#i have died to void and pandemonium the most.

[mr-mangrove]

I have been dragged into the the funny underwater horror game on Roblox. Pressure has taken my soul and it won't let go. But hey at least I get a crystal every three deaths.

But f*ck pandemonium

And void

[soupthecoolest]

CnD!

alright! so CnD, or "Creation and Destruction" is my homebrew "dnd" campaign!! i have dnd in quotes just cause. well my autism got too strong and i made an entire handbook with my own mechanics LMAO so it's really it's own Thing at this point. which is super cool n fun. after everything's been wrapped up i might publish that handbook but WE SHALL SEE.

anyway CnD is my own personal excuse to make my friends rp with me and my crazy ocs. SO.

it all started when the 11 party members crashed on the beach in a town they'd never seen before. looked totally normal until at the end of the first session they found a portal!

jumping in, that just... kept happening. small adventure, portal, repeat. with no end in sight. as the party began questioning why all this was happening, they met these two little FREAKS named mayhem and maelstrom. (i'll add all refs i have below!!)

anyway mae n may mentioned an elusive “She” that they’re working for, which led my players down an insane conspiracy rabbit hole in which they guessed 90% of hullabaloo’s vibe based on a PRONOUN. ONE PRONOUN I DROPPED I CAN’T TELL THESE MFS ANYTHING

next, they met pandemonium, (@weedsmokingbfs's oc!!! owe you my life muppy) who told them that: these portals aren't taking them place to place, it's transporting them around purgatory. and they've all died.

since then it's been up to the party to navigate their purpose, how to escape, all of it.

then they met bedlam, who explained to them this crazy prophecy and the reason they're all trapped there, which connects to a decision he made 800 years earlier.

enter callie.

my god this is so much to explain IM CRAZY ok. so callie and dee (@percexe) had been meeting in the void for centuries. he'd see callie there when he died and never knew why. 2 idiots had an unspoken pact to not talk about their pasts, but boy they should've!

it would've revealed that callie is actually named chaos, and directly related to all the other crazy clowns they'd meet across the campaign.

they're called the Story, the main 6 pantheon of gods i've set up in this universe! so we've got (in order of like. "hierarchy")

mayhem and maelstrom: gods of war and balance (he/they)

pandemonium: trickster god of illusion (he/it)

bedlam: god of magic and prophecy (he/him)

hullabaloo: goddess of joy, day, and spontaneity (she/her)

chaos: goddess of narration, night, and tradition (she/he)

the Story are basically the worlds most fucked up family, all considering each other brother and sister. in the beginning they were fine, but as time went on things just naturally got more and more messed, and now everything is just a nightmare

chaos and hullabaloo are kinda a tier above the rest of the story, part of their own subset called the Storytellers.

hullabaloo wanted more power and betrayed chaos, trapping her in the void for eternity, as she wanted to rule the universe herself. which all circles back to how callie met dee.

in the void, chaos didn't feel like himself and took on the name calypso, which is how she introduced herself to dee once they met.

and nobody found out anything out of a series of insane miscommunications and lack of info! what fun!

but now in the campaign timeline, everyone's basically caught up. we've finished the first season and are heading into the second in a couple weeks!!! also excuse if this feels rushed at all it's because it is <3 LMFAO there's just so much with CnD, this barely scratches the surface.

there's so much i couldn't cover here like the prophecy binding the party to purgatory, bedlam's entire role in that, the mages, etc. we're like 25 sessions in and so far i've planned 40 more. i am SO normal!!!!

PLEASEEE ask about it if you're curious!! im so insane about my campaign it is my pride and joy :]]

in order there: hullabaloo, chaos, bedlam, pandemonium, and mayhem and maelstrom! ART CREDS for pandemonium and may&mae refs @weedsmokingbfs !!! once more muppy i owe u all my beans

[five-crows-in-a-trenchcoat]

hi silver sorry to bother you but have you defeated pressure yet? do you have any advice im struggling ( ＞Д＜；)

I have defeated pressure! last time I beat it was my 6th win; and I was inconsolably mad because I was aiming for a damageless run and then misclicked a single cable at the very end of the game (so finished w 95 health) so, here are my ‘pro’ gamer tips:

Don’t use light sources unless it’s a blacklight. It leaves you both at risk of squiddles attacks, and makes you dependent on light sources in general. I’ve legitimately ONLY been attacked by squiddles when I wanted to get the document on it. Turn your brightness up instead

Pay attention to the sounds more than your sight. Each version of the angler + pandemonium and a60 all have different sounds and gimmicks. It’s important to be able to distinguish which is which. Here’s my guide for the monsters:

Anglers/rush-based monsters

Regular angler: regular scream, regular rush time. pretty basic stuff. Wait until you hear its actual high pitched scream before getting in a locker.

Pinkie (pink. duh): doesn’t flick the lights, but scream is a higher pitch and can be heard from much further away. try not to panic, but it’s important to keep an ear out always.

Blitz (black): extremely fast, but the lights flicker twice. Beeline to the nearest locker and get in pretty much as soon as you reach it.

Chainsmoker (green one): very, very slow, and sounds a little like a single-toned scream with rattling chains. You have to wait until it’s practically on top of you to get into a locker bc it forces you out of the locker much faster than usual.

Froger (orange): angry kinda scream. Like william afton it comes back. Upon the first rush, wait until it doubles back, then get out of the locker but stay next to it. It will come back again. Get back in the locker. After that it should be gone.

Pandemonium: it kinda ‘sings’ ig, it’s not a regular scream. Slower than most of the angler variants but not quite as slow as chainsmoker. If you struggle with its minigame, side rooms, vents under the floor, or making your window smaller are your new best friend. These work for the other anglers too, of course.

A-60: kinda has this faint ‘pixely’ scream, very easy to miss. Get to a locker or side room. When its message appears you’ve got like, 4 seconds? To get out of sight. It’s probably the hardest to see coming which is why it’s the rarest.

Other monsters

Void mass: also pretty easy. Makes a bubbling sound when you’re nearby, has a puddle underneath it, and also, the obvious glowing eyes. When you approach a locker, look up through the slots to check if it’s empty. I recommend multiplayer bc someone can still get you out.

Wall dwellers: controversial opinion but they’re also pretty easy. If you do struggle with them you can turn around midway through each room, but they have audible squelchy footsteps and you can hear them peeling out of the wall as well. If you’re really paying attention you can even see them in the walls while you’re passing through, they have these weird stretch marks to outline them. Theres this one room especially with that weird green and black mould that you can see a fantastic example of. Also benefits with multiplayer bc there’s more eyes to scare it off. Same with squiddles, I’ve only died to them when I wanted the documents.

Eyefestation: often in an eyefestation room there’s a short period where you can see a little flash of it, or the door locking behind you if it’s a gauntlet. Run as far as you can in that window. Other than that just beeline for the door the best you can.

Good people: there’s the sparks, of course, but press your ear to the wall next to it and listen for growling. If you hear water or some other ambiance like the fans, it means it’s safe, however, so not all noise is bad. In a dark room or after an angler, the real door’s lights will also be out while the fakes remain lit up.

Turrets: “If you see me, no u didn’t :<“ wait to check their patterns before anything else. Hide where you can of course, and try to follow its sweep where you can. And flip the lever to disable them if you can, of course. Even if pai insults you, better to be berated by your worstie than to be dead.

