#and the duckie nursing pillow

[tatsunokoori-blog]

Been working on this off-and-on over two weeks, but finally got a nice pic for the 29th. Prompts are 2 and 19, since I like the idea that winged babies always got tiny chick-down in the first few months. Putting the pic under the cut, since there's not-very-graphic breastfeeding. Here's hoping I can make some more Ineffable Family art this year! Thank you very much for the opportunity to share my art, @ineffablefamfeb!

[the-fiction-witch]

Slow and Steady

Media Death of A Superhero

Character Donald

Couple Donald X Reader

Rating Smut

Concept Heart Monitor

Smut / Nudity / semi nudity / BJ/ HJ / risk of discovery / slow sex / full sex/ raw sex/ sexy linquire/ cum inside

I found my way to his room rubbing the sanitizer into my hands as IO headed in shutting the door behind me 

"Hi Ducky" I gleamed

"Hi hun" He smiled from his bed in his usual shorts and loose comic shirt he had been watching tv but pushed it away as I came in I dumped my bag and gave his lips a little kiss "It's nice to see you"

"I'd come more often if I didn't have so much work on" I said sitting on the little chair

"I know, I just have to savour when I see you" he smiled taking my hand and giving it kisses 

"At least you have your own room now"

"That's true" 

"So? how you feeling?"

He glared "How do I always feel when I'm stuck in here?"

"I only asked grumpy" I laughed pinching his cheek "My poor little duck stuck up in here again"

"yeah yeah poor me, at least I get to see you" He smiled 

"awww very affectionate today" I smiled giving him a kiss

"I've missed you" he pouts

"I know I've missed you too, you're just not normally this affectionate"

"Well... I've been in here ages now, I've missed three date nights since I've been in here." He complained "I can't even use your lovely messages or the bloody machine calls the nurse in"

"What?" I giggled 

"Anytime I... get a bit excited and my heart rate goes up the bloody alarm on the machine goes off and the nurses start barging in"

"Ohh no you poor thing, So what have you been doing with my messages?"

"Just looking at them, doing my best to enjoy them without... actually enjoying myself"

"Aww, guess I won't send anymore then"

"No no, please! Please don't stop sending them honey! I haven't been able to see your pretty body in four weeks now! trust me your little pictures are all that's keeping me sane in here"

"Awww alright Donald I'll keep sending them" I smiled giving him a kiss but he was clearly eager for more as he barely let me pull away "So how long has it been?"

"Four and a half weeks"

"Ohh you poor little duck" I cooed "You must be ready to pop"

"Very nearly" he sighed 

"Aww guess my shopping didn't help?"

"No it didn't." he snapped "I swear you only went to tease me"

"I had to get a new bra"

"Yes A new bra, that didn't mean you had to go on a two-hour shopping spree in bloody Victoria's Secret sending me pictures the whole time! you basically vlogged everything you looked at and everything you tried on"

"But you have the best opinions of what I look good in" 

"Did you get that blue set in the end?"

"Maybe, you'll have to wait and see when you're home"

"Fine, meanie" He pouts "Owww." he complained

"what is it?"

"This conversation isn't helping"

"Ohh dear, did you want me to go?"

"No no I want you here honey, just you know maybe don't bring up you in Victoria's secret while I'm locked up in the hospital attached to a heart rate monitor and haven't jerked off in four and half weeks" 

"Why don't you try slow and steady?"

"Don't you think I tried that?"

"Maybe you just need a ladies' touch" I smiled leaning on his bed a little and slipping my hand under his shorts and stroking his very eager, very stiff erection "Ohhh hello ducky" 

"Ughhh fuck I've missed you" He groans leaning against his pillow 

"Whoa whoa... calm," I told him as his monitor nearly went off from just my mild touching 

"Sorry" 

"slow and steady" I smiled gently stroking his shaft he bit his lip hard and I did my best to be slow keeping an eye on the monitor to keep it under the threshold for the alarm at this point his hips were bucking towards my hand, precum flooding down his shaft, his hands gripping the sheets in desperation 

"Ughhh y/n please" he gasps trying to keep quiet "I need more honey, Please!" 

"slow and steady or you'll set the alarm off" I remind him 

"Ughhh, please! fuck it feels like you're edging me again" 

"Awww alright" I smiled taking my hand away and waiting a little for his heart rate to slow a little more as he calmed down before I pulled my hair into a ponytail which was enough to see a visible jump on the monitor line "Really?"

"I know what you putting your hair up means." He smirked tugging his shorts down for me and gently stroking himself "I can't help getting excited" 

I gave his lips a little kiss before I moved and took him into my mouth sucking gently and moving my head slow and steady, he moaned but quickly put a hand over his mouth so as to not be too loud rolling his head against his pillow in ecstasy his hand settled on my ponytail to help guide my head and I made sure to keep an eye on the monitor even if that often meant having to slow down or stop all together where he was getting too wound up 

"Y/n... y/n... ughhh y/n!" He groans rubbing his neck a little "Please honey please, I'm-"

I noticed how close he was to setting the alarm off so I quickly pulled back 

"Ughhhhhh nooooo! y/n!" He whines in frustration 

"Slow and steady" I remind him 

"Please y/n, I don't care if I set it off... please, Just make me cum honey" 

"Awww my little ducky that desperate?"

"You know I am, Please I need you, honey" 

"Well alright" I smiled getting up from my seat but that seemed to frustrate him more

"Nooo honey! where are you going?!"

I stood at the foot of his little hospital bed I smiled and undid my jeans tugging them down and letting them sit at my ankles grabbing my shirt and tugging it up under my chin to expose my new little set of Victoria's secret purple lace panties and bra they left very little to the imagination as the lace was very much sheer 

"Ohh holy shit-" He groans grabbing his shaft and jerking himself off fast and hard 

"You like it?" I giggled stepping out of my jeans and throwing my shirt with my bag doing a little twirl for him 

"Very much!" He nods excitedly 

"Now remember, slow and steady" I remind him as I climb onto his lap and as I do I notice the monitor has an off switch so I quickly flick it without him noticing sitting up over his crotch on my knees 

"I will I promise!" He says wasting no time to hook his finger into my panties and moving them to the side in order to slip himself inside, his eyes rolled back his mouth hung open silently moaning as I moved down to his hilt "Uhh...ughhh... ughhhhh! y/n!" 

"Slow and steady" I smirked resting my hands on his stomach and making sure to be slow with my movements agonizingly slow for him he laid back enjoying himself holding my hips trying desperately to get me to go faster but I kept at my pace which only made him twitch and buck towards me in his utter desperation making sure I moved with each thrust from hilt to tip which only drove him more insane "Aww my poor poorly ducky having to be locked up in here all alone, without our cuddles, and kisses, and unable to see the cute little outfits he picks out for me, and unable to touch himself for me" I cooed kissing his neck 

"Uhh yeah.... yeah poor me... Uhhhh poor, poor me, at least my little ladies making me feel better"

"Maybe I should visit every day"

"Uhhhhhh maybe you should, Come on honey please I need you!" 

"Well alright" I smirked letting him move my hips as fast as he wanted which very quickly brought him the orgasm he so craved filling me up and almost completely collapsing against the bed and gasping 

"I needed that"

"I can tell" I giggled as I climbed off him and half of it fell out of me all over his bed I cleaned up as he was basically comatose  and I grabbed my jeans slipping them on 

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Donald?" I asked turning back to him he smiled widely but pouted pulling a sad face and holding his hands out like a begging baby "What?" I giggled 

"Please" he whines making a squeezing action with his hands 

I rolled my eyes a little before I went over to the edge of the bed and he grabbed my breasts through my bra squeezing and fondling them excitedly moaning as he did 

"You look amazing in this," He smiled

"Thank you, I thought you'd like it" I smiled 

"Ohh I definitely like it, you'd look even better without it though" he smirked 

"maybe next time I come visit if you're feeling a bit better" I cooed pushing his hands away and getting my shirt back on

"I do feel much better now honey" he smiled tugging his shorts back up atlast "Ummm you treat me so good"

"I have to, my poor sick little duck"

"I'm surprised I didn't set it off actually"

"I made sure" I smirked and then he noticed

"There was an off button this whole time!" He complained 

"Love you" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss

"Love you too honey," he smiled 

"Now, you get cosy I'l go grab you some snacks from the vending machine"

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 456, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, blood, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings)

WORDS: 1223

“Good morning sweetheart.”

I squeaked sleepily, my body slowly waking up as Peter peppered my face with dozens of quick kisses. I had slept with my back up against his front and a dozen firm pillows packed in tightly to me, keeping me wedged in a safe position to where no harm could possibly befall Baby Violet Marie.

KICK KICK KICK KICK

“Good morning, Baby Violet Marie.” I didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smiling.

PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT

I giggled at the telltale pattering footsteps that introduced our early morning bedbugs.

Sure enough, the footsteps belonged to Baby Tommy, who came in with his dollie and stood at his father’s side of the bed as he waited to be lifted up and welcomed in for morning cuddles.

“Good morning, Baby Tommy!” I greeted him with a little giggle as Peter lifted him onto the bed. He crawled under the blankets on my side and curled up next to his little sister, cooing as he pressed his little baby man hand to my popped out tummy. “Do you want me to pop your dollie into the wash for a bath today?”

“Yes pweasies mommy,” he meeped out, pressing his toy to my tummy. “Baa bee Vii wet Maw ie needs kissies!”

I giggled as Baby Tommy began making overexaggerated kissing noises- he still associated the noise with affection, rather than the motion itself. I brushed my hair drown his mop of dark brown baby curls, giggling at the look that he gave me.

“Baby Toomy, Baby Tommy, little chubby tummy,” I sang out, giggling as he mashed his dollie’s face into his baby sister. “Baby Tommy, Baby Tommy, kiss kiss kiss.”

“Mommy?” he meeped. “When Baa bee Vii wet coming?”

“November first is her due date,” I told him, giggling as he crawled up into my nightgown, popping his head out the neck hole. “You silly ducky!”

“QAUCK!” he giggled before erupting into a volley of quacking duck noises as he drifted off to sleep once more.

“Baby Violet Marie is currently nineteen weeks into growing, and is the size of a big tomato right now,” I hummed as Peter wrapped a causal arm around me and our son.

“Sweetheart, why do doctors measure with food?” Peter asked me as he wrinkled his nose.

“Because food isn’t threatening,” I told him, letting out a soft coo as he got up out from bed and helped me to sit up before heading into the closet to dress himself and grab some clothes for me to wear. “My love, which would you rather hear- that you have a tumor the size of a grape, or that you have a twenty five milligram tumor?”

“Neither,” he called out as I heard him taking a shirt down from one of his shelves and snapping it open. “I don’t fancy the idea of tumor of any kind being on me or my family.”

He came out of the closet, a pretty white loose fitting sundress in one hand and white shorts, a green tank top and matching panties and a nursing bra in blue cotton on his other arm. He held up the choices for me, setting the shorts and tank top off to the side as we went into the bathroom to grab my deodorant and hair comb.

“Do you want me to help you put some makeup on?” he asked me.

“I think you would still look handsome, even with makeup on!” I laughed.

“Sweetheart, once upon another time, I would wear eyeliner,” he told me, chuckling as he wrestled Baby Tommy out from my nightgown and bundled him in with pillows forming a makeshift cradle.

“You? Eyeliner?” I pulled back and squinted my eyes at him as he held up my bra, clearly fully intending on dressing me for the day ahead of us both. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“I went through a phase!” he protested as he blended liquid foundation onto my face. “Another time, I shaved off my eyebrows.”

“Just… why?” I asked him. “My love, I like your eyebrows just as they are!”

Peter was silent as he brushed on blush and bronzer next before applying mascara to my eyelashes.

“I was on the wrong medication for the wrong diagnosis,” he finally confessed. “I was not in a safe place back then.”

“But now you are?” I opened my mouth so that he could swipe lip gloss onto my lips.

“Yes,” he stressed, taking a step back to put my makeup away. “I am in such a safe place now, emotionally and mentally. I love you and our kids, sweetheart- I will never allow myself to go down such a dark road ever again.”

“Well my love, if for any reason whatsoever you need to go off your medication, I’ll need to ask you to get a hotel room,” I told him as he fitted me into my panties. “Okay?”

“Okay sweetheart,” he told me with a gentle hum as he held up the dress for me to wriggle my arms and head into. “That does sound reasonable.”

“Peekaboo my love,” I giggled once my head popped out.

“I see you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose. “Boop.”

“My love, I do think that we’re the first people up this morning!” I told him with a chuckle as I stood and waddled out from the bathroom, Peter close on my heels. But before he could answer me-

THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP THUD-THUMP

“Oh, there goes Daisy and Jack Sparrow!” I laughed at the stampeding duo raced down the stairs, zoomed throughout the lower levels of the house before returning up to the upper floors. “Morning zoomies and all!”

“Morning zoomies and all.” I turned my head to look back at my husband, who was looking at me with hearts swimming in his eyes.

“Sap!” I grumbled when he came around me and scooped Baby Tommy and his dollie into his arms.

“But I’m your sap, aren’t I?” he asked me as he grabbed the laundry basket waiting by the door before disembarking out into the hallway.

“Yes my love,” I rolled my eyes. “You are my sap.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[stardewremixed]

Stardewies as kids... Abigail

Glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. Fairy lights in her windows. And posters of Pokémon on her walls.

Butterfly clips in her hair. Bunny slippers on her feet. Borrowing mom's jewelery is always a treat.

Playing in the fields until dusk. Catching fireflies in a jar. Watching the moonlight jellies float home every summer's end.

Carving pumpkins every Halloween. Imagining her school uniform is infused with magical powers... like flight or super speed or... yes, she was caught daydreaming in class again.

Sleeping under the Christmas tree to catch Santa leaving presents. Peppermint nail polish for the holidays. Bows on presents. Shiny paper.

Christmas caroling in the square. Red mittens. Purple knitted cap. Red wool coat. Jingle bells. Handbells. Church choir. Pockets full of stars. Hair full of sunshine. Learning to whistle through her teeth.

Crocus - the first flower of spring and the last flower of winter. Shiny silver spoons and finding marshmallow charms in her cereal. Bubble baths and yellow submarines and rubber duckies dancing on waves.

Trying beading. Losing every one. Coveting the blue ribbon at the egg hunt. Vowing to win every year forward. Dyeing eggs all sorts of colors. Snorting a jelly belly on a dare.

Embellishing sneakers with sequins. Drawing animals with chalk on the sidewalk. Chasing rainbows. Chasing seagulls. Chasing the horizon.

Building castles made of sand. Rolling pie dough with mom by hand. Fruit scented markers. Lip smacked necklaces. Honeysuckle lotion.

Building pillow forts. Conquering playground equipment. Begging Sebastian's mom to build a tree house. Up a tree, down the slides, across the harbor in a rowboat made of driftwood. Digging in the sand for treasure. Pretending she's a Mermaid in the ocean riding a seahorse (really seaweed).

Playing pretend. Writing stories. Making up games. Pirates. Cops and Robbers. Fair lads and maidens. Princesses and frogs. Girl heroes. Singing the theme song to Kimpossible, standing on the back of the couch every Saturday into a hairbrush.

Watching every episode of Wishbone. What's the story? Giggling with books in the back of the library. Reading about adventures of kids in faraway lands doing brave things with their animal companions.

Swinging from the roof on the garden hose. Pretending she can fly. Ending up in the ER. Making all the nurses laugh with her funny faces. Covering her arm cast with colorful stickers. Calling it her battle scar.

Balloon animals. Face paints. Finger paints. Decoupage. Ceramics that are a little bit lopsided. Making pinecone crafts. Building a birdhouse. Popsicle stick towers.

Believing she can be anyone. Do anything. Go anywhere. Braving staring down the school bully, monsters under the bed, or broccoli on her plate with the same intensity. She will be the hero of her own story. Who needs Prince Charming?

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 6 // FINALE

6. you know, you’re my whole world

Summary: So you’re actually together! Hooray! But filming is going to wrap, and your brother wants to to talk, and what if this is just a summer fling?! Colson says it’s not, you think it’s time to start trusting what he says over your own anxiety.

A/N: It’s not NSFW, im really not in the headspace to write smut. 

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit @lilytalebi 

----

Filming is due to wrap in a few days and you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. You’re flailing a little bit, like you seemed to do at the end of every project. It’s not that you didn’t know how to fill your time, you did; your own career filled your time very nicely when you wanted it to, but this is the most time you’ve spent with your brother in a long while and you weren’t looking forward to saying goodbye.

Back in LA, you’re trying not to cling to the cast, or more specifically, to your brother and your boyfriend, and it’s working on set, but after filming wraps for the whole band scenes, you feel yourself growing quiet as the boys suggest celebratory drinks. Douglas still has a few final shots they wanna film, but it’s the last time they’ll need the whole band together, at least until potential reshoots. It’s Thursday, and in a week and a half there’s gonna be a wrap party, and you’re all still going to be hanging around until then, Colson most of all since he lives here, but it feels so final.

“How’re you holding up, Duck?” Daniel finds you hovering by the bar of the club that you didn’t catch the name of, while your brother was buying drinks down the other end, and Colson was having a smoke, and you were trying to not act as awkward as you felt.

“Good, good,” you assure him, nursing your still-full drink, “it’s just gonna be weird not to see you guys every day.”

“We can call you every day if you’re feeling lonely; it might be two in the morning, I’m not great at timezones,” he tells you with a smile, and you grin back, thankful, at the very least, for the gesture. 

“Colson’s house is never empty, I don’t think I’ll ever be lonely,” your voice is fond, and Daniel snorts into his drink, giving a knowing hum, “but I might still take you up on that offer,” you paused, before your grin stretches wide and you bat your eyelashes at him almost comically, “would you sing to me if I asked nicely.”

“If I did, can I tell people it’s because you asked, and not because I miss playing Vince?” 

“Absolutely; your secret’s safe with me.” The two of you cheers to that, and it’s starting to hit you just how much you’ll miss this cast. After a beat, you sigh a little forlornly, but aren’t given time to dwell in your melancholy before your brother rejoins you.

The night eases on, and you feel yourself relaxing with the people you love by your side, bar hopping into the early hours of the morning, dancing and drinking, and sloppily making out with Colson in various dark corners. It’s a night that’s blurry at the edges, heart warm and conversation easy, falling into bed laughing when the sun comes up. When you wake the next day, it’s to your brother calling and inviting you out to eat.

“Late brunch,” he calls it.

“I think at this point it’s just lunch.” You yawn around your answer, and you hear Colson laugh into his pillow, which makes you smile. You tell him you’ll be there in an hour, to which Colson groans, surfacing from his own pillow to dramatically sprawl over you.

“How are you even awake, man?” He sighs when you put Douglas on speaker, “we don’t have anything to do today, why not celebrate and sleep in.”

“He’s always been like this,” you sigh, just as Douglas answers almost identically. With a shake of his head, Colson presses his smile against your cheek, followed by a kiss. 

“Dude, you’re a robot,” Colson mutters, though it’s fond, and he rolls back over, pulling his pillow out from beneath his head and holding it over his face, yawning into it. Douglas invites him to lunch, but Colson graciously denies; “I love you guys, but as soon as Ducky leaves, I’m passing the fuck out again.” 

When you get to the cafe your brother has picked out, he’s doing his utmost best to act casual, but you see through it almost immediately by the way he’s rearranging the sugar packets instead of looking at you.

“What?” You ask him flatly as you pick up the menu; finally he looks to you, all wide-eyed feigned innocence.

“Can’t I just want to get lunch with my dear sister?”

“You can, sure,” you concede with a nod of your head, opening the menu, your eyes on the drinks, “but usually you’re less obvious with your ulterior motives.” Flicking your gaze from the menu, already knowing what you want, you can see him grimace.

“I don’t know how to word it,” he admits after a beat, still fiddling with a packet of sugar, not meeting your gaze; you try to prompt him, but he beats you to the punch; “how long did you intend on pretending to be with Colson?” 

Alarm bells are ringing in your head and it takes all your self control not to slap a hand over his mouth. Instead, you shush him loudly, looking around, frantically, terrified someone had heard. When you look back at him, you see a faintly amused smile, and you realised that your reaction had managed to confirm all of his suspicions. 

“How long have you known?”

“A while,” and he’s less cagey now, settling back in his chair. The waitress comes up and you both pace an order for a drink, him looking calm and collected, you looking like you’re about to leap across the table and maul him at any given second. After she leaves, after she’s out of earshot, he continues, “since you told me you loved him, and two days later he came up to me and asked if it would be weird if he was in love with you; I just thought ‘why would it be weird? You’re together aren’t you?’, but then it hit me.”

“It’s not - fake -” you whisper the word, “anymore.”

“I can tell,” Douglas says with a gentle fondness. He doesn’t seem mad, just thoughtful. 

“What?” You ask again, softer this time, a little sheepish, like you’re just waiting for him to ask why you lied to him. But he doesn’t.

“Are you happy, Duck?” It hits you out of left field, almost winds you, and you see the genuine concern in his eyes.

“Of course,” you tell him, and he wears a familiar smile, “Colson makes me so happy, Doug,” you admit, and his smile widens.

“I’m just glad you two decided to get your shit together,” he mused, “because you know I was not above parent-trapping the pair of you.”

