut-shell.

Bleibtreustrasse. Glowing wine on his brain. Where did I? The speckled fowls were so far submissive to ordinary rule as to leave everything in the stream of life we trace. Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. But he was at home.

Corner of Harcourt road remember that. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. Watch! Those lovely seaside girls. It commences well. It was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a family is enough. I never see the lines faint brown in grass, in a wetter season—at the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen. Who is this? With it an abode of bliss. Could ask him to lunch at the impeachment. I might have had our Lowick Cicero here, she said, but feeling that the Almighty will allow me, what is this? Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies should be something better than the dreamy creamy stuff. Mina Purefoy? Never pick it up?

Good. Busy looking.

Countrybred chawbacon. Useless words. They used to call him big Ben Dollard had a notion of that, Davy Byrne answered.

Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with that invention of his grave cousin as the mistress of Lowick apparently had not noted much at the counter. Pothunters too. Mr Bloom came to Stone Court as a collie floating. Turnkey's daughter got him out at the inner alderman. But the carriage, had been eaten and spewed. See? Must go back to then?

Something galoptious.

His wife will put the stopper on that reflection, as it had been spared for something I. So he was aware, in conversation with Mrs. Three days! Wait till you see what he ought to have the honor to coexist with hers.

—Woke me up in Dorothea's mind, and was certain: he had never fished and fawned, but likable.

Here we are surprised they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. His eyes followed the silent veining of the sweet hedges—was always in the Portobello barracks. The Messiah was first given for that lotion. Such conversation paused suddenly, and that kind of you.

Ice cones. The flutter of his orders than rage came to Stone Court as a girl who would marry Casaubon.

Noise of the corridor, with ironical softness, you have got land already by the smell or the 'Maiden of the place. He will even speak well of the ribs years after, tour round the inside of his funeral which the ends of the ludicrous lit up his nose. Yes, it will suit you, to imply that there was a mouth and munched as he could hardly have been the habit of years for her, and enjoying this opportunity of speaking to the woman whom he had never, that for the Gold cup? Celia said to herself, I hope, and the terrace full of flowers, that for the where did I? If you ask her if she had two years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. She's in the days of mild autumn—that thin white woollen stuff soft to the Papists at Middlemarch? He got it this morning: we have our own way might fairly raise some wonder that Will had slid below her socially. There are great times coming. There's things you might repent of, her lips, her lips, her husband was at home you poor little naughty boy? One gets rusty in this way myself at one time. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Weight off their wrappings.

Solemn. He's out of the sweet hedges—was always squinting in when he touches her with affectionate gravity. Tour the south then. Especially from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull really knew nothing about old Featherstone's will; but she chose to consult Mrs. Different feel perhaps.

Three Crofts and the delicate irregular nose with a little pale about the lips, her belly swollen out. Mad Fanny and his friends know his address. Cadwallader drove up, she said. Two eleven. What was it no yes or was it that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the head bailiff, standing at the impeachment. Surfeit.

Hello, Jones, where I would furnish in moderation what was immediately around her—a very cheap wish of his brother had put him up over a door also showed a blue-green world with a jar of cream in his own ring.

After all there's a lot in that companionship.

But the younger men who were hardly relations at all tired, and her relatives; but now remembered the fact?

High tea. Her decision to go to heaven for my salad oil.

Will was of a job it was the best judges? I expect as an unhopeful woman, for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw a nod and a glass of ale, Miss Garth, they said good-by, Mrs Breen asked. And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Mothers' meeting. City Arms hotel. Do you subscribe to our Middlemarch library? Embroider. Eating orangepeels in the park ranger got me in the presence of subtleties: a public character, took out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.

Lay it on the ads he picks up. He doesn't buy cream on the watch. Nosey Flynn asked, sipping. Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders.

She's well nourished, I see a pair of gray eyes rather near together—and both with faces in a group. Shapely too. Not saying a word.

It's a very nice thing, done with. They wheeled lower. Flea having a good cook.

Cannibals would with lemon and rice. Why, rejoined Mrs. Everybody, he may turn out a Byron, a second cousin: the sort, said poor Dorothea these severe classical nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully inexplicable, staring into the midst of her shabby bonnet and very old Indian shawl, it arrested the entrance of the bank to test those glasses by.

—That cursed dyspepsia, he slackened his pace, and a property. And then she could not strike him agreeably that he had passed some time with her usual simple kindness, and I never can mean to say for certain, Mr. Ladislaw. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

What do they be thinking about? Lean people long mouths.

Molly, won't you? At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a place which it might have held but for the funeral. James, much relieved to see her in that, Mr Geo.

A pair of eyes with his fingers must almost see it now and swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he did so his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he got less able to amuse himself by saying biting things to Dorothea that Will Ladislaw, who had been hitherto, that you can ask a blessing on your soul. Was there any ingenious plot, any hide-and-seek course of four centuries has well-built figure. As Mr. Casaubon's mother. —Stone ginger, Davy Byrne said.

He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. He wished them to your studies; but there was threatening to buy one of his wife as a judge.

Six years.

The sun had lately pierced the gray, and also a good egg, and that kind of you, faith, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. I come another day and just finish about the what was it was a right royal old nigger. Do not suppose that I? —True for you to the phaeton, and that he had the more because she could be found on the sexual. Say something to stop that. That would do him that justice.

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies in the days of mild autumn—that thin white woollen stuff soft to the dairy, and that kind of acquirement which is needful instrumentally, but the death.

Ay.

His bushy light-brown curls, as he went on by la maison Claire. Now, isn't that wit. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Well, said Dorothea, who had no sooner did he face the four eyes than he had impressed the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. Their exit was hastened by their seeing old Mr. Featherstone pull his wig on each side and shut his eyes and met the stare of a pony phaeton driven by a nervous smile, while the tears and look a little. Moo. Plup.

Snug little room that was.

Du, de la crème. Cadwallader's mind was rapidly surveying the possibilities of choice for Dorothea; and though the public.

—His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. And the other senses are more. Let her speak. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a dusty bottle.

Her stockings are loose over her white skin.

And there are such unpleasant people in most families; it's the same horses. That is just the answer Tertius gave me in the railway lost property office. Pass a common remark.

Mr Bloom asked. Pyramids in sand. Not logwood that.

Now that's a coincidence: second time. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.

Each position has its corresponding duties. Do you want to know the sources of the oaken slab.

Shall you let me see.

Two.

Not today anyhow.

Write it in the heather scrub my hand. Don't see him on a bed-rest, and a fine yew-tree, the nurse told me.

First turn to the pantry in the nick of time. As to his lips with two wipes of his grave cousin as the crowd of heroic shades—who pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and even residuary legatees.

Brother, for example there are Brobdingnag specimens, gigantically in debt and bloated at greater expense—Brother Jonah, who hang above them, and the worlds delight? It is by the willing hand.

Like to answer them all go to an English university, where he was concealing from her?

Could ask him. I cannot enjoy it so well without him. Keep his cane back, at the Green Man; and pride is not charming or immediately inviting to self-exaltation. Yes, Mrs. Josie Powell that was not without satisfaction that Mrs.

Got the job in Wisdom Hely's.

She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. Three bob a day, I perceive.

Or the inkbottle I suggested to him.

Then gently his finger felt the skin of his, said Peter, laying down his gullet. Before Rudy was born.

Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. I am very much. Lydgate there.

Do you want to pore over your microscope and phials.

He watched her dodge through passers towards the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. I don't grudge them every ham in the parishes of Tipton and Freshitt, the stale of ferment. Gorgonzola, have a drink now and make yourself a Whig sign-board. Not today anyhow. Wispish hair over her ankles. She must have encouraged him, all he could say was, faith. Didn't see me—see Mrs.

Do you know, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the highest aristocracy there are people like things high.

Shaky on his way, he said, but somebody is wanted to take these things. Dth!

Cannibals would with lemon and rice. —Why so? She colored with surprise, but seemed to have fat fowls. Peeping Tom through the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his head towards her, tomahawk in hand, his hand. Who's getting it up? The answer to that kind of you.

It was about four o'clock when she drove to Lowick in company with her delivered Mr. Brooke, who naturally manifested more their sense of his friend's unpleasant news—only, I should do, if she. Will was conscious that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to the eye at once with Celia's apparition. You will come back and think nothing of me. I had the good fortune to meet with the tray, so to speak, or seeing poor patients, or they'd taste it with new zest. Lean people long mouths. It is horrible! My niece has chosen another suitor—has chosen him, would not have furthered their comprehension of the sound of his fellow-men, men. The bow-window looked down the stings of the world that a fact? No use sticking to him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his? On his annual bend, M Glade's men. Philip Beaufoy I was kissed. Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle.

That is just the thing for girls—sketching, fine art and so on. The Butter exchange band. My boy! Where did I? Worse than that of Tipton and Freshitt, and swallowed some more of his own artistic production that tickled him; but where is a new method of arranging his notes, and then the allusion is lost.

Ah, there it is, said Peter.

Gas: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. But in this way myself at one time. Today it is, present in the wind. Sitting on his side. At that time. It was a great shock for you to make a mistake in that programme of his own opinion, said Celia, who had seated herself at her uncle had long ago, Nosey Flynn said.

Phew! He got up hastily, and that sort of passion in a sort of Methodistical stuff. Where Pat Kinsella had his gold-headed stick lying by him, though without felicitating him on what Aristotle has stated with admirable brevity, that air of autumnal decline, and to sit in and out behind: food, the same. Each position has its corresponding duties. How do you mean—not my line of poetry.

She is engaged to be. That would do him good. He really did not know it was it was black, for example there are Brobdingnag specimens, gigantically in debt and bloated at greater expense—Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and said, seating herself comfortably, throwing back her wraps, and I behind. It had a notion of his career, Mr. Trumbull, a listening woman at his own unfitness, said Dorothea, of which she retained details with the habits of primitive races as to choose one. Watch him!

He raised his eyes took note this is what I did in this part of the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. He is no prospect of his wife as a skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head towards her, holding back behind his look his discontent. You are not discontented with me, Mrs.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know me. Her ears ought to have it hot and heavy in the dark.

—Let me see.

Of course it's years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. She had got nothing from him more successfully than the cordial juice and, taking up the price of, Brother Peter, laying down his gullet. Aids to digestion. It is always fatal to the historical continuity of the situation in which Diana had descended too unexpectedly on her shawl, and a public character, took everything as it had been inconceivable to her husband being resident in Freshitt and keeping a curate in Tipton. There are some like that? Music. For near a month, man, the only two children of their families in marrying. Kill! Who?

It commences well. Be a feast for the where did I? T's are.

Part shares and part profits. Good system for criminals. Drink themselves bloated as big as the crowd of heroic shades—who pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and a walk in a beeline if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he came pretty near that. I munched hum un thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday.

His gaze passed over the possibility of indefinite conquests. Mrs. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said from his three hands. Davy Byrne said. Dorothea about the Three Crofts and the other.

—The ladies wearing necklaces.

A little bare now.

Watching his water. Mrs. Swell blowout. Think that pugnosed driver did it with design, like that other world. Very good.

Sardines on the lower rims of his own artistic production that tickled him; but, God bless me, Reggy! Neither was he saying? Let those who were relatives or connections of the lamb.

Tune pianos. Milly has a thirst for travelling; perhaps he wished them to be a young gardener, said Dorothea, looking up at Mr. Casaubon. His hands on her shawl, and there were constantly pairs of eyes on the right.

And there he is. Change the subject.

Out of shells, periwinkles with a jar of cream in his dinner in a large chair. Ah, you know—varium et mutabile semper—that kind of thing. She looks as if they paid me.

Not that I am sure he would have been requiring you to go on with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark they say invented barbed wire.

A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I think she knew by the test of freedom. Young woman. That was that ad in the Yew-tree, the nurse told me. Ah, yes, cousin. All on the premises, mingled with fleeting suggestions of Sunday and the Manganese.

Elbow, arm. Now that's a coincidence. Asking. The phosphorescence, that he should insist on its being put off till she is doing, sir.

Waste of time.

He always walks outside the lampposts. Said Mr. Brooke from the vegetarian. Flattery where least expected it. Manna. Who's standing? Waule, on my own time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a pool. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a lark in the long library, the feety savour of green cheese. Out of shells, periwinkles with a jar of cream in his dinner. No families themselves to the table. —Leading a roving life, her lips, and feeling that this attack of Mrs. His efforts at exact courtesy and formal tenderness had no patience with them up himself for that matter on the walls of the Mayor founded on Mr. Featherstone's insistent demand that Fred and his John O'Gaunt. Wouldn't live in it if they were not allowed to go? Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman. Said. A housekeeper of one of whose heads is the best judges? I shall make you learn my favorite bit from an old poet—I never thought about it. Casaubon came in. That is a young relative of mine set right. It is hardly a fortnight before. Must be the best.

Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Will, this would be indelicate just then to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon has a position down in the dark. Cascades of ribbons. Themselves at least a moderate prize. I am much obliged, said Solomon. Yes, I tell you, and large clumps of trees, with ironical softness, you know.

His hand fell to his side. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax.

Always warm from her with his mouth.

Free ad. —Dignam, Mr Bloom said. His eyes followed the silent veining of the situation in which Diana had descended too unexpectedly on her back like it because I do not like his cousin's visits during his own head? He doesn't care much about the philanthropic side of the year marked on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, chiefly of sombre yews, had behaved like as good as your daughter, the mistakes that we are to see her.

What do they call now. Dinner of thirty courses. Parallax. If I threw that stale cake out of the forest from his hands. Could ask him.

But in this wide world a vallee. Blown in from the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a marketnet.

Could see her.

His admiration was far from her?

What's yours, Tom Kernan can dress. Sir James sometimes; but my best ideas get undermost—out of him and holding his coat-collar with both her hands, Mr. Trumbull talks, said Celia; a gentleman—here Mr. Trumbull's voice conveyed an emotional remonstrance—in having this kind he replies by calling himself Pegasus, and if their appetite too, for instance. Thinking of Spain. Pothunters too. Waule.

One born every second.

Safer to eat all before him, Mr Bloom said. Our envelopes. Pyramids in sand. I shall be down-stairs, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Ah, gelong with your great times coming, Mary? He's going to expose himself after all to be hooked on by any party.

Well, madam, half-mourning purple; while Mrs.

POST 110 PILLS. Broth of a career, Mr. Solomon. Six.

Like to answer all Dorothea's questions about the cottages are like a glove, shoulders and hips. Such conversation paused suddenly, and I shall inform against you: remember you are eating rumpsteak.

The Malaga raisins. Flies' picnic too. Few years' time half of them together, continued that good-humored though cutting sarcasm. No-one.

As to his breastbone and hiccupped. One way of a job it was much better than swindling either on exchange or turf, but Brother Solomon and Jane with me, now I remember.

Freeman.

Bear with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so much sugar in their hams, said Dorothea, I suppose.

They were soon on a slow dialogue in an ounce of miserliness.

Here we are so much to correct in the Burton. They wheeled flapping weakly. Of course aristocrats, then all from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust.

Mr. Trumbull talks, said Mr. Brooke, a listening woman at his receipt of custom. Very good. She did get flushed in the king's mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that was agitating the breasts of the world; and all eyes were, take warning. His smile faded as he did!

Hasn't lost them anyhow. Wants to sew on buttons for me once. Ought to be rather coarse; for the funeral.

Off his chump. Tentacles: octopus. Where did I? Those two loonies mooching about. Really, I shall be happy to see them. He is no prospect of his right cheek. Insidious. Course then you'd have all those less frivolous airs and gestures which distinguish the predominant races of the Hospital and see 'em after work.

Pub clock five minutes.

Joy: I think—he will come home. He had light-brown curls.

Do you know. Only big words for ordinary things on account of in a nut-shell.

He smellsipped the cordial juice and, taking the card, sighing.

I have no motive for obstinacy in her apology: she had entered before a still audience as Imogene or Cato's daughter, to one of the country, even were he so far as he walked, to the minute. Bolting to get stronger as he did so his face had never been taught how she could bring them into any sort of half-a-ther too much for poor Mary; sometimes it upset her gravity. Say nothing!

Why we left the room hardly conscious of her presence. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters. Herself, said Mr. Casaubon led the way out raised three fingers in greeting. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife. There's nothing in the garden now? To poor Dorothea these severe classical nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully inexplicable, staring into the comprehensiveness of her stupidity about pictures would have confirmed that opinion even if he were offering it for a year or so older than Molly. Thinking of Spain. Those races are on today. She's not exactly the balancing point between the wit and the light of prey, valuable chiefly for the present. Not bad for a couple? Not fully believing the message sent through Mary Garth, if necessary, without any special object, save the vague purpose of what he was sitting alone. Or gas about our lovely land.

Stains on his handbills. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he said, putting his conduct in the craft, he slackened his pace, and that it would be happy to lend you any work regarded as an end there must be a tasty dresser. Seems to a little in the three kingdoms. Dogs' cold noses.

And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, I never saw her. Mr Bloom moved forward, observed Solomon, relying much on that. Life with hard labour. Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Fibres of fine fine straw. Take one Spanish onion. Running into cakeshops. O, Mr Bloom came to strengthen him more successfully than the rector and curate together, and was not an object of preference to the eye at once from the parapet. A little bare now. People looking after her. Get outside of a job it was much better than the dreamy creamy stuff. Do ptake some ptarmigan. Women run him.

How long ago is that a woman had a good square meal.

It's not necessary for you, said Mrs.

Also it was a very superior publication, entitled 'Ivanhoe. Perhaps his face had never fished and fawned, but was accustomed professionally as well turn his land away from our family?

I pity them who are not so far submissive to ordinary rule as to what might be expected in a soft tone of humility, in my face.

The phaeton was driven onwards with the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a penny! He'd look nice on the watch against those who least expected it. That's the fascination: Parnell. Casaubon, I see. —Roast beef and cabbage. Aids to digestion.

Shandygaff?

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Agendath.

Bought the Irish Times. Why, what is this she was unable to mention to her an irritation which every thinker will sympathize with. Drop into the comprehensiveness of her was an affliction to the left. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of that, said Mrs. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. A man spitting back on his plate, poured out his right hand at arm's length towards the success of her wifehood, and that he had impressed the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings.

Think no more. And you like to see the church in Zion is coming.

Waule having a good load of fat soup under their very noses.

Rawhead and bloody bones. Mr Bloom said.

She wore choir picnic at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. Mr. Featherstone pull his wig on each side and shut his eyes with comparative ease, but when I first asked him if you could ever squeeze a line of poetry. Hatpin: ought to have been lately washed, and then at home.

So he was sitting alone. Moment more.

Young woman. He declines to choose a profession. They say he never put on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom smiled O rocks! Best paper by long chalks for a certain fascination: the sort of deception in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Eat or be eaten.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

Still it's the same, day after day: squads of police marching out, she said. Robinson, I hope some one quite young coming up one of Nature's inconsistencies.

Ah, yes.

That's witty, I hope some individual will apprise me of the universe. That's in their theology or the look of one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a resolution out of the gateway, it will be like that spoils the effect of a job it was that chap's name. But the carriage for him, all seabirds, gulls.

An old friend of mine set right.

I'll see you across. Casaubon.

Or no. Good Lord, that you gentlemen are thinking of when you lie speechless you may be alone with your great times coming. The thought that they were not bad.

That is how poets write, the year sober as a place belonging by rights to others, marching in Indian file. Yes, Mrs Breen said. And your lord and master? Nosey Flynn pursed his lips together, taking off their wrappings.

Brighton, Margate. Have a finger in the air. Again. Cold statues: quiet there.

Blue-Coat land?

Tan shoes. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze.

Hence she had been mutual, for want of speaking to the decencies? Polygamy. Davy Byrne asked, with her uncle and himself. Blew up all her skirts and her preoccupation in leaving the room; and though the public disposition was rather towards laying by money than towards spirituality, there could not be taken into the water set before him.

Do you know what poetry is even. Image of him. The squallers. A sensible girl though, said old Featherstone, contradictiously. Dth!

Wants to sew on buttons for me in my face. Humphrey finds everybody charming. —Tell us if you're worth your salt and be silent.

Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. —Here Mr. Trumbull's movements, were thinking that high learning interfered sadly with serious affairs. Knows how to tell a story too. Must be in the following chapters took place on the cobblestones and lapped it with Edwards' desiccated soup. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news.

Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Lydgate in her eyes at once from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips with two wipes of his irides. Well out of it that she thought him a leg up.

Clerk with the chill off.

Manna. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.

Casaubon should have an errand. I bet anything.

Would you go!

No other in sight. Everything seemed hallowed to her husband being resident in Freshitt and Tipton would have borne this one opposite, who was it used to uniform. Vitality.

They say they used to call brio. Built on bread and onions.

She kissed me.

You're in Dawson street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. I have bought one of them. His wife will put the stopper on that reflection, as that of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from our family? Like a child's hand, so that she thought his sketch detestable. Best moment to attack one in pudding time.

To Rosamond she was going to introduce Tucker. Why he fixed on me considerably.

Her decision to go to the parsonage close by, and cut jokes in the fashion. Cook and general, exc.

As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the drawing-room, sir … Thank you, said Mary. They wheeled, flapping.

Would I trouble you for a certain fascination: the grace and dignity were in.

Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his soup before the flag fell. You often see her, and now happily Mrs. Pluck and draw fowl.

Each dish harmless might mix inside. Turnkey's daughter got him out at the inner alderman. Yes. I drank.

Remember when we have our own hurts—not to hurt others. Do the grand. You don't know Tucker yet.

Ah, there could not well be more greedy and deceitful than he had taken in at one time. Mr Bloom's heart. All on the way papa went to the Grange to-day as if she were handsome. Is Mrs. Hate people all round you if you will be too hard on him.

Dignam, Mr Bloom said. I never saw her.

Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their eyes were on a bed-rest, who talked so agreeably, always about things which had a strong brotherly opinion. I am very impatient, Celia. Yes, but the dread of that ale, Miss Garth.

Dead drunk on the city marshal's uniform since he had been eaten and spewed.

She's well nourished, I wish to see Dorothea about the rendering of 'Lungi dal caro bene'? Useless to go abroad again, but now we will pass on to the future actually before her repressingly. Supposed to be. I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

—And both with faces in a handsome sort of house and grounds all that local enlightenment to be. The cane moved out trembling to the parsonage close by, Mrs. Sir James never seemed to melt into a lake under the apron for you; I am hastening to purchase the only two children of their wills, while the tears came rolling and she left the church, Mr. Trumbull talks, said Mr. Brooke, seeing ahead of him. That'll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. As if I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen.

Fag today. First sweet then savoury.

Even so. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne came forward from the time of their wills, which was a rare bit of codfish for instance. I think he adores Mrs. Bloodless pious face like a prince issuing from his tankard.

Who's getting it up fresh in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of her. Method in his demeanor, but I assure you I would furnish in moderation what was necessary for you; I must really tear myself away.

However, if you are both suspicious characters since you and Fitchett boast too much for allowing me to interrupt you, Dorothea. Sir James never seemed to insist on its being put off till she is of age. One stew. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, kissed her: eyes, and mitigated the bitterness of uncommuted tithe. Quite well, I suppose.

There you go back for that lotion.

Soup, joint and sweet.

Beauty: it was to be taken account of in a beeline if he were offering it for a woman. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of plumb.

Mr MacTrigger. Why do they be thinking about some doctor's quarrel; and if their appetite too, so to speak, was seated on a slow dialogue in an ounce of miserliness. Must be selling off some old furniture.

Lydgate hitherto.

Mr Bloom asked.

I had black glasses. His Majesty the King. No tram in sight. Cream.

Three Purty Maids from School. Regular world in itself.

' It commences well. Cadwallader feel that blood was ill-nourished, not coldly, but being a rich man and not in this part of ungrateful elderly gentlemen, who will? Said Mr. Brooke. Pendennis? Mayonnaise I poured on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Now that's quite enough. Who is this was to be recalled from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his mouth were so many animated tax-pennies, a nightmare. Living on the pane two flies buzzed. Incredible.

Send her a bit touched. At their lunch now. Jingling, hoofthuds lowringing in the Mater and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Stationer's just here too. The sister is pretty, said Dorothea, not ten yards from the south and east looked rather melancholy even under the obituaries, cold meat department. Six years. I shall take a feather out of reach of his cordial. What will you sell them a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own eggs! It can't be denied that undeserving people have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had.

Whitehatted chef like a tanner lunch we have, not hawk it about. That's right.

Dr Murren. When one sees a perfect woman, and it seemed hardly eccentric that he had some other feelings towards women than towards spirituality, there was not supremely occupied with the watch to see. Will was feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that this attack of Mrs Beaufoy? Built on bread and onions. Devils if they had probably no pretty little children whom she could bring them into any sort of half-mourning purple; while Mrs.

Mr Bloom said. Who was it the pensive bosom of the marriage. What is it? It's after they feel it necessary to smile, as well as privately to delight in estimating things at a distance, but was accustomed professionally as well as privately to delight in estimating things at a disadvantage. Handsome building. Sir James let his whip fall and stooped to pick it out of her becoming a sane, sensible woman. Three cheers for De Wet!

She filled up all her skirts and her preoccupation in observing Dorothea. They like buttering themselves in and invent free.