Searchlights: do not rush it. In the warehouse, follow after it to give you more time. You can hide underneath piles of boxes, the forklifts and in shipping containers (as well as the lockers). In the final searchlights encounter, go for the most risky cables FIRST and the underground ones LAST. Go underground as few times as possible, as it makes it more dangerous by cutting off a lot of your view. Trying to go for the one right in the middle with three of them right on top of you is rough. This usually saves you with the remaining cables being in safer places the further you go to cancel out the difficulty as best as possible. In the final manoeuvre, do NOT hide in the submarine as it makes it even riskier by cutting off your peripheral. Watch the light patterns and then go for it. Wait in the middle underneath it bc it only kills you if you go in the actual light. Always works for me. Another controversial opinion but the warehouse is harder than the final fight.

Sebastian: don’t flashbang or climb on him. it’s rude. Also, make sure he’s happy when you leave. I don’t think there’s any real change but I find its bad luck to leave when he’s pissed at you. Buy his medkit and code breaker if you can.

Other dangers

The Ridge: there’ll be an angler or pandemonium in almost every room. Open the door to the next room and then wait by a locker in the previous one until the threat has passed. Do not panic, and BE PATIENT. Sometimes it takes a while when it passes through. Also, any good people will have light spilling out from under the door. With the music, wait for the angler to leave and then kinda just avoid it or speed through it as best you can. If you’ve got code breakers, save them for either the ridge (or paranoia’s box if you manage to come across it.) As long as you stay careful and make sure you know where the lockers are, it’s not as daunting as it may seem.

Parasites: just stay in the light, you’ll be fine. It’s pretty forgiving

Hazards: just avoid them. Don’t jump in holes you can’t see the bottom of. Dont walk into the fire. Don’t swim in lava. Don’t touch the electrified water, there’s a way to disable it/go around it. Wait for the right time between the fans. Ask @revenyance bc they’re an expert on how not to do that last part.

The pipe puzzle: try to go from the end rather than just the start.

Vent/pipe maze: always take a left turn and eventually you’ll find your way out.

major, all-round tip summary:

-keep sound high and preferably play with headphones. Turn on deaf mode if you have hearing issues.

-fuck light sources, I hate those guys. Go max brightness instead.

-try try and try again. You’re never a bad gamer so long as you’re having fun and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise :>

-try to keep at least two code breakers with you until the end for paranoia’s box or the ridge

-if you’re still learning the ropes, play multiplayer or with your friends! If you die first it’s still good experience seeing them and getting practice for further rooms. Also helps with some of the monsters in general.

Hope all of this is helpful! (Sorry that its a bit wordy) 6.:}

[sentientgolfball]

Origin

I was supposed to be having shower thoughts about a short story I have to write for one of my classes. Instead, I came up with lore about the Pits, ghouls, and how the Ministry came to be.

I blame this on Zenith being released...anyways have fun with this :3

Tags: religious imagery, small themes of religious guilt, small descriptions of Hell and ghouls as literal demons

Ghouls are unique.

The ghouls we know today are nothing like how they started. They were once simple nature spirits, drifting through every plane of existence providing all with the gift of their element.

The ghouls we know now came about after The Fall. When Lucifer filled the void he had been cast into with an explosive amount of energy to create Hell and Pandemonium. Some of these nature spirits got caught. Their essence changed, filled with the infernal magick Lucifer and the other Lords exuded. They became creatures of Hell.

They were the first beings that existed in the Pits other than the Fallen. The Morning Star took an immediate interest in them. He had created life without even intending to, a feat that only God Himself had been capable of doing. This gave Him an idea. He observed the ghouls, learned who and what they were.

He took what the knowledge he gained and decided He would create His own version of man. If God had creations in His image then so shall the Morning Star. He created something entirely new from what he learned from watching the ghouls in the wilds of Hell. He created multi-ghouls. He would give them the ability to harness each element to give them true free will. He even gave them an element yet to be truly discovered. The element that came from man. Spirit. Soul. Quintessence. He took the souls of man and threaded stardust into them before giving it to His multi-ghouls. A piece of Him in each one of them.

Hell began to fill. Human souls began to arrive, given to Him as a form of punishment. At first, when He looked upon these creatures he agreed. The acts He saw in their lives were heinous, worse than anything the Devil Himself ever did. But as more began to arrive he started to notice the ones who looked like Him. Abandoned by their god because they used the gift of free will. Because they lived how they wanted, loved how they wanted. Because they couldn't handle the cards they had been dealt by their own creator. The Morning Star cried for these souls. In His anguish, He decided He would give them a gift. He took those who died young, with guilt, with shame, with the idea that they deserved damnation and gave them another chance to truly live. He took the mold He used to make the multi-ghouls and refreshed it. He created quintessence ghouls.

He eventually became distracted, though. Hell was now filled with humans, The Fallen, demons, and other creatures of the void. He became caught up in trying to be the Lord these beings never had, the one they deserved. The ghouls wandered in packs in the Wilds. But as eternity went on they became different. Multi-ghouls were no longer revered for being His first creation, they were now chased out. Seen as more of a burden without magick strong enough to properly survive in the Wilds. Quintessence ghouls became things of myth, but also a great source of fear. Their innate human desire to survive bled through. A ghoul knew you would never be seen again if one decided to hunt you. They used their magic to bring their victim's nightmares to life. They used their magic to control the mind and body.

Ghouls began to appear at Pandemonium begging to join the legions of Hell. Searching for a life outside of the Wilds. Lucifer was consumed by guilt at the sight of the creation He loved. Of the creation He forgot. He gave ghouls status. He made them the guards of Pandemonium, of His throne. But at this point, the population was too massive to give to all. This is how ghouls became the first demons, besides the Lords themselves, to leave Hell. Lucifer appeared before His most loyal followers on Earth and taught them about ghouls. Taught them how to summon each kind. If He could not give them a life worth living, then He would provide them with the opportunity.

At first, ghouls would be summoned and then returned to the Pits when their task was complete. Stories of life Topside spread through ghoul culture like fire. Everyone wanted the chance to be chosen by the magick. Then something strange began to happen. Ghouls would be summoned but never returned. Eventually, it got to the point The Morning Star Himself noticed. When He searched the Earth for the missing ghouls he discovered a group of humans calling themself The Clergy. He discovered these humans were creating a ministry in His honor to worship and to provide refuge for those who had already been cast out but had yet to cross into the next life. But that's not what caught the Morning Star's eye. No, what caught His attention was the way these humans treated His ghouls, His creations. They honored them as blessings from the Dark One, but what really caught Him was how these humans treated the ghouls as equals. As humans. He found the one who had been tasked with the summoning of the ghouls. A man with the name Emeritus. He gave this man His infernal blessing and dubbed him and his bloodline the leaders of this ministry these humans were creating.

He still watches the Ministry in the present day. He sends his infernal support when they need it most. He sends His gifts when they grow, spreading His word. The ghouls known as Alpha, Delta, and Omega were gifts from Lucifer Himself to show his approval of their so-called Ghost Project. The Hellhounds that guard the land where the Ministry stands are His blessing to keep His followers protected. He is satisfied knowing His creations found their purpose.

[heroforgeryhemporium]

ULTRAKILL Spoilers.

I've had this idea in my head around my Ultrakill OC version of V3 (which i know plenty of people have done already. this is my take)

The idea is focused around it being the protagonist of a potential "Ultrakill 2". I'll explain more under the cut, because it's all spoilers

------------------------------------------------------------- V3 Type: ??? Data: After the events of the previous 30 hours in which the V1 model wiped out many of the layers of Hell, its successor V2, and the Archangel Gabriel, it ultimately succumbed to the weight of Hell collapsing in on it. Hell Itself, (surviving the exchange, as it always has) lamented on the conquest of V1 and its defeat. Hell did not hate V1 for destroying large portions of it. Hell always knew it would survive. In fact, It adored the machine for bringing such death, such war and mayhem to the deepest pits of Itself. It loved the machine, and it mourned its loss.