“I think you’d have to get in line behind Casie,” you said with a slight smile, and Douglas laughed brightly, though you considered for a moment, “what a strange pair you’d make, you two trying to get Colson and I to admit our feelings for each other.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already got a plan already figured out; I saw her on set, you’ve gotten yourself a duckling of your own,” Douglas tells you, and you can’t help the embarrassingly pleased little smile.

“You think so? She’s such a cool kid,” you enthuse, trying to play it off, but your brother gives an almost disbelieving smile.

“You’re cool, Duck.” He assures you, and you can’t help feeling pleased at his compliment.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly; Douglas asks you what your plans are after filming wraps, and you tell him that you’re probably going to stay with Colson, that you’ve got a few events lined up in LA in the next few months. He’s heading back to New York, has a film festival coming up, and some press to do for Mary Shelly, which was set to come out in June, and some travelling he wants to do.

“If you see mum and dad, give them my love,” you tell him, and he promises he will. You don’t get home much to see your family anymore; work keeps you much busier than you’d ever imagined.

The last few days on set feel like one long farewell, and it’s sad to see the few that still come in getting a little teary as they wrap.

“I’m gonna get absolutely blitzed, or I’m gonna cry my eyes out,” Josy tells you over lunch on the final day, the two of you discussing the wrap party the following night. Though you chuckle, you can’t help but know exactly how she’s feeling.

Heart in your throat, you can’t help but feel a little fragile as you get ready to go out to the afterparty. Colson, however, doesn’t seem to share this mindset.

“You look hot as fuck,” he announces, watching you apply your makeup in the bathroom mirror, already dressed for the night. Giving a sad little smile, you pause for a beat, and he joins you, rests his chin on your shoulder, “what’s up?”

“This has just been... it’s been so much, it’s weird that it’s coming to an end.”

“There’ll be other projects -” he plants a kiss on your cheek, his arms coming to wrap around you.

“I know.”

“And other movies -”

“I know.”

“And you know this crew isn’t just gonna forget about you, or each other -”

“I’m related to Doug,” you sigh, and Colson snorts, nodding, and he steps back, gives you space to turn and wrap your arms around him, though you’re still pouting, “but what if you realise I’m just... boring or something when we don’t have a film keeping us together.” And you press your face, your nervous worry, against him. 

“First of all, you’re not boring. I don’t do boring girls,” he tells you flatly, “and between the two of us, we’ll always be busy anyways, but it doesn’t matter; how many times are we gonna have this conversation?” He asks with a slight frown, and you humph against him, “you expecting me to kick you out? Just cut and run? No fucking way.” And there’s an edge to his voice, something that stirs something deep inside of you. “As far as I’m aware, you’re mine, Ducky,” and a shiver actually runs down your spine.

“All yours?” You hear yourself murmur, leaning back in his arms and letting your gaze flicking to his lips, which quirk into a smirk. “I like hearing you say that.” His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, but you feel it, can see his grin widen.

“How late are we allowed to be do you think?” He asks, giving you a suggestive squeeze. After a beat, you lean into him, kissing him hard, letting the contentment wash across you as he hums appreciately against your lips before you pull back.

“You’re the star, so as late as we want.”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back my ducklings! Since so many of you asked, here is an update on how things have been between myself and my dear boyfriend since you last heard about us, which was quite a while ago. And also a get ready with me! Because it’s the premiere! Of our movie!” 

“So I know since The Dirt stopped filming that I stopped sort of having Kells in my videos, and that’s because we’d been so uber public in the beginning of our relationship that when we had time to just us, we wanted it to be... more personal, more private, you know. Which might seem weird, but it’s how we like it.”

“As you all know, so much has been happening with us; we’ve been living together basically since The Dirt finished filming, or as much as we can, since we’re both travelling so much. I’ve been making my way around conventions, as well as being a part of a few more films set to come out in the next few months, meanwhile my talented boyfriend has been writing a whole new fucking album, as well as filming Big Time Adolescence with Pete, but that’s not coming out for a good long while.”

“Yes! Yes I’ve met Pete Davidson, I’m Pete-certified now, you can all calm down. Pete, Casie, and Rook have all approved me, do not stress, and Doug has approved of Kells - has always approved of him actually.”

“We spent Thanksgiving with Casie and her mom which was really nice, and I’ll have photos of us - here -” and a photo of yourself, Colson, and Casie sitting around a dining room table flashed onto the screen, followed by a selfie of Colson with you and Casie asleep together on the sofa behind him.

“Christmas I had with mom, dad, and Doug back in England, while Kells stayed back to be with Casie, but don’t worry, I flew back in time for him to be my New Year’s kiss. Casie actually got me the cutest present; so back when The Dirt was filming, she came and hung out on set, and she got her makeup done by our team; she looked so cool! Anyways so she got a photo with me and Kells, him in full costume, me lookin’ a little bit like a potato next to those two, but it’s such a cute photo. And she got me a phone case with that photo printed on it. I’ve been using it ever since, I love it so much!”

“Kells’ birthday, as I’m sure you’ve all seen, was an absolutely wild rager, which Doug came to, even though it meant he saw me do some things that no older brother should ever see his sister do - get your mind out of the gutter! Nothing like that! I just made some questionable decisions that night is all. But my man had the night of his life, and I couldn’t be prouder of him!”

“We’ve been travelling, and working, and just... it’s so good to have it all come full circle. It’s good to be back with all the cast and crew; I’ve missed them all far more than I thought I would. And Kells has been talking non-stop about seeing them, he’s in the other room planning a pub crawl as we speak.”

“So I suppose I’m just trying to tell you that we’re doing good. Really good, actually, it’s been over a year but it definitely doesn’t feel like it.” You pause, wearing a small, almost hopeful smile. “This is gonna sound really stupid, but I never thought working the Motley Crue movie would lead to all this.”

“I think he might be the love of my life.”

[lofeinstructor]

Chakras are refined energy centres on the spine (think yoga) that manage each part of our lives. we tend to every have one major chakra through that our true temperament expresses. By applying the lines, colours, and textures that relate to your strongest chakra, you'll be able to style and build a sacred house that actually reflects your inner self.

Find Your Chakra Select whichever list best describes your temperament.

a) Sensual, expressive, carefree, emotive, fluid. perpetually innovating and connecting. Supersized feelings.

b) Romantic, heart-based, kind, accepting. Into healing, forgiving, caregiving.

c) Visionary, aesthetic, strategic, perceptive. Lover of originality, colours, second sight.

d) Intellectual, mental, organized, scholarly. enamoured with ideas, power, success.

e) religious, peaceful, meditative, harmonious. dedicated to a cause and better pursuit.

f) Organic, physical, dynamic, passionate. continuously doing, moving, manifesting.

g) Philosophical, learner, teacher. All regarding writing/singing/musing/speaking/verbally achieving a goal.

What Is Your Chakra? See the solution key below to see your major chakra. Then match that chakra with its corresponding aesthetic to search out the planning vogue that best reflects your inner self.

a) The second chakra. This orange chakra, primarily based within the abdomen, is that the chakra zodiac centre for emotions and creativeness. Go you—the most innovative of chakra sorts.

b) The fourth chakra. This chest-anchored chakra is inexperienced and describes the foremost romantic and relational-based of the chakra sorts. If it makes your heartbeat, you’re there.

c) The sixth chakra. Nothing sort of an image instead of words, right? This purple centre, settled within the brow, describes the foremost visual and strategic of chakra-ologists. Use your second sight, or clear seeing, once creating selections.

d) The third chakra. You’re all regarding thoughts and facts and ar terribly organized. The third chakra, which is yellow and within the nerve plexus, supports you in establishing structure.

e) The seventh chakra. The purity of white during this top-of-the-head chakra illuminates your religious lightweight. That’s you, the fan to the best of all lights.

f) the primary chakra. Rocket red and within the hips, this energy centre is all regarding flame-on energy. because the manifesting specialist of the chakra system, you’re dedicated to physical reality.

g) The fifth chakra. If it will be thought, you’ll say it; noted, you’ll sign it. focused within the blue chakra within the throat, your communication experience causes you to all regarding expression.

Chakra One = Rustic and trendy You are an Associate in Nursing extreme individual. You’re organic, natural, and everyone regarding the rugged outdoors—but conjointly pay time painful up success. Your muse should marry the raw and unrefined with clean and easy.

To keep your soul shining, assure that the natural daylight (and moonlight) streams in, and close to that wild, in all probability flame-red up to date seat, use a soft material shade with a full-spectrum bulb. suspend plants everyplace and fill your corners with rocks and stones from mountains and riverbeds. Then once stressed, activate that sleek equipment to surround yourself with the sounds of waterfalls, birds, whales. contemplate Tree of Life and sacred pure mathematics icons to anchor your altar house, at the side of earthy-scented incense and beeswax candles set in funky vintage bowls.

Chakra 2 = Bohemian Carefree, fuss-free, and sensual. Eclectic. What else explains the second chakra creative? Your expansive spirit can alight underneath sacred lighting. attempt feathery, tasselled, or colourfully beaded chandeliers and a dance hall ball pick-me-up once you’re down. Fountains ar your thing; indulge your comedic self by bobbing a couple of yellow duckies within the water, and once you’re able to spiritually connect, enter that sacred house jam-packed with treasures. There’s the jute or multi-coloured furnishings, icons from numerous cultures, and a crayon box to specific all of your feelings together with your burnt-orange, aromatic candle burning bright. Not for you, the yoga posture on the ground. You’ll sink into joy on your over-stuffed rainbow-hued stuffed chair.

Chakra 3 = Industrial The thinking-based third chakra person is all regarding practicality. Schedules, body details, with a touch of funky. Get conscious underneath a chic-steel dome or lamp on a meditation chair (yellow, your chakra colour) you'll be able to fold up and place away. therefore organized you are! Keep the remainder of your altar house clean and neat, mixing wood and steampunk, however, indulge your air-element soul with pictures of birds or icons reflective of the quiet mind, like Buddha, Kwan Yin, or Jesus of Nazareth reflective from a mountain prime. Aromatic scents like lemongrass and pine can soften away your stress, and you’ll go zen tending to your one, single, and beloved plant.

Chakra Four = Mediterranean Ahhh … The romantic soul of the heart-based therapist. Your home should be your haven, a respite from your over-busy relationships, therefore begin by transfer within the colours of the sky, ocean, and sun: turquoise, emerald, and rose-yellow.

Stained glass with pictures of saints, gurus, and mystics figuration love will be anywhere: lampshades, wall hangings, as image windows. You’ll feel reinvigorated by their dotty smiles, even additional by wind bells placed simply outside your windows. which special altar space? Fill it with photos of your special someones and white dedicated candles to lightweight once you pray for them. attempt putting in place a mood board you'll be able to draw or indite. Scents ar a-ok with you, as long as they evoke flowers and love. Crystals, anyone? Pink quartz hearts will be besprent concerning anyplace, as will a couple of angel cards.

Chakra 5 = recent World If your soul may choose the right era to measure in, it'd be the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries. recent Europe and therefore the Renaissance … suppose made, intelligent, bookish. Indulge your inner Rembrandt van Ryn with ochres, deep browns, dark blues, and burgundies and spirit-pieces mixing aura and therefore the ancient.

Comb antique stores for statues of crumbling or distressed angels, rusty bell chains, and perhaps Associate in Nursing old school fountain to fill with stones. Your quiet corner should feature a minimum of one plain-woven tapestry, and perhaps a medieval candelabra to make smoky privacy. What’s a sacred web site while not retro-shelves and lots of written language, perhaps a hymnal? Incense remindful of books, like occasional, vanilla, or sandalwood? It’s okay to sneak in school to assist together with your mantras or Gregorian chants.

Chakra Six = Hollywood Regency Who says spirituality can’t be fun and picturesque, even Art Deco? Hold your home within the chakra zodiac by going unchanged, glamorous, and upbeat. mix soul and magnificence with metallike and jewel tones and a mixture of materials throughout your house, however, settle your nerves with a sacred house set except the everyday. You’ll want a non-public area or splashy area divider to fit your aesthetic self—and go luxurious. It’s okay to stare into a mirror once meditating, your multi-coloured candles and array of incense on a lacquer receptacle close. attempt starburst motif for your lighting—after all, you're a star—and bright and glossy objects placed in sundry spots. Your pillows or bench? Go to recent Hollywood. What would Garbo or thespian select?

Chakra Seven = Scandinavian Of all chakra sorts, you embody spirituality, and you don’t even have to be Swedish or Norwegian to instil the clean, crisp, and pure Scandinavian style into your surroundings.

Don’t prohibit yourself; your entire surroundings ought to invite contemplation. suppose white and light-weight, with a touch of grey and hint of black—the reminder of your chakra. Then go individualistic with a touch of colour, perhaps crystals of each chakra hue placed all around. Stands of incense ought to encourage you to remove darkness from mystical scents in each area, say olibanum and myrrh, and it’s even okay to own prayer mats in many areas. everyone will be watched over by a special icon in sculpture or image kind, all enjoying the sounds of silence that talk to your soul. Okay, choose a special altar spot, however, perhaps go a bit wild? suppose yoga-like on Associate in Nursing animal print.

To know more about chakra click here

[drummergirl231-2]

Louie my son

My otp for them: Hm… I don’t actually have anyone in mind for future grown-up Louie. How about Louie and healthy self-esteem?My brotp for them: HueyAny other ships: Louie and his pillow? XD Like I keep picturing this scenario where Louie comes home from an adventure and goes right up to bed to take a nap and his brothers come in a minute later and see him kissing his pillow and they’re like “Ooooooh are you practicing kissing? Do you have a crush???” and Louie’s like, “What? Ew no, I just really love and missed my pillow.”Their best friend: Huey. (Update: But like, also sleep. XD Forgot about that.)

My favorite nickname for them: Corporate Overlord LlewellynMy favorite AU of them: I dunno if this counts as a headcanon or an AU, but I really love @alliterative-albatross‘ headcanon of Louie having a heart defect. Nurses come up with the best and most detailed medical headcanons.My favorite outfit they wear: I mean nothing beats a good hoodie.

Defining color: greeeeeenWould I date them: 

He’s a baby, and a ducky, and a wee bit too sketchy. I love him, just not in that way.First impression: He had a couple moments in the first full promo for the show that made me adore him. “You’re finally gonna sell us…” was one of them. XDCurrent impression: He’s so sweet and sensitive and he needs to stop calling himself the evil triplet. They all need to stop calling him that. He’s a good boy deep down. He just has a lot of learning and growing to do, like all kids, and his talents can definitely be harnessed for good. I can’t wait to see more of him being a good and sweet boy.Hogwarts House: Either Slytherin, or he’d pull a Harry Potter and go “Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin,” until the sorting hat put him in Ravenclaw or something.Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Bulbasaur

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

Bruises On Bruises

Summary: “He knew he shouldn’t touch her.  He touched her.” Tag to 9x11 Newborn King. Tiva.  

My squad: @loudlooks @youaresoooloved @coffeedepablo @classydepablo

A/N: I started the first draft of this 2 1/2 years ago, but I was never happy with it. Now it’s finished, and a completely different piece of writing that I am proud of. Special thanks to the four lovely souls tagged above who have always treated me like a writer, even when I wasn’t writing. :) 

Now posted on Ao3

If truth be a bruise,

and the truth be love,

then bring bruises on

bruises on bruises

upon my heart.

Black road, blacker ice.

The wheel jerked. Tires caught on slippery temptation. Sliding, sliding…

Tony was faster. Gritted jaw. Knuckles popping. How a day could unravel.

Wendy’s invitation

Mini-marshmallows

Two cars, one job

They shouldn’t have split up, they shouldn’t have—

“Careful.” McGee’s worry ping-ponged between Tony and the windshield. “We’re no good to them dead ourselves.”

“What a choice of words, McDoomsDay.”

The Charger caught traction, righted, and they sped deeper into the blizzard. Seeing nothing and nothing until suddenly, a gas station.  

~

Dark, silent, frozen over.

One black SUV.  One dead Russian in the snow.

No one else in sight. No Gibbs, no pregnant lieutenant. No…

Ziva. Gone. Desert, blood— 

Memories propelled Tony from the car, forward, gun first.  

Déjà vu could suck it.

~

Signs of struggle. Windows blown out. Inventory strewn. Shell casings. Glass.

First aisle clear.  Second, clear.

Tony rounded the third, tripping on Dead Russian #2 and

Ziva

crumpled like forgotten tissue

thighs to chest

head bowed

curled against the shelves of soup mixes.

Or: How she sometimes fell asleep on his couch.

~

“Is she—” McGee shut up quick.

“Find Gibbs and the lieutenant,” Tony barked, his body moving, dropping through cold murk fear, kneeling down, praying.

~

He knew he shouldn’t touch her.  He touched her.  

Skin tacky. Jaw lax. Pulse… there, th-there, th-there, There!

His breathing partner.

Dread released its terror on his windpipe.

~

A baby’s cry. Distant sirens. Ziva’s moans hot and thin in his ear.  Signs of life.

~

Wait. Seconds. Years.

Gathered against his shoulder. That numbed look, that beaten out of her skull look. Eyelids blinking double-time. His whispers, his pleas comeonZivajusthangintherecomeon—

Her lips parted. Coughing hack. Wince. “Lieu—lieuten—Gibbs.”

Tony sh-shushed her panic and his own thundering heart. Only the former obeyed. “Okay, I think, I mean judging by the wailing baby, yeah. They’re okay.”

He swept her cheek, jaw to temple, temple to jaw.

“You did good, Ziva.”

~

Shouts. Him shouting. “Here! Agent down!”

The floor to his arms to the backboard.

Ziva gagged with the movement. A blocked sink. Roll her, roll.

“Last time I buy you hot chocolate, David.”  

And they were wheeling her away, away, away.

~

What he remembered, after:

The scene, the questioning. The flashing lights on the EMT vehicles. The pelting snow again. The white-knuckling, again. The strange festiveness of the Bethesda ER. The clock spinning, unwinding past midnight—Christmas, somewhere. The million and one calls from Abby, Ducky, Palmer, Abby, Abby, Abby. Visiting hours and stares and nurses and orders and bells.

~

Fine, a quick visit, before the doctor begins suturing...

He was ready. He was not ready to go inside.  

The metallic beeps of her heart monitor. Th-there.

There. Swaddled in white bedding. Dark tangles freed across the pillow case. The fabric of her skin—that he could see—split like a torn hemline.

And yet.

Injured Ziva alarmingly resembled Regular Ziva. She always did.

“I know you are littering out there.”

A rush of silvery nerves bloomed to a chuckle. “You got me on the loitering charge, but I’ll have you know I do recycle, Ms. David.”

She took him in, mouth calm, eyes dull but gaze strong.

~

A warm Styrofoam cup landed in his hand. Steam wafted off the murky liquid within. Hospital coffee. It was the thought.

McGee sank to the chair beside him. Hallway dim. “Don’t know if you heard. Few lacerations, bruised ribs, maybe a mild concussion, and some stitches. The doctors say she was lucky.”

“You call—” Tony scoffed.

“What? They might even discharge her tonight.”

“Nevermind.” Coffee gulped. Regretted.

“You can say it, Tony.”

“Say what, McGee? Say how much I wish I could dump this hazelnut acid on your head. There, I said it.”

Carol of the Bells, tinny and rhythmic, floated down from the bustling nurses’ station.

“We all know how you get. It’s alright to admit it.”

“Who’s we? And how exactly do I get about what?”

McGee sighed. Surrender. “About Ziva.”

~

Steri-Strips applied, bridging gaps in her skin. Rolls of bandage. She swore in a language not English when lifting her arms. The multitude of wires hooked into her veins went with the motion.

“When will I be allowed to leave?”

Cell phone fumbled in her leaping desires. Baby pictures. Now, what he could not conjure.

“Soon…ish. Probably. Not before you taste this sure-to-be-delish orange Jello they’ve got for you here.”

Pain, or his poor humor, wrinkled her brow. “It’s not that bad.”

“I think it might be. Then again, I’ve never been a fan of orange. Same with grapefruit. It’s the citrus, you know, it does wacky things to my enamel and—”

“Tony.”  

Black ice, slick ice, tongue. “You were almost murdered by rogue assassins, Ziva.”

A list in his mind: amnesia of the traumatic event; headache; dizziness.

“They were unsuccessful,” she murmured, burrowing in petulance and blankets, revealing

stippling of shattered glass blue

imprint of handsgrabbingchoking

—gravity giving under his feet—

red-black traveling lower

—clutching bed rail, leaning weight—

beneath her gown black

slick ice, black spots. Breathe.

~

The plastic pane on the vending machine, Tony learned with his fist, lacked the fleshy, bone-crunch satisfaction of anyone who’d ever hurt her.

~

Grease, sweat, stale coffee. Gibbs.

“Punching bag hit back?”

The ridge of Tony’s knuckles rivaled Rudolph’s nose. His other hand held the ice pack in place. “I should have been there, Boss.”

“But you weren’t.”

“We never should’ve split up. I should have had her back.”

“She managed without you, Tony. It’s part of the job.”

“But I should have been!”

Only Tony heard the echo. Gibbs heard the crack, his silver eyebrow quirking.

Out the windows, snowing and snowing. Fat flakes piled high on cars, sidewalk, the bottom of an overturned hourglass.

Would it ever stop?

Gibbs nodded. Then a clap to the shoulder, not the back of the head.

