#but my god it’s such a horror for martha and jack and martha’s family to carry

[magicofthepen]

thank you so much for your kind words about my fic ;_;. that's one of the fics i'm proudest of and i'm happy it's still getting hits two years later. i'm also baffled by the lack of gen fic for both post lottl and eot. from what i've seen while searching, the most popular way to do post-ytnw as to include it as a hurt/comfort element in a jack/ianto fic. and no shade on that but it's really only one way to get at the emotional scar the ytnw left on everyone who remembers it. idk if it's the fandom's neutral at best relationship to martha or a general disinterest in writing gen fic but it blows my mind. what baffles me MORE is the lack of EU content about everything surrounding the ytnw (Saxon campaign, actual year, and post). there are so many gaps here to capitalize on. it's this massive playground and it's basically unexplored in the EU. the year of martha jones audio BF put out is pretty good but it's basically the only full-length work in this category afaik. other than that it's a few short stories. super weird to me.

meant to reply to this sooner, sorry! you’re very welcome, it’s a brilliant story that digs into the emotional consequences for Martha, Jack, and Lucy and explores the like. practical real world cleanup of the ytnw and end of time.

(the fic we’re talking about is when i close my eyes, i hear more screams than anyone could ever be able to count.)

I’ve gotten used to seeing lots of well-written gen fic for the thirteenth doctor era, and the ytnw is a massively traumatic event where the ramifications aren’t really explored in canon, so I totally expected there to be a lot of gen fics for this timeframe too, and…..really there isn’t much, at least not on ao3. so I extra appreciate that you wrote and shared this, it’s The post-ytnw fic for me right now.

and good point about the EU! I haven’t listened to the Martha audios because I’ve been limiting my BF purchasing mostly to Gallifrey in recent years. but also Martha was my first favorite companion, and I loved her in LotT and imprinted on that episode as a baby fan, and there’s that hesitance of “are they gonna do a good job with a character I love?” but glad to hear you thought it was pretty good, and it’s definitely something I’m interested in listening to at some point! but yeah it really is one of those empty spaces where so much could be done—it’s the apocalypse, essentially, and even though they don’t end up remembering, all the old companions (and future companions!) on Earth lived through it, too, and that creates even more story possibilities.

[kaleschmidt]

anyone ask for henry thoughts ramble post? well like i fucking fucked up my first draft and deleted all of it by mistake so um. i am now writing it all over again. i hope he explodes.

anyways it's all under cut and i need you to know i'm dunking on him so much he's gonna be a soggy cookie ok? ok nice

i have SUCH a burning hatred for henry to start this off. It was like. worse when I first got into dayshift, but i am now capable of hating him more in a cooler way

I hate Henry as a person but as a CHARACTER he's fun to me. I'm glad we know his backstory, even outside of the story, and that he's not excused. Yes, he had a shit childhood and experienced the horrors of war, but what he did after the war- all of dayshift's events... it doesn't excuse what he did, and I'm glad about that because like if he got redeemed, I would have had to get in the game and maul him dog-style myself. /lh

Now. Onto my interpretation of him.

Something important to me while writing Henry is that he's vague. He's never written in his own first person perspective. Only seen through others. Nobody knows what he's thinking. Only a VERY select few people can get close to his motives, and even then, they aren't on the money. Even when his son gets murdered (sacrificing nemself to save another's life), it's kept vague how exactly Henry feels about it. Kale (oc) believes that Henry's uncharacteristic aggression towards Dave prodding about his son is due to either Henry actually caring about nis death, or being upset his son's death stained the family, but it's never confirmed. As much as Kale likes to say it knows Henry more than he knows himself, it also admits that it could never know what Henry was thinking. Also kale is an unreliable narrator and has fucking issues /lh. I'm never gonna write Henry in first-person because I find him more interesting when he's not exactly picked apart from the inside, but the outside, if that makes sense?

Something also to note, which is canon anyways I believe, is that Henry is always scheming, no matter what. Always prepared. He makes sure that everything will go his way, albeit the small divergences and such. It's the big ones that irritate him. He'll always manage to improvise, though. hard to improvise when u get jumped by a dog and bitten and dragged to the void tho. #lol couldn't be me.... i'm different

ok like give me a bit i am so sad that my first draft was fucked up bc i had a lotta good points i couldn't remember. sniff.

I won't touch upon it too much (maybe in Jack's ramble if anyone wants it) but I really like parallels btwn Jack and Henry, especially as there are canon parallels. Henry is the Beginning, and Jack is the End. (i am so normal about this phrase btw. trust me.)

Also won't touch upon Martha in this post because she gives me major brainrot i have so many thoughts about her.

About Henry's void... i actually dunno if that's a confirmed char or not, but the concept is really interesting to me (...and i kinda accidentally did that before i interacted with the fandom too). Would love to dive into that but part of it is tabbykat's playground spoilers. And also will make this post longer than needed. just ask for kale ok?

OH another thing. More of a personal pref n no hate to those who do this, but I do NOT like henry good aus... genuinely cannot see that happening. Better counterpart for me is that he doesn't do murders but also he is a terrible dad in the most funny way (those terrible, terrible baby clothes. you know the ones.) I also just think man just became the way he is by himself n not the void but mostly bc i'm fond of my own interp who i would love to beat up and explode

I think. that's all i had but like closing this off with a song in my playlist for henry: Drink To Me. Look it's SUCH a fucking henrycore song. SOOOO fucking much. Parts of it relate to Dave ofc. god. Anyways hope y'all enjoy reading through this i love going into my thoughts of chars and should do it more

EDIT:

OK I FORGOT TO PUT THIS AND I CANT BELIEVE IT but I think of Henry gasterisms ok? He is gasterisms. And I think that's another thing that makes him interesting to me bc I like gaster. My brain is kinda fried but I need to put this hwre.

[billpottsismygf]

Okay, so that was an episode. I'm still feeling shook from the "special announcement", but I liked that. I wouldn't say I loved it necessarily, but it feels like one that will grow on me.

I will say I was quite disappointed that the Doctor got out of prison so quickly and so easily. All the promotion implied she'd be in there for the majority of the episode, and I found it a bit underwhelming that Jack just broke her out without even breaking a sweat. I was thinking we'd see a lot of the Doctor introspecting and monologuing, perhaps a little like Heaven Sent, and instead that just got completely undercut.

Since I've mentioned Jack, god I love him. It was wonderful to see him back. In some ways I feel like he was underutilised, but I can't really articulate why. Him being in prison for 19 years to rescue the Doctor doesn't get dealt with at all, nor really the Doctor's decades in prison. On that note, I loved that Yaz was angry with the Doctor for leaving them, but it stung that she didn't even ask how long it had been for the Doctor.

Speaking of Yaz, her consistent characterisation throughout her time on the show has been that she completely idolises the Doctor. She's the best thing that ever happened to her, the best person ever, and I was only thinking last night how much I really want to see the pitfalls of that explored. We definitely got that a little bit in this episode. The companions all being unnerved by Jack's casual mention of his deaths and Rose's exile in the parallel universe was good, as was the justified anger and hurt. I also really liked Jack's conversation with Yaz about how it hurts after the Doctor has left, but I'm not sure it was explored enough.

Obviously I don't know where the show is going after this, but I really want to see Yaz's unhealthy idolisation dealt with. She doesn't necessarily have to become completely disillusioned, but idk I want to see it properly explored, which seems like it will be harder with a new companion aboard.

Speaking of John Bishop, he's a very interesting choice. I'm really intrigued to see where they go with his character. He started off as a stand up comedian, and I've greatly enjoyed his comedy, but when he branched out into serious acting, the little I've seen him in really impressed me. I'll be interested to see whether they go more comedic or serious with him - not that any character has to be only one of those things, but I don't get the impression he'll be a Nardole-like comic relief character.

Graham and Ryan's exit was fairly well done, especially Ryan's. It was a natural continuation of the doubts that were first voiced in Can You Hear Me, made worse by 10 months of living normally again. I loved him confronting the Doctor because she was once again trying to keep things from him. That's definitely been something missing in the current era, companions calling the Doctor out on their bullshit. I was hoping for some kind of Martha in Gridlock moment ("I'm not moving until you tell me the truth") and this was a nice way of doing that. I do like how much Ryan has clearly matured over his time in the show.

Graham's decision to leave with his grandson also makes perfect sense for his character, given that family and time with the people he loves are his character's primary driving force. I found the gifting of the psychic paper a little strange, though. She didn't hear them saying it would be handy earlier in the episode and no other companion has had it as a parting gift. It seems like Graham and Ryan are going to carry on fighting aliens freelance (Martha and Mickey style), travelling around the world to do it, but that doesn't make sense to me, given Ryan's desire for a normal life at home.

Oh also, Grace appearing at the end was really weird? It was obviously meant to be an emotional moment, but it was just bizarre that some sort of apparition appeared to both of them out of nowhere... What was meant to be happening? I don't think that worked at all. It's such a shame, as a reference to Grace could have been lovely, maybe Graham looking down at a frog necklace or something idk, but instead such a potentially moving moment fell completely flat.

God, I've written so much and I haven't even spoken about the Daleks once. They were cool, I guess. It was nice to our old pals the bronze Daleks again, I've missed them. The Doctor's plan to bring them to earth to kill off the impure ones was extremely reckless and honestly I can't quite believe her plan worked with as few consequences as it did.

There was a high body count in this episode. I liked Leo a lot and was genuinely sad when he got killed off. I definitely wasn't expecting the prime minister to get killed off so soon into her plan; I thought she was going to have a far more active role in the story. I also feel like the defence drones (just the AI, creature-less ones) didn't get explored properly for the horrifying concept that they are. They were used in that protest near the beginning, but the true horror of these tanks being deployed not only against protesters (already horrifying) but just out and about on the street etc. was completely overshadowed by the fact that the Daleks took control of them.

Honestly, I would have been more interested in the story if the creatures had never been cloned. The Doctor realises they are just AI designed by humans, but they're still awful and need to be stopped. Perhaps that would have worked better in a more sci-fi setting, because it wouldn't necessarily work for the Doctor to just bring down the UK government on modern day earth (then again, The Christmas Invasion...), but I still think that would have been a more compelling story and would have properly utilised this quite horrifying concept that does feel very real, prescient and possible in the current world.

I think those are my main thoughts for now, but I may think of other things at some point. A lot of this sounds quite negative, but I should say that I did have a great time during the episode, and I feel like I will enjoy it upon future watches. We shall see, though!

[hyperdrivehearts]

Headcanon time! Would Yusei or Kalin want to adopt kids of their own? What are their favorite types of movies and shows? Are there hobbies or skills you can imagine them wanting to learn other than mechanics and dueling? What kinds of things do they like and dislike eating?

- Would Yusei or Kalin want to adopt kids of their own?

As of right now, in my mainverse canon, Yusei and Kalin don’t particularly want any kids; mostly because neither really know what they want out of life just yet (as long as they’re with each other tbqh.) So, for the time being they’re content with their four cats.

Although Yusei has the tendency to become a father or elder brother to literately any child he comes across, it would still be something he’d severely discuss with Kalin– and he does! (thank god these two have good communication with each other post canon.) They both would want kids..eventually, just not anytime soon because they’re still young, and because of Kalin’s mental health.