War for the sake of war. Death for the sake of death. Fuel for the sake of fuel. Hell loved nothing more than an endless cycle of torment, of death and rebirth eternal. Love, indeed, is all It felt for the fallen machine, now with its cycle of near death and instant refueling come to a close.

When the Great Beast saw its love fall under its own weight, it let out a terrifying shriek. A scream that echoed in horrific and eldritch intensity. A scream of loss, and pain, and love. Its billion tentacles writhing, and Its billion eyes crying, It knew It only had one recourse of action. It created a Vessel, pooling Its unholy energy into a formation directly resembling the V1 model, to create the most agile and defensible Demon ever formed. It transferred Its consciousness into the Vessel, ensuring the fate of Its dimension to be utterly destroyed.

The unspeakably colossal dimension once known as Hell began to erupt without its essence residing inside of it, and the newly formed V3 swiftly made an escape for Purgatory through the pits of Treachery. Barely making its exit, V3 rode the shockwave created by the destruction of Its realm to the top of the now cracking and falling mountain of Purgatory, sure to fall into the empty void of Hell.

The Newborn Goat, The Last Creation, The Null Ouroboros, V3, made a war path to the gates of Heaven, forcing its way inside amidst the pandemonium and Angels reacting to the destruction of the Hell dimension, as well as Purgatory beginning to fall because of it. It began Its final quest to destroy Paradise, bringing the circle of the creation to a close.

IT WILL END AS IT BEGAN; WITH NOTHING. -------------------------------------------------------------

So yeah V3 is Hell taking on the appearance of V1 after it dies as a monument to its conquest because it loved it soooo much. And going on to destroy the place with any life remaining, being Heaven, and eventually fights its own creator in a battle for the fate of the universe. or whats left of it.

Also because It's literally Hell It would have more manipulation of the blood It absorbs, having cool blood wings for increased movement, and tentacles for rapid attacks that don't require Its otherwise occupied arms. I imagine if this was actually a game, it would have a max of 200 health to represent how its stronger and more durable than V1, but this would be balanced by being able to use blood abilities that cost some health.

Anyway Yea I Just Think It's Neat

V3's pronouns are It/Its, capital "i" necessary.

[battlemageserioth]

Werill's Serenade

Episode 3

The Pantheon was closer to Pandemonium than anything else. Under the gaze of huge statues that represented long forgotten figures, the Council members were yelling, pointing fingers and for some of them, biting. From afar, they looked like barking dogs. Werill smirked.

"The elite of all magic users, eh?"

"Shut up," sighed Amelia.

The spellblade stepped forward, and shouted.

"Council! Prisonner Werill demands audience!"

There was an instant of silence as all eyes turned to them, broken by a geomancer with flowing red hair.

"A prisonner demands audience? On what rights?" they said, rising an eyebrow with an inquisitive look on their face.

"On rights of the False Hydra that I've helped grow inside the City."

"THE FUCKING WHAT?!"

Immediately, the Pantheon exploded once more. Shouting resumed, and only cease when, with a smirk, Werill snapped his fingers. Three heads closed their mouths shut, and appeared. They were gigantic, dwarfing the statues of the Pantheon. All were bald things of grey skin, bloated almost to the point of rupture. Veins of black blood ran under across them, down long neck that looked like withering logs. One of them, the central one, was covered with bulbous eyes that looked around in a frantic fashion. They were smiling with rotting teeth that were much too large for their faces, and out of their mouths dripped a yellowish saliva that conglomerated on the ground, forming foul smelling puddle. The mages recoiled in horrified disgust. How long had the Pantheon housed this rotting filth..?

"Hello," the heads whispered in unisson, somehow loud enough for all to hear it.

The geomancer turned a strange colour.

"It talks..." they whispered, much to Werill's delight.

"It does! A steady diet of well fed memetovores will do that to a hydra. Anyways! I wanted to negociate. Let's be quick. My friend here has been hungry for a while."

Another mage stood up. He had a long white beard and steel grey eyes, and his voice, though shaking, echoed like a far away storm.

"What do you want, Werill?"

"Little old me? We'll talk about that later," he chuckled. "Right now, it's about what the Hydra wants. It has access to the Portal Room, but... Well, it would like access to more worlds."

Amelia's eyes flared with fury, and in an instant, a glowing sword of golden light was against the man's throat. She did not get time to speak, however. In an instant, one of the heads was in front of her, so close that she could feel its warm breath. It simply whispered :

"No."

Amelia staggered, and took a step back.

"What the..?"

"Did I mention that it likes me?" Werill chuckled again. "Anyways. You all have two days to decide. After that... It will eat what it finds. Goodbye."

The man jumped on top of the head as it lowered itself, and before Amelia could do anything, it had left the hall. There was a moment of silence, before the spellblade turned to the Council.

"Cowards!" she shouted. "Any of you could have burned that thing, or zapped it, or... I don't know, make it brain dead! Why didn't you?!"

The grey eyed mage was the first to answer.

"No, we can't. A False Hydra doesn't need a mind to function. They are things of the Void. As such, their hunger is enough to move them. One this size can shrug off most physical damage, and we do not know where the other heads, or its heart are. For now, we need... Diplomacy."

"Di-" Amelia clenched her teeth, and nodded. "...very well."

"You are dismissed, spellblade."

Amelia turned to leave, and she felt herself sinking into dread and rage. On the great bridge that connected the Pantheon to the rest of the Towers, she took a deep breath, and looked up. The City had stars, once. Before it had any tower, before mages even gazed upon it, before this patch of sky was ripped from the heavens, it was gleaming with threads silver light. Now, the invisible eyes of the Hydra patrolled the sky. She clenched her teeth. As a spellblade working for the Council, she had been in danger, and she had been powerless. But never before had she been both at the same time. And never before could the the threat be a danger to Sophia.

She rushed towards her girlfriends tower. She had to keep her safe, because the Council would not. She had to get her out of here.

[createandconstruct]

Wait, Garland

So. I started this reply, worked on it for two hours, and then moved my window and tumblr eviscerated most of it. Safe to say after that I had to mourn what I lost for a bit. I hope I can channel my original thoughts and words! Maybe it’ll be even better? We’ll see!

Anyway let’s talk about the wrinkly genome himself. Buckle up this one’s a doozy (enjoy some required reading music that fits the man of the hour). 

favorite thing about them: 

His design. This all knowing watchful eye of Terra is as lifeless as he is old. His eyes are blank and empty. His face is withered. His body, without the imposing cape, is like an emancipated black skeleton, where at its center lies the only light and color of Garland’s entire form. He is entirely black and white, except for the red glowing sphere at his center. At first look when I saw it I felt that it’s very much a metaphor for the role designated to him by the Terrans. In Garland’s chest lies the red glow of Terra, the exposed ribs of his black, armorlike chest, keep it within - protecting and hiding it from the outside world of Gaia. Until the time is right. Garland is nothing more than what the Terrans made him to be. An eternal servant that takes every breath for the protection of Terra as that is the reason he was given for living. Every inch of his body was designed for such purpose. Its only right he was designed to aware like a living cage, protecting that last flickers of Terra and its souls that lie within.