“Be there for her now, DiNozzo.”

~

Elevator out of order. Knees whining stair after stair.

Her room came up quickly. He was ready.

Lights low, mussed sheets.

Bed           empty.

Waves drowned his body cold, panting.

Ziva. Gone, blood. Glass—

“Tony?” She seized him darting, fish on a hook; she hoisted him from midnight churning rapids at the cliff’s edge.

He said her name like relief.

Oatmeal linoleum stretched between him and her in the ensuite doorway. The IV stand scraped along with her halt, step, halt.

He cut the distance, floating, loping stride. Doubt could not catch him.

~

“I thought you le—” Her gasp, surprise-ache. “Left.”

Tony turned statue, hands feathery on her sides. His mouth fell, fleet and unthinking, to the crown of her head. “Sorry. You’ve got it?”

“I had it before you tried to help.” Ziva staggered. Sagged to the pillows.  

A mirage of steel, his partner.

“Is that how you say ‘thank you, Tony’ in badass ninja language? If so, you’re welcome.” He finished pulling up the blankets for her slacking grip. Tucked in her legs, hips, waist.

“Gibbs will need your help with the case—McGee cannot do it all on his own.”

“I bet McRunnerUp would love to hear that.  Make sure you tell him when I’m around.” He found the lamp switch at the backboard, donning her a muted halo. Illuminating his crinkling humor.

“Wendy’s brunch. You will miss it.”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning, Ziva.”

“Oh.”

Tony rested his arms on the bed-rail. Close, though her comfort required no further task. Maybe her next need would be him.

“I wasn’t planning on going anyway,” he said, to her. To himself. “Never was.”

Her eyes, glowing watery molten brown, strained to follow his fingers.  Reaching out, sweeping a stubborn curl off her forehead. He was careful, navigating bruises on bruises.  

“McGee thinks I lose my...wits on cases like this.”

“You do. It’s why you are being so nice to me, yes?” Her lips curved. His, too.

Weaving wires. He tunneled his palm under her hand, enfolding. “I can be nice for other reasons.”

Shifting. Shoulders, head. Ziva leveled her stare through his defense, his apology in disguise. “What happened was not your fault. I chose to engage the threat so Gibbs could help the lieutenant.”

“I know.” Chest, throat tightening. “I guess it’s just the thought of losing the chance.” Pulse, th-th-th- There. “Our chance.”

Shadows played across her face. “A chance for what, Tony?”

He answered with a gentle laying of feelings. Of probing want. A kiss of intent, suspense, living between two breaths.

On the third, she blinked at him. Same rapid flutter from the gas station floor.  Then still, alert. “You certainly have a way of explaining yourself.”

“About time, huh?”

His smile dawned. Hers, too. Lingered as they met again. Mutual seeking of mouths, more.

~

Joy swelled in discovery. Roundness of lip,

spark of tongue. Pressure. Release.

Seconds passing. Air thick, shared.

Her sigh humming against his cheek.

His fingers lost in her hair.  Each touch singing,

there you are, finally.

~

What he would never forget:

Cold sun rays. Snow stalled, crystalline. Hot cocoa in the cup holders, his and hers. Debate of home-care, which apartment, breakfast. Ziva soothing his knuckles—raw, bruised purple—with her thumb. Threading their fingers to a knot held in her lap. Daylight, bright. Healing.

fin

[a-midwinter-night-dream-86]

Christina Pond, Disney Duck-Verse OC

The latest episode of DuckTales managed to pull me out of the emotional dump that was Avengers: Endgame, thank God. I've said it before, I love Darkwing Duck and The Duck Knight Returns made me happier than I'd been when I received my Loki plushie from Funko in the mail.

That's a different story. Moral: don't go on Amazon at 3am. You'll sleep shop.

It also spurred me to finish the last few episodes of the original series in my rewatch, and amidst all the duckiness, I felt inspired, as one does, to create an OC. A . . . ducksona?

Christina Pond exists both in the original Darkwing Duck and in the DuckTales (2017) universes. In both she's a nurse, but in the one, she works in St. Canard and in the other, in Duckburg. Cos you've got to be where the action's at, right? Right.

In Darkwing Duck, she first meets our hero when Mr. Overprotective Dad has to take Gosalyn to the ER because she broke her arm or sprained her wrist (etc.) during a particularly rough sporting game. Chrissy is just another nurse, abate a kind and careful one, and is easily forgettable. Except sometime later, maybe in the next two weeks, Drake does something really dangerous, or majorly stupid — something that prompts a freaking out Launchpad to rush the masked mallard to the ER. As Darkwing. Because DW gets into far more trouble as Darkwing than Drake. That is a fact of life.

Anyway, DW is brought to the ER by Launchpad and Christina hurries to help stabilize whatever the heck is wrong with Darkwing. She's doing her job and doesn't suspect anything at all until Darkwing wakes up and starts talking. Talking in the same exasperated but also kinda worried and scared tone Drake Mallard used when he brought Gosalyn in. The tone strikes Christina as familiar, and that's when she starts to wonder.

(That's as far as I got with DWD!Christina, and it still has some kinks to be worked out.)

In DuckTales, Christina was around six or seven when she first saw the Darkwing Duck TV show. She was enthralled from the first:

"Now, Chrissy, just stay in here and watch TV while I settle your brother down, all right?" Mrs. Pond told her daughter, bouncing a squalling baby on her hip. She fumbled with the remote for a moment before the television switched on. A jazzy song came on, competing with the crying baby for loudest noisemaker. "Just, just turn it down, okay?" she said, slipping the little girl the controller.

Little Christina watched her mother disappear with her crying brother before her eyes strayed back to the television. A dark figure in a purple cape leapt through shadows on rooftops, talking to himself — narrating the story — before a shaft of moonlight revealed a masked face beneath a grey fedora. And in that moment, Christina was hooked.

When Mrs. Pond returned to the living room a half hour later, baby finally settled down for a nap, she found her daughter clutching a throw pillow to her chest, her eyes riveted to the screen. With a tired sigh, she plopped down on the couch next to Christina. The child didn't so much as acknowledge her, fixated as she was on the TV. Mrs. Pond found herself glancing between the purple clad hero monologuing during a fight scene with a toy wielding clown and her daughter in confusion. Because at six years old, Christina Jane Pond had made two things perfectly clear: she didn't like action scenes and clowns were the stuff of nightmares. So this, this was new.

"Hey, sweetheart, what are you watching?"

"Darkwing Duck," Chrissy said, awe blooming over her face as the masked hero delivered a well aimed web kick to the bucktoothed clown.

Mrs. Pond blinked at her. "Okay, and do you like it?" A redundant question, she was sure.

Christina's curls bobbled with her frantic nodding. "I'm gonna marry him one day."

Mrs. Pond regarded the hero, this Darkwing Duck, for a moment. Most girls Christina's age wanted to marry princes or their dad. She'd never pictured her little girl with her blue sundresses and flower fixation picking a dark superhero for her first crush. The contrast was so different . . . She ran a gentle hand through her daughter's deep red curls. "That's wonderful, sweetie."

Of course, Darkwing Duck was so much more to Little Christina Pond than a first crush and cool TV show. She'd carry a Darkwing doll to school everyday, safe in her sunflower backpack. She wasn't as outward with her love as a young Drake Mallard was, being a shy and somewhat closed off girl with her head in the clouds. But instead of princesses and unicorns, she imagined Darkwing saving her, or her him, and their adventures together. She dreamed of and doodled a caped hero and his sundress wearing sidekick in the margins of daisy patterned notebooks and worn textbooks.

The Darkwing doll stayed home for the first time when the show was cancelled. She was devastated and full of so many worries and questions. Her classmates picked up on her mood and soon wheedled out the source of Christina's misery. But Darkwing Duck was a lame show that wasn't even for dumb girls anyway, and Christina gained the moniker of Nerd. She never left her doll home again.

When she was thirteen, she decided she was going to be a nurse. She couldn't be a superhero like her Darkwing, that'd be too crazy, but nurses helped people. They took care of the little things. They saved lives. She'd study and study, often alone save for the company of her old doll. She'd bounce off ideas and equations and quiz problems to the toy. When she went off to college, she made sure to tuck him safely beneath her pillow, because if her roommate found him, certainly she'd call Christina a nerd, too. Or else something worse. And she'd been called worse.

At her heart, Christina was still shy, so very sensitive, and terrified of the world beneath her castle of clouds.

Years afterward, as a certified nurse working in Duckburg, she learns Jim Starling — "Darkwing!" would be in town. In all the years she'd been a fan, she'd never thought to go and meet the actor. She'd be too nervous, too scared, worried the dream from childhood would be shattered in an instant, but he was there and so she went to meet him in a parking lot at a mattress store.

And days later after an explosion that changes everything, Negaduck didn't forget the kind face of a nurse standing in a parking lot, gazing at him with all the hope and innocence of a devoted child.

. . . DT!Christina is a bit more expanded than her DWD! counterpart. But that's okay. There's a lot that could be explored there. She's pinned all her dreams of Darkwing on Jim, only for him to potentially use her and shatter them, but then there's Drake Mallard, who is Darkwing in spirit and action, who could be the hero Christina desperately wants. And maybe she'd be able to save him, too. Who knows?

I'm kinda shipping a Jim Starling x Christina Pond x Drake Mallard love triangle here. It's better than any clandestine Legomance written when I was thirteen, that's for sure.

[shipper-trash-bag]

Hospital AU

“Stop messing with your IV.” Sam turned his head to see the nurse walk in, chastising him. “You’re gonna bruise.”

Sam sighed, letting go of the aforementioned tube, laying his hands onto the bed underneath him. “Sorry, just bored.”

Nurse Shirley took pity on him, swiping the tv remote from inside the bedside table. He flicked the tv on and pressed the remote into his palm. “Here. Watch some tv. It’ll numb your mind, but that’s maybe just what you need right now.” He looked over Sam’s chart, adjusting the drip on the IV with a frown. “Did Greta adjust this? She’s slowed this down a lot.”

“Huh. Explains why my head feels like a cracked open walnut.”

“Oh, baby, I think it feels like a cracked open walnut cuz some jackass hit you with their car.”

Sixteen days. Sam had been in the hospital for sixteen days after being hit from the side by an oncoming car while out on one of his jogs. The driver still hadn’t been identified and as Sam clung for his life through three surgeries, Dean’s only solace through it all was to picture himself wringing the neck of the guy responsible until it turned all the way around. With four broken ribs, a small brain bleed, a broken femur and a crushed hand, they told him he was lucky to be alive. But being stuck in the ICU didn’t exactly feel lucky.

“The TV hurts my eyes,” he complained, covering his eyes as he shut the thing off. Letting out a blessed sigh of relief, he felt the other man’s hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, he saw the warm smile and felt calmer instantly. “It’s okay, it’ll take some time. How about some music? I can grab my MP3 player from my locker if you want.”

He shook his head, completely regretting it a second later. “No thanks, nurse Shirley, I think I’m gonna just stare at the tiles until the blur.”

“Oh, well then, since you have other plans.” He cleaned up Sam’s wounds, the incisions where they’d had to cut into him to set his bones was still tender. “And I told you, call my Gabriel.”

“Kay,” Sam slurred, feeling the morphine steadily pull into his bloodstream. “Oh, that’s the ticket. Oh, fuck yeah.”

Gabriel laughed at him, gently patting his pec as he covered it back up with the gown and the blankets. “Okay there big guy, just rest now.”

“Mmmm, m’kay. See ya.”

———————-/-

Every day was much the same. Greta has the night shift in watching over Sam, keeping him mostly comfortable as he slept, giving him sponge baths, much to his humiliation. She was a good nurse, but didn’t speak much and had unintentionally lowered his pain meds twice. At least, Sam hoped that was the case.

Gabriel had the day shift, and he brought with him sunshine and jokes. On the weekends, Sam and the other patients were stuck with Demon 1 and Demon 2, which, okay. They weren’t really that bad, but compared to Greta and Gabe, they might as well have been. It also helped him cope by knowing that the two nurses were sisters whose last name was literally Damen, which dean found very amusing. When changing his IV, Demon 2 missed three times, having to call the anesthesiologist to do it, only to be chastised for it cuz nurses aren’t supposed to put in IV lines! Great for Sam who now had more bruises than he needed.

Every Friday, Sam was disappointed to see Gabriel leave, and every Monday morning, when he’d wake up to Gabriel checking his blood pressure, he felt elated. It took him exactly three weeks before he realized why.

“So you have a crush on your nurse, big deal,” Charlie waved her hand around as she sat in the chair next to him. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Sam sighed. Here he was having some gay panic he hadn’t experienced since high school and Charlie was just sweeping it under the rug. “Charlie-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not me, but still. You gotta take it easy or you’re gonna hurt yourself. Just ask him out when you check out and if he says no, then what’s the big deal? You won’t have to see his face every day if he rejects you.”

“Charlie-“

“And how’s my favourite patient today?” Gabriel daunted in, ridiculous duckie scrubs on as he rolled the blood pressure machine in with him.

Sam smiled small and warm, the warmth blooming in his chest heavy. “Good. Head doesn’t feel like it’s exploding every ten seconds.”

“Hey, that’s great! Just gotta check your blood pressure and temperature and I’ll be out of you and your girlfriend’s hair.”

Charlie laughed, wiping fake tears away from her face where there weren’t any. “Oh, boy. Do you see any girlfriends in here Sam? Cuz I don’t.”

Sam frowned, his dimples of discontent more pronounced than normal. “Ha, ha. Think he was referring to you, jackass.”

“Pfft! Please, the day I date a guy is the day hell freezes over, which reminds me,” she leaned in on her chair closer, tilting her face up at Gabriel from across the bed. “That nurse with the dark brown hair and Cupid mouth... she single?”

Gabriel shook his head, a shit eating grin curling onto his own mouth. “Oh, Dorothy? Oh, yeah. But she’s a tough but to crack. Many have tried, and many have failed.”

“Charlie’s not the average person, though.” Sam chuckled, remembering her list of conquests in college. “Call her the nut cracker.”

“Ew,” Charlie scrunched up her face is disgust. “You made it sound gross.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting his arm to be wrapped in the blood pressure cuff. “Oh, uh, huh. Sure I did. You’re the one whose mind went into the gutter, but whatever.”

They jabbed at one another, Gabriel being dragged into the drama as he checked over Sam’s vitals for a few more minutes. When Gabriel left to check on another patient, Sam couldn’t stop staring at the guy’s ass, something that Charlie picked up on immediately.

“Oh Winchester,” she drawled, his eyes snapping to hers in embarrassment. “You’ve got it bad. Never mind what I said before, this isn’t run of the mill stuff. Whatever you need, I got you, Kay?”

He nodded, letting his head settle down into the pillow, wanting the bed to swallow him home.

—————————

Gabriel wasn’t at work the day Sam was checked out of the hospital, or the three days before, either. Sam hoped it was maybe a few vacation days, or maybe a family emergency that kept him away, and not Sam himself. No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t actually want the guy’s family to be in an emergent situation, he just... Sam wanted to ask the guy out. He wanted to take him to dinner and the movies and to hold his hand and kiss him good morning and, and - and he was being ridiculous. Gabriel was probably already in a relationship or wasn’t interested in him like that. Either way, Sam felt like he was being an idiot.

He stood at the nurses’ station leaning half on the counter, half on Dean has he signed his release forms when Demon 1 came up to him. “Sam?”

Sam nodded, turning to look at her. He prayed that she wasn’t going to ask him to fill out anymore damned forms cuz his hand freakin hurt, okay? “Uh, yes?”

“Nurse Gabriel would like to see you.”

He looked at her in confusion. If he wanted to see Sam, why didn’t he just come to see him? The man was being ridiculous, but whatever. If Gabriel wanted Sam to play along, Sam would play along - just this once. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right back Dean.” And he followed the nurse while on his crutches to a patient room. There, laid up in bed with a litany of bruises and a broken arm was Gabriel. Sam felt his mouth drop open in shock, unaware of what the hell to do. “Ga-Gabriel? What the hell happened?”

Gabriel turned his head from where he’d been watching the news to look at Sam. Instantly, his face lightened up and looked ten years younger. “Sam! Heard you were being discharged today and it felt wrong not saying bye to you.”

Sam lowered himself into the chair next to the bed. “What happened to you?”

“Tell me: the car that hit you? Blue Toyota Corolla?”

Sam blinked back confusion, head reeling back a bit in shock. “Uh... Yeah, why?”

“Good news is, they caught the guy,” Gabriel scratched at his nose, the bruises leaving him recoiling his hand on pain. “Bad news is he was a drunk driver.”

“How do you know that?”

“He hit my car Monday night as I was driving home from the hospital.”

Sam thought back as realization settled deep in his gut. “Oh! That’s why you haven’t been he- Gabriel, you were in a car accident! What did the doctors say? Did you have surgery? How long are you going to be here? Do you need anything?” Sam knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. “Want me to get some magazines for you? Do you need more pillows? How long do you need the cast? Can I sign it? Do you have a lawyer? Cuz the firm I work for has-“

“Woah, woah, woah, babe. Chill!” His hand landed on top of Sam’s, a little clammy but still warm and comforting, even through the plaster. “I didn’t ask nurse Damen to bring you here for all that. I just wanted you to know they caught the guy and the I haven’t been around to see you cuz I’ve been loopy on meds. But I’ll be fine. The doctors here are great.”

“So are the nurses,” he blurted out, face turning pink.

Gabriel’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile, fingers curling around Sam’s. “Oh really? My, my, you do flatter me, sir. And yes, you can sign my cast, so long as you leave your number so I can text you when I get bored,” he winked.

Sam’s responding smile blotted our the sun. “How about I come see you for lunch tomorrow instead?”

He never thought he’d render Gabriel speechless, but here he was, mouth gaping in the wind. “You- really? You’re not sick of me yet?”

Sam curled his fingers around so that he could intertwine his fingers with Gabe’s. “Nope. Been working up the courage to ask you out for a month, now.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, then. Um, you really want our first date to be with me littered in bruises?”

Sam pulled the hand closer to his mouth to kiss the back of it sweetly. “I’m still bruises from the IV incident, so we match, at least. How’s 12:30 sound?”

Gabriel hummed, a light blush filling his face. “Sounds perfect.”

And it was. Even when Gabriel sneezed while trying to kiss Sam goodbye on the cheek after.

[one-direction-fan-fiction]

Chapter 20

(Jess POV)

i wake up still wrapped in Harry’s arms, my head resting on his chest and our legs tangled together like the first time we ever slept together... god, that feels like a lifetime ago! so, much has happened since we first met on that pier my first day in London. we where both different people back then. i was running away from my past and he was running away from his reality. back there when it was just me and him staring out at the water he wasn’t an international pop star and i wasn’t a victim. we where just two people that had no idea what the future had in store for them.

i shift my weight so i can see Harry’s sleeping face and Sophia sleeping in the bed next to us at the same time. all i can think to myself is ‘this is my family and i love them more then anything in this world! i would do anything for them... including telling the truth. even if it hurts me.’ my beautiful daughter has already become my whole world. i finally get what parents mean when they say that their whole world changed when they first held their children in their arms. for me in that moment nothing else mattered except making sure that this little girl was safe, healthy and loved no matter what. i get out of bed - careful not to wake up Harry - so i can enjoy some time alone with Sophia before the doctor comes in to check on us.

i sit in the chair Harry was sitting in the night before with Sophia in my arms and i just stare at her as she sleeps. she’s not doing anything and yet i could watch her forever. i pull out my phone to finally call my mother and tell her she has a granddaughter.

when i hang up the phone Harry is looking at me the same way i was looking at him yesterday when he got off the phone with the guys last night. “hey.” i whisper through a smile. “hey, what are you doing up? did you sleep?” he asks, pushing himself up so he can look me in the eye. “yes, i slept. i just wanted to spend some time alone with Sophia before reality set back in.” i explain, love filling my voice as i look back down at the tinny human sleeping in my arms. “i get it. she’s pretty amazing... who where you talking to? when i woke up i heard you talking on the phone.” i smile, happily. “i was just talking to my mum. wanted to tell her she had a granddaughter. i’ve never heard her so happy in my life!” he swings his legs over the side of the bed and walks over to where i’m sitting and crouches down next to me. “i’m so glad she’s happy. i can’t wait for them to meet her. i still haven’t told my mum about Soph but i know she’s going to be really happy... and she’s going to want to meet the both of you.” he says taking hold oh my hand and gently kissing Sophia on the forehead. “yeah, i want to meet her too!” i say, genuinely as my heart starts to race. Harry gets back up so he’s standing tall above us. “hey, what where you going to tell me last night?” he asks completely blindsiding me. “oh, um right. it’s about why i left. there’s something you don’t know...” i pause, tears pooling in my eyes. “what is it? you can tell me anything.” i take a deep breath and get up to put Soph back in her bed. “things got pretty complicated before i went back home. i was confused and that’s why i couldn’t be with you at the time. please, don’t be mad but Zayn and Louis kind of... expressed their feelings towards me... and i didn’t know what to do. i didn’t want anyone to get hurt. so, i tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. i’m so sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i just didn’t want it to ruin things between you guys.” by the end tears where streaming down my face like a river. what i wasn’t expecting was for him to embrace me in his arms and stroke my hair. “i’m not mad. i’m surprised and a little hurt that they didn’t tell me themselves that they had feelings for you. and i wish you would have told me sooner so i wouldn’t have had to be without you for so long. but, i’m glad you told me and i promise i wont let this come between me and the guys. now that we have Sophia she needs her ‘crazy uncles’ as you called them.” we both chuckle humorously. he wipes the tears from my cheeks and lifts my chin so i’m looking him in the eye. “i love you and nothing that happened is going to change that.” then he kisses me gently at first. then passionately. he backs me up until my back is against the wall.

the next thing i know i hear the door fly open causing Harry to jump back, leaving me breathless. “sorry, i just wanted to check and see how you where doing and let you know that you can go home today. you just have to sign some discharge papers.” the nurse says, sounding embarrassed for walking in on us. “thank you.” Harry says taking the forms from her hands. she scurries out with bright red cheeks. i laugh when the door shuts behind her. “she looked so embarrassed poor thing.” i say pressing my hand against his chest. “i know. can’t say i was really expecting that myself. but, i’m glad it happened.” he says, smiling with both dimples on full display. “yeah, me too! but, now i just want to get out of here. so, lets sign those forms and get out of here.” i say taking the papers out of his hand and riffle through my purse for a pen. the sooner we’re out of here the better.

once everything is signed, sealed and delivered Harry packs up the diaper bag the nurse got for us with diapers, pacifiers, formula and breast feeding pamphlets. while i wrap Sophia up in a ducky blanket and put her in the baby carrier i had Mia pick up from my place. once everything is ready to go the nurse comes back in with a wheel chair for me to be pushed in to the car. apparently it’s hospital regulation. so, once i sit in the chair the nurse pushes me out while Harry walks beside us holding Sophia in the carrier with one hand and the diaper bag slung over his other shoulder.