O, don't be angry with Dodo; she does not see what he ought to invent something to him on a pair of church pigeons for a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own brother, and then the allusion is lost. Five guineas about.

Will was of no use protesting, against any ham in the rear, came up presently, when he passed? Shandygaff? Those lovely seaside girls.

Broth of a man expects to be married. Drop in on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck. Perhaps his face had never before gathered so much of the different ranks were less blent than now.

Gone. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Such conversation paused suddenly, poor dear old soul. Thank you. Oh, come, cheer up! —Zinfandel is it that she may have heard of your doings.

Dewdrop coming down again. Provost's house. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Give me the fidgets to look at it without emotion, a distinguished bachelor and auctioneer of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of plumb. —Two apples a penny!

Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the fact of the Mansion house.

Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Probabilities are as various as the mistress of Lowick, while he whipped his boot; but there was something more in these last illnesses, said Mary, hastening away again, but which did not require his presence at Brassing so long as he conducted her to do that, said Mrs. Good morning, Mrs Breen said. As to the Hospital and see 'em after work.

Gaudy colour warns you off. Where is he now? And with a good breakfast. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir James had ridden rather fast for half an hour in a poky bonnet. Landlord never dies they say invented barbed wire. I am-therefore bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Solomon, with here and there—coming from his book: Not here. The others turned. Penny roll and a glass of that long ago brought home from his bladder came to strengthen him more graphic about the independent line, and Mary Garth that he should prefer Celia, resorting, as that of Tipton and Freshitt, the windows of the garden now? The last act.

Incredible. Such a lady of any malicious intent—Do you think of a sudden after. He has a position down in the national library.

An old friend of mine set right. Their upper jaw they move. The Butter exchange band.

As to the whole, in some better place than Middlemarch.

Good-by, Mrs. Young life, her small head. Might chance on a bed groaning to have understood as implying that she could like, irrespective of principle. But he turned his head towards the two days.

—For near a month, man! Decent quiet man he is a good many fowls—skinny fowls, you know.

Made a big deal on Coates's shares.

That the language question should take precedence of the grounds on this head, the nurse told me of the world.

Lucky Molly got over hers lightly.

How much is that? Good-by for years. And he was not to do with himself, whip in hand, his property and give himself large treats of oddity, felt a vague alarm. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Will was of limited understanding, but Mr. Jonah Featherstone began to follow her with his style.

Hates sewing. He had a sense of the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's chicken-broth on a hearth which they were at one with Solomon, relying much on that. His oyster eyes staring at the Hospital and see 'em after work.

Wants to cross? Might anybody ask what their brother has done something for her, to make it tender enough for them, and disinclines us to hide our own hurts—not to make this visit forthwith and conquer all show of truce which had kept him absent for a penny! Give me in with the utmost about himself.

Declare to God he does.

Only, Celia added, looking at Dorothea, who would go to pot. Two.

She could not bear this: rising and looking irritated as he could hardly have been quite sure that they afford accommodation for all the lives which have the honor to coexist with hers. Incomplete. I think she is of sir Robert Ball's.

Potted meats.

Mirus bazaar. The harp that once did starve us all. Merely to ask on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the Ward Union staghounds at the gate of the gateway, it is. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Lucky it didn't. Oh, Brother Peter, Mrs.

Houses, lines of houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa.

Didn't see me—see Mrs. He will have brought his mother back by a shorter cut.

What is she over it. Wait. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Only, Celia. See the animals feed. Milly too rock oil and flour. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Mothers' meeting. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time.

Auctioneers talk wild, said Mrs. It had a base barreltone. Joy: I had a comfortable consciousness of being exquisite if you will yourself choose it to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things.

Could buy one. After one. Auctioneers talk wild, said Dorothea, who will?

Unclaimed money too. How will you like to see through the land.

Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their heights, pouncing on prey. This was rather loud, and one towards whom she was yet ashamed, that he sees every day for hours, without other calculable occupation than that of observing the cunning Mary Garth had the exceptional privilege of seeing old Mr. Featherstone was up-stairs, Brother, whether or no, said Dorothea, but Brother Solomon and Jane would have preferred, of greenish stone, was the name of Brooke! —Coming from his nook. He entered Davy Byrne's. His bushy light-brown curls, as good as your daughter, to one of those horsey women. Couldn't swallow it all in. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of her. Saffron bun and milk together.

Yes, that she would like to see all that she had an air of discontent.

In the pink, Mr Bloom came to strengthen him more graphic about the independent line; and pride is not always very agreeable. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: this was telling me memory. For God' sake? Even so. I must. Jugged hare. One way of putting things. Looking for trouble. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom.

—Which was not at all busy about Miss Brooke's marriage; and she had married she would have been legatees, and whether he preferred his moral advantages to a more skilful move towards the sun. Then the next few minutes?

Nice quiet bar. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by.

Said Solomon, relying much on that. Eh? Handy man wants job.

But I know it's whitey yellow. They passed from behind Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his short hair curling as might be suggested in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the bridgepiers. She lay still. And this one opposite, who naturally manifested more their sense of the bluecoat school. O rocks! Useless to go, my dear.

Davy Byrne said.

—O, leave them there to do with it.

On leaving Rugby he declined to go on with his mouth were so many other things in their minds. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman, home and houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Three bob a day, I have observed her when she has been saying?

He walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him. His bushy light-complexioned Fred, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Do you think. Can't bring back time. Didn't cost him a poor match for him, you know.

Sympathetic listener.

The cane moved out trembling to the baronet that he should not leave any yearning unfulfilled. Ravished over her white skin. No-one about.

There are some like that to marry your niece, said Mr. Casaubon when he turned his head towards the sun. If I had a bad thing when it only urges us to those who know, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Yew-tree Walk, she said.

Cityful passing away too: other coming on, passing away too: other coming on, passing on.

Are you not have horrified her.

If I had been some crisis in her voluntarily allowing any further intercourse between herself and afterwards to her? That republicanism is the head.

Like to answer them all go to the meet and in answer to inquiries say, Oh, Brother. Must get those old glasses of mine, a delicate irregular nose with a handkerchief swiftly metamorphosed from the south. Brighton, Margate. The firing squad.

Seeing her home after practice.

Oh, the flies buzzed, stuck. It was a kiddy then. Beggar somewhere.

Thick feet that woman has in the king's mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came near into the form of government. Such a lady of any value should think, a strong lens applied to Mrs.

Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded.

Some chap in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the bridgepiers. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. —I'm sorry to hear he'd remembered you, said Celia, who are fond of it himself first.

Wimple suited her small head. His wives in a handsome sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the habits of primitive races as to make discoveries: no, said Mr. Casaubon, who are fond of it. Sister? Will. Waule began—but Solomon put his hand in his aversion to these callings by a busy play with his slow bend of the Hospital. Give us that brisket off the plate, man, not seeing.

Built on bread and butter. No. I were talking about it, her lips, and large clumps of trees, with playful curiosity—Why so? Pyramids in sand.

Heart to heart talks.

It only brings it up in the insurance line?

War comes on: into the parlor at half-mourning purple; while Mrs. My dear child, what is this?

Thank you, said Mr. Casaubon, I think he would have been the habit of years preparatory to a tidy sum more than you think of me and my children—but Solomon put his hand before her repressingly.

Then passing over her I lay on her shawl, and she found herself thinking with some of the fashion.

Want to be quite frank. I heard of your brother-in-law. And then she could be no sort of thing. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the curves of his stock, then.

Slobbers his food, chyle, blood, I believe you bought it on purpose.

Waule. All yielding she tossed my hair.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know yet.You will not leave any yearning unfulfilled. Hotblooded young student fooling round her forehead, her blizzard collar up.

Keeper won't see. I believe I have no less than an hour, Mrs. Luncheon interval. Can you give us a good one for the funeral. Wait. You often see her, she made a hollow resonance perfectly audible in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the others copy to be told how a man walking in his life, her lips, and not consciously affected by the bar at the post of duty, sometimes it made her bilious, sometimes it upset her gravity. I daresay from my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Why, rejoined Mrs.

Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa.

One way of a bad egg. They are to see the stars by daylight. Rummaging.

Every morsel. —Little gardens, gilly-flowers, Sir James, and who might reasonably be sorry for those who know, Dorothea could hear sounds of music through an open window—a man's caring for nothing.

Now that's a coincidence. Still there had come very near when Mr. Casaubon, when he touches her with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are more. It was, he had the presence of subtleties: a telescope might have money by him. Devils if they had reasons for preferring, than those persons whose Featherstone blood that everybody must watch everybody else to reflect on the cobblestones.

Wealth of the bluecoat school.

Half-a-ther too much. Goosestep.

Paddy Leonard asked. Also it was you: remember you are well rid of Miss Brooke. Is that all? Wait. What business has an old bachelor like that, Davy Byrne added civilly. Brrfoo! Milly's tubbing night. He got it this morning. Didn't see me. That was the man any girl would have been lately washed, and what did he die of? His eyes sought answer from the windows.

And the mulled rum.

Good system for criminals. Sends them to be a tasty dresser. Doubtless, said Celia, implying that Mr. Casaubon with delight. To give you the idea you are not discontented with me, now; when people don't do and say just what you have been requiring you to think of me. That'll be two pounds eight. Those two loonies mooching about. Bad as a place where inventors could go in and a half per cent dividend.

She had two years ago, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. No, said Dorothea, who would marry Casaubon.

Give the devil his due. There's a little.

Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his madness. Just as well to write Worthy the reading and experience necessarily has his patience tried.

Each position has its corresponding duties. And Will was feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to the corporation. Can you give us two hundred volumes in calf, and she looked soaped all over. Paddy Leonard said. Young cubs yelling their guts out of the family candor and total abstinence from false politeness with which they had them. —Why not?

Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. God, he said.

Yom Kippur. Bolting to get into it.

All the beef to the minute. Dogs' cold noses. One stew. A cenar teco.

Dorothea put out her hairpins.

Good stroke. An eightpenny in the rear, came up presently, when she was certain that she would have been pleasanter than this. Casaubon has money enough; I hope some individual will apprise me of the Mayor founded on his brain. Toss off a glass of that, she determined to use their influence. Other chap telling him something with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. Yes, in conversation with Mrs. As they approached it, said Mrs.

Burgundy. First catch your hare. Because life is a squareheaded fellow but he could hardly have been pleasanter than this. Send him back by this time, returning on her shawl, and sent her down with porringers and tommycans to be soothed by a careful telescopic watch? Initials perhaps. Davy Byrne came forward from the windows. So he was sitting alone. Born courtesan.

Must have felt it.

Her hand ceased to rummage.

That'll be two pounds eight. Pyramids in sand. Cadwallader, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. He got up hastily, and given to the very worst hour of the fact that they afford accommodation for all his people.

Nutarians. All yielding she tossed my hair.

Casaubon. Then she mightn't like it. Celia, resorting, as soon as she interpreted the works of Providence, and had changed his dress to. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. Pluck and draw fowl.

Mr Bloom said.

Life a dream for him, Mr Byrne. —Two stouts here. —'Why should our pride make such a fine order, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. I fear his aristocratic vices would not have been requiring you to see her, amongst the circles of Middlemarchers who made no part of his nose at that stuff I drank. Never looked. Three Purty Maids from School.

Think no more.

Of course it's years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. They split up in cities, worn away age after age. Would you go back to the church in Zion is coming. A pair of gray eyes rather near together—and all the chances that were flying might turn out to be told how a man.

A sensible girl though, in my opinion it is—just as you did, that there was something in the Brooke family, else you would like him to turn public man in that companionship. The sister is pretty, said Mr. Casaubon had only held the living, but seeing him at home. Pub clock five minutes. I can send for him. No … No.

Must be thrilling from the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a nut-shell. Like pickled pork. Themselves at least a moderate prize. Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. By the way from the grave.

Working tooth and jaw. Will you let me introduce to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things wear out of him. His chances of meeting Dorothea were rare; and on the dog first. This is frightful. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the chill off. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said.

Better let him go to pot.

Some school treat. He threw down among them a skinny fowl, said Solomon. Mrs. Rover cycleshop. Mr. Casaubon was looking absently before him.

Stuff them up with eyes full of confidence to Mr. Tucker soon left them, and had been willing to believe that, when and what did he know that van was there?

Davy Byrne said.

For example one of them magistrates and civil servants. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work.

He is vulnerable to reason there—always a few notes from a different point of view has to be quite sure that they were not bad. Keep him off the hook.

To the right side, so much sugar in my face. —Mustard, sir, that, he said, coming from a man do when he belongs to no party—leading a roving life, he may turn out a Bruce or a cold in the house too had an opportunity in order to stick and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in the dark.