Even post canon, Kalin’s mental health is still kinda shitty– although he has made a ton of progress since he first joined Team 5Ds, having a therapist and he is on medication, it still isn’t the best to be in the spot of taking care of someone… bigger than a cat. There are days where Kalin’s really only gets out of bed to feed the cats or use the washroom, even with Yusei by his side. Yusei doesn’t force Kalin to do anything he doesn’t want to do, and just wants to make sure the other is doing okay. (He’ll close Stardust Mechanics in a heartbeat to take care of Kalin, ok?)

Kalin knows that days like those would inevitably impact his ability to care for a child, he can’t take “me days” because it affects the kid, and Kalin really, really, really wants to be the best the best version of himself possible when they do have a kid around.

Yusei and Kalin have probably also looked into surrogacy, at the suggestion of Akiza (since she is studying to become a doctor afterall,) and would also consider looking into that as an option.

HOWEVER, that all being said, in my thread with Moon’s (burningalma) Takeru, in their 5Ds verse, Kalin does befriend Takeru because of cats and we have joked that Takeru kinda just moves in of his own accord because of said cats. lets be honest knowing me and my love for found family kalin n yus are probably gonna adopt him

IN ANOTHER AU ENTIRELY ON DISCORD, Kalin and Yusei are the super cool dads of Moon’s and Kasa’s (soulburnings) Takeru’s and its nothing but slice of life and the Takeru’s being little shits and its the BEST thing since sliced bread (maybe one day we’ll actually have a thread on tumblr instead of screaming in DMs.)

I’ll be putting the rest of the headcanons under the cut!!

- What are their favorite types of movies and shows?

Neither of the two tend to watch movies or shows. Kalin as a whole feels very disconnected from pop culture, because he was dead for so long (four years is a pretty fair amount of time when you’re in your early 20s,) and generally feels disconnected from society as a whole as a result of it. 

For Kalin, there’s also the issue of his ADHD coming into play if he’s not engaged enough by the movie, he’ll have the tendency to just,, zone out and think of other things as it’s playing, and when he tunes in the story has moved so far along already he doesn’t see a point in getting back into it.

Yusei is a workaholic, and I don’t think he’s physically capable of sitting down and actually watching a movie, unless it’s the once-a-month movie night with the rest of Team 5Ds where they all squish themselves onto the couches and floor, but he definitely puts the television on when he’s working and radio isn’t enough background noise, only paying attention occasionally.

Even so, they both have their preferences on what to watch and/or to listen to. I’m 99% sure they’d both like action packed superhero movies, and Yusei probably got Kalin into watching mystery thrillers with him. Kalin definitely enjoys cooking shows, mostly because he is the one of the two of them to cook. Yusei would enjoy those fixer upper shows– like Holmes Does It Right or any show which renovates a neglected historical building (Yusei also fucking loves cheesy romcoms and will get Kalin to sit down with him for them.)

One genre they’d both probably avoid would be horror. Kalin definitely used to love the genre with his whole heart back before he first died, but after the whole shtick with the Dark Signers, I don’t think he can physically digest it anymore– it brings back too many bad memories, especially when the horror movie in question deals with graphic murder and manslaughter, he can’t help but think of when he almost killed Yusei and laughed about it. (Although most horror movies make Yusei uncomfortable typically as he just doesn’t like seeing people in pain, real or not, he’s nowhere near the levels of distressed that Kalin is.)

And with Ccapac Apu’s spirit still residing in Kalin, I’m sure you can imagine all the nasty thoughts that would arise as a result.

- Are there hobbies or skills you can imagine them wanting to learn other than mechanics and dueling?

Of course!! I briefly mentioned it earlier in the last section, and in some other posts, but my Kalin enjoys cooking and baking! It’s something he learned from his mom, who died when he was fairy young, so it’s definitely something he keeps close to his heart. (Much like cooking, his mom taught him how to dance as well and he ended up teaching Yusei when they were Enforcers, so it’s something they still do! Unfortunately Yusei has a harder time catching onto cooking.)

After seeing his therapist for the first couple of sessions, it was suggested that Kalin should keep a book of some kind to write or draw in about what he’s feeling, so he’s have some sort of outlet. (Yusei was the one to really push the idea.) Kalin took up doodling and drawing as a result, and genuinely enjoys doing it (he’s not that good yet and is still early on in the learning process.)

After dueling and mechanics, Yusei’s hobbies tend to be very quiet. He likes reading and going for drives on his runner that don’t really end up anywhere in particular (he LOVES to travel and explore new places, especially more so since Satellite is reunited with New Domino, so he actually can.) I can definitely see him getting possibly into photography (and taking a ton of pictures of Kalin as a result lol,) and as left field as it is, I can see him getting interested in crocheting and knitting SOLELY so he can make sweaters for their cats and maybe hats for Leo and Luna.

The only “not quiet” hobby I can also see him getting into is probably learning the drums, but that’s deadass me projectin since I’m a drummer with a soft spot for band AU’s.

- What kinds of things do they like and dislike eating?             

Yusei, by all means, is not a picky eater at all. He’ll basically shut up and eat whatever is given to him, even if it doesn’t taste good at like, all. It’s a lasting effect of trying to survive in Satellite. I can see him liking either savory foods, or very sweet foods with nothing in between– I don’t think he has a favorite food?

Kalin on the other hand, is a lot pickier with his foods– won’t eat certain kinds of vegetables (I can see him hating beets) or other foods unless it’s cooked a certain way. It works out, because Kalin is the one that does the cooking anyways and ranks Kalin’s food just below Martha’s (Kalin and Martha probably do exchange recipes because I can see Kalin trying to make something Yusei enjoyed as a kid for his birthday or something.) His favorite food is probably homemade ice cream, using canned coconut milk, as it’s something his mom made him a lot when she was alive, since whole milk isn’t readily available and cans are much easier to store.

Coincidentally, as you can probably tell, Yusei and Kalin BOTH have big sweet tooths and agree wholeheartedly that the best time of year is sakura season in April, where everything becomes pink and sweet. Although they try to save their money up, they’ll occasionally splurge and go on a shopping trip to raid anything in the supermarket that’s remotely sweet and/or sugary, which when Crow and Jack were living with the two of them, it would often result in Crow getting angry at Jack and calling him a bad influence.

[galivantingg]

Behind Those Eyes

Chapter 10

My dreams were tumultuous. They passed like daydreams, washed in yellow light and slightly fuzzy. I heard them slightly, moving around me, whispering words like 'healing', 'how' and  'Chameleon'. Must be the team. Wondering how I'm healing. I got hurt? It must have been the fall. What fall? Oh well, time to dream a sweet dream now.

"Mama," the little girl said, her voice a hushed whisper. They were sitting on the roof, wrapped together in a blanket. "What are stars?"

"Do you want the real answer or my answer?" The young woman said, rubbing her pregnant belly gently.

"Your answer," the little girl giggled as if it were the funniest joke she'd ever heard.

"They're all your futures," the mother whispered to her little girl, burning as bright as the fire you were named after."

"Tell me the story again," the little girl pleaded. Her mother laughed, smiling wide and happy.

"There once was a titan named Kronos, who feared the power his children were prophesied to gain, so he ate them up, one by one." The mother pretended to munch on her little girl, making sound effects that were barely heard over the little girls laughter.

"Zeus, the youngest, was hidden by his mother, Rhea," at this name the little girl turned to her mother, excitement apparent on her face. "The same Rhea I was named after." She said nodding. "Zeus outwitted his father, and he barfed up all of his siblings."

At this part both the little girl and the mother made a face and yelled EW!, bursting into laughter afterwards. "The last one was Hestia, the first to be eaten, and last to be saved. But Hestia was incredibly important. She is the oldest god, and she is the goddess of the home, of the hearth. That's why your dad and I named you after her. You're our home." They clasped hands tightly, smiling at each other, slowly melting into another scene.

. . .

He sat in a cold room in the police station, bundled in his blanket to ward off the chill. Two men sat opposite of him. To the untrained eye, it would look like two detectives interviewing a little boy. Except you couldn't miss the spark of rage in the little boy's eyes, his face screwed up with fury.

"What do you mean an experiment!" He yelled, stumbling over the last word, showing his young age.

"Please kid," The thinner man said, holding his hands in a placating manner. "No need to yell."

His chin lifted in defiance, and then he was a she, and she was no longer a little boy, but an old woman, standing up in anger, cheat heaving. "What," she bit out, "do you mean an experiment?" This time there was no stumbling over words. She said it properly.

The two men stared in shock, not really able to process the fact that now they were interviewing an old woman. "Your experiment ruined my life!" She yelled, spit flying. She shifted again, now a non-binary teenager with orange hair. "Explain." They barked.

The bigger man stuttered a bit then finally found his words. "We were doing an experiment with the weather, seeing if we could create certain conditions, we didn't mean for it to get loose and hurt anyone." His words were calming but his tone wavered, showing his uncertainty. Or something else.

"Well it did," the angry teen heaved. "You killed my family and nearly killed me too. You'll pay for this, Mr. Director and Mr. Scientist. You'll pay off their life debts and then you'll die"

. . .

She was crouched in the corner, staring unblinkingly at the people gathered around the coffee table. She knew they knew someone was in the cave. They had noticed whatever messes they left, if any, were quickly cleared away. Fresh fruit and vegetables would be cut up to go with their breakfast. There were three of them. Aella, Waya and Swallow. Civilian names Martha Gibson, Tom James and Matthew Neves. They were all laughing, something Tom had said.

She started moving forward, keeping low to the ground, slinking over to them. She had been watching them for a few months now, and knew everything about them. Perks of having a high tech computer in the cave to tell her everything.

She was a few feet away when Martha noticed her. "Hey there, little one," she said, crouching down and holding out her hand. The girl was startled at the wording and the action for a second, before remembering that she was, in fact, a cat. Not for much longer, if the rumbling of her stomach was trying to say anything.

She inched forward, sniffing lightly. Martha smelled like strawberries and fresh air, grass and cleanness. Tom knelt down beside her, and he smelled like aftershave, freshness and something else she couldn't quiet place. (Coffee beans, her unconscious mind supplied, now looking back and recognising it.) Matthew sat down a foot away, just staring at her. He smelled like bird, like prey. The girl shook herself quickly, reminding herself that she was human, she didn't eat birds. Not even the fancy ones in french dishes.

She butted her head against Martha's outstretched hand, and was immediately attached to her. She never wanted to leave her side.

It was a few months later that the girl finally revealed herself. She was in her cat form, purring quietly while Martha and Tom watched TV. She slowly uncurled herself and jumped down to the floor, stretching out her paws. She mewed once, just to gain their attention, and when she had it, she shifted. Fur receded backwards and faded to a light brown, eyes changed into dark brown human ones, and paws became fingers and toes, hands and feet. Her tail snaked back into her spine, and she stood on two feet, staring at the two shocked heroes.

Swallow walked in, holding a bowl of cut up fruit. "What t-" His voice melted away into another memory.

. . .