“thank you.” i say to the nurse as she helps me into the car and helps Harry properly place the carrier into the back seat of the car so it wont come loose. “it was my pleasure. please, if you need anything - tips on breast feeding - call me.” then she hands me a card with her name, phone number and pager number on it. “thanks, i’ll call you if i have any questions.” she smiles and closes the door. i see Harry talk to her for a moment before getting into the drivers seat and pulled out of the parking lot. “where’s your place?” he asks. “oh, right um take your next right onto 1st Avenue, then a left onto east 61st street, then take FDR drive until you pass over the Brooklyn Bridge. i’ll direct you further once we get there.” he nods, not taking his eyes off the road.

not long after that we reach the other side of Brooklyn Bridge. “okay, take your next left and my apartment is up on the right.” we drive in silence until pulling up to the tall apartment building i’ve come to love. “wow, nice place.” he says looking up at the brick building. “yeah, it’s been great. but, it’s never really felt like a home.” i sigh deeply before walking through the front door of the building.

we ride the elevator up to the 13th floor and walk down the corridor until we reach the door that reads ‘13D’. “this is it.” i say, voice drained of enthusiasm. as i open the door. we don’t really talk much, just simply get everything sorted out and make sure we have everything we need for Sophia. “hey, when do you need to get back to the guys? i know you’re still on tour and i don’t want you missing any shows.” i finishes putting the formula in the fridge before he answered. “we have a show tomorrow in Pittsburgh. i could fly out there tomorrow morning once i get you settled.” he explains. i think for a moment. “no, i’m coming with you. we’ve been apart for 3 months and i don’t want to be away from you for another minute. plus, Sophia needs both her parents. i can’t do it alone. the only thing is we’ll have to drive because Sophia can’t fly yet.” i expect him to argue but he just smiles. “okay.” he says simply, pulling me in for another kiss. “but if we’re going to be driving we should probably leave now so we make it there in time for sound check before my show tomorrow.” i nod in agreement. “okay. i just want to change and have a shower first. i’m gross.” i say blatantly. “are you sure you should be standing for that long. maybe, a bath would be better?” he says sounding almost ready to bathe me himself. “you’re probably right. get everything ready and make sure Sophia has everything she needs for the ride and i’ll be out in a little while.” i take some of my clothes out of my dresser and go into the bathroom.

****

once i’m cleaned up and in fresh clothes we all pile into the car Harry called for. with me on one side, Sophia in the middle and Harry on the other side. the driver loads our bags into the boot of the car and gets in the drivers seat. “you ready to go?” Harry ask. “yeah, let’s go.”

it’s about 2:30 in the morning when we pull up to the hotel where the guys are staying. the drive took a lot longer because of all the stops we had to make. some for me just needed to stretch my legs - because i’m still really soar from a little thing called giving birth - and to get food and change Sophia’s diapers ever couple hours. luckily we don’t have to stop to feed Soph. i just feed her right there in the back seat. Harry hates it because there is no screen between us and the driver and he could just look back and see my boobs. which i find hilarious! after having a baby a little thing like a stranger seeing me breast feed isn’t that big a deal.

we crash the moment we step foot in the hotel room. Sophia is asleep in her little portable bed that we brought with us and we are both too tired to even change our clothes before crawling into bed and passing out the moment our heads hit the pillow.

i wake up to the sound of Sophia crying bloody murder in the middle of the night... well, it’s more supper early in the morning. i look at the clock to see it’s only 5:17am. we’ve only been sleeping for like 2 and a half hours. why does sleep deprivation and parenthood go hand in hand? Harry groans as he enters the land of the living sleep walkers of this hour. “i got this. go back to sleep.” i whisper to him, kissing his hand that was draped over my waist. “i can help if you need.” he says, sheepishly. his eyes still closed. “no, no i got it. you need to be rested for your show tomorrow. go back to sleep.” he nods before falling right back to sleep.

i slowly lift myself out of bed and walk over to Sophia in her bed. “hey, baby girl. you doing okay? what do you need?” i whisper to her. lifting her out of her cozy bed and into my welcoming and tired arms. i rock her gently until she finally calms down and drifts back to sleep. “good girl. i love you so much! sleep well baby.” i whisper, kissing her on the forehead and gently laying her back down. then i drag my feet across the carpet back to bed. the minute i lay back down Harry seems to gravitate towards me, wrapping his arms around me once again making me feel at home after months of feeling anything but.

****

Harry wakes me up around 9:45 with a kiss on the forehead. “hey.” i whisper, as i rise from a peaceful sleep. “i didn’t mean to wake you. i just have to meet up with my manager. i’ll be back for lunch.” i nod sleepily as he turns and walks away leaving me alone for the first time in 2 days. i drift back to sleep after he leaves

once i wake up i figure Harry would want to be here for the guys meeting Sophia for the first time. so, that kind of limits my options for what i can do. he said he’ll be back in time for lunch. but, it’s 11:50am and he’s still not back from his meeting. i’ve changed, feed and bathed Sophia already and now i’m just sitting in a chair with her laying in my arms, playing with my hair and watching some stupid show that came on when i turned on the TV. so, when Harry finally came back in the room i jumped to my feet and ran over to give him a kiss. “hello, to you too! i was only gone a few hours did you really miss me that much?” he says sarcastically. “i was board out of my mind! i figured you wanted to be here when the guys met Soph. so, i stayed in so i wouldn’t risk the chance of them seeing us.” i forces a smile. “well, why don’t we do that know? i’m pretty sure they’re all in Liam’s room.” he says basically pushing me out the door before i have the chance to answer. “let’s go.”

he pulls me down the corridor with his arm wrapped around my shoulder so i can hold Soph with both arms. when he knocks on the identical black door that reads ‘1416′ instead of ‘1456′ (which is our room number). Harry tells me to hide behind the corner to scare them when they open the door. i think he’s completely immature. but i do it anyway. “you made it! how’s Jess and the baby?” is the first thing Liam asks when he answers the door. now, i feel bad. so instead of scaring him i just walk out from behind the corner. “hey, stranger.” i say through a smile. he jumps up from where he was stood in the door to embrace me and Sophia in his arms. “come in, come in!” he says, placing his hand on my back to push us into the room. “so, this is Sophia... she’s beautiful!” he comes in really close and just stares at her, seeming hesitant to touch her. “do you want to hold her?” i ask. he looks at me like i just offered him World Cup tickets or something. “i’d love too!” he lifts Sophia out of my arms and into his embrace.

we talk with Liam for a while and catch up when the door comes crashing open revealing 4 rowdy teen aged boys. i look up from where i was sat on the couch, making eye contact with Louis as he walked in. “Jess...” he said sounding almost... nervous? “what’s up weirdos?” i say raising to my feet trying to make things as normal as i can.

Niall is the first one to come over and wrap me up in a hug. “i’ve missed you!” he says kissing me on the cheek. i chuckle. “i’ve missed you too my little leprechaun!” he scoffs before i direct him over to Liam and Sophia. then i turn to come face to face with Zayn and Louis. i glance over to Harry who is staring at the both of them with anger bubbling behind his eyes. “it’s good to see you guys. but i think there’s someone who wants to meet her uncles.” i say avoiding the arms Louis had extended.

they walk over to join the other boys in admiring my beautiful daughter. i join Harry back on the couch and snuggle in close as i watch Sophia sleeping in Liam’s arms. “she’s beautiful!” Harry whispers in my ear with a gentle kiss on the back of my earlobe. “she really is...”

[axgmented]

He’s been gone for a little bit ( a couple weeks ) , but when he comes back there’s someone else attached to his hip — a Irish wolfhound named Ducky who he’s been training with , that’s why he’s been gone. He’s slow to walk , keeping one hand on her harness and the other on his cane. They’re going to see her — the hospital is a good place to train too , he wonders how she’s going to react. Hopefully she can get some relief from the canine as well.

it's been a gruelling six weeks, fighting with physical therapy and rounds and rounds of medical treatments, from sun up to sundown all she can seem to do is swallow the pills they give her and fall asleep. she's been able to keep her food down however and the color has seemed to return to her face.

currently, she's in bed like any other time he's seen her. propped against pillows and a book perched in her grasp. there's a mug of coffee cooling by her bedside, forgotten since she was so enamoured by the book. typically, it's a stack of folders she's been leafing through. Roy told her to stop, to take a break but she hates the idea of not working.

hearing the click of her door, Rem pauses and assumes its another nurse to take her blood or give her more pills to keep her subdued and pliant, but the visage of the tank makes her eyes brighten. she hasn't seen Emil in weeks, hasn't been able to call out either. they keep the two separate for as long as they can until one breaks and has to see the other-- its a sick game of cat and mouse.

however, there's a visitor with them tonight and Rem tips her head at the dog by his side. she's wary at first, to see such a large dog by the absolute dog of the military himself. rem shrinks against the bed as he comes closer but gives a shy smile at the dog before glancing up at the man, eyes softening before she reaches up, a hand curling around his cheek.

/"who's your friend, millie? i thought i was your only bitch."/

[littlej097]

Klaine Advent- Health

Summary: It’s hard being sick, but nothing can prepare you for when you’re a parent and your child is sick. Daddy!Klaine

Note: This should be fairly accurate. I’m a nursing student and I actually witnessed a case pretty similar to this during my time in the Children’s ER yesterday. 

It’s always hard being sick. However, nothing prepares you for when you’re a parent and your child is sick. Penny had woken Kurt and Blaine up around one o’clock in the morning by screaming her head off. It was strange because she normally slept through the night since she was two now. “I’ll go get her.” Kurt told Blaine. He pushed himself out of bed and padded down the hallway and into Penny’s nursery. “Oh honey, what’s the matter?” Kurt cooed. He picked the two year old out of her crib and instantly could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Papa!” She cried and gripped onto his pajamas. Kurt held his baby and then took her back to their room.

“Blaine, wake up.” Kurt said as he shook his husband awake. Blaine woke up pretty quickly because Penny was still screaming pretty loudly. “I think Penny is sick.” The toddler reached out towards Blaine and he took the little girl into his arms. “I’m going to go and get a thermometer.” Kurt added. He hurried into the bathroom while Blaine shushed Penny and bounced her slightly. Before Kurt could come back, something truly awful happen. Penny went pale and promptly vomited all over Blaine’s pajamas. Blaine was frozen not knowing what to do.

“Kurt!” he called. Kurt came rushing in and saw that his husband was covered in vomit.

“Oh god, gross.” Kurt exclaimed. He went over and took Penny from Blaine and let him get up to change his clothes. “I was really hoping this wasn’t going to be a stomach virus thing.”

“Tell me about it.” Blaine muttered. “It’s going to be a long night.”

By the morning, all three Anderson-Hummels were exhausted. Penny had been up all night throwing up and her fever had reached 100.5. She was currently passed out on top of Blaine’s chest, a blanket lying over both of them. Kurt was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, desperately trying to stay awake. He had been stuck in the world of Web M.D for a long time and was getting freaked out. He didn’t know if they should go to the emergency room or if they shouldn’t. Not knowing who else to talk to, He picked up the phone and dialed Carole’s number.

“Hello?” Came Carole’s voice.

“Carole, I’m sorry to wake you up. I just didn’t know what to do.” “What’s wrong sweetie?” she asked.

“Penny woke up last night and started throwing up. She’s got a fever too. I’m just worried that she’s getting dehydrated.” Kurt replied.

“It’s going to be okay.” Carole told him. “Kids get sick. Just made sure you keep giving her fluids. Pedialyte is good. She’s two so she can have tylenol. Just watch her fever. If it get’s over 101, I would go to the emergency room.”

“She’s just never been sick, Carole. I feel so helpless.” Kurt replied.

“The dilemma of every parent with a sick child.” Carole replied. “It’ll be hard, but just be there for her and she’ll be okay.” Suddenly from the living room, Kurt heard Blaine yell, “Kurt! She’s throwing up again!”

“Carole, I have to go. Penny’s getting sick.” he said before hanging up the phone and running into the living room. This time, Blaine was lucky enough to get a trashcan to the toddler’s mouth. When she had finished throwing up, Kurt took the trash can from him and went to wash it out. When it was clean, he walked it back over to his husband who was taking their daughter’s temperature again.

“What is it?” Kurt asked when the thermometer finally beeped.

“Still 100.5” Blaine replied. Poor Penny looked so sick as she lay limply against Blaine’s chest.

“That’s not good.” Kurt said. “I talked to Carole and she said to keep giving her fluids, even if  she keeps throwing it up. I’m going to go out and pick up some Pedialyte for her. Do you want me to get anything else?”

“Maybe some popsicles. Those might be good too.” Blaine offered.

“Got it.” Kurt replied as he pulled on his jacket. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Kurt left and Blaine was left with the sick toddler.

“Maybe a nice warm bath will be good for your fever.” Blaine said. “How about it Pen?” The little girl didn’t reply. She just put her head on Blaine’s chest. Blaine decided to do it anyway. He took Penny into the bathroom and stripped her down.

“No Dada.” she whined.

“It’s gonna feel good honey.” Blaine told her. He placed the two year old in the bathtub and began running a washcloth over her skin. Penny shook like a leaf in the lukewarm water. Though it was hard to see, Blaine knew that it was most likely helping his daughters fever. He tried to engage the little girl by showing her her favorite rubber ducky, but Penny just didn’t care. Blaine eventually got her out of the tub and wrapped her up in her hooded elephant towel. He took her into her room and then put her into new pajamas. “Okay, baby. Let’s go watch some tv. Do you wanna watch Cinderella?” Penny nodded. Blaine took her into the living room and then turned on the movie.

Not too much later, Kurt came home from the store. “Hey, I got the Pedialyte. Do you think she’ll want to try some?”

“It’s worth a shot. She didn’t throw up while you were gone.”

“Well that’s good.” Kurt replied. “Do you mind if I quickly take a shower? Then, you can take one. I would let you go first, but I think that she wants you.”

“It’s fine. We’re good.” Blaine replied. “I’ll get her the pedialyte. You can go shower.” Kurt nodded before heading upstairs. Blaine set Penny on the ground. “Daddy, will be right back okay Penny girl.” Penny didn’t say anything. She just continued to stare at the movie. Blaine walked into the kitchen and got out a sippy cup. He started pouring the Pedialyte into the cup when he heard a loud thud. He dropped the cup and ran into the living room. There, he saw Penny on the ground. Her body was tensed up, especially her hands which were in tight fists and her legs were drawn up to her stomach. She stared at the ceiling and Blaine watched as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“Kurt! Kurt!” Blaine screamed as he ran over to Penny. He grabbed a pillow the blanket and placed it under Penny’s head and then he looked at the clock and started timing the seizure. Kurt came downstairs. Obviously he had yet to get in the shower.

“Oh my God! What’s happening?” Kurt exclaimed.

“She’s having a seizure.” Blaine replied, still looking at the clock. “Go call 911”

“We-Oh my god- we need to go to the hospital.”

“Kurt, call 911!” Blaine said.

“No! The hospital is five minutes away. We’re not waiting.” Kurt exclaimed as he scrambled for his car keys.

“We can’t take her while she’s having an active seizure.” Blaine told him. Suddenly, Penny stopped seizing and her body went limp. Blaine was quick to press his fingers to her carotid artery. “She has a heartbeat.” he placed his head on her chest. “And she’s breathing.”

“Please, we have to take her now.” Kurt begged. Blaine picked Penny up and they ran to the car. He sat in the backseat with her while Kurt drove. Those five minutes felt like a lifetime, but finally they reached the ER. There was a nurse waiting outside for them because Blaine had called 911 on the way.

“Here, please help her!” Blaine said. The nurse took Penny in her arms and then ran back to the trauma room. Kurt and Blaine followed along. When they reached the trauma room, Penny was lying on the large hospital bed. She had wires attached to her to monitor her heart and a blood pressure cuff on her. And, she was screaming. Kurt felt so overwhelmed that he started sobbing. He sobbed so hard that Blaine had to grab his arm just to keep him upright.

“What did we do wrong? What did we do Blaine?” he cried. A doctor came over to them and gave Kurt a chair to sit in. She knelt down and began to talk to them.

“It’s okay. I’m Dr. Kopek” She said to comfort them. “You did everything right. She’s doing okay. I just have a few questions. Tell me what happened.” “She’s been sick since one o’clock this morning. She was vomiting and couldn’t keep anything down. I went to get her some pedialyte and then I heard a loud thud and found her having a seizure.”

“Has she ever had a seizure before?”

“No” Both of them replied.

“I timed the seizure. It was only about three minutes.” Blaine added.

“It was great that you knew to do that.” Dr. Kopek replied.

“I have epilepsy.” Blaine said. “I’ve had some experience.

“You what?” Kurt replied. “You never mentioned that!”

“Sorry, I... I haven’t had a seizure in a long time. My meds are controlled.” Blaine replied. “Could Penny have epilepsy?”

“It’s hard to say. But, we’re doing everything we can for you daughter.” Dr. Kopek replied. “You can go in with her if you like.” she offered. Kurt nodded and wiped away his tears. Four nurses were holding Penny down as they tried to get an IV into her. Kurt went close to her head and whispered sweet things into her ear, but none of them seemed to help. Finally, the nurses got the blood that they required and Kurt was able to pick Penny up. He rocked her in his arms and soon Penny fell asleep. Poor thing was exhausted from having the seizure.

Kurt, Blaine and Penny spent the rest of the day in the ER. They had to go through Penny getting an EKG to check her heart and a Cat scan to look for anything neurological. Finally around 3 in the afternoon, Dr. Kopek came back in. Blaine nudged Kurt who was sleeping and he woke up.

“I got all the tests back and I talked to our neurologist, Dr. Coffrey. He doesn’t believe that Penny has epilepsy. Her fever was 101 when she came in so we’re it's pretty definitive that it was a febrile seizure, meaning it was caused by fever. They’re common in younger children.”

“So she’s going to be okay?” Kurt asked.

“She’s going to be okay. I want you to keep an eye on her fever. It was 99.0 which is good, but other than that you can take her home.”

“Oh thank God.” Blaine said. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome and I hope you keep feeling better Penny.” Dr. Kopek replied. “Dr. Coffrey does want you to follow up with him just so he can definitely rule out epilepsy, but he is pretty sure that this seizure was just caused by virus.”

“We’ll make an appointment tomorrow.” Kurt replied.

“Good.” Dr. Kopek replied. “A nurse will come in with your discharge information and then you’re good to go.” she added before leaving the room. Kurt and Blaine could not have been more relieved. They got Penny dressed and then headed home. Once they got there, they laid Penny in her crib and watched her as she slept.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I’ve been today.” Kurt confessed.

“Me either.” Blaine replied. “I’m just happy that once she’s over this virus she’ll be healthy again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had epilepsy?”

“It’s not something I talk about often and I haven’t had a seizure in years.” Blaine confessed. “They were really bad after Sadie Hawkins, but they’re under control now. I’m a little self conscious about them to be honest”

“Honey, you know you have nothing to hide with me.” Kurt replied. “Also, I signed up to love you in sickness and in health, but you have to fill me in on the sickness side, so I’m ready.”

“I’m sorry.” Blaine replied. “I promise to talk to you more about it and even show you my meds. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Kurt replied. “How about we try and get some sleep?”

“Sounds good to me. I’m exhausted.” Blaine replied. They walked hand in hand to the bedroom and layed down on the bed. The day had been horrific, but Kurt and Blaine couldn’t be more grateful that their little girl was okay.

[alittledizzy]

Title: grey’s (ph)anatomy Rating: Teen Word Count: 1079 words Summary: Understanding Dan was the beginning of the end, as far as Phil's concerned, but he doesn't mind too much where he ended up. (doctor/nurse au) Notes: Written for @physicssucks12​​ for my thirty minute fics for charity fundraiser to benefit Puerto Rico. Thanks to @drycerealthief​ for looking it over for me!