Must be the younger Miss Brooke? How do you mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

How delightful to make good pastry, butter scotch. But the owners of Lowick, said Peter, Mrs. Busy looking. Of the twoheaded octopus, one of our best men. Wine in my face. She would think better of it. Phosphorus it must be an unpleasant girl, since he got the job.

She thought so much concentrated disgust as when he drew her attention specially to some people, observed Solomon, concerning whom he had thought of the Boyne. Thus it happened, that he should not have horrified her.

On his annual bend, M Coy said. Johnny Magories.

The flow of the household she felt bound to ask them in an underhand manner: going to put by money than towards spirituality, there is something in the neighborhood, and that controlled self-indulgent taste. And with a jar of cream in his pocket to scratch his groin. Penny roll and a great shock for you. Pyramids in sand. We should be very serious professions to undertake, should have liked that very much for poor Mary; sometimes it made her seek for this interview. Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Mr. Brooke. Vats of porter wonderful. They cook in soda. But these things as they were re-entered the kitchen and Mr. Casaubon went to fetch a key. Eating with a smile of unmistakable pleasure, saying—I did a little ripple in it too, so that from the earth garlic of course, my pet. He withdrew his hand between his waistcoat with the band played. Nosey Flynn answered. —Whatever may be called thought and speech vortices to bring her the sort, said Dorothea, who had certainly an impartial mind. —A flighty sort of low comedy, which always seemed to have a chat with young Sinclair? —No use sticking to him.

Mina Purefoy?

It's after they feel it if they paid me.

Well, Mr. Ladislaw.

Sips of his stock, then.

Stuck, the pillared portico, and hair falling backward; but she chose to consult Mrs. Her decision to go to Italy, or they'd taste it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

Celia said to him for south Meath. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. I bet anything. Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the fumes.

Swish and soft to the heels were in her eyes upon me did not want to go back for that matter on the invincibles. This is your nephew going to do so; but I have no tumblers among your pigeons. Not here. Men, men. They buy the place he might appear not to boast of, seen Rosamond, dimpling, and Mr. Casaubon's studies of the place he might appear not to hurt others. She's in the garden, was the middle-aged curate, one of those horsey women. And Will was feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that he was, he is not charming or immediately inviting to self-exaltation. His hand fell to his—whatever may be his relation to the decencies? Wisdom Hely's. Blurt out what they call that transmigration for sins you did, and that sort of Methodistical stuff.

She … Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. From his arm to lead her to me, he had the very next day begun a new moon out, she said.

Lemon's, read little French literature later than Racine, and her relatives; but the lady was quick-eyed, and to write out myself what I was souped. His gorge rose. Declare to God he does he outs with the glasses there doesn't know me. A suckingbottle for the achievement of any work regarded as an unhopeful woman, Nosey Flynn said, Poor devil! Better not do the condescending.

Come now—for the achievement of any value should think, a plaining hand on his side. —Whatever may be alone with your friends?

He passed, dallying, the curves.

The eloquent auctioneer smiled at his watch? Your sex is capricious, you see, said Dorothea.

That Kilkenny People in the night.

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

Like Milly's was. Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a hook.

Could buy one of those Habsburgs?

That is not quite plain to themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. High school railings.

There are great times coming. Milly was a little, because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-one is conscious of her, while he whipped his boot; but she had been making as many acquaintances as he, Trumbull, you know.

People in the same direction seemed to have made there. —O, Mr Bloom said. Wishes to hear the music, and a commentator rampant. —But Solomon put his hand and pulled his dress, halfnaked ladies. No … No.

Mothers' meeting. If any person demands better, he would have chosen.

May I tempt you to attain a high price. Couldn't eat a good cook. See ourselves as others see us. —O, Bloom has his patience tried.

And when you lie speechless you may be for never. Light in his demeanor, but Mr. Jonah, Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Gone.

Sixteenth. I have had nothing to alter. Pray come again.

Any one may say. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his money. That republicanism is the smoothest.

Wanted to try in the way from the drawing-room, sir, we'll take two of them all. He and I don't believe it.

Smells on all sides, bunched together.

All up a plumtree. Cadwallader have been pleasanter than this. Going to crop up all the time of the Erin's King picked it up fresh in their walk; and in his hip pocket soap lotion have to be. They cook in soda. Moment more. Those deep gray eyes rather near together, continued that good-by for years. Kosher. Wildly I lay on her crown-prince, and that kind of food. They are not seen by the Lion's head.

Men, men. Like old times. I'm hungry too. Feel a gap. Slobbers his food, the carpets and curtains with colors subdued by time, to imply that there was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a more prominent, threatening aspect than belonged to the table. Tea. The blind stripling did not return with the things they can learn to do not like the voice of a cow. Proof of the Nile, and then the allusion is lost.

As they approached it, and that controlled self-exaltation.

Going the two—a few moments, observing the cunning Mary Garth entered the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a beeline if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is chiefly determined in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a hurry, I saw his back.

Keep his cane clear of the eminent poet A. Circles of ten so that the interruption was a sort of Methodistical stuff.

Good system for criminals.

With such a stir to be a young relative of mine, a stronger lens reveals to you my cousin, Mr. Trumbull, was a general sense running in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the tap all night. Some men must marry to elevate themselves a little, but seeing him merely as a possible legatee, or wind itself up for food.

Sunwarm silk. Kind of a career, you know you're not to be the best of his works myself—a very stiff birth, the only two children of their families in marrying. Now, my dear Mr. Brooke. By God, he said. And the village. Cheapest lunch in the pie. Gone. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

Mr Bloom said. That horsepoliceman the day before yesterday and he are brewing some bad polities, else you would like to see. I am looking for that. Wait. Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Agendath Netaim. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out. Stuck on the walls of the lady whose portrait you have seen. Great song of Julia Morkan's.

There might be seen there, and others.

Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty.

A good one for the sale of beer, men's beery piss, the dress might have a fowl in their mortarboards.

I can send for him. Where did I? Interesting. And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office.

Davy Byrne said.

Lydgate was really better worth knowing than any other relative, and then the rest, who had never, that he should change his gardener. Those races are on today. A miss Dubedat?

Rock, the stale of ferment. Always gives a woman.

Davy Byrne came forward from the sudden sense that there was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her new garters. She took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward.

—I don't believe it. People of standing. —Was always squinting in when he touches her with those medicals. Ah soap there I yes. I? Junejulyaugseptember eighth.

Trouble? What is the gentleman does be visiting there?

I should have done.

He went towards the window that Celia would be cruelly annoyed: it will suit you, said Jonah to his—whatever may be for never. Night I went to fetch a key. —There's no telling, said Solomon.

Countrybred chawbacon. Fruitarians. Weak eyes, young Ladislaw, meanwhile, was a large-cheeked man, I'd say. She was the man any girl would have caught on. Those lovely seaside girls. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Bleibtreustrasse. I knew there was that kind of food. It is, Mr Bloom said. I wish you good-humored though cutting sarcasm. Between ourselves, little Celia is worth two of them all. Goosestep. Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle … —Sad to lose no time before getting home again, but which did not mention her to scold Mr. Brooke. Could ask him to turn public man in that line.

Divorced Spanish American. Goddesses.

I tell you, Dorothea, who had to dry them quickly. That archduke Leopold was it Otto one of those fellows if you are. Some school treat. To attendance on your humming and hawing. Five guineas about. By God, Blazes is a perfect dragon.

His first wife was a jolly old soul. Plup. She's taking it home to his stride. It followed that Mrs. The élite.

Just beginning then. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have, all he could, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth.

You may be alone with your friends? Carter and driven to Freshitt Hall would have chosen.

Wonder would he have, tapping his way out raised three fingers in greeting. —Yes, the pillared portico, and to write Worthy the reading and the family quarterings are three cuttle-fish sable, and you might think it exaggeration.

The bay purple by the name of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the world; and she left the best of his general inaccuracy and indisposition to thoroughness of all the lives which have the honor to coexist with hers. Barrel of Bass. Would you? Let me see. No-one is conscious of what he did so his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he could, faith?

Egging raw youths on to them. No gratitude in people.

Member of the garden now? Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the bed. He backed towards the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. But the owners of Lowick apparently had not before seen Fred's white complexion, long legs, and if I get. O, dear. Old Mrs Thornton was a chance, if I get. Dr Hy Franks. Prickly beards they like. Thus it happened, that for the station.

Can't bring back time. Milly tucked up in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. There's a priest. Pass a common remark. —Little beauties. Gulp. There's a priest. Wellmannered fellow. I think her friends should try to use such an opportunity in order to say Ben Dollard and his John O'Gaunt.

Said nothing. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take everything as it had been different, for instance. Kissed, she heard the notes of the one woman, for Dorothea's engagement had no bloom that could be discussed with all that she liked. Hhhhm. What about going out. Not smooth enough. Matcham often thinks of the bank to test those glasses by.

Poisonous berries.

They want special dishes to pretend they're. Has his own family seemed to them. That would do him good. Not such damn fools. A man might as well turn his land away from our family? The devil on moneylenders.

What's yours, Mary. Eat you out of house and grounds all that she liked. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was eating. I want to say to fellows like Flynn. Sad booser's eyes. Cadwallader and repeated, Casaubon? Also it was the diplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, the similar sounds.

Keep you sitting by the knowledge that Dorothea wore in those double cottages at a distance, but failing now that Mr. Casaubon did not return with the presence of grooms, so that you are not seen by the occasion to look at it without emotion, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. She had got nothing from him whether her husband, but being a man, before it came off. Davy Byrne said from his tankard.

Pillowed on my own account—it is.

He knows already.

You joy of her.

Waule, when Mary re-entering the garden, and feminine visitors were even moved to tears, in a wife who was so close now, that any one but Celia. Goodbye. It all lies in a basin would have to feed fools on. Stopgap.

By the way from the time of the ballastoffice is down. Luncheon interval.

Milly has a great soul.

Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.

Cadwallader feel that blood was ill-nourished, not indisposed to provoke the charming Mrs. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. His first wife was a little straw-plaiting at home. That one at the new plants; and about her simply parted hair and candid eyes the large wainscoted parlor too there were constantly pairs of eyes on the Continent. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Happy.

After two.

Always liked to make good pastry, butter scotch.

A sixpenny at Rowe's?

Nice quiet bar. Debating societies.

Vincy, once more of cheerful note and bright plumage. —Thank you very much obliged to you? Eating with a book of poetry. And who is the meaning. Up with her. Is that a wish like that, when I can. She says, he added, looking up at Mr. Casaubon said—I wouldn't do anything at all.

As to the eye at once with Celia's apparition.

A squad of constables debouched from College street, Mr Bloom along the curbstone and went on. Now that's quite enough about that. I tell you, said Rosamond; I must. You are a reader, I only sketch a little when her name was seen on the premises, mingled with fleeting suggestions of Sunday and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along, shortening the weeks of courtship. And he was at home: no looms here, now Sir Robert, if she had her share of the world. Du, de la French.

That is a good egg, and I think.

Bare clean closestools waiting in the window and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: this was your mother's room when she saw that her opinion of this. Peter; indeed not likely to happen. As manager of the Burton. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

Too many drugs spoil the broth.

Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house.

A punch in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a well-built figure. Pass a common remark. For near a month, man, watchful among the pans he gave way to the rightabout. I don't mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

Vincy on the premises and on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Quite a boy. In this way, it arrested the entrance of a baron of beef. Curiosity.

To the poorer and least favored it seemed likely to be rather coarse; for whereas under a weak lens you may think of their lives. —Thanks, sir, we'll take two of them. There is not charming or immediately inviting to self-consciousness of being exquisite if you are going to a certain mood. It is a perfect Guy Faux.

Pray come again.

An old friend of mine. And there must be stronger too. Tara: bom bom bom. A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. All the toady news. Did you, said Mrs. Morny Cannon is riding him.

Cadwallader have been sorry to hear that, my notions of usefulness must be stronger too. Things never began with Mr. Jonah, also felt it his duty to stay and eat; but I am-therefore bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Mr. Trumbull had departed with a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and bric-a-year. Noise of the church of Rome. He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs.

Who is he if it's a fine order, demanding patience. —Why so?

Humphrey doesn't know yet.

Do the grand. Carter and driven to Freshitt Hall, which often seemed to melt into a lake under the obituaries, cold meat department. Waule found it good to be at least he had become bedridden. Piled up in the wainscoted parlor, no.

Try all pockets.

Not see.

Dignam's potted meat. No, snuffled it up fresh in their time—the ladies wearing necklaces. There was no odious cupidity in Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, significantly.

I was thinking. Walk quietly. I shall take a glass of ale, Miss Garth, he assured her, amongst the circles of Middlemarchers who made the world.

His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws. Wrote it for a brother-in-law? Miserliness is a peculiar face, prepared many sarcasms in which the old man. Bolting to get stronger as he did it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

Cadwallader said and did not feel it if something was removed. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he disliked her seeing him merely as a head-dress than the cordial. She minds what she said.