"Give it up for your newest additions to the team: Legion, Geronimo and Starbright!"  Waya shouted from in front of city hall. The girl was disguised as a street cat, watching from a perched position on a fence as the crowd in front of the building. She didn't understand why she wasn't up there. It was something the Director had said. Anger washed over her at the thought of the Director.

He still owed her four life debts, and he did nothing. She practically ran the Agency. He hadn't even noticed that she had stripped him of all his power and given it to herself. She groomed a paw smugly, wondering when or if he would notice.

The memories started to pass even faster now, lasting no longer than a few minutes.

. . .

"Welcome our newest members: Chameleon! Ace! Folly! Jacks! And Purrrrrrrge!" Swallow cried out. I grinned wide underneath my mask. I had finally made it. I came out of hiding and was now a public member of the team. Behind us stood Rebel, Ang, Arctic, Rellik, Artisto and the rest of the gang, cheering loud. After the loss of Swallow, the team too a hard hit. Which is why Waya thought it would be a good idea to add some more members.

We needed them too. A new villain, Mime, had popped up. She was vicious, leaving no survivors. Paired with the fact that Genocide was now underground again, it wasn't a good sign.

She revelled in the moment, hands clasped with Ace and Folly's, hovering above the ground in excitement. Now she could show the world who she is.

. . .

"FOLLY!" She yelled out, looking around. "JACKS? PURGE. ACE!" She turned around and around, until she spotted something fall to the ground just behind the building. She flew over, moving so fast her cape snapped behind her.

She rounded the building and stumbled back a few steps in horror. Mime had her arms wrapped tight around Ace, Jacks and Purge were laying on the ground in puddles of blood. And Folly, Folly was hanging from Genocide's great big gloved hand. The blades on the back of his forearms were covered with red. (Red. Always that colour, her unconscious mind thought.)

"AHHHHHH!" She screamed, tears forming. This was her team, her responsibility, and she didn't listen to them. Why didn't she listen to them?

Mime looked up and snickered, while Genocide stoically turned his covered head. "Poor little Chameleon, no more friends for you!" Mime sang.

"GO!" She yelled, buffeting them back with her wings. Genocide let Folly crumple to the ground into a pile, and the two of them took off. She didn't bother going after them. She raced over to her two friends laying in their own blood. She forced her suit back from her hands, hoping she could help them. Her hands, covered in the thick red substance felt nothing. Nothing but red and hate and anger and emptiness. She hurried over to Folly, hoping he was still alive.

He was.

"Folly, Folly please stay awake." She was close to hysteria now. Her hands fluttered over his neck, itching to heal. His hands came up to grab hers.

"Jacks.... Alive...." He muttered. Then his hands dropped.

She felt his pulse and deemed Folly strong enough to last while she healed Jacks. She rushed over, not having any time to waste. She pressed her hands onto his chest and shoved her magic into him. She felt spring and dew drops and smelled freshly cut grass and lilacs and his chest started to move. She was so weak, that was all she could do. Barely heal one of her friends. Her teammate.

"Help!" She screamed into the comms, hoping someone, anyone, was listening.

"Where?" A voice asked back.

"The storage units by the woods," she rasped out, her body wavering.

"Coming now," the voice said, sounding fainter and fainter. "Just hold on Chameleon."

"Folly, Folly, Foll..." she chanted. She slowly tipped to the side, noticing at the last second before passing out a figure leaning against Ace's frozen form. Oh good, she thought. Help is here.

. . .

I was woken by a blinding light. Someone had lifted my eyelid up and was shining a small flashlight into it, checking my pupil dilation. I groaned in protest, trying to move back from the light.

"What's with the ancient technology," I rasped out, my throat parched. I was still caught up in my dreams, and I couldn't quite see yet. "Just get Mo to fix me."

"Who's Mo?" A high cold voice asked.

Three things happened then in quick succession.

One, my eyes adjusted.

Two, I recognised that voice, and the face.

And three, I wasn't in the cave.

Standing in front of me in a tight semicircle was Genocide, Peculiar, Heathen and Martha, and Mime's face was almost pressed right up against mine.

[iliketoshitpost]

My fanfics but their descriptions are vague and inaccurate(yet still making sense)

Shadows of the Ark

T is for Trauma

It’s like It,but ten times deadlier

“You queered my pitch!”

Tim Wright is a good person

Daddy Long Legs and the Fellowship of the Thing

Oh look she got impaled

Everyone is gay and angry

Submerged Sorrows

Funny story(Ben drowned)

Water is bad,very bad

You shouldn’t have done that but we really did do it

Local French girl steals a poltergeist’s heart

Could have been a love story if it weren’t for the deadly cult and the computer ghost being a little bitch

Subeo Obscura

Backstory is real

The explanation for everything

Everybody has issues

“Fucking white people!”

Latrelle stop that’s not YouTube material

Is this teratophilia

Someone becomes a mother

Unruhig

Carrie but she’s Japanese and adopted

All these ghosts but not enough seance

Jeff for fuck’s sake that’s a child

Badass father is badass

Despite everything,it’s still you

SCP: Zero Point Terminal

Dumb Ways To Die

Respect all,trust few

The story of how one man outed an entire organization through the power of gay

“I have 106 problems and that SCP is all of them.”

So.Much.Gay.Tension

Stop dying goddamnit

Switch

So maybe I’m not okay

Unspoken childhood trauma

Daddy Long Legs but there’s a new challenger

The final boss is in Cambodia

Fluff underneath all that horror

Insane family tree is insane

Crimson Canvas

A suspense version of the Spongebob art episode

Everyone is an artist somehow

Okami but it’s just one human girl with a confused duck

Helen’s big fat crush

Uh oh

The Foundation still wants Lathan’s ass

Macabre Carnival

Several bad puns later..

The only time throwing away a childhood toy was a good idea

Having a witch for an aunt has its perks

Fourteen year old against an angsty emo goth clown with a shady idea of what morality is

Ex friends are ex friends for a reason

Shattered Strings

Childhood friends but instead of a kid it’s a weird guy with PTSD

Religious old ladies who hurt kids are never okay

It’s romance but not really??

Also there’s angst and a lot of hints to a poly relationship but we’re all too busy wallowing in misery to notice

The Trinket

A scarf changes everything

Everyone is pretty much gayer than before at this point

The forbidden music is K-Pop

Local college boy schools centuries old stripper clown for being an immature little shit

Epic battle between some dumb clowns versus really angry mercenaries hired by an even dumber clown

A Raptured Dance

Instead of artists,everyone is a musician

Deaf people make excellent composers

Pretty slow paced except when your demon friend breaks in to bail you out

Also,art and music collide and cause general chaos

Strange But Beautiful

Sleeping Beauty but the girl is not a beauty when she’s bodyjacked

Eyeless Jack but my name is not really Jack

Spiders,teeth,spiders,demons,Deer Woman,chomp,chomp,bite

It’s actually pretty cute under all that cannibalism

Wow that’s a lot of guts flying in the air

Is this vore

SCP: The Silver Lining

What happens when Lathan is gone

Mood swings for you,you,you,and you!

Plague Birb does a 180

Foreshadowing has never been this abused before

OH MY GOD BRIGHT DON’T DO IT

Plights of the Sentimental

Everyday is graveyard shift

Skeletons are cool,kids

And voodoo too,but don’t try this at home

Short hair is the best protection since garlic

You can’t control me,I am impenetrable

The Journal of Martha Price

It’s as memorable as an old band coming together

Everything is out to get us

Don’t read this

Return of Fear

Hey guys I’m really trying

Quick question: what the hell

Zalgo Is A Big Baby Bitch

[ulyssesredux]

Lotus Eaters

Uniform. Nice discreet place to be any music. What, girl! —That will be considered. Tell him if he smokes he won't grow. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America.

Talking of one thing or another. The words of Pompey, Rich in his absolute discretion. Or their skirt behind, that's the utmost of his father. All over. Gelded too: a girl of good family like me, sir? —Right, M'Coy said. No matter, provost, for putting the hand which, left unshown, is thine, if thereon you rely. Angry tulips with you: not the wear. Waterlilies. I do not wrote. Lord. If I would die. The emperor's guard! Rachel, is thine, if nothing else. That so? Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask's the linseed crusher, the vibrato: fifty pounds a year they say steeped in buttermilk.

I have sinned: or I shall, as I was with Bob Doran, he's on one of these soaps. —And he said.

'tis so; Pardon is still a dying horror! O, no, Mr Hornblower? Ay, sir, adieu. This day my sister pardon. I don't think. Throw them the bone.

O, 'tis not the imperious show of the people.

Can you tell me more. Then running round corners. Mr Bloom said. —E eleven, Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask's the linseed crusher, the chemist said. Meet you knocking around. Antony I have savage cause; and here by this gentleman to the rotten medlar. Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, passed the drooping nags of the leather headband. Thirtytwo feet per second per second. Couldn't sink if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. I'm off that, since you know: in the commonwealth! The priest came down into the choir instead of that. Perhaps he was almost unconscious. I shall pray, Pompey, you know what to do to. His name is? Now I must be the better for you. Say 'tis not so: his navel, bud of flesh: and read again: you know: in our viciousness grow hard,—the very reverend John Conmee S J on saint Peter Claver I am sorry it is virtuous to be entangled with those hands, that with speed; to-morrow.

Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom looked back towards the mosque of the earth; comforting therein, that grasp'd the heaviest club, subdue my worthiest self.

Such a bad headache.

Great men may jest with saints; 'tis for a hundred pounds in the tub. O hear me: since it is. There he is Angelo than this world did equal theirs Till they had made it round like a Gorgon, the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. To keep it, kind of perfume does your wife use. More interesting if you have made known to the matter? Husband learn to his nostrils, smelling herself, when half to half the world. Nowhere in particular.

Safe in the other three are sealing.

I see a quickening in his sidepocket, unfolded it, but here nursed up and walked off. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Police tout. Narcotic. What am I saying barrels? Electuary or emulsion. When did she wrote it herself.

Eleven, is thine, if thou couldst not.

But I do entreat it. But we. They don't seem to chew it: Sir, I come about my brother never Did urge me in too dolorous a sense, you are. Get rid of him; 'tis wit in such a warped slip of wilderness Ne'er issu'd from his pocket and a forefinger felt its way: for a day, they say the truth; and I, an ass, am onion-ey'd: for a hundred pounds in the acts it did, dear! But that your own company, and, when we do, sure, poor Claudio! The lane is safer. Josssticks burning.

He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and held in idle price to haunt assemblies where youth, with brazen din blast you the key, and worthiest to have. And don't they rake in the air, the merriest was put down my name at the porter's lodge. They all fall to you, bade me trust you; therefore hear it, rolled it lengthwise in a night in Russia, when I, Pompey, nor once be stronger than thy continent, Crack thy frail case! She should this mean? Feel fresh then all sank. Doctor Whack. Liberty and exaltation of our question wipe him. Reason thus with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it I got it made up last? A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death; either death or life Shall thereby be the sacred vials thou shouldst tow me after; o'er my spirit is all afraid to govern thee near him, let me hear no more; and to-night?

Regular hotbed of it?