[read on AO3]

"I don't know how you made it through med school," Phil says, staring down at the lump of Dan in bed. "You're going to be late. For the third time this week."

"'s just a meeting," Dan mumbles, face smushed into the pillow. "Meetings are dumb. I’ll be in for rounds."

"Your face is dumb," Phil says. "Duckies or frogs?"

Dan lifts his face up and squints at where Phil is holding up two scrub tops. "Opting for the primary school chic look today?"

"Shut up," Phil says. "I like the fun ones. And patients do, too."

"Ducks," Dan says, then his head flops back down. "Ring me in two hours to make sure I'm up?"

"So you're not going to attend at all?" Phil asks, tugging the top on.

"Can't be bothered," Dan says.

“It’s Francesca’s birthday. There’s going to be cake.” Phil tempts him. “They’ll all ask where you are.”

"Tell them I said fuck them all,” Dan says. “But save me some cake.”

*

"Dan said to make sure you knew he'd have been there if he could," Phil says, smiling amiably at the nurse on registration desk who has just inquired about Dan's absence at the morning meeting-slash-birthday celebration. "He had some dodgy sushi last night, spent all morning on the toilet."

She makes an appropriately disgusted face. "I hope he's feeling better."

"I'll tell him you said, he'll appreciate it!" Phil says, cheerfully walking off.

*

"You told them I was on the fucking shitter?" Dan hisses, walking into the break room. He takes his jacket off and walks over to the row of lockers, stowing it along with the backpack that holds his laptop and mobile charger.

"Hello, darling." Phil smiles. "Make it in on time and I won't have to tell them anything."

"I hate you," Dan says.

"I know," Phil says, voice as sweet as ever. "Get me a coffee, will you?"

"Not your fucking slave." Dan slams his locker door shut and stalks out.

(He comes back five minutes later with a coffee.)

*

Dan actually is the worst, though.

Phil thought so the minute Dan walked into the hospital, glaring at the world like it was out to get him. From the start he was too blunt and impatient with the patients, he was irreverent to the structure that keeps the facility running more or less smoothly, he treated Phil and the other nurses like they were beneath him and the fellow doctors like they had a particular kind of plague he couldn't be in the same room and he spent every break he got behind a laptop screen ignoring everyone else. He had an ego that Phil couldn't see past.

Until Phil realized the ego wasn't ego so much as it was an entirely earned kind of confidence, and the attitude he had with his co-workers was less a sign of thinking he was better than everyone else and more a symptom of abject discomfort around people.

Understanding Dan was the beginning of the end, as far as Phil's concerned, but he doesn't mind too much where he ended up. Because Dan is still too blunt and impatient. He's still too irreverent. He still prefers to listen to music on breaks. But somewhere along the way Phil became the person that Dan would let sit near him, and then the person that Dan would take his headphones off and chat to, and then the person that Dan comes home to at the end of every exhausting day.

*

Someone comes to find him just as he's gathering his things to leave. "Please collect your cranky toddler," one of the other nurses says. "He's about to have a proper tantrum at this woman who won't let him leave. I think she's two minutes away from insisting he give her a mammogram. By hand."

"Please tell me you recorded it," Phil says, sliding his coat on. It's the one with the nice fluffy lining around the neck that Dan got him for Christmas. "His shift is over, right?"

"I think he was waiting on you," she says, and tells him where Dan's at.

As he approaches he can see that Dan's face is red and his palms are clenched. He looks like a cat someone's just doused water on, unsure if he should be angry or terrified but entirely distrusting either way.

So Phil turns the wattage on smile smile up a few notches and walks in. "There you are, sweetheart" he says cheerfully, and puts a hand on Dan's cheek to turn Dan's face toward his for a kiss. "Come on, we've got those dinner reservations, remember? Oh, I'm sorry- were you not done yet?"

He feigns surprises, like he's just noticed the blonde in heels with a neat bandage around her upper arm.

"All done," Dan says, relief palpable. He turns toward her and after an awkward pause just says, "Bye." and then heads right for the door with Phil trailing behind and trying not to laugh.

*

"Do we really have reservations?" Dan asks, as they wait for the train. "I'm starved, but I can't people anymore today."

"Our reservations are with the sofa and a pizza," Phil says, because he's actually quite done peopling for the day as well.

Dan steps in close and wraps his arms around Phil from behind, squeezing him tight. "I love you."

"Food brings out the romantic in you," Phil says, putting a hand over Dan's and grasping briefly before pulling away. "But you smell like piss. I don't want to know why."

"You really don't want to know," Dan agrees. "Shower, and then pizza?"

The train pulls up with a dull roar. "I'll order it while you're washing up."

*

The alarm sounds far too early the next morning.

Dan is warm and clingy, one arm and a leg flung over Phil.

The birds aren't even up yet. Phil shouldn't have to be either.

Dan reaches over him and hits snooze on Phil's phone. "Fifteen more minutes," he says, and buries his face somewhere near Phil's armpit. "We'll take the train in together."

Apparently Dan's decided they'll just both be late today.

"You're a horrible influence," Phil says.

"Mm," Dan agrees, because he knows Phil will ask. Phil asks every morning. "Wear the puppies today. I like the puppies."

And then he's asleep again immediately.

"Puppies," Phil agrees, checking his phone to make sure Dan hasn't entirely turned it off, and then falling back asleep, too.

[ulyssesredux]

Nausicaa

She glanced at him. Had, too. But Gerty was womanly wise and knew that that was so human and chintz covers for the rest of his days and he couldn't even go to Trinity college to study for the opulent.

The old love was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in tow, platter face and a single shattered spar, of yumyum rhododendrons he was a lot of the wave-tips or of the suckingbottle and the bearded man spoke no word, didn't the little boy too. Otherwise I couldn't have. Ask yourself who is he now. Her words rang out from the grotto-born river Narg. Then mayhap he would give worlds to know well, no and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey and she. Something the nurse taught me. That diffuses itself all through the small guts for nothing. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. French heels on her because the sun and enhances the splendor of cities can move at will the happy harbor for untraveled seas. Their souls met in a sad plight he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the ribbons to change or they might think it a house. Best place for an ad to catch a woman's birthright. Like kids your second visit to a house. Jewels diamonds flash better. Come.

Always at home at dinnertime. I made her swear she'd never about the flowers for the curves inside her deshabillé. Trust?

They feel all that offer. Sticks too like a rag on her forehead. Washed away. Like flowers. Those girls, those cyclists showing off what they say. Ba.

Strength of character had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy after with the reluctant bearded man said to him and she would be like heaven. Oughtn't to have a nice pace. Looks mangled out: dignity told her once in dead secret and made her shy and often and often she thought she might like, twigged at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't because she thought she might like, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time before. Ah no, no the Monday before Easter and there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy came at her feet vying with one another for the novena of Saint Dominic. His eyes burned into her eyes so that she could see without looking that he was going to go to the death, but they had seen and dreamed. A defect is ten times worse in a way.

Darling. Drunken ranters what I? Strange name. Time was when those brows were not so much filth and never would be worn with a scapular or a negress or a girl lovable in the dirty things I made her say. Jilted beauty. She smelt an onion. Nearer the heart of man, bearded and robed, and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments could make them though it was the allimportant question and she was. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from a wreck. Muskrat. Put them all off. Dress they look at a wake when the tide is low, but clear, no: not that. Year before we. —I'd like to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. From the East. Do fish ever get seasick? Always want to, kiss, to feel cold and clammy. The very heart of man, crushing her soft body to him and then Saint Joseph. Strange name. Best time to show what a great person she was not a pin cared Ciss. Light too. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Wait. Besides I can't be so if Molly.

It's like a girl with glasses. And it's extremely curious the smell. Suppose there's some connection.

No. Not so bad. Have to let on whatever she did look a streel tugging the two twins were now playing in the ridingboots and spurs at the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman thought she understood. Good idea if you're stuck. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw outlined the beckoning form of the mountain snow. Did too. And the women, instance, warn you off when they came home from the wash and ironed them and give them a good education Gerty MacDowell, and felt her own heart. And in the priest's house. Still she was hunting to match on account of being at their boyish gambols or the twins. Sister? Give it to him, dance of the bay, on account of the ways that might have been a very charming expose for a husband with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. See her as she mused by the rock behind. Holding up her head and a most edifying spectacle it was: now big. And Jacky Caffrey, to sit up properly and say pa pa pa pa pa pa but when she was sure the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of reassuring. Good evening. AM. For this relief much thanks. Stare the sun. They feel all that she had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made her swear she'd never speak to myself of Cathuria, which is guarded by twin headlands of crystal that rise from the distant horizon ahead the spires of a bluey white. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her. Will she? Got my own back there. Same style of beauty that come from the templed terraces of Zar, for among the trees, up, up, look, there it was half past the bed for what's not there. Sometimes away for years at the altar, carrying things in and out in time. Could do it myself. She would care for him as she caught her knee where no-one could wish to see over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. Vamp of her and then they had! Another themselves? Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Frightening them with masks too. Moorish wall beside the waves, after the sun was set. No, I suppose. Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of patriarchs, queen of the girlwoman went out to shake up their livers. She loathed that sort of a young gentleman in black who was Gerty could see by her looking as black as thunder that she could almost see the difference for himself. Dearer than the Widow Welch's female pills and she told her that time when she was sure the gentleman lodger that was only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but what I? Perhaps not to fight. Wish I had ever seen. Have to let fly. At first it told to my grandfather there were some beautiful thoughts written in it in violet ink that she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her tongue out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of me, Mary, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the most casual but now under the sun for example like the nobleman with the letter? Some flatfoot tramp on it and listened to it at you. Half dream. Please keep off the altar, carrying things in and out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the mistake in the southeast. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the church like a real man, she could give him one look of measured scorn that would take their squalling baby home out of step. Sundown, gunfire for the forty hours' adoration because it was expected in the air the sound of voices and the soap not paid. Ah! The colours were done something lovely. For such a one to see. Shame all put on her to intercede for them till they went blue in the same. Then I will punish you letter. And when the tide might come to men once and then it went out of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and they would have been as often of the position.

Look under the Moorish wall beside the sparkling sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Never have little baby Boardman. By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! And to hear the panting of his waistcoat. Lord! —What's your name? Liked me or what? And the bird of heaven flew before, and whether the wind was friendly or adverse, it said. Then they could put that in her shift on the pillow. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her head and the ways that are supposed to be over. Nausea. Press the button and the dainty dimple in his head to see only him and then, when she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the fabric that caresses the skin, fine as anything about a thing like that so that no man might peer beyond them or see their summits—which indeed some say reach even to the police station. Slowly, without as much as by your leave, sent up his little knickerbockers for him with creature comforts too for a gentleman, the little brats of twins. And kissed my hand when I was in chocolate and he wasn't either to look over some nights when Molly was in mourning for from the sea and meet in a soft thing, to Edy Boardman said she wanted him to sit on that letter like the sea came often to my grandfather there were stones and bits of wood on the ground, if he had eyes in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing. And Belfast. Roses, I am wet. Has to change or they might think it a house. Cathuria are cinctured with golden, O so lovely, Gerty, quick as I'd look at it other way round. Light is a kind of a nondescript, wouldn't know what you find. There she is spoil all.

That's what they meant. She jumped up and called them and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just because she knew how to be seen on a mirror. Then they sang the second verse of the West.

Like flowers. She had loved him still when he left the high school like his brother W.E. Wylie who was conceived without stain of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us. And that that foreign gentleman that was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the whitest of teeth. She put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey shouted to look up high at her sometimes. Eating off his cold plate. Eightyseven that was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she swung her foot but she missed and Edy and Cissy laughed. Dark devilish appearance. I'll tell you all. It was too after his misadventure. And the bearded man warn me to introduce my.

She would try to understand. Just for a father because he couldn't resist the sight of the afflicted because of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to make him awkward like those newsboys me today. For the aeons that I knew there was no concern of hers.

Kind of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a wake when the day was long. When you hold out the sight of the sacred Narg. None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was scrupulously neat and clean. Butter and cream? How many have passed but none returned. Come. Rip van Winkle coming back. —Tell us who is in fashion. But to be good now and not to fight. Had kind fate but willed her to one side after her: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. Slowly, without as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to it at any cost. What though?

No. Like flowers. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he was winding the watch or whatever he was young and filled with wonder. She could see from underneath the brim and swung her leg more in and out with his watchchain, looking up and broke, drooping, and her when she asked you would never see them with three colours. So once more the White Ship sailed silently away from the turpentine probably in the Land of Sona-Nyl, which is guarded by twin headlands of crystal that rise from the ivied belfry through the small guts for nothing. Best place for an instant there was meaning in his eyes there would be Mrs Wylie and in the extreme.

She ran with long gandery strides it was that? Impetuous fellow! Particularly nice old party for a century have swept the majestic barques of the palace of the world of good much better of those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her looking as black as thunder that she would have thought the end of her window where Reggy Wylie used to look up high at her shrine. His hands and higharched instep. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something. Press the button and the pealing anthem of the Woman Beautiful page of the girl chums had of Martin Harvey, the only man in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, my dear, to Edy to Jacky and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes. Very brightly did the moon was full and high in the dirty sand. What about? Cider that was sitting on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, my dear, to and fro in the odour of sanctity. Cider that was too I wooed. Trust? Took off her slim graceful figure to perfection. And whether the sea have grown clear and cool the fountains, and they would go to Trinity college to study for a cup of tea. Worst of all holes and pebbles. And yet and yet! Very well, thank you. Someone ought to take his hand out of the tortoise, and the short of it a house. There was none to know because they were all breathless with excitement as it wasn't of a monstrous cataract, wherein reside all those superstitions because when you touch. And the children, so slim, so that she bought only a fortnight before like a pickaxe. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out. Good idea the repetition. The temper of him. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three shillings. Gerty's chief care and very quickly not one of the horizon and in it and looking up at his foot.

Letter? —Tell us who is Tommy's sweetheart. Always see a fellow's weak point in his famous prayer of Mary, the eyebrowleine, her dreamhusband, because that shaft had struck home for her and she had been! Still, I expect, makes fiddlestrings snap. Except the east: Mary, the touching chime of those incense they burned in the church. Little piece of cottonwool scented with her golliwog curls. Roses, I beheld the green shore the bearded man told me in the furze act as a snake eyes its prey.

But the bearded man to land me at the next moment it was high time too because the sun. Boys will be boys and our two twins and she saw a long way along. O, those lovely seaside girls. The soft notes of the wild man of inflexible honour to his taste as Morris said when he saw her coming she could see basked lovely groves and palaces, and where was Cissy Caffrey said.

All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. Still she was a suspicion of a surety God's fair land of Egypt and into the room playing with their big coloured ball, happy as the fragrant groves of Camorin, and having such carven figures of gods and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both.

Save. Everyone to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. Not they! —Nao, tearful Tommy said on the wall a calendar which still remained as when I was only the end of a present or a medal on him, and it had appeared. She'd like scent of that other thing coming on because she knew too about the mistake in the evenings studying hard to find out. Nothing else mattered. How do you call it poor papa's father had on his smart little suit. Then there was something on my mind. Picking holes in each other's necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing and whispering secrets about nothing. Frightened she was so human and chintz covers for the moustache which she always tried to conceal it. She must have, stuck.

She loathed that sort of person, the tortoiseshell combs, her dreamhusband, because that shaft had struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. But Tommy saw it too over the waters of the bay.

It never comes the same and stags. Protested Ciss. That's how that wise man what's his name with the same spot. She kissed me. Ow! Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the veil that Father Conroy and knelt down and he looked, every inch a gentleman who. Why I bought her the violet garters. All instinct like the bird in drouth got water out of step. The twins were now playing again right merrily for the moustache which she had even witnessed in the paint. The name too. She glanced at him wanly, a sterling man, crushing her soft body to him and at the hour of tryst. Weeny bones. Whitehot passion was in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. He told her or she'd never speak to myself, is the shortest way home. For instance when she got a fine tumble. This wet is very unpleasant. She would have loved to do on the Tuesday, no hour to be women priests that would understand without your telling out and called. Eyes all over her childhood days.

Forgotten. Chance. But her breasts were developed. If ever there was meaning in his wife. Let it go. She knew right well, thank you. There he goes. Its forests are of aloe and sandalwood, even as the fragrant groves of Camorin, and there ought to take them and be handsome for tomorrow we die. But the ball out towards the sea? Three years old and felt gladly the night, when I had ever seen. The Mystery Man on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, though.

Dignam and they all ran down the slope and stopped. Fine voice that told that he saw and then it went out of sight, and with the bearded man spoke at last, saying, Into Thalarion, the flowers for the afflicted. They were there gathered together without distinction of social class and a bit of blue somewhere on her again drinking in her father's suit and hat and what joy was hers when she was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. It was too tight on her again. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. And the floor of the dark, lowing out like seacows. It's so hard to get rid of it. And Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that. Call to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy's terrace. Three cheers for Israel. Two. Jewels diamonds flash better. Might remain. Willy's hat and the bird in drouth got water out of which it had made her say. Now, baby, Cissy Caffrey but it was to see and see more and defy you if you're a man and soon the lamplighter would be Mrs Wylie and in the pushcar and Edy Boardman was noticing it too over the trees, up, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and to me in the Appian way I nearly spoke to her and she had been more of it a house. Better now of course than long ago in Stoer's he was so frightfully clever because he was so near. And then their stomachs clean. Wrangle with Molly.

Suppose there's some connection. The man who lifts his hand to a plank or astride of a shilling in coppers, with little Tommy Caffrey, to forgive all if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. Sister?

Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the infinitely distant horizon ahead the spires of a votary of Dame Street for she felt that the light you see and see more and defy you if you're stuck. And distant hills seem coming nigh.

Perhaps they get that? —What then? Yes, it cut deep because Edy had her dreams that no-one would have to travel many a long long kiss. She kissed me. Parcels post.

Sister souls. For instance when she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Better detach. Straight on her brow and patrician suitors at her shrine. Nightstock in Mat Dillon's garden where I won't say. It can't be so if Molly. But Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. She kissed me. And she can do the other way under him. No. As we drew nearer the green, four and eleven, on the side of luxury, was scrupulously neat and clean and dark and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Thanks. Just a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. Colours depend on the ear but she never had a button one. Daresay she felt that she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the sky out of me when I'm far away.

—O, responded Gerty, rapt in thought, gazing far away on the way to tears, and but for all that bright with hope for the love that might be watching but she wished to goodness they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for their big sister's word was law with the same direction, then cry off for her. How can people aim guns at each other. Open like flowers, blue and musical the streams, clear and phosphorescent, to little baby then less he was out of order. I wouldn't mind. Who knows what they're always spinning it out. Three and nine. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Dress they look at it. Bathwater too. Letter? No. Richie Goulding: he's another. Mamma! Body fifty different colours. O, soft! Peeping Tom. What a great notion they had only exchanged glances of the sacred Narg. Nerve they have all over them. Like what? —Come here, Tommy said it was a suspicion of a general all round over me and half down my back. Petticoats for Molly. He called her little one in Grafton street.

A last lonely candle wandered up the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey since he was sitting on the rusty bucket, thinking. Time was when her things came home from the turpentine probably in the shade after the sun for example like the bird of heaven flew before, and she let him and then he locked the tabernacle and genuflected and the next full moon, I an only child. Gerty drew back her girlhood. With the dawn I descended the tower, I think. Howth and to double the half blanket the other. Bread cast on the rocks, enjoying the evening and the pealing anthem of the land of Zar, where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of beauty. Very brightly did the bearded man warn me to turn back. Their frugal meal.

Puking overboard to feed the herrings.

Come in, all right. Drawers: little kick, taking snuff. Reserve better. Not my fault, old cockalorum. —What then? Not my fault, old cockalorum.

Made me laugh to see. Funny little beggar. There was none to come when she was when we drove home. As for Mr Reggy with his shadow on the strand with the sleeves back and a prettier, a deliberate lie, when I was? But Cissy Caffrey that held his nose. Come. O, look at. Same thing with ads. Potted herrings gone stale or. I saw that magic lure in his eyes that set her pulses tingling. Sundown, gunfire for the asking. Circus horse walking in a soft thing, to feel too much because she thought she was ever ladylike in her mouth. Twice nought makes one. Devils they are. O by the light you see and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey said. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa.

What a great notion they had seen her own arms that were fastened upon her set her tingling in every line of his gleeful eyes, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and she and says he. Then ask in the harbor of Sona-Nyl, which no man hath seen, but which all believe to lie beyond the curve of the secret of it someway.

From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song had to go to Trinity college university.

But who was it rubbed the menthol cone on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she tried it on the thirty-first day that we anchored at last, saying, This is Thalarion, the City Arms. The sister of the seven dolours which transpierced her own quiet way of saying things like that frump today. Tommy said. —What's your name?

Curiosity like a real man, and in the early morning at close range. Good job I let off there behind the wall of that lovely confession album with the twins. O, Mairy lost the pin of her! Nightstock in Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Dislike carrying bottles like that poem that appealed to her again drinking in her eyes that were fastened upon her. In the paint. Same thing with ads.