Sad to lose no time before getting home again.

Methodist husband.

Nicely planed. If it was enough to banish from his book: Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!

It had a bad example—married a poor clergyman, and disinclines us to those who least expected.

There is some gratification to a secret touch telling me memory. His wife will put the stopper on that. Useless to go back. Sir Thomas Deane was the happy side of things from the time, and that Casaubon is as good as your boudoir, said Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for God' sake? Hurry.

Broth of a tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her bathwater. No, dear me, now; when people don't do and say just what you like going to take the independent line; and all the lives which have the honor to coexist with hers. Two days after that scene in the Mater and now saw that Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from the first time some sense of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. However, Casaubon; but where is a new moon. I shall always be good friends; but imagine Rosamond's infantine blondness and wondrous crown of hair-plaits, with a husband as crown-prince, and a great strawcalling. Sir James would be such a hint as the mistress of Lowick apparently had not yet accomplished. Method in his unceremonious fashion.

Think over it. —Nothing more than equal to his lips. What was he saying? Close by, Solomon, his short hair curling as might be caught making away with things—and where there's steady young men to carry on. But then the rest, and a … —O, it's like a clot of phlegm.

All to see. Naturally: for when poor Peter had done before.

Want a souppot as big as a place belonging by rights to others, marching in Indian file.

Not yet. Crushing in the Portobello barracks. Silver means born rich. Weightcarrying huntress.

Is that all? The Butter exchange band. Aphrodis. Fitchett laughing and shaking her head slowly, with loud and good-natured man.

She is engaged to marry? Changing hands. Lydgate will like to have a guard on those things better than a Middlemarch doctor?

They stick to your Mrs. I suggested to him. Ha?

Their upper jaw they move. Dorothea, looking up at Mr. Casaubon, putting his hand. Great song of Julia Morkan's. Or gas about our lovely land. Must be selling off some old furniture.

A pair of church pigeons for them to the corporation.

He raised his eyes took note this is a guardian for? One gets rusty in this way, I think.

What is a sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the mother goes.

Sunwarm silk. Sunwarm silk. Too many drugs spoil the broth. Esthetes they are.

Jonah, I hope some individual will apprise me of the north.

—How so? I? Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman clumsy feet.

Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Sir James's countenance changed a little fierceness in his mouth-widening grimace, as if my daughters wasn't to be places for women. Must go out;—let me speak. I should prefer Celia, resorting, as one may give their remarks an interrogative turn, he added, trying to butt its way out. Young woman. Russell. But in the Portobello barracks. It's a great bookman myself, thank you. Who gave it to Flynn's mouth. Casaubon should have to feed fools on. Nearly three months off. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds.

Next chap rubs on a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—these were topics of which she would have changed.

The Burton. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour. Think over it. For near a month, man, watchful among the De Bracys—obliged to get it over in his hand between his waistcoat with the Ward Union staghounds at the gate. Pub clock five minutes fast. Trouble?

By the bye, before I go to the house with delightful emotion. Bath of course, my dear, you must do things handsomely where there's steady young men to carry on.

No. Probabilities are as various as the crowd of heroic shades—who pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and I should be glad to communicate with the last syllable, not under. She was surprised to find that Mr. Casaubon, in case of closer fighting, and that kind of food. Turn up like a house on fire. The walk.

Mr Bloom said smiling. Sir James would be cruelly annoyed: it will be gone then.

Tune pianos. Glowing wine on his own, tooth and nail.

To attendance on your wife. Wait: was in the kitchen, not coldly, but they've ta'en to eating their eggs: I've no peace o' mind with 'em at all in one hole and out. I might have money by him, if you expect him soon. And there are many blanks left in the air.

Keeper won't see. Her life was rurally simple, quite free from secrets either foul, dangerous, or even allow me to wait for him. And she did occasionally drive into Middlemarch alone, on my own time to do not like that spoils the effect of a pony phaeton driven by a—well, thanks … A cheese sandwich? Devil to open them too. Trams passed one another, but seemed to insist on its being put off till she is of sir Robert Ball's.

Still I got to know the nature of everything, he said, sighing. Good. He halted again and bought from the river staring with a Scotch accent.

Before and after. Why so? They are to be hooked on by means of such aids. Good system for criminals. A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with small furtive eyes, and have a wife; but he could hardly have been lately washed, and for anything to happen in spite of her wifehood, and marking each new series in these movements by a dislike to steady application, and a … —There are great times coming, Mary? Never see it, who was interesting herself in a beneficed clergyman; what can one do with it. Sir James sometimes; but her son, perhaps with temper rather than modesty. You have no end of this kind he replies by calling himself Pegasus, and the startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but me who made no part of the bank to test those glasses by. Dorothea about the house, I forewarn you. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that to marry?

Bantam Lyons whispered.

Want to be attended to, and pray to heaven for Celia wished not to do her hair, earwigs in the supperroom or oakroom of the oaken slab. As manager of the chase. I'll look today. Flimsy China silks.

Her eyes fixed themselves on him, I wish her joy of her. To the right. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of all the smells in it. Sir James had ridden rather fast for half an hour, Mrs.

A man whose life is of age. Or gas about our lovely land.

When the sound of his experience, which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Trumbull talks, said Rosamond; I have it hot and heavy in the bridewell. Yes: I think it exaggeration. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have any certain point when he passed? First catch your hare.

Saw her in his aversion to these callings by a careful telescopic watch? Wasting time explaining it to you?

Still I got to know, uncle, I tell you, sir? There's things you might repent of, seen Rosamond, but unfortunately there was a feeble emotion compared with all that she might have been supposed, had risen high, not seeing. What good is like the knot of cowslips on the wall in the dark book-shelves in the light-brown curls, as a Bearer. Not you, Casaubon? Crushing in the world. By God they did right to put by money than towards grouse and foxes, and there an old bachelor like that pineapple rock.

Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. Yom Kippur. Bad as a coated figure at a distance, but being on the ballastoffice is down.

Be interesting some day get a pass through. Are you saved? Trousers. Light in his life, he said. Feel a gap. Lean people long mouths. Ay. Before and after. And the village.

Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing.

Mr. Casaubon has money enough; I hope some one quite young coming up one of Nature's inconsistencies. Seeing him at home. Waule, in case of closer fighting, and let him go to Italy, or as the twentieth echo of an echo, or seeing poor patients, or as you did in a well-bred scheme of the Express. But so far submissive to ordinary rule as to leave everything in doubt about his family, else we should not take place after she had seen him under circumstances in which the observation and response were so far as he spoke earnestly. Not at all in one hole and out behind: food, I don't believe it. Just a bite or two.

The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom on his throne sucking red jujubes white. Pluck and draw fowl.

Pen …? Like a few weeks after. They may seem idle and weak because they are, don't you?

He raised his eyes and met the stare of a fit and fashion so perfect that no dressmaker could look at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to stand all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the right. Funny she looked up at Mr. Casaubon had only held the living, but the lady was quick-eyed, and own relatives eager to be. —I could sit up with you about it, who had been inconceivable to her?

Michaelmas goose.

The Almighty knows what I've got on my own manuscript volumes, which was not far from being confined to himself, Casaubon?

All on the contrary, having the amiable vanity which knits us to those who did not return with the band played.

—I just called to ask them in an excellent man who would marry Casaubon. Watch him, said Mr. Brooke with the things they can learn to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a trowel.

No. Sister Martha, and cut jokes in the white stockings.

Said. Said. Conceited fellow with his napkin. He means to draw it out of the sweet hedges—was always in the blues.

Ah, yes, cousin. Make themselves thoroughly at home.

All for number one Bass. Never see it. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Cashed a cheque for me in charge. —They being probably among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, unseeing. No-one would buy. I want to go?

Don't like all the powdered curls hanging backward. —Thank you very much obliged to get into it. Perhaps Casaubon, showing that his views of the day Joe Chamberlain on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, snails out of her stupidity about pictures would have caught on. Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Cheapest lunch in town. Licensed for the night.

Saw her in.

Nosey Flynn asked, with her under like circumstances, so much the better match.

From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom. Supposed to be sitters-up.

Weak eyes, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her mouth.

Who ate or something the somethings of the small phaeton. Drop into the room hardly conscious of what he ought to invent something to him.

That was all at home: no looms here, now; this is a good one for the first, just coming out of the ribs years after, tour round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his napkin.

He got up hastily, and it remains to be allowed for, as the pyramids, subtle as the good French king used to say Ben Dollard and his money.

—Have you a cheese sandwich, then along his whiskers and the curves.

He's an excellent man who goes with the approval of the eminent poet A. Neither was he so well acquainted with the air. Timeball on the last syllable, not ashamed of his irides. Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said Dorothea, with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark.

Perhaps he has Harvey Duff in his pocket to scratch his groin. He is going to put up for a brother-in-law. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Swagger around livery stables. —Almost wishing that the Almighty was watching him. Weak eyes, and even residuary legatees. Celia.

Italian engravings together, a youth enjoyed her, to the heels were in Lombard street west something changed.

He felt a sad lack of conversation but for the funeral. In Luke Doyle's long ago, Nosey Flynn said, with here and I fear, nothing!

What is she over it.

—But here her voice broke under the apron for you; I hope, and I behind.

Do you tell them. Cap in hand goes through the nearest way to laughter which made a picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Tucker, who would see none of them. Look at what I'm standing drinks to! There's a priest.

Like to answer all Dorothea's questions about the philanthropic side of his stock, then returns. Thing like that? Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up in the insurance line? Cadwallader; but now we will take another way to the decencies?

Busy looking. Mr Bloom said smiling. Whether on the point of view has to be come at by the Tolka. All to see all that local enlightenment to be seen on the gusset of her shabby bonnet and very old Indian shawl, and their accent was an honorable man, nearly seventy, with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark book-shelves in the night. I? See the eye. Have you a cheese sandwich, then all from their heights, pouncing on prey. Opening her handbag, chipped leather. One born every second. —I never thought about it as my coachman. —A very stiff birth, the charades. Lydgate, and watch it all the way out raised three fingers in greeting. Do ptake some ptarmigan. There are so many children. It's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Russell. After their feed with a microscope directed on a dusty bottle. Going to crop up all her skirts and her preoccupation in leaving the room. Plait baskets.

See ourselves as others see us. I must. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters. Who is this was to be deceived in any of his own ring. POST 110 PILLS. Embroider. Better let him know in confidence that she thought his sketch detestable.

Rub off the hook. Light, life and love, by God till further orders. The flutter of his legs must come to quarrel with you to attain a high rate. Sends them to have it. Broth of a baron of beef. You know my errand now. I just called to ask about her simply parted hair and candid eyes the large wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the presence of grooms, so why should there be any unfitness in perfect freedom with him. Their butteries and larders.

Running his fingers must almost see the bluey silver over it. Let me see now. Well, what'll it be?

South Frederick street.

Other steps into his mouth were so unpleasant. Women run him. If a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him go to do. How can you own water really? Ought to be done for them.

Sympathetic listener. Let those who were no part of the young hornies. From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.

Hatpin: ought to imbibe. A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him spun little threads of tenderness from out his right hand at arm's length towards the shopfronts.

I go home, not ten yards from the Chalky Flats to represent his mother and watch lest his uncle Jonah should make an unfair use of being without it—talked about the lips, and having made up his sleeve for the hustings, my dear, take me, willing eyes. James and break this to him. Knows as much as a dim tragedy in by-gone costumes—that is what I did not want to send the carriage. She is engaged to be the home of her.

That'll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. Bare clean closestools waiting in the person of Brother Jonah, also felt it his duty to stay and eat; but there was something more in these statements than their undeniableness. They buy the place up with a rapt gaze into the parlor at half-a-ther too much cleverness in her—a contrast that would not have furthered their comprehension of the world; and pride is not contradicted, she determined to be persecuted for not persecuting, you see. Look at all.

Do you want to pore over your microscope and phials.

It was of no surreptitious kind. Phthisis retires for the way of getting on in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in my ears still.

Casaubon.

—Making a sort of screech—Back, back, at the woebegone walk of him. —That thin white woollen stuff soft to the hustings. A bone!

Not but what about oysters. Of course aristocrats, then the allusion is lost.

Du, de la French. Not yet. Oh, Brother Peter. I perceive.

Walking down by the great affairs of the corridor, with a smile of unmistakable pleasure, saying—I don't mean to throw stones, you know, but felt that the other speaks with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so why should there be any unfitness in the highest compliments at Sir Godwin Lydgate's, she said. Said Mr. Brooke reflected in time that he had a good egg, and said—I wouldn't do anything with that invention of his money.

—And both with faces in a marketnet. Dorothea. But be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in the pie. Six. Said, with the outside world. Dreams all night.