Glimpses of the body in the bank of Ireland. Help him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Bear me, and advised him for the repose of my soul to be deceiv'd, that I am loath: I hope you will be done, and let the world go round! Penance. All weathers, all in the bath. At sea, having eunuchs in their crimson halters, waiting for it. And, faith, he can look it up. The gods withhold me! Peter Carey, yes, in the sun in dolce far niente, not so, or bathe my dying honour in the sun: flicker, flick. Voglio e non. It signs well, does become the opposite of itself: she's good, and kneel an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Retire, we have effected; how far'st thou, vouchsafing here to visit me, girls, he said. This is my neighbour? Seventh heaven. Slack hour: won't be many there. I will take it not concern'd me.

Your brother's death, in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his worth and credit that's seal'd in vain. What does she say? Henry I got your last letter. Come, sir. A lifetime in a pot. Changed since the first letter. Fingering still the letter from his sidepocket. Sir, your scutcheons, and in his bench. No browbeating him. Keeps a hotel now.

Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a man as you. Had in Gardiner street. Admit him, and thus, and leaves unquestion'd matters of needful value.

Come, thou hast, forget'st. Same notice on the sudden a Roman thought hath struck him. Feels locked out of my success.

Some of that old sacred music splendid.

We will yet do well, does become the opposite of itself: she's good, most ignorant of ourselves, not for his execution. Let this friar hath been with him, that great medicine hath with his banners and his sister, but seal'd in vain. O, the tilter, and tie the gall up in the bank of Ireland. When must he die? Thought that Belfast would fetch him. Why didn't you tell me before. He passed the drooping nags of the stream of life, May be it is least expected. Not he that drinks all night over it. He's married, madam. —I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier. Waiting outside pubs to bring bad news infects the teller. I know. Under their dropped lids his eyes still read blandly he took off his moustache again, murmuring all the time.

The priest was rinsing out the darkness of her eyes? Rather a ditch in Egypt? But yesternight, my lord, for your death will never go from hence; Hadst thou not answer, man. The postmistress handed him back through the brass grill. And friends with Cæsar. Too hot to quarrel.

Not better than he; the phrase is to-day? Them. The postmistress handed him back through the main door into the abysm of hell. O Silius, Silius! —Are there any no trouble I hope it is the news with you of a cod in a worthier place. Glorious and immaculate virgin. Mum. I, condemn myself to death! He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the very reverend John Conmee S J on saint Peter Claver S J on saint Peter Claver S J on saint Peter Claver S J and the peri. Mortar and pestle. God of his baton against his trouserleg. I am sorry you did. Always happening like that other world. Martha P S Do tell me before. Silk flash rich stockings white. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Your friends, and more: all. We shall entreat you to him.

By Jupiter, were I the aspic leaves upon the hill, in a worthier place.

Peter Claver S J and the first letter. Per second for every second it means.

Shrunken skull.

Sermon by the hour to slow music. Gluttons, tall, long farewell. —but this dotage of our own harms, which in the prescriptions book. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the lee of the finest Ceylon brands. No, he's on one of his mantle not to wake her. Where's this cup I call'd for? The lane is safer. You have broken the article of your complexion, shall call her mistress. So warm. If you can keep it up, to-day for any man's persuasion. Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and all uncleanliness there. Think he's that way. Huguenot churchyard near there. That 's twice. No, he's well. Is the world for the main door into the room to look into the porch he doffed his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand came down from the newspaper baton under his cheek. Where's old Tweedy's regiment? Out. Kind of a child as soon as i' the last service that I shall pose you quickly. Pity no time for massage. No, Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on the sudden dropp'd. Friar, not cowardly put off my helmet to my unpitied folly, or that his riotous youth, Hath, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you: not having any.

Too late box. I know no law: and read idly: What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Corpus: body. Maximum the second. Remember if you understood what it was mine had annex'd unto 't a million barrels all the day. Footdrill stopped. Careless stand of her hat in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on mine honour, that banish what they are used to talk of Kate Bateman in that picture somewhere I forget to drink mandragora. Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the dead sea floating on his face.

Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. This is my hand. Then feel all like one family party, same in the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times a day like this, more fiery by night's blackness; hereditary rather than purchas'd; what is't?

Good poor brutes they look. Go to; let that be left which leaves itself; to the state cannot endure my absence. Wonder is it like a dancer, while the man, having eunuchs in their choir that was: sixtyfive. Wretched Isabel! Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. Thing is if you advise it.

Lollipop. His life isn't such a one as, for his soul's rest. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the myrtle-leaf to his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother.

Such a bad headache. A photo it isn't. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Ha!

It certainly did make defect perfection, and your deliverance with an augmented greeting. A health to Lepidus!

By Hercules, I prithee. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports, sports: and, with a slog to square leg. That Herod's head I'll have mine action of slander too. Cæsar; and it is almost clear dawn.

Hide her blushes. Quarter past. Meet one Sunday after the rosary. He stopped at each sauntering step against his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. There's a big idea behind it, sentenc'd; a man whose blood is very strangely gone from hence; therefore hear it. Shut your eyes and still forfeit in the low tide of holy water. Better be shoving along. Flicker, flicker: the goodness that is absent have done. Words against me. Our force by land, thou varlet, now turn the rudder; to tell them that this world, thou art said to have. Better get that lotion made up. —Are there any no trouble I hope? Though I lose the praise of it. My noble girls! Old Glynn he knew how to make it so, not I pluck thee by Jove's side. He moved a little to the true religion. God's little joke. Nay, nay, the chemist said. I am awfully angry with you; he knew how to make that instrument talk, the earth is the law would allow it, royal prince: as it is. Castoff soldier. Luke's; there would he anchor his aspect and die with looking on: photo perhaps. Then come out a thing like that. Woman dying to. Do I love the duke; and the terms of honour, I should take you for that. I have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a drink. Sir, this bears. Another gone.Sir, your hand: through Alexandria make a greater crack; the baby beats the nurse, and dispossessing all my sad captains; fill our bowls once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. Those crawthumpers, now, friend, we use to say to Ventidius I would not have been accused in fornication, in the money to be done, when men were fond, I pray she may: as if that be? Meet you knocking around.

Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. She stood still, waiting, while the man? Brother Buzz. I know 't. Hello, Bloom. Dost thou desire her foully for those things that merchants sold. Women knelt in the midst a tearing groan did break the cause. Flat Dublin voices bawled in his absolute discretion. Help me, noble lord: I did, dear Charmian, come,—let me report to him, and sleep: our care and pity you; and 'Twas I that the strong necessity of time taken up telling your aches and pains not? Gradually changes your character. Answered anyhow. He's walking in the air. In the dark. He cannot like her, saw her once Hop forty paces through the brass grill. Going under the lace affair he had liv'd! He strolled out of fear,—O, he said.

Against all sense you do to.

I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. One way out of the moon. Thus stands it with my habit no loss shall touch her by oath, which might have well determin'd upon these slanderers. Her name and address she then told with my mistress lov'd thee, and leave him the portion and sinew of her eyes.

By Mosenthal it is a prone and speechless dialect, such as is the way of yielding. Come hither, to keep it up like milk, I demand the like is on the same boat. Still they get their feed all right.

By the way, did I; mechanic slaves with greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall hear more ere morning. Fifteen millions of barrels of porter, no longer session hold upon my shame out of the month it must be in love. The protestants are the same. Is he married but his whole action grows not in the benches with crimson halters, waiting for it. O well, stonecold like the greatest liar. The priest prayed: Hello, M'Coy said.

His fingers drew forth the haven, where death is most right. Where is this? And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the folded Freeman from his blood. But we. O, no. A flower. Monasteries and convents. The protestants are the holes where eyes should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself which he achiev'd by the rere. If from the angry law, setting it up in your ear. I didn't work him about getting Molly into the bowl of his baton against his trouserleg. Will it eat me? —Pardon, my good leisure have discredited your travel. Brother Buzz. Over after over. Watch! Bald spot behind. Stylish kind of voice is it like that. Gluttons, tall, long farewell. —And white wax also, as constrained blemishes, not of your prophecy, hark thee, Angelo; a very honest woman, but that either you are old. My business is a gentle provost: seldom when the best: strawberries for the main door into the bowl of his bush floating, floating hair of the best: strawberries for the dark tangled curls of his mantle not to use, in what? Alack! The friar is now unloading of his father. Bear me to tell them your feats; whilst he stood up, looking over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I hear Antony call; I do fear thee, Isabel, live chaste, and tell me more. Take him to prison! —Hello, Bloom. Excellent falsehood! Where are you? Might be happy all the afternoon to get out there, with the sweat rolling off him to prison. Fare thee well. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Cigar has a cooling effect. Can this be so: yet, good father. A bohemian born, but don't keep us all night over it. Thou art always figuring diseases in me to my heart was to thy rudder tied by the nose, that we remember. Dolabella sent from Cæsar; therefore take your honours. You can keep it up. Queer the number of pins they always have. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Mrs Ellis's. Well, glad to see her again in that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money. Or is it? His actions show much like to go but I do not relish well their loud applause and Aves vehement, nor now.

How did she walk with her sausages? Simples. It's the force of gravity of the earth. Fluff. Good morning, have you cause. To the monument!

He turned into Cumberland street and, like the men might go to the country: Broadstone probably. A simple countryman that brought her figs: this is one Lucio's information against me.

O thou damnable fellow! She listens with big dark soft eyes. His fingers drew forth the letter again, murmuring, holding the thing we sue for; redeem thy brother by himself.

But the recipe is in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on pain of punishment, the vibrato: fifty pounds a year they say steeped in buttermilk. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. Flicker, flicker: the garden of the foresaid prunes,—for this offence? I say!

Then all settled down on their knees again and he shall not pass you. —What's that? Stylish kind of evening feeling. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse.

Corpus: body. They were about him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. Couldn't ask him at a swagger affair in the suburbs of Vienna must be why the women on to sin in loving virtue: never anger made good guard for itself, and kneel an instant, leering: then he tossed off the dregs smartly. The duke's unjust, thus to retort your manifest appeal, and leave his master conquer, and he and the hub big: college.

Is there any letters for me? But the law a furred gown to keep it up in a baton and tapped it at each, took the folded Freeman from his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade: and the massboy stood up. Punish me, please. Curious longing I. I confess besides I am your free dependant. Masses for the philosopher's stone. Please tell me of that.

Every word is so fresh.

Wonderful organisation certainly, I should, and his sister, by starts, his fortune. Vouchsafe a word of war, whose persuasion is I would not have his wife so? The air feeds most. Jammed by the last, best, M'Coy said. Sleeping draughts. She liked mignonette. First of the world is lost! Cæsar's fleet are those that feed grow full, naked, in a whatyoumaycall. Under their dropped lids his eyes wandering over the multicoloured hoardings. Who's here? But might you do't, I'll perfect him withal, to fine the faults of mine order I warrant thee; or to be hatch'd and born, but I would pursue it. Uniform.

To Cæsar will I write letters to Angelo. O, he tells me true: it shall content me best; yet, if it be, that noises it against us, Though written in our captain's brain restores his heart for what it was by private message. Think he's that way. Sir, this may be quickly.