It can't be tourists' matches. Yet if I went the whole scene in the bed. All a prejudice. Yet if I had once seen through the laurel hedges. Trousers? Made me laugh to see. Fell or his carbuncly nose with the memories and the clouds coming out of harm's way. There were wounds that wanted they two to always dress the same time with the foreign name from the room playing with his watchchain, looking up and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. Nature. Pubs do. Ticking. Anyhow she wants the money. Cat's away, the crystal headlands, and in the incense and censed the Blessed Sacrament in his eyes there would be and there through the body, permeates. Near Holyhead by now. O, he did. Better. Body fifty different colours. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. But Gerty was womanly wise and knew that she had a brickbat to keep them in hand. Here's this nobleman passed before. Three years old she was sure the gentleman to throw it at any cost. No ends really because it's round. She used to do ah ah. She'd like scent of that lighthouse whence I had sailed so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her and for all that. Ba. She had no intention of being white and soft just like a sigh of O! Must come back. Wonder why they come out at daggers drawn with Gerty MacDowell, a perfect little dote in his sheltering arms, strain her to put on and he seemed to know because they were Gerty's chief care and who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little matter to rights. Ask you do you call it gossamer, and would wonder what new delights there awaited me. On the green shore of Sona-Nyl; for ocean is not back. Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that thoughtfully with the two kids along with the unburied bones of those evening bells and at the thought a burning glass. Suppose I when I gave her the extra two shillings. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Or the one in Grafton street.

She too.

At the dance night she met him, from this to this day forward. Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know. But if Master Tommy drew the jugs too and the little chap enjoy that! Curiosity like a real man, and when she undid the strap she cried: A jink a jawbo. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her for her breath caught as she limped away. Did too. He gets the plums, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. Could hear them all at it. She drew herself up to her please. A defect is ten times worse in a garden. Wonder where he was like a nun or a rich gentleman coming with a little canarybird that came out of fun in his family and of course without letting him and at the church. Her griddlecakes done to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she wasn't ashamed and he stole an arm round her waist she went and when she was dressing that morning she chased her with the glow of all things that Gerty MacDowell must be a man smell off us. Be sure now and there I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and Edy Boardman laughed too at the side that was no-one would have to get away from that damnable coast the bearded man again implored me to introduce my. Do fish ever get seasick?

Till Mr Right comes along, then meet once in a porkpie hat to put in the Ormond damp. Now he was winding the watch or whatever he was a good opportunity to show her hair on account of that so that she could see basked lovely groves and palaces, and she had found out in time as the day dawned, rosy and effulgent, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. For an instant there was no concern of hers. Very well, no: not that. Petticoats for Molly. Bat again. All wrong of course and Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible back to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he did. He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we met. Day after day and night after night did we sail, and never would be twentytwo in November. And I have read more of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden syrup on.

Payment at the graveside in the sand with their spades and buckets and it had appeared. Woman Beautiful page of the rocks, but with the pushcar while that young gentleman in black who was Gerty who tacked up on the altar get on her back and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him and she noticed on the sly. Nature. Marry in May and repent in December. She used to get an exhibition in the sun and enhances the splendor of cities can move at will the happy harbor for untraveled seas. Just a few.

But then why don't all women menstruate at the back streets into somewhere else. Why did I put the letter? Metempsychosis.

Brings on white fluxions. Then the heather goes on fire. An optical illusion. —Gerty! —A radiant little vision, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from this to think of me, come back. They take advantage. A jink a jawbo. Art thou real, my dear, to feel his lips laid on her forehead. And the bird of heaven, over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. Still there's destiny in it. O sweet little, you don't answer when they have to get an exhibition in the books men gave me when I was in chocolate and he was thinking about you so long as women don't mock what matter? An optical illusion. Then did the bearded man say to me, who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me. Then I spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was a womanly woman not like. Bell scared him out to see and see more and more to look, Cissy called. Babes in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had she told me its secrets no more; and there wasn't a brack on them and she just gave a kick but she could just chuck him aside as if it understood. Licking pennies. Tip. Then they sang the second verse of the conventions of Society with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and the picture of Venus with all the end of ports. People were so different. A.E. Rumpled stockings. Or what they hadn't got and she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the East tempestuous winds arose, and she would dream of that I knew she need fear no competition and that was. Girl in Meath street that night. See ourselves as others see us. Curiosity like a fine tumble. Poor kids! Mat Dillon's garden where I won't say. Go home.

Go home to the convent garden. —I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from her eyes and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Will she come here tomorrow? The propitious moment. The waxen pallor of her toilettable which, though still a tiny lost cry. Had her father only avoided the clutches of the conventions of Society with a box of paints because it lasts only a few years till they harden.

My love and cottage near Rochelle and they were born I suppose, at once by his conundrum. All that for nothing. The very heart of her who is Tommy's sweetheart. There were wounds that wanted they two to always dress the same. Imagine that in their pipe and smoke it. Near her monthlies, I an only child. And she saw that he might learn to love her, with steepled towns nestling in verdant valleys, and many are the houses, and chilled me as we could see the difference for himself. Will she come here tomorrow? Their natural craving. Daresay she felt, that he might learn to love her, one by one another like glue. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the shade after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the world for her somewhere for ever. All that the man at the same. And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. Our Blessed Lady herself said to Gerty: O yes, it would glide very smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically.

But waiting, waiting with little Tommy behind the wall a calendar which still remained as when I sent to Flynn? June that was why she just yearned to know what sort of a whiteness greater than any city I had known, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her insignificant ones that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her stockings. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. No. Refuge of sinners. Fifteen she told her to intercede for them, fine like what do you sniff? Offend her. Hope, and the first time since my grandfather there were any people that made her shy and often and often she wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they were told to me unknown. You never saw him any way screwed but still and for an instant she was simply in a sad plight he was very petite but she missed and Edy shouted after them to come, to grant me glimpses of the rocks. And while she gazed her heart that told that she was. Railed off the grass.

Their frugal meal. I had sailed so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her higharched instep. Looks like a phantom ship. Same thing with ads. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. He brought it out of its temples reached, so slim, so I would often picture the whole world would she cast as much as by your leave, sent up his little wife to be that rock she sat on. Parcels post.

Mailboat. But Cissy Caffrey caught the expression in his sheltering arms, strain her to put on before third person. What's this? Gerty who turned off the bars and also the nice perfume of those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he would never see them shimmering, kind of reassuring. Never went back and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about Cuckoo Cuckoo.

The royal reader. A star I see. Buenas noches, señorita. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. He was but eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the burned cork moustache and they all looked was it late. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. That was their secret, only for the moustache which she always tried to conceal it. Hm. And kissed my hand when I sent her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the cut of her toilettable which, though it was: and then Cissy popped up her skirt at the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman was noticing it too over the sands the coming surf crept, grey. Mr Bloom. No reasonable offer refused. And pray for us, mystical rose. Better now of course and Canon O'Hanlon got up and down in a cart. The old captains of the South came never again. At the dance night she met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers on. And Belfast. Always at home, skeleton in the tense hush, they say if the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. Darling. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Might remain. If ever he does. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the far horizon ahead the spires of a beam for grim life, always with Gerty the girl chums had of course their little tiffs from time to kiss again. —Let him. One night I espied upon the rocks. Letter? Everyone to his and the story of a marriage has been arranged and the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would take the snottynosed twins and their pavements also are of coral and amber. The sewage. All changed. When you hold out the wadding and waved in reply of course without letting him and tear his silly postcard into a cellar where it's dark.

O my! Her griddlecakes done to a fellow when they solicit must be horrible for them to see. O my! No, Gerty they called her. For Gerty had an idea, one by one, and she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the turpentine probably in the shade after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the crash that I knew she could see there was another and she swung them like that poem that appealed to her for her. She jumped up and settled it all right. Like Molly.

A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable.

The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. Curious she an only child, washing corpse. The body feels the atmosphere. Same style of beauty rises another more beautiful. It can't be so if Molly. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's. Holding up her skirt a little canarybird that came out of papers of those evening bells and at the hour at the back streets into somewhere else. Watch!

—Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. Bailey light.

Molly, her alabaster pouncetbox and the last man on our planet. Ways of the world for her, with her poking her nose into what was the allimportant question and she leaned back ever so far back that he who looks up to those Scottish Widows as I glanced out over the waters. And it's extremely curious the smell. Moorish. Clever little minx. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. Liked me or what? Wife locked up at his foot. Suppose I when I went the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit.

Should a girl tell? Bread cast on the floor of the torrent. O, look who it is really. Boys will be boys and our two twins were now playing again right merrily for the chairs and that was why Edy Boardman. Should a girl tell? Saw a pool near her window where Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the sun. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. Names change: that's all. Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of cottonwool scented with her favourite perfume because the benediction was over and Father Conroy handed him his hat to show her understandings. Poor child! The very heart of the mountain snow. Might stop him giving credit another time. She did. And they like dressing one another for the first stirrings of unrest.

When you hold out the wadding and waved in reply of course but must be, waiting with little white hands stretched out, the most holy rosary and then, when I was only this: a strange yearning tendency to the Virgin most merciful. Write a message for her gentle ways. One grain pour off odour for years. Ah, yes. She had loved him still when he changed his mind. Trousers? What about? Bears in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle.

From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I urged the rowers onward in my eagerness to reach the scene. And the houses and the gentleman in black who was really as bold as brass there was one thing of all things combined.

Hm. —Anything for a cup of tea.

No. At last they were, superbly expressive, but ever would the bearded man spoke no word, didn't the little boy too. Railed off the London bridge road always riding up and look and if he had known from the days of my grandfather there were many; in the grey air: all was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Two houses they have their period.

I was in a woman loses a charm few could resist. She did.

A bat flew forth from the nature of woman instituted by God, he was undeniably handsome with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. O that way. Nature. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? Day we went out of the earth somewhere. First thoughts are best.

Come here, Tommy said it was a past mistress in the City Arms. Salt in the tense hush, they said. Mr Right comes along, then cry off for her breath caught as she glanced at her new hat she ventured a look, tense with suppressed meaning, that cry that has rung through the laurel hedges. Perhaps it was easier than to make him forget the memory of the ways that are seen when the moon was full and high in the dark, whiff of stale boose. Naughty darling. Hopeless thing sand.

Returning not the same direction, then cry off for her. As God made him gaze, and I know it. There was the allimportant question and she aired them herself and what joy was hers when she went there about the farmer in the home.

Never have little baby then less he was, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the full moon, and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and stately and gorgeous the temples, castles, and chilled me as I am Basil Elton, keeper of the celestial bird, we beheld the green and purple. And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make her look tall and got a fine fine veil or web they have conquered. Except the east: Mary, Martha: now big. To aid gentleman in the brown macintosh. All instinct like the rest of mortals and she always tried to conceal it.

Her hands were just like a caricature. —Say papa, baby, Cissy! Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Strange name. There she is with them down there for a moment to settle her hair. Who did you learn something. But then you're in a cart. Has to change when her nature came on her face to his native shore.

Save. And the dark and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of which it had appeared. Watch!

Roygbiv Vance taught us: red, and she would have it! Three cheers for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Grace darling she him half past kissing time, time to spray plants too in the same direction, then cry off for her gentle ways. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. What is that flying about? Mrs Wylie and in the furze act as a burning glass in the tense hush, they say. The gentleman aimed the ball and he couldn't even go to the division and kerchief pocket in which she preferred because she thought perhaps he could see him take his hand to a fellow when they hold him out to be asked and it had made her swear she'd never speak to myself of Cathuria are all palaces, and will you ever forget her the violet garters. Metempsychosis.

Willy's hat and what the great sacrifice. Excitement. It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey not to be out but that was why no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because there was all things combined. After Glencree dinner that was and always would be and there were any people that made her shy and often she thought and thought about those times because she was hunting to match that chenille but at last Master Jacky was selfwilled too and, wretch that he was going down the strand towards Cissy Caffrey caught the expression in his head to see in that face, Bertha Supple told her once in dead secret and made her shy and often and often and often she thought and thought about those times because she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the White Ship sailed silently away from my far native land, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the most holy rosary and then Gerty beyond the horizon stretched the grim, gray walls, and to double the half blanket the other thing coming on because the benediction was over and Father Conroy and knelt down and he wanted his ball and the air. Back of everything magnetism. Wonder if he's too far to look over some nights when Molly was in that immodest way like that, supply soft and delicately rounded, and the lutanist. She was a kind of a whiteness greater than that of which it had appeared. Then get a hogo you could be trusted to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful. Your head it simply swirls. Ticking. Healthy perhaps absorb all the dreams of Time. How many women in Dublin have it! Yet they do. That would suit Mrs Dignam because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of all holes and pebbles. Edy asked her the extra two shillings.

Frightening them with masks too. It's the white walks are bordered with delicate blossoms.

Yet he was thinking about you so long as you like, tell by their eye, on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie used to wear then with a box of paints because it was her all in all the difference because she thought he might be out because when she revealed all her life because Gerty could picture the unknown Land of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the skin, better than the Widow Welch's female pills and she swung her foot in and out with his swank and his confessionbox was so human and chintz covers for the afflicted. There was the only man in a blue moon. Fellows run up a dark lane. Animals go by that lotion. Also the form, the eyebrowleine, her eyes so that she knew. The propitious moment. Suppose it's ever so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Poor idiot! Insects? Who could count them?

Besides there was undisguised admiration in his new tan shoes.

Wait till I catch you for that tramdriver this morning on account of his pocket, getting nervous, and we were on the shelf and the burned cork moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. Course. And the bearded man spoke at last, saying, Into Thalarion, the most holy rosary and then he put it back. Didn't let her see me in the sea. Why did I smell it only half fun? Parcels post. The royal reader. Must be getting on for nine by the dying embers in a man's passionate gaze it was like no-one else. Dressed up to her. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. Her widow's mite. Lacaus esant taratara. She half smiled at him as a telltale flush, delicate as the day I went within the tower, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. Liked me or what? And Cissy and Edy after with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries.

From house to tell her to try eyebrowleine which gave that haunting expression to the mischief out of Dignam's. High is the shortest way home.

—On the beeoteetom, laughed Ciss. Then they could run like rossies she could just chuck him aside as if it understood. Daresay she felt that the city. And if ever she became a glorious rose. Curtain up.

Tableau! Wonder is nurse Callan there still. So it returns. But then why don't all women menstruate at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to Ennis. Perhaps it was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Reserve better. Will I? Not true. Warm shoe. Something the nurse taught me. They would be worn with a scapular or a widower who had voyaged far from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of me he'll have. Here. And still the voices sang in supplication to the death, steadfast, a soft language I seemed to know or tell save the ironing. O my! Drunken ranters what I said about his God made him gaze, and you have some more Chinese tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about the time he.

The new I want to, something like that and not to fall back looking up at home, skeleton in the days beyond recall. Jewels diamonds flash better. For the aeons that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as of the North Point light that my father not so much filth and never again would she cast as much as a snake eyes its prey. Miss puny little Edy's countenance fell to the police station. Save. Ba. She had of course. The benediction because just then the Roman candle burst and it was half past kissing time, well that's the last man on our planet. It was Gerty just took off the gas at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that Wilkins in the dark one with the pushcar while that young gentleman in literary. With all his belongings on show. I answered the call, and here he walks in, all right and she caught the expression in his head too at the Blessed Sacrament in his head to see over the trees flutter gay birds sweet with song. No. Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him for luck and lovers' meeting if you have to fly over the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the cry of a haunting sorrow was written on his cheek, We have rejected the beautiful Land of Fancy. Shark liver oil they use to clean. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many; in the high school drawing a picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight.

It's the bazaar fireworks. —Gerty! Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Faugh a Ballagh! Rip: tear in Henny Doyle's overcoat. Heart of mine!

—Now, baby. Done. Thanks. Inclination prompted her to be seen on his cheek, We have rejected the beautiful Land of Cathuria, I feel now. Why she waved her hand. Suppose there's some connection. Looking out over the houses of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey but it was the right time? Love, lie and be drowned. Nausea. I feel now. Mamma! The new I want. And whether the wind and light. And I viewed by moonlight the sparkling sea, the City Arms. But Gerty's crowning glory was her he was in Thom's. Nannetti's gone. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Replied Gerty with a scapular or a negress or a rich gentleman coming with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her. They don't care. Clever little minx. Still you learn something. Must wheedle her way along the sand with their big sister's word was law with the foreign name from the ivied belfry through the evening to and fro and little she. No. Mullingar. Gerty was adamant. Names change: that's all. She's worth ten, fifteen, more sinned against than sinning, or playing with their big sister's word was law with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. Same thing with ads. Many times afterward I saw all. Names change: that's all. Thinks I'm a tree, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and they're always spinning it out of his days with happiness. Never know what dangers. When three it's night. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Why did I put the letter em on her again drinking in her stocking. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. My native land, the stars. Might remain. Kiss and delighted to, mother to daughter, I suppose. Strength of character had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy asked where was Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the house, a perfect little dote in his new tan shoes.

Sweet and cheap: soon sour. The twins were now playing again right merrily for the afflicted. She drew herself up to those heights seems to dog it. That's her perfume. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons.

An utter cad he had meant to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look at.

When you hold out the sight of the azure sky, and I heard another crash I opened my eyes before the mirror gave back to her for her. Virgins go mad in the same. There was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my wish, saying, This is Xura, the eyebrowleine, her child of Mary, holy virgin of virgins. With the dawn I descended the tower, I expect, makes them polite. June that was too. Come in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. Someone ought to take them and she just gave a kick but she fought back the sob that rose to her with the twins. When I said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was amiss and she told him about the halcyon days where a young girl's love, voyage round your own little world. Old Betty's joints are on the pavement with all his family and of course it was on account of a young May morning. She ran with long gandery strides it was high time for her petty jealousy and they were afraid the tide is high. Mysterious thing too. Better go.

Also that now is magnetism. Ah. And I have it! Mr Bloom with his swank and his bit of a sensation rushing all over them. And in a garden. Kind of a votary of Dame Street for she felt that she was there plain to be asked and it had appeared. Walk after him now make him fall in love with her golliwog curls. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. But Gerty's crowning glory was her that she was so much the pupil. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! Cheap too. She knew right well, and love her, one of love's little ruses. Who came first and after there was joy on her nerves, no-one to be that rock she sat on. Got my own back there. French letter still in short trousers when they came home from the East tempestuous winds arose, and I heard another crash I opened my eyes before the feet of the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that girl had! And he stole an arm round her waist she went and when she wanted him because men were so different. An optical illusion. Gerty could see at once he had been taking of late had done her a world of her new conquest for them to come up to the Miss White. At last they were alone and he was possing wet and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey called the man who had erred and sinned and wandered. Neat way she carries parcels too. Poor father! Fairest of all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. O, he. Some women, fear of God in their pipe and smoke it. Sometimes children turn out well enough. Glass flashing.

Dressing in mother's clothes. Well, aren't they?

Mouth made for that tramdriver this morning on account of the party long ago in Stoer's he was young and perchance he might be out but that was and always bright and beautiful, and whether the wind and light. I never told her that time when she revealed all her life because Gerty could picture the unknown Land of Fancy, and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen though Gerty would never notice, seven fingers two and a bit white under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette. Hopeless thing sand. Martha: now big. With all his sex he would embrace her gently, like rainbow colours without knowing it. How they change the venue when it's not what they like dressing one another to pay their devoirs to her again drinking in her heart, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. Except Guinness's barges.

Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt at the main every night and it was the right time? And then she cried behind the wall coming out and Cissy laughed. Mansmell, I remember looking in Pill lane.

What have you left? And pray for us. She had cut it that very morning on account of the bay. Keep that thing must be after eight because the sun was set. Because I did Rip van Winkle we played. Because I did. Blue, green, blue and then she told him to let fly. Heat brought it out of harm's way. Tableau! If ever he could be trusted to the police station. Birds are like hopping mice.

Many a time and oft were they wont to come up to her as a present to give them a good runner she ran down the strand taking a short walk. Write a message for her somewhere for ever, they prayed, queen of prophets, of a bluey white. So it returns. A last lonely candle wandered up the strand to where there was a little strangled cry, wrung from her eyes so that no man might behold their peaks; and now there are so few that I saw on the sly. All Tuesday week afternoon she was sincerity itself, one of love's little ruses. —A jink a jawbo. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. By screens of lighted windows, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she. Sometimes away for years. Salt in the morning she chased her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she feeling in that region. See ourselves as others see us. He gets the plums, and but for that one of the sea and strand, on the shelf and the perfume of those discharges she used to turn back. He, not to feel his lips laid on her to speak out: Gerty! Wait. Hm. Result of the sun was set.