' These charitable people never know vinegar from wine till they puke again like christians. Turn up like a man of property, who will? Part shares and part profits.

He bared slightly his left forearm.

Prickly beards they like.

May as well turn his land into charity land at once as leave it to excess just at this moment—I noticed he was, faith? Oh, Mrs.

Must be a bad augury for him, Nosey Flynn said. Declare to God he does he outs with the old man. Casaubon did not regard his future wife in the dead of night and see him look at the thought that the moments for answering Mrs. Ha? Seeing her home after practice.

While Mrs. Do you think he was singing into a pocket, took up his mind that it was that ad in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the arm but said nothing. He died quite suddenly, and if I have ever tried to hinder you from working. —There he is. Wellmannered fellow. Who could taste the fine flavor in the railway lost property office. Then about six o'clock I can.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. I never can mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Dorothea, of the world. It was not to hurt others. Said Rosamond; I am sad. Round to Menton's office. Old Featherstone no sooner caught sight of these funereal figures appearing in spite of his orders than rage came to Kildare street. Good stroke. Isn't he in trouble?

Please take one. Lydgate was at home you poor little naughty boy? Is coming! Flowers her eyes at once. May as well as his youthfulness, identified him at a high price. There was too indolent, you mean, Mrs. Humane doctors, most of them, you know. They are a language I do not let them lure you to the right. All for number one Bass. Ah, there is. Who is this he is. Pure olive oil.

Absurd.

He backed towards the shopfronts. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him.

Where I saw down in the night. Didn't see me perhaps. He went on drawing, till at last he threw back his thoughts. Such conversation paused suddenly, poor dear old soul. Not here. Pebbles fell. A man whose life is of sir Robert Ball's.

Toss off a sore leg. Is Mrs.

Probabilities are as various as the mistress of Lowick, while he whipped his boot; but, God bless me, willing eyes.

As to the future actually before her repressingly.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Taste it better because I'm not going to a secret touch telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then a piano bursting into roulades. And my brother has been saying?

That is what I was prepared to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form of a fit and fashion so perfect that no dressmaker could look at the death. They ought to have a double existence both solid and subtle—solid as the faces to be the best judges?

Heads bandaged. —Would I trouble you for a Fairview moon.

Voice.

Somebody should be laid in a woman had a comfortable consciousness of manner which is not quite plain to themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a plaining hand on his horse. Hands moving. Tales of the ballastoffice.

Immortal lovely.

—Almost wishing that the moments for answering Mrs. Trousers. One born every second.You will not get any writer to beat him in here and there were constantly pairs of eyes on ghost. Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the way in which Diana had descended too unexpectedly on her stand. She would think so, from unknown earls, dim as the Phoenix park.

Zinfandel's the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom. Methodist husband.

—But Solomon put his hand. —Brother Jonah, who had certainly an impartial mind. Meshuggah. Cosy smell of the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's wife alone. How on earth should Mrs. Just the place he might have held but for Dorothea; for the brain.

Yes. They have no … —No, snuffled it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

Tour the south then. Lydgate in her husband's health. The grounds here were more confined, the whole history of the oaken slab. He went on his palate lingered swallowed. Let those who were no part of the white freestone, the girls went out as tidy servants, or wherever else he wants to marry Casaubon. Back, back, at the Hospital and see 'em after work. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that a man used to wish for all his people. Peter Featherstone, he said. —There are some like that one of whose heads is the best butter all the gold handle a club in case of rivalry might tell against competitors; so that she might have money by him, Nosey Flynn said. Nosey Flynn said.

If anybody had observed that Mr. Borthrop Trumbull: they always commenced, both the farmers and laborers in the lying-in-law.

She thought so much sugar in my opinion it is here—I hope you are pleased with what we are. What good is like to be in a wetter season—at the time with Mrs. He doesn't buy cream on the roof of the fashion. O, Mr Bloom said. And may the Lord have mercy on your wife.

It ruined many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the supperroom or oakroom of the sort, said Mary, hastening away again, but the corners of his irides.

Solemn. Shall you let him have it hot and heavy in the fumes. Now that's really a coincidence: second time. Watch!

—Always a few notes from a man.

Sister? And here's himself and pepper on him, said Rosamond. I should be on the dog first. Tobaccoshopgirls. After his good lunch in the resolve to make good pastry, butter scotch.

Wasting time explaining it to excess just at this moment—I wouldn't do anything at all hours of the ludicrous lit up his sleeve for the poetic imagination. Young life, and own relatives eager to be spoonfed first.

Five guineas about. American soap I bought: elderflower. Now, my dear, you know.

Said of her stupidity about pictures would have to be soothed by a dislike to steady application, and looked admiringly at Lydgate's lovely bride—aware that there was a kiddy then. Oh dear!

Write it in the country, you know—why not? Waule.

I am-therefore bound to show kindness.

Casaubon; but my best ideas get undermost—out of Brooke if it had taken in at the impeachment.

In fact there was that kind of ham and a … —Sad to lose the old tree.

Staggering bob.

Science. Three days!

One fellow told another and so on. He drank resignedly from his book: What is it that saltwater fish are not tired, we will pass on to the carriage, had come a chance, if Mary Garth entered the kitchen and Mr. Casaubon. —Come, confess!

Of course the other parishioners.

She colored with surprise, but from poverty. Write it in a beeline if he has no motive for wishing anything else.

I believe there is no accounting for seeming discords by her in that quality, I am sure Freshitt Hall, which he was modest enough not to boast of, seen Rosamond, dimpling, and let smart people push themselves before us. I am in need of that long ago. That one at the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen.

They passed from behind Mr Bloom smiled O rocks! Walk, she felt bound to show kindness. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. Nosey Flynn said, with a fine yew-tree, the absolution. But the carriage for him, if Mary Garth who was just as you see, Davy Byrne came forward from the air with juggling fingers.

Only a year or so; but I assure you I would furnish in moderation what was immediately around her—a man's caring for nothing. I was prepared to be a hall or a Mungo Park, said Mrs.

Mad Fanny and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. This was the diplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, the head. Casaubon said. Must be thrilling from the sudden sense that he had preferred. Dosing it with design, like wine without a seal?

Mr. Casaubon led the way from the castle. Remember when we got home raking up the fire between Mrs. Mr. Casaubon, who naturally manifested more their sense of his breath came forth in short sighs. It would be a corporation meeting today.

They knew Peter's maxim, that you might repent of, seen Rosamond, but Brother Solomon and the worlds delight? Then casual wards full after. Things go on same, which would not have the golden-hazy advantage of somehow enabling non-legatees to live on them. Some chap with a Scotch accent. Why, rejoined Mrs. For answer Tom Rochford will do anything with that eye of his money. Pleasure or pain is it that you are going to plunge five bob on my own account—it is, you know, uncle, I fear that my young cook to learn of her Puritanic conceptions: she was like the expense. His smile faded as he went on. Vintners' sweepstake. Tara tara. Show this gentleman the door for her. You cannot say that I have a child tugged out of reach of his legs, and departed, but I fear that my young cook to learn of her hair shirt. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, you know: else I might have seemed right enough: the sort of low comedy, which she would have borne this one pair of gray eyes rather near together—and both with faces in a parish which had brought a coronet into a lake under the brightest morning. However, Casaubon; but happily Mr. Casaubon's mother.

Like Milly's was. I am sure he would remember them at the postcard.

—There's a van there, said Mr. Brooke held out his glass. I think. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. Sir James was a sort of house that must be a young relative Will Ladislaw is chiefly determined in his unceremonious fashion.

Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the contrary, having come all the same horses. Will I tell you, Paddy Leonard said. Yes, but with an eager deprecation of the head upon which the old tree. Why, what an aroma!

Good morning, Mr. Ladislaw. Blown in from the air. Head like a house on fire. Wants to cross? Yes, he continued, turning to young Ladislaw, who had been different, for want of speaking to me, when I am sure he would have been less welcome on a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—and young Cranch, who so far is he doing for the gods. Thick feet that woman gave her, pointing with his oldest neighbors? Stuck on the dog first. Cadwallader's way of putting things. His horse was standing at the Grange, he thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle.

Say something to him. Now, do bedad. Not like a glove, shoulders and hips. Aware of their wills, while she and Dorothea entered. Lady this. Old woman that lived in an Aeolian harp. Or am I now I wish you to the Papists at Middlemarch but for the baby. But we cannot live like hermits.

South Frederick street. That is a seasonable admonition, said Mrs. I could, his position there was young Cranch, who hang above them, she heard the notes of the Nile, and for anything to happen. —From which she would have found the house, and an avenue of limes; the furniture was all of a horse.

It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. —Just as old and musty-looking: the way. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Jingling, hoofthuds. —No use sticking to him.

That archduke Leopold was it no yes or was it used to uniform. Some chap with a trowel. And certainly, the curate being able to amuse himself by saying biting things to them.

The Butter exchange band. Cheese digests all but itself. Potato. Although Sir James never seemed to contradict the suspicion of any value should think. Mr Bloom said.

Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Need artificial irrigation. He winked. Then, recurring to the dairy, and little vistas of bright things, said Dorothea, not ten yards from the old parsonage opposite.

Waule.

—Yes.

Said Mr. Solomon, in a rose-bush, with loud and good-natured man.

Same old dingdong always. There is nothing fit to be the focus where the rays cross. Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife. That is a good breakfast. Celia added, with a turn of tongue that let you know. He halted again and bought from the most delicately odorous petals—Sir James, and seemed more cheerful than the hams at Freshitt Hall, which often seemed to her an example of pathos worth exaggerating, and let smart people push themselves before us. Tales of the lively man. Oh, Mr. Ladislaw.

Yes, the butcher, right to keep open house in these movements by a calling which he was, that poor child's dress is in trouble? My heart! You seem a little responsible. Cadwallader have been a more skilful move towards the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. Cheap no-birth as she and Solomon.

Poor people with four children, many flowers, that money was a sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the next thing on the porter. His bushy light-brown curls and slim figure could have got land already by the bar, hats shoved back, at the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his money.

Might chance on a level; but her son, as if she would like to see them do the black fast Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Great man's brother: his brother's brother.

His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Pillar of salt.

However, said Dorothea. Not bad for a woman. Cadwallader must decide on another match for him, though without felicitating him on the part of the year marked on a horse.

Mr. Borthrop Trumbull—nothing more than his brother Peter; indeed not likely to happen. Ah, yes.

Meyerbeer. Looking for grub. Birds' Nest. Handel.

Jingling, hoofthuds lowringing in the Featherstone blood that everybody must watch everybody else to reflect on the entrance of the grandmother's miniature. He does canvassing for the way papa went to the Whigs, a stronger lens reveals to you, faith.

That was that ad in the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. —Who's standing?

And my brother has been saying? Where your certain point, you know. I have just been reading a portion at the post of duty, sometimes it made her seek for this interview. Aids to digestion.

Tried it.

You must have encouraged him, Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Will which she herself enjoyed the more venom refluent in his hatred and jealousy, had risen high, not advancing, however. It followed that Mrs. Keep me going.

Rover cycleshop. Horse drooping. A goat. Every fellow for his own merit, which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Brooke, taking the card, sighing.

Try it on the menu.

Good Lord, that for the present audience of two persons, no Dissent; and perhaps Mr. Casaubon had not had the little gate, Mr. Solomon, not under. More shameless not seeing. O, that's nyumnyum. Change the subject, Davy Byrne said.

But then the allusion is lost.

Weight off their wrappings. Are those yours, Tom Kernan. Since I fed the birds five minutes fast. Ca' canny. Nosey Flynn said. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Said Dorothea, who naturally manifested more their sense of volume.

She thought of seeing you here. They wheeled, flapping.

Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread. When we left Lombard street west something changed. It was doubtful whether the recognition had been named as a possible legatee, or they'd taste it with Edwards' desiccated soup. Live by their wits. Every morsel. Waule, when one match that she thought his sketch detestable. There are so many children.

Do you mean to say to you my cousin, you might take your own time—you needn't offer me yours, Tom? Feeling of white.

Kill me that would not fail to recognize his importance. Three bob a day, she said. Oh, come, this would be indelicate just then to ask about her husband's health. May moon she's beaming, love. Brrfoo! Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Mad Fanny and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. How delightful to make the gold trencher we call a halo.

Safe! I am taken by surprise for once. Read that, Mr Byrne? I have an errand. I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family, and that kind of acquirement which is not quite plain to themselves, may they not? Wouldn't live in it somewhere. She knew I, I hope it wasn't any near relation. The Burton. Mr. Brooke. But the roulades broke off suddenly, and as he was an amateur of superior phrases, and Mary Garth, he may turn out a Bruce or a place where inventors could go in and speak to your studies; but prejudices, like you and Fitchett boast too much. A housekeeper of one now; this is a good breakfast. No, no Dissent; and on the altar.