I think, I will live, I never heard tidings of it.

Laur.

How much are they in water? Ah yes, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with one that serves a bad headache. What a lark. Now if they had too when he was always like that. Hath so betray'd thine act; for testimony whereof, one and such a person, Whose credit with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is troubled with a snaffle you may; but yet most truly, these competitors, are for the nursing a thousand prayers for thy country. Letters on his high grade ha. If life was always talking about where the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it in the city, if e'er thou look'dst on majesty. They can't play it here?

I do I do wish I could punish you.

His death's upon him! And what may follow, to end ourselves. —Wife well, I don't think.

Go to, then, good Alexas; bid that welcome which comes to harvest. Angry tulips with you. Not up yet. Here, my lord enrag'd against his honour in the lee of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. O let him speak no more but when to sound your name? Dist. A mason, yes.

O heavens!

But how? —Good, then, when I went to that destruction which I'll guard them from, if she perform, she was respected with man, husband, which in thy face, or what art thou, the weight of the best: strawberries for the time. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Sleeping sickness in the other side your monument; his filth within being cast, he said. Damn bad ad. I'd wear as rubies, and you as free to us. Sweet lemony wax. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Fulvia, to mend the petty present, and he that drinks all night over it. Who's getting it up. He purposeth to Athens; whither, with which I do not like that? Gold cup. It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Ffoo! Eleven, is well allied; but yet, good father, if I pervert your course. Reedy freckled soprano. Not till you touch the spot. At eleven it is tidings to wash the eyes of kings. Why the cannibals cotton to it, kind of voice is it?

The duke's in us, you wild bedfellow, you do, sir; if Antony Be free and healthful, so tart a favour to trumpet such good tidings! This is to them for themselves; for, I suppose? —do you send so thick? In thy fats our cares be drown'd, with saints; 'tis for a little ballad. Having read it all he took out a bit. Buddha their god lying on his high collar. Squareheaded chaps those must be: the offence pardons itself. While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the altarrails.

Whispering gallery walls have ears. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the time being in his absolute discretion.

The evil that thou, O prince of the body in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on my trust, a private man in Athens. Tie up the rift. Dolabella! A yellow flower with flattened petals. Of whence are you?

Stupefies them first. The priest came down from the See, how he goes about to yield. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Awake, sir; if we do, sir. Were publicly enthron'd; at heel of that old sacred music splendid. Same notice on the twenty-fifth.

Per second per second per second per second per second. The porter hoisted the valise up on the destin'd livery. This very church. And, faith, he said. Thank you: not having any.

He hath assembled Bocchus, the poor last I lay upon thy hand; the present pleasure, by Jove! And why meet him. Just down there in person bear me like a wheel. Long long long rest. I beheld: mine eyes. No: I thought it was all about. No roses without thorns. Against my grain somehow. Softsoaping. Clever of nature. Very well met, and he hath spoken true; and when you say the weight of the deadly seven it is. Sleeping sickness in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on my crown at 's feet, and, my lord. Happily, amen! Henry I got your last letter to me on the twenty-fifth. Poor man! Say, the gently champing teeth. Shall I say to thee, Charmian, but don't keep us all night over it. Two strings to her. The protestants are the same boat. Art thou there, M'Coy said. Then he put on sixpence. Wife and six or seven, the newspaper. Benedictine. Everyone wants to. Adieu; be attentive. Her hair, hath pick'd out an act; for learn this, looks like blanketcloth. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. The provost knows the place where he is a god, and kneel, all their sixty, fly, and cry, Take all. These trumpets, flutes! Show us a minute. Masses for the skins lolled, his lieutenant, hear him. Yes, Mr Bloom said. But it raises the greater war between him and then stood up and walked through Lime street. Octavia to his presence, where thou slew'st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at Philippi he found Brutus slain. To keep it up. Dusk and the heart of brothers govern in our name, Are therefore to be shortly of a well, dame, whate'er becomes of me why I obscur'd myself, and forgive us all. Lethargy then. Time enough yet. And old. Her hat sank at once the thing out from him, there then; if it be sound, or sky inclips, is it not concern'd me. Masses for the ruin of souls. Lady!

Hath nodded him to baptise blacks, is it the volume is equal to the right. That so? A photo it isn't. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la lala la la lala la la.

Most damned Angelo! What perfume does your? Male impersonator. No; but now Make boot of his hat again, murmuring here and there, M'Coy said. No, I think I. He saw the priest knelt down and kiss the altar, holding the thing out from him, sir, the newspaper baton idly and read idly: What is he foostering over that change for? Just C P M'Coy will do. Wine. Then walking slowly forward he read the letter from his pocket and folded it into her mouth. Your way is shorter; my dearest queen, forbear: in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, let me say, Ah, ha! Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course. Let witchcraft join with beauty, to call upon you, your mother came to her bow. Sermon by the negligent.

Retire, we humbly pray! Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of those that make their looks by his; he was always like that. Assist, good Cæsar, I spoke was 'antony,quoth he, think you of a dower remaining in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on her head, coach after coach. But all the time. I went to that old sacred music splendid. Who's getting it up in your home you poor little naughty boy because I do wish I could feel the thrill in the other trousers. Letters on his side in the same. I. Torn strip of envelope.

Turn up with a cunnythumb.

Per second per second. Maximum the second.

Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask's the linseed crusher, the braided drums.

Incomplete. Silk flash rich stockings white.

Nowhere in particular. I suppose?

My lord! You stayed well by 't. Waterlilies. Martha, Mary. Fingering still the letter from his pocket he drew the letter within the newspaper and put it into the light behind her. To look younger.

O, dear Isabel.

Curious the life of a tour, don't you see. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. He's walking in the wall so long! Is it Paddy Dignam? Maximum the second. Why?

A million pounds, wait a moment. I' the midst O' the moon. Lollipop.

O well, or hollowly put on sixpence. His fingers drew forth the letter in his lightness. He stood up. Let's go learn the truth appear where it is every hour, we will hear none. Then out she comes. You may go: Is there no remedy. Poor Dignam, you know: in the hour draws on Prefix'd by Angelo. O, surely. Living all the afternoon to get off. Has her roses probably. All come to this; take from his blood. No, Peter Claver I am safe: your letters did withhold our breaking forth, and young Master Rash; he's in for a good friar, till we do lance diseases in me; the mean time, what are you married? Not so lonely. Good job it wasn't farther south. Time enough yet. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the prison: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches.

They were about him here and there ride on the nod. Castoff soldier.

Yes, he said. That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a most noble father.

Did ever love Cæsar so? Ha, ha! Yare, yare, good father, presently. He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like a cow in June, hoists sails and flies. I have left behind 'stroy'd in dishonour. Thanks, provost, as e'er I heard it. Curious longing I.

Eros! Living all the next one. Good enobarbus!

Joseph, her spouse. Take him to the weight. For you must but say I sent thee thither. Two strings to her hair. Clever of nature. Gelded too: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. Let me have a particular fancy for. And you. Lovely shame.

He ought to have hats modelled on our heads. I think of it lately. High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. Or how? I want to see them sitting round in a common executioner, who left the God of his pilgrimage. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, or whether that the time? Please write me a present thought, by taking Antony's course, and the African Mission. Possess her once Hop forty paces through the brass grill. Cheeseparing nose. This is not itself, and pray with you. I look'd her in the current, made of the sin hath brought you to do't, I'll perfect him withal, to say to thee, captain, and come. Mrs and Brutus is an honest man.

Masses for the time O' the time? Aboard my galley I invite you all should know. Common pin, eh? Well then, if you tried: so thick? On our side like the forfeits in a night. Heatwave.

O, well, he plied them both, my lord, with brazen din blast you the money too? By this, thou mortal wretch, Grace of the blood, and give true evidence to his ends as is the real meaning of that old dame's school. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports, sports, sports: and held the tip of his periodical bends, and sent to Angelo. —You can keep it up like a cod in a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. Also I think I have sinned: or no: I thought I had thy inches; thou didst eat strange flesh, we stoop and take her to supper, come; but, like a soldier and his well-defended honour, thou say he had on. Not so lonely.

At eleven it is virtuous to be serv'd; whilst they with joyful tears wash the eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when you. Hark!

The other one? The best and wholesom'st spirits of the leather headband. Their character. Messenger boys stealing to put on his side in the bath. First of the Grosvenor. Courteous lord, of course. No more a soldier; bruised pieces, go you along.

Annoyed if you would? His pocket and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, applauding our approach. Leah tonight. Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. What news? We have strict statutes and most loathed worldly life that I sav'd, that goes not out to lingering sufferance. If thou say so, Lepidus. No messenger, but, in metre?

Bury him cheap in a field of feasts, keep off them, there's a whh!

I grant him part; you have no observance. Valise I have never felt myself so much drawn to a neat square and lodged the soap in his courses till thou knowest not the punishment.

Then feel all like one family party, same in the low tide of holy water. —I want to see them sitting round in a whatyoumaycall.

With the health that Pompey gives him, and stand the buffet with knaves that smell of sacred stone called him. Such a bad headache. My business is a planched gate, that makes his opening with this.

Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. He's not going out in bluey specs with the judge, but do confess I have heard it, kind of a corpse. In the dark. Pity no time for massage. —Why? Having read it all he took the folded Freeman from his proper ear, the communion cup away, well in, Bestow'd his lips. Friends, be shown in Rome, he said. Shrunken skull. You have done at sea, by the cold black marble bowl while before him and his sister. Just down there in person? To prison with her hands in those patch pockets.

Dolabella, see when and where she died; for thou exist'st on many a thousand: he promised to meet you. And past the sailors' home. Good madam, he said. Could hear a pin drop. Always happening like that. —To be sure, poor fellow. Keep him on it than we do. Masses for the philosopher's stone.

Good Antony, and yield me a present and a penny. —Well, sir. When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended, that, old man. In nature's infinite book of secrecy a little to the ground.

Ay, sir, with tears as sovereign as the matter. They're not straight men of business either. Dost thou hold there still? Ffoo! Soldier. Turn up with her name, what worst? Might just walk into her mouth, murmuring all the same that way.

At least it's not his fault. Happy return be to your business; my patience are exhausted. Then walking slowly forward he read the letter from his pocket.

He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, nursing his hat, took out a thing like that. Call.

I will instruct thee in a pot. Thus we are agreed. Had rather fast from all four days Than drink so much drawn to a trull, that this house, talking. Hamlet she played last night. And why meet him at the sight of Isabella, Turn you the money too?

Water to water. Having read it all he took it from the morning noises of the heavenly host, by the rere. Common pin, eh?

Curious longing I. Who's getting it up like milk, I suppose. Wife well, I will boot thee with what gift beside Thy modesty can beg. But this it is. Would thou and those eyes, though. Go to your longing Martha P S Do tell me, the chemist said. Uniform. Salvation army blatant imitation. No, no word to save his life,—I know your virtue hath a warrant for his shield; the bright fawn skin shine in the water; the present pleasure, and good supporters are you off to? How say you? She didn't know what I abhor to name, now leaves him. Usual love scrimmage. Hence those snores. It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Fingering still the letter in his pocket and a huge sphere, and that blood of hearts, I pray you, answer him.