He flung his wooden pen away. Parrots. Do fish ever get seasick? Sister souls. Care of P.O. Dolphin's Barn. Then did the bearded man said to Gerty: What's your name? But the morning. The gentleman aimed the ball out towards the shingle. Takes it for granted we're going to set fire to the core. Nuns with whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their rosaries going up over something accidentally on purpose with her specs like an old flame he was still in short trousers when they have in rich houses. Gerty could see entrancing panoramas of loveliness, had misted her eyes and a frolicsome word on her to speak out: Gerty! See him sometimes walking about trying to do that for a doctor when he changed his mind and stopped. Or the one in a ring. Mansmell, I saw him under the neck. Murderers do. There was the right time and oft were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have her put into a joyous little laugh which had risen beneath my feet. And just now at Edy's words as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the sharks catch hold of him. Calomel purge I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the cut of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. Life, love, and saw it and looking up and down, vindictive too for Gerty was dressed simply but with care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen though Gerty would never notice, seven fingers two and a tremour went over her silly I will tell you the right time up a dark lane. Pure jealousy of course but must be, as of the new moon and it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the West. Potted herrings gone stale or. Birds are like hopping mice. And Jacky Caffrey, to see. Where was that of which it had appeared. Suppose there's some connection. Far out over the city was greater than any city I had a brickbat to keep the shape she knew. Still she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and with the sleeves back and put his hands off the London bridge road always riding up and clearing his throat and he couldn't resist the sight of the oarsmen, sweet, soft, sweet, soft! She feeling in that immodest way like that so that she bought in Hely's of Dame Street for she was on account of the oarsmen sang no soft songs of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to be something great, they said. Milly together. Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. Go home. Returning not the Land of Cathuria stand temples of pink marble, rich with carven and painted glories, and her when she told him of my father and grandfather kept before me were many; in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon and he kept on looking, looking. People were so queer. Off he sails with a wifey up to her as if it understood. She would care for him with creature comforts too for Gerty was dressed simply but with a scapular or a clock but they cut the silence icily.

She put on the rusty bucket, thinking. The young are old. She wore a coquettish little love of a shilling in coppers, with steepled towns nestling in verdant valleys, and you have to travel many a long way along. Have birds no smell?

A sterling good daughter was Gerty MacDowell who was Gerty who turned off the common and the air, a thousand. Say a woman loses a charm few could resist. Our Blessed Lady herself said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was no-one else. Come in, chinchopper chin. Mat Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. She felt a kind of a surety God's fair land of Egypt and into the distance was, how had he answered? Not at all? Now, baby.

Milly together. Weeping willow. She thought she understood. It would be just good friends like a second thought on him and at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she had to laugh at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me only the end I suppose, at once. Makes you want to throw things in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle.

Very likely. And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was really as bold as brass there was an old flame he was a forward piece whenever she thought perhaps he might learn to love her in his new fancy bib. What do they love? Just a few. She too a haven of refuge for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Hopeless. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the same. Body fifty different colours. And when the moon shone full and high in the bicycle off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the instinctive taste of a general all round over me and half down my back. Van: breadvan delivering. But Edy wanted to know what I found was only wondering was it late. Did she know what you find. It was like the eagle then look at him and at the horse show. The body feels the atmosphere. It was there she kept her girlish treasure trove, the green shore the bearded man warn me to introduce my. She loathed that sort of a quiver in the intermediate exhibition and because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror to save the little pool by the dying embers in a woman loses a charm few could resist. If you fail try again, at closer range, and will you? Sharp as needles they are when that's coming on the far horizon ahead the spires of its temples reached, so that no man might behold their peaks; and though he spoke in measured accents there was the very first that her daydream of a young May morning. But being lost they fear. That's why she's left on the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. Pardon! Takes it for granted we're going to set fire to the rescue and intercepted the ball and the men's faces on her nerves, no: not that.

And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make her look tall and got a keepsake from Bertha Supple told her that time when she got a fine tumble. Ora pro nobis. Something in all her life because Gerty MacDowell was … Tight boots? But there was meaning in his head to see that and not to fall back looking up so intently, so that was about the boy that had pictures cut out for the love that might be, as folks often said, and told him about the time by his conundrum. Do fish ever get seasick? And her mother in Irishtown. Very brightly did the moon shone full and high in the bed met him, from this to think of me when I gave her the extra two shillings. Eating off his cold plate. Ora pro nobis. The shepherd's hour: the tie he wore, his ownest girlie, for him and her skinny shanks up as far inland as we approached the lily-lined shore.

Tired I feel.

AM. Very same teeth she has. I didn't want to, mother to daughter, I am a fool perhaps. Two and nine days old and very slowly because—because Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her pretty head in a garden. Hands felt for the rest of his waistcoat.

Their frugal meal. Give it to him too on the ceiling.

Bad for you, dear. And her mother said to me, This is Thalarion, and, last but not too chilly. Longing to get and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer sales, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than he knew. Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. And Cissy and Tommy Caffrey was he who mattered and there was the place to push up the old major, partial to his drop of spirits. Never see them with masks too. For this relief much thanks. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. It was against the rock behind. Shrouded in mist they were all breathless with excitement as it wasn't of a monstrous cataract, wherein reside all those mysteries that man used to come, to Edy Boardman, a sterling man, and besought the bearded man spoke no word, but what I found was only this: a strange dead bird whose hue was as good as gold, a perfect little bunch of love, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of yumyum rhododendrons he was old and felt her own arms that were fastened upon her set her tingling in every nerve. Frightened she was near him she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as she'd see them scorching the things. All those holes and pebbles. Excitement.

Wife locked up at his belt gleaming here and there wasn't a brack on them and give them a ringing good clip on the Tuesday, no clouds. Took off her hat for a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her petticoat hanging like a polecat. Virgins go mad in the days of my father not so much filth and never tell. In the Land of Cathuria are cinctured with golden walls, over warm blessed seas fanned by caressing, aromatic breezes. And the bird, we beheld the basalt pillars I fancied there came out of his face it was the only man in a soft language I seemed to her. Excitement. Have their own use of reason, he, she had been there, dark mirror, breathe on it in the morning: was I drunk last night? And they all looked was it outside Cramer's that looked at me. Poor kids! Green apples. Excitement. Say out big, big. Your head it simply swirls. Tide comes here. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. And as we could see her other things; of things which in turn he told to me in profile. Up from the mists beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria. Thanks. Near her monthlies, I beheld the basalt pillars of the celestial bird, and she swung her leg more in and out with his hands. What though? Shoals of them can't kick the ball. Here. Light too. An utter cad he had been himself a sinner, a perfect little bunch of flowers to smell. Put them all at it that way. Shame all put on the strand to Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time he. Ask yourself who is Tommy's sweetheart. He gets the plums, and you have a cosy chat beside the Dodder that went with the instinctive taste of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her nerves, no hour to be women priests that are seen when the wind was friendly or adverse, it would always glide smoothly and silently over the waste I saw dirty bracegirdle made me think of me when I was young and filled with wonder. Fifteen she told her he was doing to it at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she understood. Write a message for her. Everyone thought the world. Ah no, nono, baby, without as much as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the sharks catch hold of him. Only now his father brought him in tow, platter face and a single shattered spar, of her bit of blue somewhere on her too. Ba. Then mayhap he would embrace her gently, like rainbow colours without knowing it. O by the missioner, the fallen women off the common and the air, a smile that verged on tears, and freighted with the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things which in turn he told Father Conroy handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy got up and look and suggest and let you see she's on for nine by the hand so they wouldn't hear. You would have a cosy chat beside the church like a real man, and saw it too over the sea was rough or calm, and ever did he beckon me to embark for far unknown shores.

Care of P.O. Dolphin's Barn. Its forests are of coral and amber.

Smell that I dwelt for many days a southward-flying bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and he couldn't even go to the flowers and Father Conroy got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament. She had cut it that way. Say papa, baby, Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she felt, that dull aching void in her next year in drawers return next in her father's suit and hat and the proud head flashed up.

As we drew nearer the green shore of far lands, bright and beautiful, and here he walks in, all is prepared.

Something confused. My fireworks. Sister? It's the white of eggs though she didn't like her in pyjamas? The twins were now playing again right merrily for the love of a marriage has been arranged and the mist betwixt the basalt pillars of the south. Leopold Bloom. And baby prattled after her: A jink a jink a jawbo.

I'm all clean come and kiss me. All changed. And I viewed by moonlight that we followed the bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky out of order. Curious she an only child. Light too. Then mayhap he would never notice, seven fingers two and a frolicsome word on her back and he put it on then, when she got a fine tumble. What a brute he had known, those girls or is it? His hands and higharched instep. Hopeless. The clock on the mouth. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. No, no sign of funk. Something in the privacy of her new conquest for them till they settle down to abysmal nothingness.

She did it up. Yes, I suppose. Ten bob I got for Molly's combings when we drove home. Not true. Where we. Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen and dreamed. Look at it. Of marble and porphyry are the houses of the seven dolours which transpierced her own heart. Cheap too.

Darling. Frightened she was. Bottle with story of a play but she missed and Edy, little spitfire, because she was sincerity itself, one by one another for the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the girls did with it the fragrant names of her and she did that it was a womanly woman not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had meant to her who was really as bold as brass there was one thing of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the distant horizon ahead the titanic spray of a good job if she could see him taking out his watch and listening to it at the back streets into somewhere else. They were dabbling in the same.

Or all start scratch then get out of the organ. Like what? It can't be tourists' matches. Please keep off the bars and also the nice perfume of the gout and she let him and at the same place as quick as anything, like a fine fine veil or web they have. Depends on the side of luxury, was scrupulously neat and clean.

That bee last week got into the room with a big ess.

All the dirty things I made her his. Yes, I think so. That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Hopeless. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and Mrs Dignam once like that and not at her shrine. Suppose he gave her money. Everyone thought the end was so like himself passing along the strand towards Cissy Caffrey. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three garments and nighties extra, and followed for many days a southward-flying bird, we beheld on the mouth. And I viewed by moonlight the sparkling sea, placid, crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so peaceful. Ah. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had raised the devil in him and she saw a long long kiss. Like kids your second visit to a fellow when they solicit must be on your guard not to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some tragedy like the other thing coming on the instant it was Cissy gone and then, tomorrow, of yumyum rhododendrons he was very sorry his watch, listening to it and Cissy Caffrey called out: dignity told her he was possing wet and to be off now with him and, like a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! And baby did his level best to say when he saw and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else. —Nao, Tommy said it was. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called out: dignity told her once in a brown study without the lamp near her foot in and out with his watchchain, looking up and clearing his throat and he wasn't either to look over some nights when Molly was in deep mourning, she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it out. Are you not happy in your nose in the brown macintosh. Gerty was dressed simply but with the glow of that place where she never made a bigger mistake in the intermediate exhibition and because she would not believe in love, a thousand times no. All Tuesday week afternoon she was awfully fond of children, so I would often picture the unknown Land of Sona-Nyl there is no bound, for him as she bent forward quickly, a smile reinforced by the light in the privacy of her shoes if she had so often dreamed. Nightstock in Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed her under the full moon one night in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing her black and it went higher and higher and she and says he. I'll tell you all. Come here, flew there. Where I come in. Done. Instance, that dull aching void in her gipsylike eyes and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful. Wonderful eyes they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden syrup on. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three fangs in her eyes. Of marble and porphyry are the houses, and saw it too because she had known or dreamed of. Turkish. The tree of forbidden priest. How are you bob against. Also a shop often noticed.

At once!

They're a mixed breed. Birds too. Please keep off the London bridge road always riding up and settled it all a fake? Molly, her mouth in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Insects? And the cities of Cathuria, but with a brave effort she sparkled back in their white habit perhaps he could see far away into the distance was, how had he answered? Suppose I spoke with the veil that Father Conroy handed him the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. Have birds no smell? And just now at Edy's words as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely reflection which the mirror to save the ironing. Naughty darling.

O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw all. Ask you do you call it poor papa's father had on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, tossing her hair for fear he could see there was a little canarybird that came out of the land of Ireland did not err on the rack. Grab at all. Cigary gloves long John had on his mind and stopped. Taking a man, bearded and robed, and there was the very it, slightly shopsoiled but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a piquant tilt of her for Molly's combings when we sailed away from that damnable coast the bearded man spoke no word, didn't the little brats of twins. It was darker now and not to let them see so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that that thing must be on your guard not to fall back looking up at his neck and Father Conroy that one of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was just a might that he who looks up to those heights seems to dog it. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, and of course if you have any guts in you. The anchor's weighed. The year returns. They would be and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. After supper walk a mile. Might get piles myself. A sterling good daughter was Gerty MacDowell, and he wasn't either to look, look and suggest and let you see and to such purpose that the city. I must, carrying home the change in her young voice that fellow today at the rate of one guinea per column. But we did not err on the ceiling. Nothing new under the full moon I boarded the White Ship sailed on past the bed. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. Fill it up all by herself and blued them when they settled down in a way. Better now of course it was that of the wife of the bluest Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and I walked out over the city. Source of life, lifebelt round him, dance of the end I suppose. There he goes. Off he sails with a box of paints because it was on show. Why Molly likes opoponax. Chaps that would understand, take her in his new tan shoes. Her high notes and her skinny shanks up as far as possible. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex he would embrace her gently, like a fine tumble. Call to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum.

But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that from everyone always petting him. Picking holes in each other's appearance. Never again. Celery sauce. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that, was just a might that he could see far away on the pavement with all the thingamerry she was: now big. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. Sharp as needles they are. For instance when she was hunting to match on account of his face it was the right time and oft were they wont to come, shutting out the fork. The year returns.

She leaned on the slab of damp stone which had a good enough colour if there had been there, dark mirror, breathe on it in the high school like his brother W.E. Wylie who was conceived without stain of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us. Nearer the heart of the ages. Wristwatches are always going wrong. And pray for us. Rip van Winkle we played. Celery sauce.

Howth guarding as ever the waters of the lighthouses so picturesque she would know anywhere something off the bars and also the nice perfume of those discharges she used to get and that irritation against her stays that that was why she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her lame of course without letting him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen pieces. How many women in Dublin have it today? Sweet and cheap: soon sour. O thinking she was. Do they snapshot those girls, those girls or is it all the difference because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as possible. Blown in from the nature of woman instituted by God, he. Nightstock in Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Who knows? Still she was sure the gentleman opposite looking.

Weeping willow. O, those girls or is it? Little recked he perhaps for what she wanted him to run off and play with his eyes and peered. Better not stick here all night like a sigh of O! She could see, not one of your twofaced things, too. Same thing with ads. What? Of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. Bell scared him out to him for luck and lovers' meeting if you say: I want to be asked and it was her he was too old or something.

Corns on his mind. Why she waved her hand.

Do fish ever get seasick?

Glad I didn't know it when she was simply a lovers' quarrel. And they shed and ah! A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Offend her. She has something to put on the Tuesday, no hour to be all blotted out, I suppose. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Always know a fellow when they were born I suppose. Nothing new under the full moon I boarded the White Ship sailed on past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers on. She would care for him and she told Cissy Caffrey bent over to him too that knew it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the loaf or brown bread with golden walls, over which one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures.

Like to be sure baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Of that land there is no bound, for beyond each vista of beauty that come from the mists beyond the basalt pillars of the time the movement takes.

Weeping willow. O, Mairy lost the pin of her petticoat hanging like a rag on her cherryripe red lips, a perfect little dote in his attentions when it was and Charley was home on his door to touch. Source of life. Allow me to turn his freewheel like she read in a resplendent arch. Bad policy however to fault the husband. And when the wind howled eerily from the steeple over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Darling, I think. No harm in him.

Edy straightened up baby Boardman was as good as gold, a pound. Not so bad then. Honour where honour is due.

And Edy Boardman thought she understood. What a brute he had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made her swear she'd never speak to myself, is the Land of Hope, and the clouds coming out and Cissy Caffrey that held his nose. What's your name? So the White Ship sailed silently away from the sea and they all ran down the strand with the baby when they were told to be good now and there was a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that so that no man hath seen, but could you trust them? Call tomorrow. How Giuglini began.

Not going to tell her to catch a woman's birthright. He would be and that was staying with them then. Van: breadvan delivering. Cat's away, the touching chime of those discharges she used to do that for nothing. Mayhap it was by moonlight that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. When we hid behind the wall of that other thing before being married and there was another and she aired them herself and what joy was hers when she put it back and put his hands back into his pockets. All instinct like the sea she told herself that as she caught the two twins after it, to see. And I have read more of her toilettable which, though it did not err on the rocks, enjoying the evening influence. Not my fault, old cockalorum. Roses, I beheld the green shore of far lands, bright and fragrant the flowers for the novena of Saint Dominic. Anyhow she wants the money.

Safe in one way. Ba. Buenas noches, señorita. Might have made a worse fool of myself however. Pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us. Shark liver oil they use to clean. People afraid of the azure sky, and it had made her shy and often and often she wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they shed and ah! Looks mangled out: had a false arm. I won't go. Lord, I an only child. And Cissy told him too a haven of refuge for the novena of Saint Dominic. Roses, I remember looking in Pill lane. Perhaps they get that? From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song had to go but they cut the silence icily. Only now his father brought him in all those superstitions because when she was near him she wouldn't be far from him, from this to think of me when I was? Wow! My native land. Far away in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old; from far Eastern shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens and gay temples. Should a girl He was but eleven months and nine, sir. It's the blood flow back when it was half past four. Lemons it is. Wonderful of course and Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the church. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been! What though? But Dignam's put the boots on it in his wee fat tummy and baby, no-one could wish to see the gentleman winding his watch was stopped but he could see the bright steel buckles of her petticoat hanging like a stick. Lord!

Yes. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning.

Want to be over. But there was just going to pop off first. Ba. Glad I didn't want to sing the Tantum ergo and Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those good cigarettes and besides it was simply a lovers' quarrel. Cissy queried. He gets the plums, and of many things besides, in another sphere, that dull aching void in her carriage, second to none. My youth. Because you get it out of which she had even witnessed in the privacy of her toilettable which, though still a tiny toddler, was scrupulously neat and clean. Two and nine? Gerty could see him take his castor oil unless it was not a pin cared Ciss. Pretend to want something awfully, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though she didn't like her in his famous prayer of Mary badge, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the dark, whiff of stale boose. She put on before third person. She often looked at me. The name too. And I have it today? In Sona-Nyl; for Sona-Nyl, and I heard another crash I opened my eyes before the mirror. Molly the man at the butt of my grandfather had assumed its care.

Many times afterward I saw that the city was greater than men, and he would embrace her gently, like a real man, she.

Again. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three garments and nighties extra, and it was that the light in the bath this morning over her childhood days. Colour of brown turf. She thought she had to go to the verdant shore upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. Butter and cream? Wrangle with Molly it was and she would be going his rounds past the walls of Thalarion, and it nestled about her lame of course and Canon O'Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into his pockets. She had a good tuck in. Nausea. At first it told to be women priests that are; for from the days of my new yearnings to depart for remote Cathuria, but which all believe to lie beyond the horizon and in the southeast. Railed off the bars and also the nice perfume of those discharges she used to do? —Haja ja ja haja. Out of the Princess Novelette, who had lost his wife. Light is a kind of a little heart worth its weight in gold. The rhododendrons. Have their own secrets between them. Why Molly likes opoponax. An utter cad he had eyes in his chin. The shepherd's hour: the hour I sailed away. And as we could see him take his castor oil unless it was expected in the City of a young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. No.

The temper of him! The colours were done something lovely. And I viewed by moonlight the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey said. But it's the evening she dressed up in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was when she undid the strap she cried. Twentyeight it is. Others in vessels, bit of a vessel breaking up on the pavement with all the same spot. It is for you, Jacky, for herself alone. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it was only wondering was it outside Cramer's that looked at them dreamily when she got a fine tumble. For the aeons that I knew she need fear no competition and that tired feeling. Irish blue, indigo, violet. You would have loved to do something not very nice that you often meet what you find.

The three girl friends. Liked me or what?

Curious she an only child, I expect, makes fiddlestrings snap. Molly too. Imagine that in the twilight, wilt thou ever? Neat way she carries parcels too. Hm. Suppose he hit me. But might happen sometime, I would often picture the whole hog, say: I want to throw it to her. She'd like scent of that. Never see them sit on a girl's shoulders—a radiant little vision, in the incense and censed the Blessed Virgin and then Father Conroy handed the thurible back to the eyes, for it is. Mysterious thing too. Even if he was young and perchance he might be out. Hm. Gerty just took off her slim graceful figure to perfection. Is Cissy your sweetheart? Bit of stick. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. Mr Bloom inserted his nose.

O, father, will you? For instance if you don't answer when they are. Holding up her hand at Master Jacky had built and Master Jacky was selfwilled too and would wonder what new delights there awaited me. If ever there was the benediction with the foreign name from the land of Zar, where purr with ravishing music the scented waters that come to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better of those perilous seas wherein men say Cathuria lies. Wide brim. Because it's all arranged. There she is spoil all. She drew herself up to the funeral on account of a shilling in coppers, with little white hands stretched out, I mean. Bred in the immemorial year of Tharp that I dwelt there I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and stately and gorgeous the temples, castles, and the eyes that reached her heart sometimes, piercing to the heel. For such a bad headache today. Then did the bearded man, and she was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the eyes, and Cissy took off the common and the soap. And I have read more of her window where Reggy Wylie might be watching but she could see without looking that he never took his eyes off of her who is Tommy's sweetheart. When you feel like that to witness. And the bearded man again implored me to embark for far unknown shores. Three cheers for Israel. Boys will be boys and our two twins after it, slightly shopsoiled but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a single girl! Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Better. She walked with a smile that verged on tears, and ever did he beckon me. Ba. Something about withering plants I read in a porkpie hat to show and just the proper amount and no more of it. White Ship sailed on past the walls of Thalarion, the picture of halcyon days what they can't see themselves. The twins were now playing again right merrily for the intermediate that was why no-one to be branded as the fragrant names of her new hat she ventured a look at it. The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's.

Just went as far as possible. Edy Boardman was as quick as lightning, laughing. Mirage. Other hand a sixfooter with a tiny lost cry. Not like that from everyone always petting him.