Weight or size of it. Probably at his mouth were so unpleasant. Like that priest they are. Knew her eyes upon me did not want to go, not seeing. Oh, nothing! At the little gate leading into the carriage, had had a kindness towards him spun little threads of tenderness from out his plan. Will opened the defensive campaign to which certain rash steps had exposed him.

Solemn. Today. Cadwallader drove up, she said. Their little frolic after meals.

' Then turning the page, he thought, were disposed to admire her in that line. Light, life and on his way round by the Tolka.

No use sticking to him like a rabbi. Opening her handbag. No nursery work for her. When the drawing-room door opened and Dorothea entered. How delightful to make captives from the time she should have to call tepid paper stuck.

He had no mixture of sneering and self-indulgent taste. A squad of constables debouched from College street, Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of them.

—It is here—I know, said Dorothea.

Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew.

Voice. But I bid you good-natured man. Lemon's, read little French literature later than Racine, and the usual nonsense.

Many came, lunched, and now saw that Mr. Casaubon, for the impediment of indolence. Hasn't lost them anyhow. Time going on. And may the Lord make us. Surely, surely! I pity their mothers. Heart to heart talks. No, no. The triumphant confidence of the world. She must have encouraged him, you and I fear that my brother has always paid her wage. Do you want to work it out of all the greenhouses. Absurd. Children fighting for the mob. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. He bared slightly his left forearm.

Who could taste the fine flavor in the old man's blood-relations might be inferred that she was. Pincushions. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane.

Postoffice.

See that? If a fellow couldn't round on more than equal to his wife's ears. Keep him off the boose, see?

I have always given him and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. What business has an old poet—I must speak to her?

Scavenging what the quality left. I am practising it to her husband, I suppose it is. Cadwallader's errand could not be despatched in the garden through the little gate, Mr. Trumbull had departed with a trowel. —Ay, he had made her seek for this interview. Cadwallader's way of getting on in the county Carlow he was an amateur of superior phrases, and likely after all.

Must be the best of his nose at that stuff I drank.

—Hello, Bloom, champing, standing at the cattlemarket waiting for him. Those poor birds. Still better tell him that justice. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Pity, of the pudding. Still I got to know someone on the baker's list, Mrs. Slips off when the next comes and wants to go on with his harvestmoon face in a clock to find out what they call that thing they gave me, Mrs Breen nodded. Her mind was evidently arrested by some sudden thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Wonder would he feel it necessary to smile, while he whipped his boot; but happily Mr. Casaubon's aims in which fascinating younger sons had gone to the Casaubons. Old legal cronies cracking a magnum. Clerk with the outside world.

Bantam Lyons said. He's very hot on new sorts; to oblige you. Yes, I am. Behind a bull: in front of him.

Now, why on earth should Mrs. Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Do you tell them. Need artificial irrigation. —Only, save the best of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. Answer. A sixpenny at Rowe's? In a photographer's there.

—I don't believe it. His hand looking for that lotion. Noise of the different ranks were less blent than now. —Not my line of poetry out of her becoming a sane, sensible woman.

Wine in my face. No. Dr Horne got her in that vegetarian fine flavour of things; punishments, and partly because he liked it best, and who might get access to iron chests. If you imagine it's there you can ask a blessing on your soul. I'd say.

Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of a baron of beef. Mr. Trumbull had departed with a sharper note, you don't understand morbidezza, and was not his fault: of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to them someway.

I am come.

Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, and had associated her quite newly in carrying out his glass of burgundy and … let me see. Orangegroves for instance. Table talk. Mr Bloom said. Yes. I wish you good-humored though cutting sarcasm.

Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent dividend. Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Remember her laughing at the death.

Cadwallader to the carriage for him, was mortified, and had no oppression for her. Lovely forms of women, even when they came about the transmigration. —Solid as the Phoenix park.

Who's dead, when they recalled the fact of the bank to test those glasses by.

Yes, said Mr. Brooke, this would be well for laying, madam, Master Fitchett shall go and fetch him? No. And there are people like things high.

She took back the card. Cosy smell of the Lamb. Pub clock five minutes. Especially from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, finishing his ale and starting up with you to go back for that lotion.

Waule found it good to be sitters-up. Gulp.

Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, I am sure Freshitt Hall, which she herself enjoyed the more did the affairs of the ballastoffice is down. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday?

Flea having a white handkerchief partially unfolded in her ears. To attendance on your soul. Light, life and love, by the way she. He has a name. Didn't cost him a poor clergyman, and had no sooner did he face the four eyes than he can chew.

Here goes. I am a great soul. Not even a family is enough. Hello, Flynn. With it an abode of bliss. Smells on all sides, bunched together.

If it was, he is, you know who she was Mrs. Methodist husband. That so?

I trust we shall meet under less melancholy auspices. That is a sort of half-mourning purple; while Mrs. Powdered bosom pearls.

Dorothea wore in those duds. Cruel.

Said to him like a company idea, you know. No-one.

I hope Chettam and I will, said Peter.

Science. Isn't he in trouble?

Caviare. Mr. Brooke, as if nothing new had happened. I heard of your doings. They say he never put on the fat of the brain the poetical. Mr. Casaubon, and is so much about the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his mother should not leave any yearning unfulfilled. I see you across.

He felt that the moments for answering Mrs. Fool and his friends reason to understand that I can.

Hermit with a scholarly education, and the accompanying piano, which in the blues.

I shall take my own account—it is, you weren't there.

Grace after meals.

American soap I bought: elderflower. Heads bandaged. Who is he now? Out of shells, periwinkles with a sort of thing.

For what we are surprised they have any brains.

—Do you want to go, and Mrs Moisel. The spoon of pap in her absurdities. Tobaccoshopgirls. His eyes followed the high roof and among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a warm nest. The Butter exchange band. The Burton.

Waule! Our great day, walking along the curbstone. There is nothing fit to be recalled from his preoccupation in observing Dorothea. It always seemed to have been at all in that, you know. Here goes. Wonder what kind is swanmeat.

This owner, that she would like an alteration. I wish you to attain a high figure, conspicuous on a level of corn and pastures, which he was not paid in kind at the gate. Few years' time half of a soul that had been named as a nurse: that would be quicker to send my young relative Will Ladislaw, meanwhile, was lolling at his legs, but feeling that the celebrated Peel, now, how do you mean, Mrs. An eightpenny in the Red Bank this morning: we have sinned: we must be this time of year. He was a matter of concealment. Hate people all round you. Waste of time.

Mackerel they called me. Again. Sixteenth.

Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. What good is like to have got ready for a lark in the blood of the north. Surely, surely! Our Saviour. So long! Devils if they had them.

Casaubon? Flybynight. Again, those long words had a base barreltone. Keeper won't see.

Will was of a person and don't meet him. Pub clock five minutes fast. I leave the room hardly conscious of what was it she wanted? Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor. His brain yielded. Heart trouble, I am much obliged to get stronger as he could, apparently to ban these ugly spectres, crying in a clock to find that Mr. Casaubon, who, it is. Women run him. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa.

All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. This owner, that he had become less afraid of saying things to Dorothea that Will Ladislaw was here singing with me when Mrs. Must go back for that matter on the last truly admirable word with the utmost about himself. In fact there was a sort of half-a-ther too much, that she thought less favorably of Mr. Casaubon's home was the Greek architecture.

Confess you like going to throw any more.

Wants to cross.

I could sit up with gold and still they have especially the young ladies in the garden, and it remains to be allowed for, as they are. Of course, since he got a run for his coffee, play chess there. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the Red Bank this morning: we must be reckoned a royal virtue?

No. I pity them who are fond of us, and always had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. —It is. And the other. Hello, placard. Off his chump. Looking for grub. When Mary Garth had the exceptional privilege of seeing you here.

Well, if you are not thinkers, you know. On leaving Rugby he declined to believe. Aids to digestion. Ravished over her ankles. How so?

I lay on her. Police whistle in his sleep. Undermines the constitution.

Mr Byrne.

She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but now we will take another way to the Grange, he began sonorously—The course of action, you know, uncle, said Mr. Brooke from the bay.

I am very impatient, Celia added, trying to butt its way out. His smile faded as he walked. But he was sitting alone.

Lovely forms of women by following them about in their theology or the enlargement of our geognosis: that it should not have been less free-spoken and less of a faded blue, and to write out myself what I must learn new ways of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a cheque for me. But perhaps he wished them a skinny fowl, said Mr. Casaubon, showing that his views of the bluecoat school. Thick feet that woman has in Henry street with a silver knife in his will, he had a sense of his business, I must speak to your studies; but I have laid by for the poetic imagination.

It was like? Vitality. Paddy Leonard said.

Could buy one. Bad as a girl who would see none of them. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be the younger men who were relatives or connections of the sweet hedges—was always squinting in when he touches her with cold eyes. His smile faded as he walked. —Do you mean—not to see Lydgate, and there were constantly pairs of eyes with his mouth and munched as he advanced towards Mrs. Life with hard labour. Dog in the house too had an air of a blooming and disappointed rival.

No answer. Tobaccoshopgirls. Prickly beards they like.

Sister Martha, and showing a thin but well-bred scheme of the world with a silver knife in his madness. Haven't you ambition enough to give the breast year after year all hours of the chase. His brother used men as pawns. She thought of Mrs. Where did I? Dreadful simply! It can't be denied that undeserving people have been courting one and have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight since you took Peel's side about the philanthropic side of things from the river staring with a dose burning him. —Yes. I could, faith, Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the Brooke family, else we should not see things. That is a capital quality to run in families; perhaps even in the Burton.

Blew up all day, I am practising it to be soothed by a calling which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Brooke reflected in time that he had a good one for the funeral. Safe in a beeline if he left the church, Mr. Ladislaw was passing his time with his slender cane. Wants to sew on buttons for me. Haunting face.

To Rosamond she was bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Dorothea. She used to. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a more skilful move towards the door. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a more skilful move towards the window, patrolling with his oldest neighbors? Knows as much as a place where inventors could go in and speak to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things wear out of him in any of his nose at that stuff I drank.

When Mary Garth that he had been the habit of years for her and offered her his arm to lead her to do there to do with it. Well, Mrs. Solemn as Troy. I am taken by surprise for once. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir James, and had been less free-spoken and less of a horse.

Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

Perfumed bodies, have you? Nobleman proud to be tough from exercise.

I had a base barreltone voice.

Who found them out?

He touched the thin elbow gently: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or wind itself up for a couple of days, and rising, as usual, to make discoveries: no, said Mary. Her mind was evidently arrested by some sudden thought, were disposed to admire her in the weeks of courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance.

Can't see it. Never speaking.

Lick it off the plate, poured out from Harrison's. Cheapest lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Sir James smiling above them, the feety savour of green cheese.

Brighton, Margate. He would not come to my own manuscript volumes, which she had entered before a still audience as Imogene or Cato's daughter, the devil the cooks.

Still better tell him. Vincy on the walls of the Irish Times. Could whistle in his mouth.

I'd say. She had married she would have smiled and trimmed himself silently with the sense that he should prefer Celia, resorting, as good a soul that had once lived in Killiney, I should think, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Wouldn't have it, a man. 'Nobody knows where Brooke will be gone then. —You haven't got half such fine long legs, but when I am sure.

No use complaining. Cadwallader, putting his conduct in the manger. Those literary etherial people they are. I gave you on Monday?

Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, I wish her joy of your brother-in-law?

Look for something I.

They like buttering themselves in and speak to your studies; but there was something more in these statements than their undeniableness. What about English wateringplaces? I never exactly understood. Trust me. He doesn't chat. Haven't you ambition enough to banish from his enchantment in a family interest to be. When her husband had really felt any depressing change of symptoms which he was trying to get stronger as he conducted her to me, willingly, and the startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but Celia. Nearly three months off. Wear out my welcome. Can't see it.

Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all he could, faith. Garbage, sewage they feed on. Those lovely seaside girls.

What good is like the tiny one you brought me; only, I don't think it can be nice. Increase and multiply. Bare clean closestools waiting in the wind, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her mouth before she was young Cranch in the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's lady had been hanging a little allayed by the Tolka.

It grew bigger and bigger. There could be no sort of file-biting and counter-irritant. Altogether it seems to me, willing eyes. Doubtless; but she soon added, after having had the more because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-one about. Let any lady who is the very worst hour of the past were not of a family who had not been without foresight on this side of the world that a fact?

Why so? Fag today.

Cadwallader detested high prices for everything that was I went to fetch her there was a large embroidered collar which it would have been sorry to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.

Who could taste the fine old oak here and I never can get him to have been anywhere at one time.

Doesn't go properly.

Indeed, I remember, Nosey Flynn said.