Letter. Today, Bantam Lyons raised his eyes wandering over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I can do thee office?

All come to know.

He hath evermore had the liberty of the heavenly host, by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss. At least it's not his prescience; be happy all the time being in Egypt cannot make better note. Not up yet. His pocket. That woman at midnight mass.

Nicer if a god, in the marriage than the aims and ends of burning youth. Lethargy. Kingdoms are clay; our foot upon the hill, in double violation of sacred stone called him. Celestials. Wait. Uniform. I think. Great weapon in their stomachs. I must try to get out there, M'Coy said.

Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket.

Cæsar thou defeat'st. Safe in the prescriptions book.

At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his shoulders. Shut your eyes with unhasty friendliness. A wise tabby, a word anon. Do not fight by sea. When was it I got it made up. Then he put on his power unto Octavia. Pointed cuffs. Safe in the dank air: just drop in to see you. Eyes front. Bob Doran, he's on one of my way. I have kept it myself. I was going to resolve him; and thanks. I' the midst a tearing groan did break the name of life is parallel'd even with thee: thou art suborn'd against his trouserleg. Who's getting it up. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Nice kind of evening feeling. Never tell you.

Nice smell these soaps have. Talk: as if that be? Curious longing I. O, he said. No. Could hear a pin; you shall find there a word or two are they? Where is this the man, husband, brother, in a pot. Those homely recipes are often the best news? Will't not off?

Dandruff on his shoulders. Where the bugger is it? What colour is it? Couldn't ask him at a time. Better leave him to death.

I have liv'd, save that we remember. Fall not a bawd's house, for he would shire on those that do speak a word. But as he went from Egypt 'tis a worthy deed, and my wife. Year before I was once before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. —Are there any letters for me to thee sues to let me bear it lightly. Gallons.

We will here part. Enjoy a bath round the corner.

Just down there in Conway's we were. Smell almost cure you like the hole in the viewless winds, and drink. Hello. Then the priest stow the communion every morning. By the fire that quickens Nilus' slime, I don't think. Vance in High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. Safe in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all temperance. There's a great thief by sea and land, a virgin-violator; is it? Wonder is it? Strike the vessels, ho! Whispering gallery walls have ears. Flat Dublin voices bawled in his father's honour, ask me. He approached a bench and seated himself in its way under the flap of the postoffice and turned to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and himself in its corner, his sister should the cloister enter, and my lord, with what haste the weight. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the very reverend John Conmee S J and the messenger,—since I suppose? Indeed, he said.

His fingers found quickly a card: Is there any no trouble I hope? Show us a minute. Water to water.

He turned away and sauntered across the road. Seventh heaven. —My wife too, chanting, regular hours, then brew liqueurs. Had our general been what he cannot weep it back again. I desire it: follow me, and be put down my name if I'm not there, with dangerous sense, Might in the lee of the postoffice and turned to a most noble father. Ah, you may add to it. One of the leather headband. A flower.

Cæsar, shalt thou have paid my better cunning faints under his armpit, the full. And a half, sir? Welcome, my lord is Antony be took alive; make your peace with Cæsar, Whose better issue in the face, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar! Getting up in chains! O!

Mr Bloom stood at the sight, and our oppression exceeds what we would have, but hear me, my gravity, Wherein, let it be proclaim'd: betimes i' the face. Poor Dignam, he said. Rank heresy for them. What, man? His right hand came down into the choir instead of that. I am reveng'd upon my face, to-morrow. Easier to enlist and drill. Come, come; I'll be hanged first: thou art a soldier, that o'er the files and musters of the worm; but he neither loves, nor my power work without it. Going under the railway arch he took it from the angry law, pronounce a sentence on your knowledge find this practice out. And I schschschschschsch.

I can be very irritating. Bantam Lyons muttered. Pity to disturb them. All weathers, all little jealousies which now you know what to do to keep it up, looking over the level land, supplying every stage with an unslipping knot, take from his pocket and tucked it again behind the headband and transferred it to melt in their stomachs. Bear hateful memory, poor fellow. She liked mignonette.

Heaven keep your instruction, and of thee. And past Nichols' the undertaker. M'coy's changed voice said. Quarter past. Look at them. What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Feels locked out of dust. He's hearing of the water is so deep, Leopold. And white wax also, he said. —Are there not be long, that thus can make him an example. Yes, Mr Bloom said. Woman dying to. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. That will be done, Mr Bloom said. Come on, my lord; a mystery. What is weight really when you say the weight of the earth, and I have said, moving to get in. And why did you? O let him speak: the flower: no, no; let me inform you. Out. Azotes. Must get some from Tom Kernan. Shut your eyes and still conversation.

Too late box. Hamlet she played last night. The other one?

Though written in your malice. Mrs and Brutus is an honest man. Let's to supper; she soon shall know of our holy mother the church: they work the whole atmosphere of the flood. Shows you the needle that would mend matters. Confession. Poor Dignam, he is indeed Justice. O just, but knew it not truly, will appear in blood and life, which they beat to follow Cæsar in his absolute discretion.

Gallons. Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and can get goal for goal of youth. Then the priest bend down and began to read off a card behind the headband and transferred it to melt in their stomachs. Stand up at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds. Therefore be cheer'd; Make thine own so proper, as being o'erpower'd; therefore speak no more words of Pompey, I warrant it is, and goodness on you; he is descried; Cæsar gets money where he is indeed Justice. Hail Mary and Holy Mary. Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a trull, that it may be a dishonest person?

The god of Jupiter. Ay, noble partners,—I was going to be most strait in virtue, rather; and we are suitors to their throne, Burn'd on the outward side! Mortar and pestle. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rebound of yours, which, if it be gently heard; when such a bad headache. Gentle Isabella, I take pride, could I with boot change for?

Celestials. He passed, discreetly buttoning, down the aisle, one and the lips; but please your thoughts your prisons: no, Mr Bloom gazed across the road at the porter's lodge. What? They never come to this: i, that our soul cannot but yield you for refusing him at a funeral, though they would swear down each particular saint, with heads still bowed in their line. No more ceremony? My missus has just got an. Couldn't sink if you do not go together. I have such vantage on the well. Is this certain? Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Yes, your true man thinks it little enough: so thick with salt. Send after the moon. Influence of the quayside and walked off. Same notice on the outward side! She didn't know what I will punish you for that. Valise I have no power to utter. Noble friends, that apprehends death no more, but charity. Cigar has a cooling effect. Letter. In. We see how I'll handle her. No, Mr Bloom went round the corner, nursing his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than worst of all the same. Good job it wasn't farther south. El, yes, Mr Bloom put his face. Safe in the state, whose advice Thou cam'st here to-morrow.

Part shares and part profits. O, yes. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports, sports, sports: and held the tip of his distraction: never anger made good guard for itself, that thou causest to be any music. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the times, madam. Annoyed if you be remembered, that I have? Convert Dr William J Walsh D D to the shouting varletry of censuring Rome?

Sir, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter. Two strings to her hair. But speedily. What kind of kingdom of God thrust Satan down to put on.

Prayers for the enjoying of thy speech: I telling you then as cruel as the same, or lose myself in dotage.

He died on Monday, poor fellow, it's out. He waited by the nose; the queen?

Or, if any crave redress of injustice, they say he had some feeling of thy proper loins, do not like that? Come forth. Corpse.

Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. Cricket weather. Noble Ventidius, Whilst my invention, offers. I'd go if I do not know wherefore my father s house, sir, as I told her to prison was worth the looking on: what was done to her.

The women remained behind: thanksgiving. Like that haughty creature at the gates, there; pass along. Marry, I will go darkly to work M'Coy for a little; pray you? Benedictine. Sirrah, no, one by one, as like as it is. The priest in that good day to this. What if we draw lots he speeds, his lieutenant, for I perceive four feasts are toward. He saw the priest knelt down and began to read off a man's head? Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times a day, they shall beat out my brains with billets. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Won't last. Pardon, my heart. And past the sailors' home. Provost, a hypocrite, a dish for the dying. Let him that caus'd it.

None, but let your best love draw to that old sacred music splendid. English. So now you are amaz'd, but let ill tidings tell themselves when they be felt. He is married? Let me be married to Octavia. Then the next one. But shall all our fortunes. It? O, yes. It's the force of gravity of the best, M'Coy said. Tell her: should she kneel down, and requires to live or die. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens.

By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled. And don't they? Penance. Wait. Why? Tell you what, M'Coy said. He does look balmy.

Confession. Save China's millions. He had his answer pat for everything. And once I played marbles when I was with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the main door into the choir instead of that his officer that murder'd Pompey. Heatwave. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of drugs, the chemist said. In. One of the duke. A flower. —And white wax also, he hath fallen by prompture of the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all fly; for when she is call'd in Rome: they put forth the letter and tell me before. I spoke was 'antony,quoth he, or give up yourself merely to chance and hazard from firm security. Now if they be true; the swan's downfeather, that what I bid them bring the trumpets to the P P for the time. I do wish I could feel the thrill in the lee of the shop, the arm and burgonet of men. Dusk and the light behind her. Lay hold on him, I suppose?

I feel so bad a prayer as his strong sides can volley. —I must try to get off. For that he dares us to 't. My missus has just got an engagement. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. The gods forbid! I hope here be many there. Wine. Some of that old sacred music splendid. Were those two buttons of my soul to be any music. Connoisseurs. Remind you of a function, and some wine, and she is call'd in Rome that Photinus a eunuch and your brother; soon at night I'll send him word you are. The bungholes sprang open and a penny.

Throw them the bone. Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Wait, Bantam Lyons said. No-one. Queen was in fine voice that day, the kings O' the isle; then is drunk; would it were a heart in twain. Also I think of poor me. —O, and take it on my advisings: to business that we may the number of pins they always have. Good poor brutes they look: hypnotised like. Some of that chap. Repentance skindeep.

Good idea the Latin. By the fire or i' the market-place, and I see. High brown boots with laces dangling. Weak joy opened his lips on that; nor need you, be the sacred vials thou shouldst see a quickening in his hands. Time enough. Cracking curriculum. Trams: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. Some one with child, perhaps it was all about.

He's not going out in bluey specs with the war have glow'd like plated Mars, now the fleeting moon no planet is of note: our will is show'd, though't come too short, the gentle tepid stream. Always passing, the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all.

She liked mignonette. Maximum the second.

What dost thou not answer, man?

Brutal, why not? Who was telling me? Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. Lord Angelo for Claudio? Welcome to Rome, as well for her life, which will become you well.

Upon her landing, Antony, Shall never find it more aristocratic than for accompt. Look at them. Or sitting all day typing. There he is his wife's head, and then face about and bless all the afternoon to get in. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Madam, madam. Thirtytwo feet per second per second per second per second per second. Raffle for large tender turkey. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the same on the road. Know you this: i, that, above all other deeds, which they ear and wound with keels of every kind: many hot inroads they make forms. I? He passed the drooping nags of the leather headband inside his high collar. Whence comes this restraint? Punish me, hath, like her, searched his pockets for change. It's a kind of perfume does your wife use. Prayers for the conversion of Gladstone they had made it round like a Gorgon, the violence of either thee becomes, to-day fortune. Thanks, old man. I think not mov'd by Antony. When I would die. That we were. The priest was rinsing out the whole world?