On that note let’s look at his design another way. Terra’s revival is Garland’s only reason for living. Zidane questions Garland’s own wants and desires to which he can only claim they are the restoration of Terra and its souls. He has nothing except the words he was fed by the Terrans millennia ago. Garland is the true hollow shell of a man you find in the remains of Terra. He is worn, withered, and ancient. He has lived so long for one reason only, a reason that was never even his own. The light of Terra - the light of the selfish, arrogant, and greedy souls of Terra - are stuck within his opened chest, powering him like an exposed heart or soul. Terra is his power source. Garland cannot rest. He was not created to rest. He was created to follow the reasons the Terrans gave him for his existence. (I exist only to kill) Garland exists and has existed unable to find his own reason for living - Terra’s forever trapped within him. A constant reminder. On the outside, Garland has withered away through his taste of eternity, while Terra’s light has remained strong within him, still forcing, powering, and pulling him forward to the ultimate goal. Perhaps that’s why Garland is only able to voice his own thoughts in death (even calling their failures towards their planet arrogant, and reflecting positively on his chance at existence despite his purpose), after the light of Terra inside him has finally gone out and he is beyond his creators’ reach. 

Though, my final, and favorite, interpretation of his design begs a question… are there truly even any Terrans left? Memories and experiences make the soul, FFIX tells us. Garland cannot take Zidane’s soul from him as his soul is no longer the power source Garland gifted him. It is the laughter, tears, and memories Zidane shared with his loved ones on Gaia. Zidane is of Gaia. He is Gaian. So then who is Terran? The genomes, even Kuja, are not of Terra. Not the true Terra, anyway. The Terra the sleeping souls tried to preserve in the face of mortality and the wasting away that comes with time. The people we see are from the planet’s remains. The true Terrans are those who know the history, who know the culture, who lived and walked and experienced the planet when it was its own, and not a parasite latched inside another. The genomes know nothing of these things. If we call them “Terrans” it’s only because they were created on the fragments that were left inside of Gaia. In reality the Genomes were finally born on Gaia, once they began to experience - began to create memories of their own. There’s a reason Terra’s water does no flow. The world we visit within Gaia is just a frozen memory of a long dead planet.

And when those sleeping souls of Terra... when they finally arise will they even be Terran? They will have no memories of the planet or crystal where they originally cycled. Even if Gaia was assimilated, they will have bodies born on the planet of Gaia, where only remains of Terra lie, from the failed merging of the crystals. Even if the crystal of Gaia turns red the memories of these new “Terrans” will be of their new planet. They will essentially be Gaian and will likely consider themselves so as there is no plan to pass down memories to these new people from Garland. Garland is restoring the Terran souls into a new cycle, as if trying to return things to how they were before Terra’s death. It’s like a child trying to get a deceased loved one to play or react to them like they always do, not understanding things will never be like that again. Garland can never truly restore Terra or the Terrans to the they were. Those people, the original Terrans, even if their souls remain, have been lost to death and time. Perhaps their memories could have been passed on much like Vivi’s at the end of the game but because they were so desperate to ensure that their “superior” life, history, culture, and race endured forever, they lost the chance to truly persevere such things by passing it down to others in the present for the future. Instead such things were lost when they tried to allow themselves to endure by erasing the life from another planet. 

All this is to say that, the only true Terrans are those who hold one of their souls, who know the history, and the culture and the only such person who exists, is Garland. He is the last true Terran. The remains of Terra have been cast with the blue of Gaia’s light. The Terra we see, that we visit? That’s not Terra. Terra is gone. Only one of its people remains. And the tragedy is that while Garland says his goal is to restore Terra, he’s going about it in the wrong way. In reality, Garland, an almost immortal being, who carries the last true light of Terra within himself, always had the means to truly preserve Terra and its people’s memories: by simply sharing them with the future. Instead, the Terrans doomed Garland and their planet with their plans of grandeur and eternity. A doomed fate that follows all who attempt to escape death. Which is why it is perhaps so appropriate that when Kuja destroys the remains of Terra within Gaia it is only fitting that Garland has died along with them too.

least favorite thing about them: 

Like Kuja, as an antagonist, there’s a lot to dislike about Garland, but that’s intentional. He’s a good villain, I like him. I rather mention something that kinda annoys me writing wise? Not even annoying, just something that gave me a raised brow the first time I played the game and now gives me a headache the more I think about it: Omnipresent Garland voice. 

Now Garland speaking to Zidane in Memoria I can deal with. It can make sense, even though it’s not explained. He’s a timeless being who existed before the current civilization on Gaia began. You could argue through his soul experimentation and millennia existence he has found a way to keep a level of consciousness as his own soul travels to the crystal. We know the cycle of souls is slower due to the manipulation of the crystal by Garland so it makes sense his souls is traveling slowly in the cycle towards the crystal after his death, allowing him to find Zidane and chat. Its also an interesting parallel of Zidane and co. traveling through Memoria, deeper into the crystal, while Garland’s souls travels too. Memoria is almost like Garland’s 5000 year life flashing before his eyes. Until he eventually reaches the end. The void of space. Perhaps the void of death. It’s the place his voice finally leaves Zidane. Is Garland’s voice disappearing into that void an indication of him stuck in a purgatory like state? Never return to a crystal? Or perhaps that void is the end of himself (of his consciousness), as we know him, but his soul continues on like Zidane and the others do as he is accepted into the cycle of Gaia’s Crystal?  Whatever the case I can deal with Garland’s bodiless voice in the end game. I like it honestly.

What bothers me a bit is Garland’s voice appearing right after Kuja kicks him off the cliff. I get it. Kuja has to feel on top of the world before he spirals and crashes. He finishes off Garland and gets to dance about in victorious glee only before Garland’s voice resounds in everyone’s heads. His presence still lingering even after death to inform Kuja of his own impending fate. But it’s still a little jarring when it happens the first time you play it. Garland falls to his death and then he’s telepathing through the force. There’s a moment of “wait he’s alive?” then “wait he’s not” and then “how’s he doing this?” It can take you out of the scene which should very much be about Kuja. This is very much a nitpick and something that can be explained away because of Garland’s character and capabilities but whenever I play I’m like oh here comes ghost Garland. Though maybe it’s better to think that Garland actually did survive the fall and as he lies dying in the abyss beneath Pandemonium, with his remaining strength, he speaks to Kuja and others in the same way Kuja speaks to Mikoto and Zidane at the end of the game. Yeah I like that. Seems I fixed my own gripe. And now the essays are over and we can get to the fun stuff.

favorite line: I have some favorite villain lines of Garland and some favorite sentimental post-Mufasa’d-Garland lines. We’ll start with villain: "Forget all that. You are destined to live among the stars for all eternity.” I love this line, it’s kinda haunting that this is not just Garland’s motive but the motive of the Terrans. I then love Zidane’s retort. Their whole back and forth is just William Shatner Shakespeare drama father vs very angry teenage theater kid son. Number 2: "Don't you know what it means to meet your maker?" Something about this line real hits home the clashing between Zidane and Garland in Pandemonium. It always stood out to me, especially the first time I played. It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Garland. He is Zidane’s creator who was so ready to erase him with barely a snap of his fingers. As for sentimental lines, I’m predictable: “Zidane… take care of Kuja.” and “Even if I were created to serve one purpose alone, I do not regret being born to this world." Shout out to - despite my earlier ravings - Garland’s narration over the scenes in Memoria. When you encounter each memory and then get the fade to black with his objective description, it’s like the souls who have experienced each memory I talking through him. Both Terran and Gaian.

brOTP: Garland has no bros. He has no friends. Though I would have liked to see Mikoto and Garland interact. I wonder what her feelings were towards him as she was his third project, a last resort, who would easily be replaced if she went wrong in the same way Zidane replaced Kuja, and she replaced Zidane.