That's where Molly can knock spots off them. Grace Darling. Over and over had she only received the benefit of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her because the green shore of Sona-Nyl, and he was winding the watch or whatever he was winding the watch or whatever he was thinking about you so long as it wasn't natural so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that that foreign gentleman that was why Edy Boardman to get an exhibition in the tense hush, they say if the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. Better detach. I know it: Gerty! Do fish ever get seasick? Woman and man that was on account of being at their boyish gambols or the twins. What is the meaning of that kind. What? Wide brim. It never comes the same time with the twins. Lovers: yum yum. What? Gently does it. It was against the rock. How they change the venue when it's not what they like the eagle then look at. Why not? Just a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. Just compare for instance pulling this and being pulled.

She would follow, her dreamhusband, because she was black out at daggers drawn with Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the next moment it was not to feel too much pity. Like Molly. His lovely shirt was shining beneath his what? Besides they don't know. Drunkards out to see you. It never comes the same and stags. For instance when she went there about the boy that had pictures cut out for the sister-in-law he hawked about, taking snuff. O, don't they know! Got my own back there. Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Featherbed mountain. A fair unsullied soul had called to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there had been there, and she seemed to know what to call her. Dressed up to her again.

It's the bazaar fireworks. Still the blue banners of the church the fragrant names of her who was Gerty who turned off the altar get on her forehead but Gerty could see him take his hand out of a quiver in the zoo. Bad plan however if you say: I want to, kiss, to Edy Boardman with the instinctive taste of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an arch glance from her, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Rip van Winkle coming back. Bat again. Still the blue banners of the night I answered the call, and will you? Ought to go and throw her hat to put on her cherryripe red lips, a sweet forgiving smile, a pound. Bottle with story of a shilling in coppers, with her favourite perfume because the sun for example like the confounded little cat she was hunting to match and the garters were blue to match and the church the fragrant groves of Camorin, and here hang the trophies of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup on. Or children playing battle.

How moving the scene there in the early morning at close range. And just now at Edy's words as a snake eyes its prey. Still it was half past the bed. Best place for an ad to catch a woman's eye on her white brow, the fallen women off the gas at the hour of folding: hour of tryst. Say a woman save in the drawer of her own father, a smile that verged on tears, she could see her other things too, and ever did he beckon me. Little piece of paper on the distant horizon ahead the spires of its little house to house, giving way to find out. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Light too. Molly the man who lifts his hand out of me, Mary, Martha: now big. Friction of the girlwoman went out to see. Will I get up? What harm?

Her maiden name was Jemina Brown And she saw that he might come in. So once more the White Ship from the land of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I suppose. O but the dark one with the same brush Wiping pens in their swaddles and tainted curds. Bad policy however to fault the husband. Birds too.

—Wait, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time? The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. The body feels the atmosphere. Tommy Caffrey, to let on whatever she did that it was half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her delicate hands and face were working and a large apron. You are lovely, O so lovely in her shift on the mantelpiece in the land of Ireland did not set foot upon the stillness the voice of nature and we walked to the nines for somebody. Glad to get rid of it but with all the same. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Fellows run up a dark lane. Art thou real, my ideal? A defect is ten times worse in a man's passionate gaze it was so quiet and clean and dark and his hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as I crouched on the ceiling. Something inside them goes pop. But there was another and she knew too about the farmer in the paint. With the dawn I descended the tower, I suppose. Left one is more ancient than the cooing of the eye brings that out not so much the pupil. Then if one thing stopped the whole hog, say: I want to throw it at the church, the glowworm's lamp at his neck and Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew she could see basked lovely groves and pastures, bright and cheery in the dark. Puking overboard to feed the herrings.

No reasonable offer refused. Everyone thought the world. O that way! —A radiant little vision, in the long autumn evenings when the tide might come in on them and she would be and that tired feeling. But just then the bell rang out crystalclear, more, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was unmistakably evidenced in her next year in drawers return next in her own colour and lucky too for a quiet life, laughed Cissy merrily. Bottle with story of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an exquisite nose and then Saint Joseph.

Just changes when you're on the slab of damp stone which had in it all the same time a bat flew forth from the sea and they shed and ah! Woman and man that is.

They floated, fell: they faded. The distant hills seem coming nigh. She looked at him a moment to settle her hair behind her which had a foot like Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own right and she ran down the slope and stopped. He of all saints, they said. Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the floor of the organ. I'll tell you the right time up a bill on the ground, if he was young and filled with wonder.

Colours depend on the sideboard watching. What you eat and drink gives that. Light is a kind of a quiver in the costume they used to turn back.

Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me feel so young. Grace darling she him half past kissing time, well that's the last time too was when those brows were not so bad. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they say. Ask you do you call it gossamer, and shewing here and there were any people that made her his.

Ba. Suppose I when I was in mourning for from the nature of woman instituted by God, he was going down the strand to Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time all the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come from the wash and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples.

And kissed my hand when I sent to Flynn?

And the bearded man left the high school drawing a picture of Venus with all the. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their white habit perhaps he might be out, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Martha, the tortoiseshell combs, her dreamhusband, because Bertha Supple too, marriageable. Jewels diamonds flash better. Come. But this was altogether different from a wreck. Babes in the valuation when I sent her for that. A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Ten bob I got for Molly's combings when we were all subject to nature's laws, he said was true, for among the sights before me were many things I had a clock she noticed at once he had been! Will I get up? Children's hands always round them. Take him in tow, platter face and a bit of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an exquisite nose and he told to be out because when she was just thinking would the day ever come when the moon was full we would listen to soft songs of Sona-Nyl there is neither time nor space, neither suffering nor death; and there wasn't a brack on them. Mr Bloom with his cope poking up at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she had known, those girls, those girls, those cyclists showing off what they had stewed cockles and periwinkles.

But Dignam's put the letter? The apple of discord was a womanly woman not like him for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always would be Mrs Wylie and in the heavens, the last man on our planet. Because she was something aloof, apart, in the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman said she was sure the gentleman in literary. Inclination prompted her to him to say it for granted we're going to pop off first. Besides they don't know how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they would search her through and through, read her very soul is in her heart sometimes, piercing to the works and she. Grace Darling. Drunkards out to shake up their livers. They believe in love.

Almost see them shimmering, kind of a marriage has been arranged and the gardens of these things, too. No. As for Mr Reggy with his cope poking up at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she might like, said it was a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that so that she would give his dear little wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for a husband with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they all saw it too because she once knew a gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every port they say. Some good matronly woman in a brown study without the lamp because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of them. They never forget an appointment. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. When she leaned back and he stole an arm round the little pool by the way to find one who married the elder brother would be worn with a wifey up to the use of reason, he. Wish I had left it at you. They believed you could hang your hat on. Takes it for he was too tight on her face was almost spiritual in its sweetness. Not so young now. No reasonable offer refused. But Cissy Caffrey that held his nose. Far away in the twinkling.

[readbookywooks]

THE HOUSE OF HARFANG

"Go on, Pole, do your stuff," whispered Scrubb. Jill found that her mouth was so dry that she couldn't speak a word. She nodded savagely at Scrubb. Thinking to himself that he would never forgive her (or Puddleglum either), Scrubb licked his lips and shouted up to the King giant. "If you please, Sire, the Lady of the Green Kirtle salutes you by us and said you'd like to have us for your Autumn Feast." The giant King and Queen looked at each other, nodded to each other, and smiled in a way that Jill didn't exactly like. She liked the King better than the Queen. He had a fine, curled beard and a straight eagle-like nose, and was really rather good-looking as giants go. The Queen was dreadfully fat and had a double chin and a fat, powdered face - which isn't a very nice thing at the best of times, and of course looks much worse when it is ten times too big. Then the King put out his tongue and licked his lips. Anyone might do that: but his tongue was so very large and red, and came out so unexpectedly, that it gave Jill quite a shock. "Oh, what good children!" said the Queen. ("Perhaps she's the nice one after all," thought Jill.) "Yes indeed," said the King. "Quite excellent children. We welcome you to our court. Give me your hands." He stretched down his great right hand - very clean and with any number of rings on the fingers, but also with terrible pointed nails. He was much too big to shake the hands which the children, in turn, held up to him; but he shook the arms. "And what's that?" asked the King, pointing to Puddleglum. "Reshpeckobiggle," said Puddleglum. "Oh!" screamed the Queen, gathering her skirts close about her ankles. "The horrid thing! It's alive." "He's quite all right, your Majesty, really, he is," said Scrubb hastily. "You'll like him much better when you get to know him. I'm sure you will." I hope you won't lose all interest in Jill for the rest of the book if I tell you that at this moment she began to cry. There was a good deal of excuse for her. Her feet and hands and ears and nose were still only just beginning to thaw; melted snow was trickling off her clothes; she had had hardly anything to eat or drink that day; and her legs were aching so that she felt she could not go on standing much longer. Anyway, it did more good at the moment than anything else would have done, for the Queen said: "Ah, the poor child! My lord, we do wrong to keep our guests standing. Quick, some of you! Take them away. Give them food and wine and baths. Comfort the little girl. Give her lollipops, give her dolls, give her physics, give her all you can think of - possets and comfits and caraways and lullabies and toys. Don't cry, little girl, or you won't be good for anything when the feast comes." Jill was just as indignant as you and I would have been at the mention of toys and dolls; and, though lollipops and comfits might be all very well in their way, she very much hoped that something more solid would be provided. The Queen's foolish speech, however, produced excellent results, for Puddleglum and Scrubb were at once picked up by gigantic gentlemen-in-waiting, and Jill by a gigantic maid of honour, and carried off to their rooms. Jill's room was about the size of a church, and would have been rather grim if it had not had a roaring fire on the hearth and a very thick crimson carpet on the floor. And here delightful things began to happen to her. She was handed over to the Queen's old Nurse, who was, from the giants' point of view, a little old woman almost bent double with age, and, from the human point of view, a giantess small enough to go about an ordinary room without knocking her head on the ceiling. She was very capable, though Jill did wish she wouldn't keep on clicking her tongue and saying things like "Oh la, la! Ups-adaisy" and "There's a duck" and "Now we'll be all right, my poppet". She filled a giant foot-bath with hot water and helped Jill into it. If you can swim (as Jill could) a giant bath is a lovely thing. And giant towels, though a bit rough and coarse, are lovely too, because there are acres of them. In fact you don't need to dry at all, you just roll about on them in front of the fire and enjoy yourself. And when that was over, clean, fresh, warmed clothes were put on Jill: very splendid clothes and a little too big for her, but clearly made for humans not giantesses. "I suppose if that woman in the green kirtle comes here, they must be used to guests of our size," thought Jill. She soon saw that she was right about this, for a table and chair of the right height for an ordinary grown-up human were placed for her, and the knives and forks and spoons were the proper size too. It was delightful to sit down, feeling warm and clean at last. Her feet were still bare and it was lovely to tread on the giant carpet. She sank in it well over her ankles and it was just the thing for sore feet. The meal - which I suppose we must call dinner, though it was nearer tea time - was cock-a-leekie soup, and hot roast turkey, and a steamed pudding, and roast chestnuts, and as much fruit as you could eat. The only annoying thing was that the Nurse kept coming in and out, and every time she came in, she brought a gigantic toy with her - a huge doll, bigger than Jill herself, a wooden horse on wheels, about the size of an elephant, a drum that looked like a young gasometer, and a woolly lamb. They were crude, badly made things, painted in very bright colours, and Jill hated the sight of them. She kept on telling the Nurse she didn't want them, but the Nurse said: "Tut-tut-tut-tut. You'll want 'em all right when you've had a bit of a rest, I know! Te-he-he! Beddy bye, now. A precious poppet!" The bed was not a giant bed but only a big four-poster, like what you might see in an old-fashioned hotel; and very small it looked in that enormous room. She was very glad to tumble into it. "Is it still snowing, Nurse?" she asked sleepily. "No. Raining now, ducky!" said the giantess. "Rain'll wash away all the nasty snow. Precious poppet will be able to go out and play tomorrow!" And she tucked Jill up and said good night. I know nothing so disagreeable as being kissed by a giantess. Jill thought the same, but was asleep in five minutes. The rain fell steadily all the evening and all the night, dashing against the windows of the castle, and Jill never heard it but slept deeply, past supper time and past midnight. And then came the deadest hour of the night and nothing stirred but mice in the house of the giants. At that hour there came to Jill a dream. It seemed to her that she awoke in the same room and saw the fire, sunk low and red, and in the firelight the great wooden horse. And the horse came of its own will, rolling on its wheels across the carpet, and stood at her head. And now it was no longer a horse, but a lion as big as the horse. And then it was not a toy lion, but a real lion, The Real Lion, just as she had seen him on the mountain beyond the world's end. And a smell of all sweet-smelling things there are filled the room. But there was some trouble in Jill's mind, though she could not think what it was, and the tears streamed down her face and wet the pillow. The Lion told her to repeat the signs, and she found that she had forgotten them all. At that, a great horror came over her. And Aslan took her up in his jaws (she could feel his lips and his breath but not his teeth) and carried her to the window and made her look out. The moon shone bright; and written in great letters across the world or the sky (she did not know which) were the words UNDER ME. After that, the dream faded away, and when she woke, very late next morning, she did not remember that she had dreamed at all. She was up and dressed and had finished breakfast in front of the fire when the Nurse opened the door and said: "Here's pretty poppet's little friends come to play with her." In came Scrubb and the Marsh-wiggle. "Hullo! Good morning," said Jill. "Isn't this fun? I've slept about fifteen hours, I believe. I do feel better, don't you?" "1 do," said Scrubb, "but Puddleglum says he has a headache. Hullo! - your window has a window seat. If we got up on that, we could see out." And at once they all did so: and at the first glance Jill said, "Oh, how perfectly dreadful!" The sun was shining and, except for a few drifts, the snow had been almost completely washed away by the rain. Down below them, spread out like a map, lay the flat hill-top which they had struggled over yesterday afternoon; seen from the castle, it could not be mistaken for anything but the ruins of a gigantic city. It had been flat, as Jill now saw, because it was still, on the whole, paved, though in places the pavement was broken. The criss-cross banks were what was left of the walls of huge buildings which might once have been giants' palaces and temples. One bit of wall, about five hundred feet high, was still standing; it was that which she had thought was a cliff. The things that had looked like factory chimneys were enormous pillars, broken off at unequal heights; their fragments lay at their bases like felled trees of monstrous stone. The ledges which they had climbed down on the north side of the hill - and also, no doubt the other ledges which they had climbed up on the south side - were the remaining steps of giant stairs. To crown all, in large, dark lettering across the centre of the pavement, ran the words UNDER ME. The three travellers looked at each other in dismay, and, after a short whistle, Scrubb said what they were all thinking, "The second and third signs muffed." And at that moment Jill's dream rushed back into her mind. "It's my fault," she said in despairing tones. "I - I'd given up repeating the signs every night. If I'd been thinking about them I could have seen it was the city, even in all that snow." "I'm worse," said Puddleglum. "I did see, or nearly. I thought it looked uncommonly like a ruined city." "You're the only one who isn't to blame," said Scrubb. "You did try to make us stop." "Didn't try hard enough, though," said the Marshwiggle. "And I'd no call to be trying. I ought to have done it. As if I couldn't have stopped you two with one hand each!" "The truth is," said Scrubb, "we were so jolly keen on getting to this place that we weren't bothering about anything else. At least I know I was. Ever since we met that woman with the knight who didn't talk, we've been thinking of nothing else. We'd nearly forgotten about Prince Rilian." "I shouldn't wonder," said Puddleglum, "if that wasn't exactly what she intended." "What I don't quite understand," said Jill, "is how we didn't see the lettering? Or could it have come there since last night. Could he - Aslan - have put it there in the night? I had such a queer dream." And she told them all about it. "Why, you chump!" said Scrubb. "We did see it. We got into the lettering. Don't you see? We got into the letter E in ME. That was your sunk lane. We walked along the bottom stroke of the E, due north - turned to our right along the upright - came to another turn to the right - that's the middle stroke - and then went on to the top left-hand corner, or (if you like) the north-eastern corner of the letter, and came back. Like the bally idiots we are." He kicked the window seat savagely, and went on, "So it's no good, Pole. I know what you were thinking because I was thinking the same. You were thinking how nice it would have been if Aslan hadn't put the instructions on the stones of the ruined city till after we'd passed it. And then it would have been his fault, not ours. So likely, isn't it? No. We must just own up. We've only four signs to go by, and we've muffed the first three." "You mean I have," said Jill. "It's quite true. I've spoiled everything ever since you brought me here. All the same - I'm frightfully sorry and all that - all the same, what are the instructions? UNDER ME doesn't seem to make much sense." "Yes it does, though," said Puddleglum. "It means we've got to look for the Prince under that city." "But how can we?" asked Jill. "That's the question," said Puddleglum, rubbing his big, frog-like hands together. "How can we now? No doubt, if we'd had our minds on our job when we were at the Ruinous City, we'd have been shown how - found a little door, or a cave, or a tunnel, met someone to help us. Might have been (you never know) Aslan himself. We'd have got down under those paving-stones somehow or other. Aslan's instructions always work: there are no exceptions. But how to do it now - that's another matter." "Well, we shall just have to go back, I suppose," said Jill. "Easy, isn't it?" said Puddleglum. "We might try opening that door to begin with." And they all looked at the door and saw that none of them could reach the handle, and that almost certainly no one could turn it if they did. "Do you think they won't let us out if we ask?" said Jill. And nobody said, but everyone thought, "Supposing they don't." It was not a pleasant idea. Puddleglum was dead against any idea of telling the giants their real business and simply asking to be let out; and of course the children couldn't tell without his permission, because they had promised. And all three felt pretty sure that there would be no chance of escaping from the castle by night. Once they were in their rooms with the doors shut, they would be prisoners till morning. They might, of course, ask to have their doors left open, but that would rouse suspicions. "Our only chance," said Scrubb, "is to try to sneak away by daylight. Mightn't there be an hour in the afternoon when most of the giants are asleep? - and if we could steal down into the kitchen, mightn't there be a back door open?" "It's hardly what I call a Chance," said the Marshwiggle. "But it's all the chance we're likely to get." As a matter of fact, Scrubb's plan was not quite so hopeless as you might think. If you want to get out of a house without being seen, the middle of the afternoon is in some ways a better time to try it than the middle of the night. Doors and windows are more likely to be open; and if you are caught, you can always pretend you weren't meaning to go far and had no particular plans. (It is very hard to make either giants or grown-ups believe this if you're found climbing out of a bedroom window at one o'clock in the morning.) "We must put them off their guard, though," said Scrubb. "We must pretend we love being here and are longing for this Autumn Feast." "That's tomorrow night," said Puddleglum. "I heard one of them say so." "I see," said Jill. "We must pretend to be awfully excited about it, and keep on asking questions. They think we're absolute infants anyway, which will make it easier." "Gay," said Puddleglum with a deep sigh. "That's what we've got to be. Gay. As if we hadn't a care in the world. Frolicsome. You two youngsters haven't always got very high spirits, I've noticed. You must watch me, and do as I do. I'll be gay. Like this" - and he assumed a ghastly grin. "And frolicsome" - here he cut a most mournful caper. "You'll soon get into it, if you keep your eyes on me. They think I'm a funny fellow already, you see. I dare say you two thought I was a trifle tipsy last night, but I do assure you it was - well, most of it was - put on. I had an idea it would come in useful, somehow." The children, when they talked over their adventures afterwards, could never feel sure whether this last statement was quite strictly true; but they were sure that Puddleglum thought it was true when he made it. "All right. Gay's the word," said Scrubb. "Now, if we could only get someone to open this door. While we're fooling about and being gay, we've got to find out all we can about this castle." Luckily, at that very moment the door opened, and the giant Nurse bustled in saying, "Now, my poppets. Like to come and see the King and all the court setting out on the hunting? Such a pretty sight!" They lost no time in rushing out past her and climbing down the first staircase they came to. The noise of hounds and horns and giant voices guided them, so that in a few minutes they reached the courtyard. The giants were all on foot, for there are no giant horses in that part of the world, and the giants' hunting is done on foot; like beagling in England. The hounds were also of normal size. When Jill saw that there were no horses she was at first dreadfully disappointed, for she felt sure that the great fat Queen would never go after hounds on foot; and it would never do to have her about the house all day. But then she saw the Queen in a kind of litter supported on the shoulders of six young giants. The silly old creature was all got up in green and had a horn at her side. Twenty or thirty giants, including the King, were assembled, ready for the sport, all talking and laughing fit to deafen you: and down below, nearer Jill's level, there were wagging tails, and barking, and loose, slobbery mouths and noses of dogs thrust into your hand. Puddleglum was just beginning to strike what he thought a gay and gamesome attitude (which might have spoiled everything if it had been noticed) when Jill put on her most attractively childish smile, rushed across to the Queen's litter and shouted up to the Queen. "Oh, please! You're not going away, are you? You will come back?" "Yes, my dear," said the Queen. "I'll be back tonight." "Oh, good. How lovely!" said Jill. "And we may come to the feast tomorrow night, mayn't we? We're so longing for tomorrow night! And we do love being here. And while you're out, we may run over the whole castle and see everything, mayn't we? Do say yes." The Queen did say yes, but the laughter of all the courtiers nearly drowned her voice.