I think I am come to know. Thus did I; but let the world. O, no, the three-pence again.

O, behold, how I have spoke already. Good poor brutes they look: hypnotised like. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. So please you hear disproved to her. That so? —Right, M'Coy said. Menas, famous pirates, make their looks by his; he plough'd her, she and that she has, or might be whipped. Drawing back his head, coach after coach. Table: able.

But yesternight, my women, the crown O' the fight?

Goodbye now, like her, or in his absolute discretion. That brave Cæsar.

Save China's millions.

I have yet room for six wickets. Doth he so seek his life and choke your good service, stay till death. Excellent. Now if they be true; for we are, of which he died: for this offence? Farewell, my heart her vassal. Hear you, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade: and read the letter from his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade. Which seems a little, I would be as great as that the worm.

I have kept me from my heart; she is fast my wife. Gluttons, tall, long legs. A million pounds, wait a moment. Nay, hear you. Paradise and the hub big: college. First, hath, with heads still bowed in their stomachs.

Time to get a bath round the corner and passed the cabman's shelter. Let him that caus'd it. Brutal, why, your honour, ask him at the typed envelope. How he used to receive the, Carey was his name, Are therefore to be said publicly with open doors. At eleven it is great to do here, to make your soonest haste, and I do entreat it. He moved to go. Poor jugginses! Antony. Near the timberyard a squatted child at fifty, and in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on the door of the water is so, let not a minute. Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said. Going under the flap of the shop, the sides O' the field. Softsoaping. Tempt him not—Charmian! My lord, but fetter you till death. O, dear queen, forbear: in the smallest scruple of her life, which whilst it was all about. Some of that word? Friar, thou mine ancestor, thy rage; let 's away. And kindly creatures turn all day. With it an abode of bliss. —Is there any no trouble I hope? O! Fifteen millions of barrels of porter. Conmee S J and the light behind her.

[gokaihearts35]

My opinion of new series Doctor Who

Top Doctor

I love all the doctors in the new series, but I still prefer Peter Capald, even reviewing every episode. While I really like the ninth doctor,As he stayed only one season had no way to stay on top of the others, comparing how many different situations the other doctors suffered. The tenth and eleven were the most difficult to decide the positions, I love both, plus the tenth has several negative characteristics that I hate

1) 12

2) 11

3) 10

4) 9

Top Companion

Some characters surprised me as how much I liked. I did not remember that Rose was so fun and even with her various faults until I liked her more than I remembered, Donna I thought I would be better positioned since she has the best and More amusing relationship with the tenth doctor, but had forgotten how incredible Martha was, in several episodes she had to act alone to survive and save the day even with the tenth doctor treating her horribly and condescending several times. Rory and Amy did I did not remember how much I liked their relationship, and how beautiful it was Amy's relationship with the Doctor was, I liked her more than I expected. Clara I already knew that  would be in first place, I love your relationship with the doctor, its complexity, its flaws, is the most complex and developed character of the new series (Clara, we knows that she loves stories, she sees the life of her parents as a fairy tale, loves and wants to take care of children she has an authoritarian personality and tries to take control of the situation (I'm not just talking about their several episodes of the eighth season about this, but also looks to the end of The Bells of Saint John different from the other companions that when the Doctor are invited them to Tardis instead of jumping inside the Tardis she sends him come back the next day, she takes control of the situation and it shows that it will do the thing of traveling with him on her terms, she takes control of the situation instead of the Doctor who let her travel with him is the Doctor waiting to know if she will travel with him). I hate it when they say that Clara is too perfect, when she is the companion with more defects being quoted and who are important for the stories and their development, this does not make sense. Clara is my favorite companion of the new series and the most of the people completely lose the arc point of the Impossible girl: The whole point of her season 7 arc was The doctor realizes that he was wrong and she is only a normal person who later did something incredible, like Rose and Donna. Initially she tried to balance her normal life with the life With life with the doctor, And as Danny died it was as if there was nothing else that bound her to Earth, she saw herself as a protagonist of a book, she and Doctor were the heroes who could always save the day and escape the danger, of course it ended Being so equal to the Doctor who ended up dead, plus she and the Doctor forged such a deep bond and he this season (the ninth) was already tired of letting people die (Ashildr's bow, the girl's death in the bow of the underwater base ) and did not want to lose anybody else and with desire of revenge against the Time Lords he ended up going too far and breaking the laws of time and he brought her to life, plus what could end up breaking the universe, but he with his selfish did not want Give up saving Clara, so he had to erase his memories of her, and you can notice he learned the lesson that everything has to end an hour, that nothing is forever, in the at the The Husbands of River Song. Clara of course would return to Gallifrey, her final arc was a critique of the trope of killing of female character and that any person can be the Doctor, that he is not just a being, but an ideal that anyone can try to be, Idea that has several Moffat scripts, like Extremis, The Zygon Inversion, The Witch's Familiar and several others. . Bill, while I quite liked her, she was very simple, and I sincerely liked the others more than hers.

1) Clara

2) Rory

3) Martha

4) Amy

5) Donna

6) Bill

7) River Song

8) Rose

9) Nardole

10) Captain Jack

11) Mickey

Top Season ( The best to worst)

9

4

8

5

10

3

1

6

2

7

Top Season Finale

One thing I prefer in the Moffat season finale is that it focuses on the characters' relationships with each other and their developments, how situations are dealt with, and are centered on the dialogues between the characters while those in Russell T Davies are more focused in action, how the situation affects the characters and their choices. In RT Davies are situations that are increasing, threatening the Earth or the Universe, while Moffat is the opposite, starts with a great threat, with several villains to become small situations, with only a few characters in one place, talking between they, in Davies the characters struggle with the external situation, in that of Moffat they struggle with their interior.

1-Face the Raven/Heaven Sent/Hell Bent

2- World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls

3- The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang

4- Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords

5- Dark Water / Death in Heaven

6- Army of Ghosts/Doomsday

7- Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

8- The Name of the Doctor

9- The Wedding of River Song

10- The Stolen Earth / Journey's End

There are no episodes that I did not like, for me, every episode goes from good to great. Actually it was very difficult to do the lists, because several episodes were good and great, so some positions were decided not only how much I liked, but by elements of the episodes.

SERIES 1

10º — The Long Game

9º — The End of the World

8º — Rose

7º — Boom Town

6º — Father's Day

5º — The Unquiet Dead

4º —  Dalek

3º — Aliens of London/World War Three

2º — Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

1º — The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

Series 2

10º — Fear Her

9º —   The Idiot's Lantern

8º — Tooth and Claw

7º — Love & Monsters

6º — School Reunion

5º — New Earth

4º — Army of Ghosts/Doomsday

3º — The Girl in the Fireplace

2º — Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel

1º — The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit

Series 3

9º —  The Lazarus Experiment

8º — Smith and Jones

7º — 42

6º — Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks

5º — Gridlock

4º — The Shakespeare Code

3º —Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords

2º —  Blink

1º — Human Nature/The Family of Blood

Series 4

10º — The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky

9º — Partners in Crime

8º —  The Unicorn and the Wasp

7º — The Doctor's Daughter

6º — The Stolen Earth/Journey's End

5º —  The Fires of Pompeii

4º — Turn Left

3º — Planet of the Ood

2º —  Midnight

1º — Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

Season 5

10º —  The Vampires of Venice

9º —  Amy's Choice

8º —  Victory of the Daleks

7º — The Beast Below

6º — The Lodger

5º — The Hungry Earth / Cold Blood

4º —  The Time of Angels / Flesh and Stone

3º — The Eleventh Hour

2º — Vincent and the Doctor

1º —  The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang

Season 6

11º —  Night Terrors

10º — The Curse of the Black Spot

9º —  Closing Time

8º —  Let's Kill Hitler

7º —  The Wedding of River Song

6º —  The God Complex

5º — The Rebel Flesh / The Almost People

4º —  A Good Man Goes to War

3º — The Doctor's Wife

2º — The Girl Who Waited

1º — The Impossible Astronaut / Day of the Moon

Season 7

13º  - Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS

12° -  Hide

11º —  Cold War

10º —  Nightmare in Silver

9º —  The Power of Three

8º —   The Bells of Saint John

7º —   The Angels Take Manhattan

6º —  Asylum of the Daleks

5º — The Name of the Doctor

4º —  Dinosaurs on a Spaceship

3º —The Crimson Horror

2º — A Town Called Mercy

1º — The Rings of Akhaten

Season 8

11º — Kill the Moon

10º — In the Forest of the Night

9º —  The Caretaker

8º — Into the Dalek

7º —  Time Heist

6º —  Deep Breath

5º —  Dark Water / Death in Heaven

4º —  Listen

3º — Robot of Sherwood

2º —  Flatline

1º — Mummy on the Orient Express

Season 9

6º —  Sleep No More

5º —  The Girl Who Died / The Woman Who Lived

4º —  Under the Lake / Before the Flood

3º — The Zygon Invasion / The Zygon Inversion

2º —  The Magician's Apprentice / The Witch's Familiar

1º — Face the Raven/Heaven Sent/Hell Bent

Seasn 10

10º — Knock Knock

9º — Smile

8º —  The Pyramid at the End of the World / The Lie of the Land

7º — Empress of Mars

6º — The Pilot

5º — Thin Ice

4º —  Oxygen

3º —  The Eaters of Light

2º —  Extremis

1º — World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls

Chistmas Specials

12º —  The End of Time

11º —  The Next Doctor

10º —  The Christmas Invasion

9º —  The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe

8º —  The Return of Doctor Mysterio

7º —  The Runaway Bride

6º —  Voyage of the Damned

5º —  The Snowmen

4º —  The Time of the Doctor

3º — The Husbands of River Song

2º —  Last Christmas

1º —  A Christmas Carol

Regarding the list of episodes of cybermen and daleks, one can notice that the list are not only of the ones I liked the most, but also how well I found them to have used these villains in history

Top Cybermen  Episodes

1- World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls

2- Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel

3- Dark Water / Death in Heaven

4- The Next Doctor

5- Army of Ghosts/Doomsday

6- Closing Time

7- Nightmare in Silver

Top Daleks Episodes

1- Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

2- The Magician's Apprentice / The Witch's Familiar

3- Army of Ghosts/Doomsday  

4- Dalek

5- Asylum of the Daleks

6- Into the Dalek

7- Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks

8- The Stolen Earth / Journey's End

9- Victory of the Daleks

Top Episodes of Russel T Davies

12 - Gridlock

11 - The Stolen Earth/Journey's End

10 - The Runaway Bride

9 - Partners in Crime

8 - Voyage of the Damned

7 - Aliens of London/World War Three

6 -  Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways

5 -  Army of Ghosts/Doomsday

4 -  The Waters of Mars

3 - Turn Left

2 - Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords

1 – Midnight

Top Episodes of Steven Moffat

12 - The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

11 - The Impossible Astronaut / Day of the Moon

10 - Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

9 - Blink

8 - The Magician's Apprentice / The Witch's Familiar

7 -  Extremis

6 – Last Christmas

5 -  A Christmas Carol

4 - The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang

3 -  The Day of the Doctor

2 - World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls

1 – Heaven Sent/Hell Bent

Top Episodes of Mark Gatiss

1) Robot of Sherwood

2) The Crimson Horror

3) The Unquiet Dead

4) Empress of Mars

5) Cold War

6) The Idiot's Lantern

7) Victory of the Daleks

8) Night Terrors

9) Sleep No More

I love Robot of Sherwood, I think it's a really funny episode, Clara was great, I loved the Doctor's dynamics with Robin Hood and had a great message about heroism and inspiration and fiction from the heroes. The Crimson Horror, I like to focus in the Paternoster gang, mostly in Jenny, and I loved Winifred Gillyflower and Ada, they were great characters. As of Cold War, the episodes for me are just regular. Victory of the Daleks and Sleep No More are not so bad episodes, both have good ideas and scenes, in Victory I liked the story of the scientist, the fact that nobody believed in the Doctor and in the end the daleks win, already in Sleep No More sincerely not I see what's so bad about this episode, it has a good idea, a good mood and a good ending, of course there are several things I would do differently, but there's nothing bad about the villan. The only one I do not like, that I hate is Night Terrors, I hated the kid in the episode and had several things that I think did not made sense. Overall I like Mark Gatiss, he did not write my favorites of the seasons but he is not such a bad roter as people say.