OTP: Garland x the eternal sleep

nOTP: Do people even ship Garland with anyone

random headcanon: I always thought that after Garland attempted to steal Zidane's soul he carried him in his arms to inside of Pandemonium and placed him in that chair. It felt disturbing and poetic to me. This idea that when Zidane is at his most vulnerable - his soul literally being pulled from his flesh - Garland, his creator, carries him away like a father would a son. Yet Garland brings Zidane to the deepest part of Pandemonium to place him on a throne where he’ll sit alone, as everything that makes  Zidane, Zidane, slowly slips away. A creator - a father in some sense - drops his son into solitude never expecting Zidane’s true family to come through, reigniting Zidane’s very soul. Perhaps at that point when they come to face him, Garland already had an inclination he’d lose. 

unpopular opinion: Not sure I have an unpopular one? Something I realized though is Kuja’s purple/silver/white hair may very well be his natural color as it matches Garland’s hair. I’d like to think that Kuja, as Garland’s first unique, soul-filled genome, was created in Garland’s image. Garlands also a great villain who is built up well by the entire game and he does not come out of nowhere. That may be a hot take for the non-ffix appreciators 

song i associate with them: Copied City by Keigo Hoashi and of course, Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (though this piece also has a distinctly dramatic Kuja vibe as well). If Garland got his own unique boss theme I’d imagine it being something dramatically played on the organ. Though nothing fits Garland like and Mourning by Keiichi Okabe. This piece is just incredible in general but it's insanely powerful and well, mournful. (And you KNOW WHAT I just found the ARRANGED piece of mourning and hOLY ORGAN: Mourning Arranged by Sachiko Miyano. I am now adding it as required reading music for this post.)

favorite picture of them: This piece by @spoonybart​ is haunting. The colors and lighting form the center glow of Garland’s chest really give him the other worldly and imposing presence he has in game.

Also this art by @oeilvert​ Literally so incredible. It is ingrained in my experience of playing FFIX for the first time. When I got to Terra and experienced Pandemonium for the first time I went searching for art that captured my feelings and found this piece. It is perfect. 

And then there’s this piece by もりもり on pixiv. I found it and can’t stop thinking about it. Absolutely incredible. It makes me wheeze whenever I see it. Garterbelt Garland. Amazing 100/10 everyone else go home.

[grumpyhedgehogs]

transitive properties

Summary: Cody is Kote. Kote is glory. Cody is glory. Part 5 and final part of the “scraps” series. AO3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, canonical character death, blood, open ending.

The Death Star is as clinically detached as he has ever seen it. CC-2224 was only stationed here for a short stint; Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker and their friends came along not long after and saw to that. Cody wonders idly, waiting for the doors to another set of stark corridors to open for him, if the soldier he was would have had any opinions of the place by now. The ship--if it can be called such--has been around for months, destroying planets and menacing others for the fun of it.

But Cody knows CC-2224 wouldn’t have any thoughts on the Death Star. Puppets don’t think. ( At least, Cody thinks bitterly, not the ones who don’t have Sith powers at their beck and call. )

He has to get back on track. Cody enters another corridor, walks down it with his steps measured carefully, not too slow, not too fast. He’s sweating all over, dampness coating the inside of his blacks. This place crawls with disquiet; the very air is different here, void of life. But he has to keep on track. There are no mobile weapons Cody can steal for the Resistance, but he has managed to transfer some electronic files to a datachip from a terminal. Knocking out the guard on duty and stuffing him in a supply closet was actually fairly easy. Cody’s not sure what information he has now but he’d rather it be in his hands than on the Death Star.

There are a few prison cells on the Death Star; he remembers helping escort the princess of Alderaan to one. The path is familiar, his feet leading him while Cody’s head is stuck in the past. How many others has he brought here? Not many, not on this ship, but on others. Oh, on others. How many defeated Jedi struggled in his grip as he brought them to Vader?

Sweat drips into Cody’s eyes under his bucket. The stormtrooper helmet has less insulation than clone armor did, but they also don’t regulate air intake as well. The robe and his insignia are hidden under the crisp white cape he’d taken off the unconscious guard. The Empire does so like their pageantry. He wishes he could rub his fingertips over the robe’s rough weave, like he’s taken to doing to seek some comfort; but it’s important that Cody doesn’t make any sudden moves. He took out the security guards in one of the observation rooms but he’s not sure how many observation decks this place has. He must stay on track. He must be fast.

The keycode to the prison cells is hard to punch in, his hands shake so much. He could hear Wolffe in the back of his head telling him to pull himself together. Fox would be ashamed of Cody letting his nerves get the best of him. Cody sucks in a breath, lets it out, and enters the universal override code. The doors are too loud as they slide open; Cody grinds his teeth down hard and suppresses a frustrated noise.

It takes a moment before any movement comes from the cells. Cody doesn’t blame the prisoners; they’re probably expecting Vader, or a trick. But he doesn’t have time for this. “If you want to leave here alive,” he chances calling out, “you’ll get up and come with me. Now.”

Perhaps the wrong thing to say to trauma victims. Cody doesn’t have time.

(“You catch more flies with honey, dear heart,” Obi-Wan says in his head. Cody grinds his teeth again.)

A Twi’lek man steps tentatively out of the fourth cell on the left. A Clawdite woman comes from the third cell on the right. When an Utapaun and a Togruta join them in the corridor Cody thinks he may be sick in his helmet. (“Steady,” Obi-Wan would tell him, gently, kindly. “No use fretting over the past now. One step at a time, Cody.”)

Four prisoners and a datachip of information Cody isn’t sure is worth the trip. This is how effective Cody is now. He shakes himself from his wallowing and gathers the prisoners. “I’m from the Resistance,” Cody tells them. These days it almost feels like the truth; it’s better when Rex is there with him. “I’m here to rescue you. We need to be quick, and as stealthy as we can be.” The Twi’lek is limping. The Utapaun is a foot taller than everyone else. They’re going to be fairly obvious. Cody wishes he’d had the foresight to reprogram one of the droid guards to take with him. He’s not going to be much cover by himself.

“How will we get off the ship?” The Togruta speaks up, her voice hushed, strained. There are old bloodstains on her tunic. Cody pulls a few packs of bacta from his kit and passes them to her thoughtlessly.

“Security had the logs of every escape shuttle on the Death Star. We’ll take them at around the same time, they can't go after all of us; each pod only takes two people, three if we squeeze. Here,” and he projects the map of their route using the comm installed in his vambraces, a gift from the Rebellion’s quartermaster, “this is our path. If we get separated, memorize this and run .” Cody points at the Utapaun and the Twi’lek. “You and you, you’re going to be the most obvious; we’ll let the others go first, then you. I can carry you if I have to, but if you can run through the limp it’ll leave my hands free for shooting.”

“I can do it.” The man nods, eyes wide in his face. The Utapaun shakes his head before he stoops, loops the man’s arm around his shoulders, and lifts him into his arms. When he meets the visor of Cody’s helmet, he shrugs, shifts the Twi’lek’s weight, and nods for the others to lead on.

“I’ll bring up the rear and draw their fire. Let’s move.”

Cody shows them how to stick close to the walls, to clear the corners. The Clawdite palms the extra blaster he passes to her deftly and takes the lead. The Togruta sticks close behind her as they move swiftly ahead of the group.

“You’ll be slow carrying him all the way.” Cody checks another corner and pulls them up short as a couple troopers pass by. The other prisoners hide around the opposite corner until the guards are out of sight, then dart onwards. Cody ushers the men ahead of him and hurries behind, shooting a searching glance over his shoulder.

“I work manual labor on cargo ships.” The Utapaun says. He barely sounds out of breath. “I have him.”

That works for Cody.

Something pulls at Cody’s attention when they pass through another corridor. He ignores the tingle going up his spine, the niggling in his brain. They’re close to the finish line. A minute more before the guards he knocked out are found, maybe less. Just another level before they reach the pods, and the elevator is right there at the end of the hall. They could get out of this.