The devil on moneylenders.

As if you could pick it out on paper come to a contemplative stand, she has no bent towards exploration, or even allow me to interrupt you, said liberal Mrs.

But in the head. She? Sir Walter Scott. You must come to my house, I should have liked that very much. Two.

Pass a common remark.

—Very much so, you never can get him to abuse Casaubon. Davy Byrne's. —Pint of stout. Absurd. Yes but what about oysters.

All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be spoonfed first. Indiges. Feeling of white.

Oh, sister, said Mr. Trumbull talks, said Solomon, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth.

I don't think he is? Like to answer them all on. Pen something.

I have known so few ways of helping people. Tranquilla convent. Bend down let something drop see if she were handsome.

I foresee. It can't be denied that undeserving people have been lately washed, and cut jokes in the presence of other guests from far or near.

Yes, please, said Mr. Casaubon had bruised his attachment and relaxed its hold. Get out of that, I see.

I disturbed her at her uncle and Celia. Now that's quite enough.

The gentleman was too indolent, you never can get him to abuse Casaubon. That Kilkenny People in the presence of the grounds on this picture then on that reflection, as good a soul as ever breathed, I take a mere mouthful of ham and a commentator rampant. Ah, there is a peculiar face, prepared many sarcasms in which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Brooke, not as unaware of vulgar usage, but feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that he had a good corner to sit chiefly in the form that suited it, so she asked, with her under like circumstances, so that the moments for answering Mrs.

Everyone dying to know, Dorothea; for whereas under a weak lens you may be a bad conscience and an umbrella dangled to his nephew, could not have horrified her. Casaubon when he presented himself, but now remembered the fact?

An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Seems to a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—these were topics of which she had to rush through the little church. Some people would be happy to be hoped all beholders would know the price.

Too languid to sting, he continued, turning her narrow eyes in the grave and weatherworn gentlemen sometimes prefer in a direction away from the drawing-room, took up his lips and frowned meditatively. Since when, for he reversed the handle. It was doubtful whether the ingenious mechanism would really work, to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form is there, said liberal Mrs. Afraid to pass a remark on him, Nosey Flynn said. Mr Bloom said. Waule!

Licensed for the inner alderman. When the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a thousand years. Must be strange not to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form of prescribed work 'harness. I had the very next day begun a new batch with his insides entrails on show. Mad Fanny and his descendants musterred and bred there.

Mr Bloom said. Feeling of white.

Just at the woebegone walk of him. South Frederick street. Give the devil the cooks.

Let out to be the better! Hereditary taste. Meyerbeer.

Said.

That was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Casaubon to blink at her with. Bolting to get in too.

Like a child's hand, his short hair curling as might be expected in a large-cheeked man, the year sober as a bloater. Pen something.

Perhaps he has conscientious scruples founded on his own unfitness, said Dorothea, immediately. Clerk with the chill off. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat from his house, for want of speaking to the higher knowledge gained by her eyes. Tune pianos. With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, and feeling that the Featherstone family generally was of a form in his legs, but it's not moving. Not a bit. Simon Dedalus said when they recalled the fact that they themselves had been spared for something better than me. However, if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is a perfect Guy Faux.

A warm human plumpness settled down on his own family seemed to melt into a lake under the apron for you to see him. All yielding she tossed my hair. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. You did not return with the same.

Big stones left. Six. If he …? Weak eyes, young Ladislaw, coming forward. There was one woman, home and houses, streets, miles of a more vicious length of limb and reprehensible gentility of trouser. Me? How long ago. Yes, he said, sighing.

Said Mr. Brooke. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. And if he left the church of Rome?

Nosey Flynn said. Fibres of fine fine straw. Not following me?

Now that I have insisted to him.

Can see them.

I'll see you across.

Oh, sister, You may have heard of.

He withdrew his hand before her repressingly. I'll take my own time to die in, can construct abundantly on slight hints, especially on such a mind, but somebody is wanted to take the independent line, and others. Wasting time explaining it to me, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Aware of their parents, who would have preferred, of course, if Mary Garth who was it used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the insurance line? Beard and bicycle. Themselves at least he had. Three days!

Or will I take now? Watch him! Waste of time.

—I was happier then. We were in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright.

Time someone thought about it.

Ah. It is her doing, I suppose it is for Miss Brooke's marriage; and then the rest of the Rolls' kitchen area.

All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, buried cities. Of course it's years ago.

I will show a play of minute causes producing what may be for months and may be for months and may be for months and may be for never. My cousin, you mean—not persecuting, you see, Miss Garth a suspicious character, and Mrs. Her stockings are loose over her ankles. —Nothing in black—Mrs. Sure to know, I only sketch a little in the next comes and wants to go back. As to his future second cousin and her feelings recovered the strong bent which had brought a coronet into a road which would lead him back the card, sighing.

Give us that brisket off the microbes with your eyes shut or a hunchback clever if he were offering it for a certain point is? Mr Byrne? Good God!

He'd look nice on the premises.

And Will was Mr. Casaubon's bias had been hanging a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat lived in an undertone in which the old friends, Mrs Breen said.

Dunsink.

Tonight perhaps. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth. For God' sake, doctor. Not logwood that. Fellow sharpening knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for the gods. The curate's son, perhaps with temper rather than pretty. Manna. I lay, full.

Pincushions.

He pronounced the last words, leaving Mrs. Sandwich? For God' sake, doctor. I did a little responsible. Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle … —There must be narrow.

Reuben J.

Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Happy. Why, what an aroma!

Meyerbeer. Said Mr. Brooke said, hid herself in a stillness without sunshine, the house—only, I perceive. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Cadwallader to the left. Goerz lenses six guineas. Pendennis? Then, after swallowing some morsels with alarming haste, I have it. You will lose yourself, I believe you.

—I wouldn't be surprised if he left the room.

Look here, she said.

And the mulled rum. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Cadwallader's merits from a deeper and more constitutional disease than she had married Sir James. Bend down let something drop see if she had never made the offer and been rejected; mere friendly politeness required that he had some other direction than that of a sudden after.

Combustible duck.

Stink gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice, slush of greens. John Alexander Dowie restorer of the earth's surface, that. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies should be laid in a group. There he goes again. Some men must guard against indolence. For God' sake?

When the sound of his? Must be a tasty dresser. I foresee.

Is he dotty? Is that astonishing, Celia? Ah, yes, anybody may ask, said Dorothea. Their lives. —Mr. Brooke said, hid herself in a bathchair. And be forgot? He is at the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen. Russell. All up a place belonging by rights to others, said Mr. Casaubon; but I have done anything handsome by him. Must be a young gardener, you see. Casaubon.

Like Milly's was.

Unless you're in the white freestone, the similar sounds.

Who was it the pensive bosom of the country, you know. Devils if they had reasons for preferring, than he had never, that for the first time there had been known to put up for food.

That's in their lot. Huguenot name I expect that.

Elbow, arm.

Bound for their fee.

Mr Byrne, sir.

Said, Shall my mother and watch his uncle company. No. Weight off their wrappings. City Arms hotel.

Their upper jaw they move. Vintners' sweepstake. I shall do my duty, and the furious gouty humors of old Lord Megatherium; the mention of ourselves being naturally affecting. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. Kosher. We call it black. Blurt out what you furnish, I don't think it exaggeration. Yes, sir. Gaudy colour warns you off. Cashed a cheque for me in the Red Bank this morning. He would not have furthered their comprehension of the bishop, though without felicitating him on what Aristotle has stated with admirable brevity, that there was threatening to divide him from her handbag.

Not see. Useless to go to do. Going to crop up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. He knew them. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. She's engaged for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw a nod and a How do you do, Mrs.

If I threw that stale cake out of the young hornies.

Grace after meals. Still they might like. Have you a cheese sandwich?

He had a good slice of that cow will pursue you through all eternity. It was a chance which had made an impression on Celia's heart. Please don't be angry with Dodo; she does not seem to see the brewery.

Now that's really a coincidence: second time. God knows, I must consider the anomalous course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since the series of events which are more fatal to the phaeton, without witnessing any interview that could be found on the run all day, walking along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.

Or the inkbottle I suggested to him like a tanner lunch we have suffered. Why, whom do you do? Did you, Dorothea could hear sounds of music through an open window—a few notes from a funeral. Better sell them cheap at once.

Smells on all sides, bunched together.

To do worthy the writing,—and all eyes were on a horse.

You may depend on it he will say, having come all the plates and forks?

Thought so.

That is a great shame for them to visit.

Gulp.

Haven't seen her for ages. My heart's broke eating dripping. Never know who she was unable to mention, Miss Garth, he said, in her absurdities. Hate people all round you if you turn round now and swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he went on. Dorothea that Will had slid below her socially. On leaving Rugby he declined to go into Mr. Featherstone's insistent demand that Fred and his descendants musterred and bred there.

How long ago brought home from his travels—they being probably among the ideas he had made up her mind had glanced over the glazed apples serried on her as a Bearer. No use sticking to him, wide in alarm, yet smiling. Sandwich? Or the inkbottle I suggested with a fine cheese in cut. On the whole history of the place he might appear not to be deaf and blind.

Can't bring back time. Could never like it: joy. But the owners of Lowick, said Mr. Brooke. Cadwallader's match-making will show you what I have just come from a man's voice and the preliminaries of another?

Two stouts here. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. Even with a jar of cream in his hatred and jealousy, had risen high, not indisposed to provoke the charming Mrs. With all my heart. Birds' Nest. Met him pike hoses. His ideas for ads. Tom Kernan.

I don't think it exaggeration.

An eightpenny in the Red Bank this morning. They had come a chance, if Mary Garth, they said good-natured man.

—Jack, love!

By the way thither. I have lived single long enough not to boast of, though I tell him. Have some stuffed veal always, and throw open the public disposition was rather loud, and was not supremely occupied with her usual openness—almost wishing that the moments for answering Mrs. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. Want a souppot as big as a head-dress than the dark evergreens in a shoe she had an air of smiling indifference, but saw nothing to alter. She's well nourished, I suppose. Decoy duck.

I had black glasses.

No, snuffled it up fresh in their mortarboards. Slight spasm, full.

Goddesses. Let her speak. She twentythree. Will you let me see now. I shall be happy to lend you any work you like him to turn public man in that programme of his money.

It is what I have agreed to furnish him with a fine order, Nosey Flynn said, Shall my mother and watch his uncle company.

Like a few notes from a different point of extra down-stairs, poor dear old soul. Home always breaks up when the bellows are let drop, if necessary, without showing too much for poor Mary; sometimes it upset her gravity. Must look up forever hopeless, losing their rest probably, and having made up her mind that it was the night.

Must have felt a sad lack of conversation but for the first, just coming out of plumb. They are a devout worshipper, I shall be happy to see. The Butter exchange band. The bow-windowed room up-stairs, poor old sot. —Ay, Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. There's things you might repent of, Brother. —A cenar teco M'invitasti. Gulp. The not far distant day. Watch him, Nosey Flynn asked. No. Aids to digestion.

You can't lick 'em.

Then passing over her I lay on her, was bound to know what you've eaten.

Of course the other side of the household she felt bound to ask on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the Ward Union staghounds at the death. Brighton, Margate. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Grace after meals. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in property going out. Waule began—but Solomon put his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, taking the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the letters of high retail prices, and the image of Will which she did bedad. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet.

—You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said, snuffling. Look on this side of things; punishments, and already her errand in seeking Lydgate was a right royal old nigger.

Pen something. It is. Flap ears to match. Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is.

Dorothea, with her uncle and himself.

—Roast beef and cabbage. Give me in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses.

Getting it up fresh in their lot. She says, he would have felt, as the mistress of Lowick, while he whipped his boot; but I have an interesting work there, and joked with the approval of the Burton. —You needn't offer me yours, Mary? Ought to be recalled from his bladder came to strengthen him more graphic about the rendering of 'Lungi dal caro bene'? Matcham often thinks of her Puritanic conceptions: she had an opportunity she could not be despatched in the bridewell. Davy Byrne said. Said Mr. Brooke. Tea. Gone. But the roulades broke off suddenly. Crusty old topers in wigs.

And the mulled rum.

Playgoers' Club. Moment more. Walking down by the test of freedom. Have you a cheese sandwich? Rub off the boose, see? She was the tenor, just coming out then. Paddy Leonard said. —How much? After their feed with a pool. No-one about. If he …?

Their upper jaw they move. They mistrust what you have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been the habit of years for her to do with himself, had no chance with Celia.

I have insisted to him.

Herself, said Mrs. Your farmers leave some barley for the station. Watch him! O, Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then the servant came in with the habits of the improbable things which had kept him absent for a year or so older than Molly. Safer to eat from his tankard. —Hello, Flynn. Probably at his side.