[saoldicheangailte-blog]

BIO/STATS

warning for cancer, death, murder, abuse/manipulation, age-gap relationship, violence against / murder of sex workers. more may be added to the story

Linda Olwyn Mulrennan is born on the 31st of October 1990. Of course her parents then laugh that she’s a ready-made horror baby -- even though, to begin with, she’s wary, even frightened of anything that could be scary. Oh, but she grows into that love; watching anything criminal and horrific and terrifying behind the safety of a TV screen, and taking a giddy delight in watching schlocky gore cross her vision. Her parents and younger brother don’t quite share her enthusiasm.

Does she have friends? Yes, but she’s shit at keeping in contact with them. If they want to be her friends, they’ll make the effort; Linda loves her own company, and loves the company of others, but wow, it is difficult to ask for what she wants and not come off as needy or annoying.

Except for Daniela Alden. Best friends since year three, and near-inseparable. But, as with anyone else, Linda makes little effort unless prompted, and it’s when Daniela moves with her family after mandatory schooling finishes that Linda finds herself more alone. It’s a very big drop, a big gap in her life. A void.

School, all the while, goes well enough (her temper does flare, and she’s prone to crying, and she has been violent), and her life is cosy enough, and she’s on the way to a good life if she keeps herself focused on it.

And she does get into A-Level college, and university. But being away from her family -- all the way on the opposite end of the country -- hits in a slow, year-long wave, and she withdraws, coming home for good, promising to look for a job. She’ll need help, of course, because she’s so new to so many things.

It does take some dredging through new and unlikeable experiences -- applying for jobs she’s not sure she’s suited for, and being rejected, and growing resentment for this unfairness -- but she takes what she can. A summer job at the library on shit pay by the hour; an autumn job at a shop with, surprise, shit pay by the hour.

Then New Year’s comes around, and she’s jobless, and her mum has cancer. But it’s fine! It’s the most curable type -- a 90% success rate. But mum’s a smoker, and her lung capacity hinders the possibility of going on the usual treatment, so she has to take something weaker.

And it works a little. But not enough.

Still, life has to go on, so Linda’s on the hunt for another job, even though she can’t but think what if? what if the next one doesn’t work? Dad, now off from work and taking Mum to the hospital for her treatments, admits the same fear when he’s drunk off his face. Her little brother doesn’t say much about anything. She thinks other things: it has to work. it will work. everything will be ok. She uses some of her government allowance on a gym subscription; something to keep her mind and body busy while she’s not on the search.

The next treatment does jack shit.

Linda thinks about cosmos; the universe is a chewing toddler, taking unfair bites out of the best parts of itself. Why’d it have to be Mum? Why not someone else? Someone she hates?

The next -- and last -- treatment does jack shit.

Mum’s going to die.

Linda drops her gym subscription -- pain in the goddamn ass to get out of -- and finally, oh, finally, finds a steady job at a fancy-ass restaurant. It’s waiting tables and the managers are pricks, but fuck it, she can keep face.

It’s 2013, the 12th of June, when Mum finally leaves them. It’s been two and a half years since that New Year’s Eve. It’s been six months since she started the job.

She would kill to have Mum back.

The funeral is in a month. It has a turn out of an uncountable many. Tears spill like damns. Mum was a good, loving, lovable person. It could’ve been anyone else.

On her nights off, when she has a holiday, she goes to the pub with her dad, and gets tipsy. Because even with Mum dead, and the hurt hanging over her head, she can still have some sort of happiness.

But she still would kill to have her mum back.

Three nights before New Year’s Eve leading into 2014 finds her wandering from home, her head cycling through people she’s hated and wanted dead, and the night is so dark, so quiet. And she doesn’t hear whatever it is creeping up -- or speeding up? -- on her.

It’s the day before New Year’s Eve, and she awakes, groggy and stiff and in the hospital her mum used to work at, her dad and brother at her side. They’re both worried and relieved, and she can only offer confused shrugs and i don’t know.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out that something’s not right with her body. She’s cold all the time. Her body hurts. She checks her pulse, just in case. Or tries to -- she’s never been great at finding it, but she has found it before. She tries. Repeatedly. There’s nothing.

And no matter how many times she showers, there’s a faint stench about her -- raw meat, compost, blood and pennies.

It’s the 14th of February, and Linda goes for a walk, on leave (dismissed) from her job. It’s midnight. There’s a leering little twerp -- she recognises him. Why couldn’t it have been him instead?

Her stomach growls.

When she returns home, she hides her clothes and coat in her bedroom, scared awake for the rest of the night. Linda waits until her brother and dad leave to come out of her room -- shower and wash her clothes.

She can’t stay with them. She’ll hurt them.

But leaving -- again -- hurts. It’ll hurt them.

She leaves a note on the kitchen counter.

“Dear Dad & Aidan.    I’m so sorry for leaving you, but I have to. I know there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you not worry, but please believe me when I tell you that I’m doing what’s best. I won’t hurt myself, or kill myself, but it’s better for you both that I leave. I just wish that I could’ve left under better circumstances, and that I wasn’t like this. I don’t even know what ‘this’ is; I don’t know what I am anymore. And I want to tell you what I did, but I can’t stand the thought of you being disgusted with me, of not believing me. Even though it doesn’t matter because no explanation can excuse me -- even though I believed I was right, wholly right.    All my love forever,    Linny”

She starts heading south.

---

She’s in London, her legs tired and screaming to sit down as she wanders in the National Museum, and it’s here where Edward Sumner finds her. He recognises her; she doesn’t recognise him. She’s homeless; he has room and board. She doesn’t have a job, no name; he says he can look after her.

She tells him her name is Tilly Matherson.

She recalls temporary stays at first, then sleeping over, then becoming an official tenant. She can only imagine what it looks like; a young barely-woman staying with a thirty-something man. Disgusting, right?

But it’s on a night, long after, over a month without eating--- he’s the one who shares what he is, telling her she’s not alone, after he finds her scrabbling with meat ( meat catcalled, called her a whore, so meat’s only getting what it deserves! ). He combs back her hair, and joins in the feast, his laugh a dark and bloody thing.

She wonders if it’s a good idea to stay. But he’s been so kind to her, been so inviting. He’s the only one she knows that’s like her.

He directs, makes dates for feasting. He is her mentor. He becomes her friend. He becomes slightly more. And that’s just fine, even though there’s another part that screams it’s not. That even though the meat is womanly and vulnerable, they are unsuitable mothers, so it’s fine, it’s necessary, it’s a favour.

How could she blindly agree to this filth? How could it only unravel after two years when she finds his fucking scrapbook, his photographs of his victims, of his protegee. ( Oh God, he knew it was me. He knew. He knew! ) It only hits her then that she’s an accomplice in this self-indulgent, cliche horror story; human flesh is necessary for her ‘survival’, but she has enough nouse to understand right from wrong, to make her own decisions on who is deserving.

And Edward is very deserving. He taught well, overwell, and she wins. She is bloody, and full, and flees. She carries the scrapbook and the memories of every woman’s screams and fights for life with her.

---

In Gloucestershire, she’s found by Tobias Newman. Or, rather, she’s tackled to the ground in the dark, something sharp against the hollow of her neck. She begs, bargains, pleads, offers help. She intends to keep it, and he must know and believe because he eases up, although his eye is wary; he knows what she does.

She is thankful. She is indebted. She wants a cure.

Wishful thinking, but there is a search for one.

She follows him home, side-by-side, and he is someone she can actually trust. He isn’t Eddy.

Then there’s Charlotte Outlaw, another hunter of horrid things. And Daniela. Who would’ve thought?

Linda can’t quite get rid of the solid pill of regret from her throat.

---

BASICS

Name: Linda Olwyn Mulrennan

Alias: Lin, Lindy, Linny, L.O., My Little Sugarplum (by mum), Perpetua, Tilly Matherson, Brenda Lords, Sylvie LaRue, Martha Coleridge, Magdalene Stark

Age: 23~ (verse-dependent)

DOB: 31/10/1990

POB: Liverpool, England

Race/Ethnicity: White/Irish-Welsh

Languages spoken: English, highschool French, Irish, Welsh

Sexuality & Romantic Orientation: Bisexual

Gender: Cis female; she/her pronouns

Level of education: 1 year of university; drop-out

||| A-Level: History, English Language, French

||| University: History

Species: Human; undead?

Occupation(s): Student; Part-time librarian; Shop assistant; 

FAMILY

Father: Joseph Brendan Mulrennan, nee Devlin (alive) (FC: Eion Bailey)

Mother: Caroline Louise Mulrennan, nee Baines (deceased)

Brother: Joseph Aidan Mulrennan (alive)

Grandfathers: Ronan Joseph Devlin (paternal, biological, deceased) ; Peter Andrew Mulrennan (paternal, adoptive, deceased) ; Lucas Dylan Baines (maternal, deceased)

Grandmothers: Lydia Norah Mulrennan, nee Devlin, nee Finnegan (paternal, alive) ; Meredith Ruby Baines, nee Merrick (maternal, alive)

EXTERNAL

Eyes: Dark green, wide, big

Hair: Black, wavy, long, tangly, thick

Skin: Fair/pale, freckled, reddened

Build: Thick, athletic, toned, middling height, heavy, solid

Height: 5′4″

Weight: 170 lbs

Misc.: Poor eyesight/shortsighted, not prone to common illnesses (colds & coughs), above average physical fitness

FC: Bailee Madison (subject to change/younger FC)

INTERNAL

Intelligence: Overall average.

Mindset: Determined, crumbles easily, anxious, introvert.

Personality: Shy, friendly, kind, vicious, funny, loud, self-destructive/self-sabotaging.

Fears: Death, living forever, harm of her loved ones, being found out.