But that something makes Cody pull up short, nearly jerks him around on his feet. It’s like someone shouted his name, like when Obi-Wan would get hurt on the battlefield during the war and he’d go down quiet but Cody’d just know .

The doors to Vader’s chamber taunt him from the other end of the hall. He hadn’t realized they were so close.

“What are you doing?” The Clawdite hisses from behind him. The elevator doors swish open. “Come on!”

His blaster drops, hanging at his side uselessly. Something is pulling him towards those doors. It doesn’t feel like Cody knows a Force push or pull feels. Obi-Wan had used that on him plenty of times when facing down a tank or a thousand droids. This is something else, something more. He needs to follow this.

“You know the path.” He calls, absentminded. “I’ll catch up.”

“You’re leaving us?”

“Call it providing a distraction.”

For how secretive Vader is, his doors don’t withstand a single blaster shot to the control panel. The intimidating black slides open before Cody and he steps inside. There’s a strange seat in the middle of the room that cracks open like an egg and waits for him to lower himself in. He doesn’t, but looks around instead, ignoring the alarms that blare as he does. He’s attracting attention, stalling, losing time, why is he here--

And then his eyes land on the lightsaber and Cody understands.

Obi-Wan’s weapon is familiar in Cody’s hands. He’s held it a dozen times, passed it back to his general again and again and again. “This weapon is your life,” Obi-Wan would tell Skywalker before handing it off to Cody like it was nothing. (It meant something. He never said, and Obi-Wan never did either, but. It meant something, when Obi-Wan did that. Cody knows.)

Cody clutches the ‘saber close to his heart and runs for the elevator.

There are troopers outside the doors when they open. He raises his blaster, fires off a shot, two, three. A trooper takes one in the bucket and goes down, another catches a bolt to the chest and is blown back. But then a bolt sears past Cody’s trigger finger, close enough to burn, and he yells. The blaster drops from his hand. Another bolt catches the side of Cody’s helmet as he lunges forward and gets into cover. The bucket heats with the blaster fire, singeing his scalp. He wrenches it off and almost doesn’t register the pandemonium on the landing platform in front of him over the ringing in his ears.

There’s a horde of troopers and Imps welling from all sides. He’s pinned at one end of the platform and he can see the Clawdite and Togruta climbing into a pod on the other side. They'll make it out of here. The pod’s sequence is already glowing on the control panel; as soon as the doors close the pod disengages from the main ship all shouting and blaster fire is drowned out by the sound of a shuttle jettisoning off into space. The Utapaun crouches behind some supply crates ahead of Cody, half curled over the Twi’lek defensively. Cody’s distraction probably should have been a little louder.

He shucks the cape, annoyance at the extra weight flitting at the edges of his attention. The robe flutters with his movements before settling back into place, hanging over his shoulder unevenly. Without the cape his insignia stands out proudly; if Cody dies here today, he’ll die with the 212th and the Jedi in his heart and on his breast.

Cody pulls one of two sonic charges the quartermaster allowed him for the mission and tosses it into the center of the room. The blast goes off and sends enough of the Imps back that when Cody shouts, the Utapaun has time to rush to another pod. Cody dives for the cover they’ve vacated and rolls onto his heels, rising to scan around. The Utapaun is having trouble juggling the Twi-lek and entering the ejection sequence. If he can give them enough time, Cody could get there and squeeze into the pod before they blast off. He needs to provide cover fire but Cody doesn’t have a blaster .

Cody swears and pulls out his last sonic charge. The Imps are starting to surge back again, maybe fifteen in total. His last detonation cleared off about half of the enemies in the room altogether, but they’re spread out now. He’ll have to come up with another option if he doesn't want to wait until the crowd converges on the prisoners and risk taking them out with the Imps.

The same something that pulled Cody to Vader’s chambers screams . At the same moment, the doors to the main hanger across from the escape shuttles open and Darth Vader sweeps inside.

His breathing is loud in Cody’s ears. The Imps freeze for a moment, shock and fear spreading through the crowd like wildfire. It gives the Utapaun the moment he needs to enter the sequence but Cody sees the Twi’lek surge in his arms, cowering back from Vader’s presence, twisting and tangling himself up. He’s in the way. if he doesn’t get himself under control they’re both done for. If Cody doesn’t do something now, as Vader takes slow, sure steps into the room, they all are.

(“ Now, Cody! ”)

Cody stands, vaults over the supply crates, and steps between Vader and the escaping prisoners. He places his hands on the hilt like he’s seen Obi-Wan do a hundred times and flicks the ignition switch. The blue fire blazes up in a long line beside his face, flickering over the scar on his temple. He feels his expression drop into place, hard and steady, carved from stone.

(Carved from stone the way Obi-Wan always was. He misses him, Force, but Cody misses him.)

Vader stops. Cody wonders if he’s startled the Sith. The insectoid facemask tilts, considering. “CC-2224.”

“My name is Cody.”

“You will stand down.” Every regulated breath makes sure the words are measured. Cody’s skin crawls.

“Never.”

A lightsaber must never be crimson. Obi-Wan always looked sick when a Sith’s weapon ignited. Cody watches Vader lift his and feels everything but mostly a cold determination. “Then you will perish.”

Cody sneers, all that rage and grief and guilt welling up and choking him so much he can barely get his retort out. Then, a second before he speaks, that strange something wraps around him again, warm and calm like a security blanket. It’s Obi-Wan. Cody knows it. He knows.

Cody plants his feet, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber in his hands and Obi-Wan’s memory alive in his heart. “At least I’ll die like a Jedi. You can’t say the same, Skywalker. ”

Red clashes against blue and for the first time in a very long time Cody revels in battle.

[thetrashbang]

PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds Needs A God

No multiplayer game gets to live in a void for long. No matter how hard you may try to bleed yourself of troublesome concepts like context, or backstory, the reality is that people like to speculate. People like to tell stories. Doesn’t matter how goofy or outlandish; the creeping tendrils of narrative eventually wrap around the foundations of even the purest, most context-free experiences. Why are we bombing these crates? Why are we stealing that flag? Why are we fighting? Why are we here?

Somebody will come up with an answer. It’s the human thing to do.

But for PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds, it feels like that answer has yet to come. One hundred players parachute onto a deserted island, where the average density of firearms per square meter exceeds even the most deranged fanatical NRA wet dream, and a slowly constricting hemisphere of crackling blue energy forces them to mercilessly gun each other down until only one is left standing. It’s an absurd, nightmarish premise; a theoretical scenario seemingly engineered to turn people into rabid beasts, fighting tooth and nail merely for the privilege of living a few minutes longer. Who would orchestrate such a competition, and for what purpose? Is it an experiment? A ritual? A blood sport? Is some Silicon Valley bazillionaire sitting in a darkened room somewhere, surrounded by monitors, cranking his sad rubbery hog to every rifle crack and arterial splatter? Nobody seems to know, or care.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t either; PUBG is fun enough without framing. And yet, tonight’s winds bring an uneasy chill, carrying whispers of restlessness, indignance and fury. You feel it, don’t you? There’s a philosophical schism in how we approach Pubguh—the very concept of ‘battle royale’, even—and the hairline fractures are beginning to show. Players whine and gnash their teeth at the red zone, esports organisers desperately attempt to harness the format for views, and the proverbial chicken dinner seems to attain a more and more mythical, trophy-like status by the day; a reference to back-alley gambling now ironically viewed as a badge of ultimate prowess. This isn’t a healthy relationship. This isn’t a healthy attitude.

What Plunkbat needs, friends, is a god.

Well, okay, not necessarily a god god. Divine power is optional. I’m not asking Brendan Greene to start wearing a white toga and chiselling his patch notes into stone tablets, as much as it would set an entertaining precedent. The job requirements are flexible: I’m simply asking for someone vengeful and capricious, with unfathomable intentions, inscrutable thoughts, and—at least within the bounds of the playable space—immense, unassailable power. Like any god, you need not supply scientific proof of their presence; you merely have to attribute sufficient existing phenomena to them, and change people’s collective perception of the world. Ooh, got’em.

See, battle royale games represent an important shift to me. I’m a competitive person by nature. It’s etched into my mind, irreversibly chiseled by years of test scores and parental praise and all the other ego-stroking bullshit that you were subjected to if you were a certain kind of ‘gifted’ child. “You’re the best. You should be the best. You should be winning. Why aren’t you winning, what the heck is wrong with you?” So it bleeds over, into hobbies, work, and of course, online shooters, in which I regularly demonstrate that I have an innate… whatever the opposite of aptitude is. I react slowly, I zone out, I bean myself on the head with my own grenades, and if you exert the slightest bit of pressure, I’ll empty half the magazine into a wall and drop my weapon through a gap in the floorboards. I’m not good, and yet some unreachable, fundamental part of my conscious will never be satisfied with that knowledge.

You would think, then, that Pubby-G would only serve to exacerbate this mindset. And yet, in a world of delicately tuned esports that are built from the ground up to be pure, unfiltered tests of skill, it feels like the only game to grant a genuine absolution of responsibility; a kind of freeing fatalism. There’s a sense in a lot of classic multiplayer experiences—like, say, Counter-Strike—that every outcome is more or less deterministic; a product of a series of controlled variables and actions. With every failure comes the overwhelming impression that it could have been averted, given enough competence, foresight, and concentrated guarana. By contrast, a porridgey cocktail of chaos flows through the veins of battle royales, surrounding you with factors that are not only impossible to influence, but—in many cases—impossible to know at all. You are swept up by the gusts of a hundred butterflies’ wings, tossed to and fro by the whims of the random number generator, bombarded with unavoidable risks and squeezed into unmanageable situations. It’s easier to go with the flow, accept that at any given moment you may have your head unceremoniously taken off—by somebody lying flat on a distant hill, or hiding behind one of the game’s ten thousand trees, or concealed in a shrub on the far side of the Moon—and concentrate on all the minute actions you can make to ever-so-slightly nudge the odds in your favour.

But it’s not always clear that this is the reality of Puhburger. With its vast scale and often languid pacing, encounters can feel like isolated incidents, detached from the cascading series of events that led up to them, despite being anything but. Anyone can parse the map for circles of safety and non-safety, and understand that their arbitrary placement gives certain players an advantage; it’s less apparent that the figure in that upstairs window might have had their sights trained on the area, or seen you first, shot first, picked up a better weapon, obtained a better vantage point, or some other action, because of a dizzying permutation of astral alignments that neither of you could even begin to grasp. So we get futile attempts to establish a level playing field, find meaning in accomplishment, divine fair elements from unfair, and generally make things needlessly stressful for everybody involved. Except the infuriatingly smug yours truly, of course.

How do you make that clear, though? How do you concisely impress upon people that their fate is almost entirely out of their hands, in such a way that they adopt an attitude of acceptance? Blaming the roll of the dice doesn’t come to mind as swiftly when you never see them rattling around, nor the way their innumerable ripples propagate across the map. Furthermore, as current events have taught us all too well, it’s a lot easier to ascribe fault to individuals than to an invisible, fundamentally hostile system. So what do you do?

You give the system a name. And, if you can, a face.

Allow me to momentarily slam us into reverse. When Valve released Left 4 Dead way back in 2008 (oh god, it’s going to be ten years old this year?) they made quite a song and dance about the game’s AI Director; an invisible, unknowable entity that would dynamically dole out items and zombies in a manner consistent with the tenets of dramatic tension, ensuring players were subjected to a “fast-paced, but not overwhelming, Hollywood horror movie”. While the opacity of the AI Director’s machinations always made me a tad sceptical of its mechanical effectiveness, giving people a name to pin the blame for all their earthly woes on was a masterstroke. Notorious video game jokesman Yahtzee Croshaw—the one with the hat and that trendy 00s cynicism, remember?—reported that he once witnessed someone praying to the AI Director, and I bet you all the pipe bombs in the world that players’ personification of it didn’t stop there. Short of making a catastrophic error, I never saw anyone get chewed out for not pulling their weight, and when tones got heated—as they inevitably do, when you’re throwing yourself against the frigid slopes of the higher difficulties—they were directed in the vague direction of the director: for its expectations, for its lack of pity, for being unfair. Awareness of our lurking orchestrator changed our perception of the experience, even though we couldn’t entirely prove it wasn’t just somebody sitting in a black box, disinterestedly flipping a coin over and over.

So, why not do the same for a game that does? Put a face on the system that holds a fundamental grip on who lives and who dies. You don’t need to change a thing under the hood; you need only introduce the vague implication that the evolving state of the battlefield is a consequence of a thinking, feeling, mysterious overseer. A bloodthirsty oligarch watching from their lavish observation zeppelin, a dystopian TV network broadcasting a deadly future sport, an amoral team of government agents sealed away in a bunker control room, an inexplicably sapient Shiba playing with a selection of levers, or indeed, a literal deity. People will take the faintest contextual cues and run amok with them, ascribing everything they can to the will of the one who set this conflict in motion: item drops, circle position, all the way down to the subtle spread of their bullets as they sail through the air. Yeah, maybe it’ll start off as a running joke; an ironic indulgence, the “thanks Obama” of Puddlebounds. But that’s the thing about ironic behaviour: get enough people doing it at once, and you’ll cultivate sincere participants without even realising it. We will learn to absolve ourselves of responsibility, and engage in the unhinged pandemonium of battle royale with the mentality that befits it.

There’s just one problem: you need to be able to keep a secret.

I’m still working on that part.

[emjaybeeworld]

ADELAIDE AND OTTO (Part 4) A Mostly True Love Story

Someone called her name down the castle hall outside her room.  Louder and louder the excited voice echoed through the hallway.  The sounds of running footsteps stopped with a banging on her door.  A loyal subject carried an arrow with a message tied to it.  With trembling fingers she unfastened the paper.  It was from Otto.  He said that he was tied up in urgent affairs and had to remain behind in Germany.  He was sending his son to rescue her.  Adelaide’s heart raced.  Otto hadn’t been defeated.  It wasn’t him!  The note said that he wanted to discuss her offer.  She read and reread the message, but try as she might, she could ascertain no hidden meanings or affection.  She consoled herself with the certainty that he would still come for her and that he was interested in her bargain.  She would wait until then.

       When Liuthold returned to his father’s court, Otto was furious.  Not only had Lute disobeyed his orders but he’d lost the campaign.  His men were superior in every way and they should have been able to handily bring Adelaide back to him.  Instead, a good number of his finest were lost due to his son’s ineptitude.

       Otto abruptly walked away from his urgent affairs of state, calling together a vast army that he headed up personally.  He fought at their head like a glorious golden lion, spreading terror be-fore him.  Word traveled ahead of his advance that Otto himself led his men, dispatching anyone in his path. His powerful forces paralyzed the Italians with fear and they surrendered in steadily increasing numbers as the German king moved deeper into Italy.  By the time they arrived at the archbishop’s castle of Adelaide’s refuge, all resistance had ceased.

       As desperately as Otto wanted to see Adelaide, he had one last thing to accomplish.  He wanted first to retake the royal city from the usurpers so that he could return her legacy to her.  This act, he hoped, would not only place her other suitors in an inferior light but soften her heart toward him.  He had arrived prepared to handle any contingency involving Adelaide, determined to make no more miscalculations. With most of his forces he headed off for Pavia where 60,000 Italian troops waited to do battle with him.  Those he left behind were commanded to find Adelaide and bring her to him in Pavia.  

       As he arrived at the fortress walls in Pavia, the Italians, disgusted with Berengarius and Willa, refused to follow the commands of their hated king and queen.  They dropped their weapons, opened the gates to the City, and welcomed Otto, cheering him on as their conquering hero.  Pavia was his without the loss of a single life.

       Adelaide and her escort rode in to the deafening cheers of her subjects.  Otto waited impatiently for her at the castle gate.  She pulled her prancing mare to a halt.  His eyes consumed her waif-like face and emaciated figure clothed in plain dress.  Despite the horrors she’d suffered, strength and serenity shone through her enormous eyes. No one in the intervening years had measured up to the lovely young queen.  She was the reason that he hadn’t remarried.  He’d yearned for her and no one else could fill the void.

       Adelaide’s breath deserted her at the sight of the golden, leonine man striding toward her like a bright, avenging angel, flanked on each side by men bearing an uncanny resemblance to him.  No smile hovered on his lips, nothing to indicate his mood. He watched her gravely as he approached her mount.  A knight in her escort dismounted and took her suddenly disquieted mare by the bit. If only Otto would give her some indication of what he was thinking.  Instead, he studied her like one would a book, shadows chasing across his cerulean eyes.  Was that regret she saw?  Her heart plunged to her toes.  Try as she might, she couldn’t divine his intentions.  Hiding her embarrassment, she raised her chin higher, determined to see her way through the painful tableau of her creation.  

       A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Otto’s mouth.  Without breaking eye contact, he gestured widely to the city and palace at his back and, in a loud voice, announced to the assembly that their lawful queen had returned to reclaim her kingdom.  By his authority and the might of his armies, he would enforce her reign.  The Italians erupted in joyous pandemonium.

       The king reached up to a bemused and speechless Adelaide. Taking her by the waist, he lifted her up and off the horse as if she weighed no more than a feather.  His eyes never left hers.  

       A raspy clearing of throat broke Otto’s concentration.  With a start, he turned and introduced her to the men at his side, his two brothers.  Henry, the Duke of Bavaria, had joined forces with his brother to fight for Adelaide. Bruno, the archbishop of Cologne, had accompanied them as well.  Adelaide bowed slowly and gracefully before each man, straightening to kiss them on the cheek and thank them for their part in her rescue.  Henry and Bruno were struck dumb.  Over the back of her head, Otto grinned knowingly at his lugubrious brothers’ uncharacteristic lack for words.

       Otto waited patiently.  Adelaide took a deep breath, steeling herself.  She turned and faced him.  The deepest curtsy and show of respect she offered the king.  She sank down to the ground on her knees and, taking his left hand, laid her cheek against the back of it.  Tears tracked down her face as she thanked him for deliverance.  Then, with head down as if in offering, she whispered brokenly that she was Otto’s to do with as he pleased, now and forever.

       Overcome, the great king raised Adelaide to her feet.  Hands gripping the curve of her waist, he dropped to one knee in the dirt; and, in front of all the people, humbly asked Adelaide to marry him.  Forgetting their audience, Adelaide leaned over to place gentle kisses on his forehead and cheeks.  Her tears of joy splashed on his handsome, upturned face as she hiccupped and gasped, struggling to pull air into her lungs.  His beloved Adelaide had finally lost her celebrated poise.  The big king rose to his full height, crushing Adelaide in his mighty arms.  He whirled her around; and, setting her back on the ground, unceremoniously kissed her in front of the world.  His long wait for her had ended.

       Otto signalled his brother, the archbishop to come forward. Bruno performed the marriage ceremony there in the outdoor courtyard with the King’s army and the city’s inhabitants as wit-nesses.  The people shared in the festivities, happy for their beloved queen, and thrilled to be delivered at last from the cruel tyranny of King Berengarius and Queen Willa.

       King Otto freed King Berengarius and Willa on the condition that they abandon their wickedness. If they did not, he told them that he would come for them and harsh justice would be swiftly dealt to them.

       Within the year, Liuthold formed a conspiracy with two dukes—one of whom was his sister’s husband.  The three captured Otto, wresting egregious concessions and partitions of land.  The enterprising Otto escaped without assistance. He called his army together and, with the aid of his brother Henry, chased the three men down.  He nullified his agreement with the three dukes, because, as he said, an agreement coerced by force was no agreement at all.  As was his habit, he was lenient, only stripping the guilty parties of their titles and holdings.

       Liuthold lost his standing in the royal family and his right to succeed his father as king of Germany, as well as the dukedom to Suabia; Otto’s son-in-law died bravely in battle trying to redeem himself for his disloyalty to Otto; and nothing was heard of the third duke again.

       Soon thereafter, the Papacy struck a deal with King Otto to make him Holy Roman Emperor.  King Otto controlled a vast amount of Europe.  The Papacy had no control over Germany’s revenues and taxation.  Concerned over the breadth and scope of Otto’s control and the accumulation of taxes that the Pope felt belonged to the holy see, the title of Holy Roman Emperor was dangled in front of Otto as bait.  Otto took the bait, but pulled the Papacy in the lake and drowned it.  He was no puppet to be controlled by the Papacy.  He controlled the papacy and insisted on appointing his own bishops to ensure the integrity of the church.  He would not allow the church to impose unjust taxation on his kingdom.  

       The Pope turned on Otto, appointing a new emperor.  Otto chased the new emperor off and appointed a new Pope. He then convened an assembly of nobles and bishops to confirm his appointment and defrock the corrupt pope. The confirmation was made and the former Pope fled.  Never had the church been treated with such impunity.  

       Although Emperor Otto’s empire may not have been as large and sweeping as Charlemagne’s, he was more powerful because of his independence and insistence on separation of church and state.

       Before long, word reached Emperor Otto that Berengarius and Willa were again terrorizing their subjects.  Troops were dispatched and pair was recaptured.  

       Otto brought the former queen in shackles to Empress Adelaide for judgment.  Adelaide was now the most powerful woman in the world.  When Adelaide mildly remonstrated with the captive for her crimes, the former queen spat, "The only crime with which I reproach myself is that I didn’t kill you when I had you in my power."  Adelaide rose and walked down to the unrepentant creature. She gently unshackled the woman, demonstrating no fear of someone who had nearly destroyed her.  Then she signalled the guard to return the prisoner to her husband.  

       At Otto’s command, the former king and queen were transferred to an unknown location.  Berengarius and Willa died in jail.  No one marked the date and time of their passing and no one mourned them.  Adalbert, their son lost his fortune and holdings as a result of incompetence.  Adelaide asked for and received custody of his two daughters.  She adopted them and raised them as her own.

       Together, Otto and Adelaide had five children.  They built churches and monasteries; they were dedicated patrons of the arts.  They issued laws in the interest of their people and passed down decrees to protect them. They were benevolent and kind; their judgments were fair and merciful.  When the celebrated pair died, their subjects grieved deeply.

[watchonlinewds]

NY Covid-19 update: ICU patients down slightly as 64 more die

Syracuse, N.Y. -- The number of Covid-19 patients in intensive care units across the state has dropped to 877, the lowest number since Dec. 6, according to Gov. Andrew Cuomo’s office.

Yet in other respects, the latest coronavirus data from New York remains similar to recent daily updates. Hospitalizations statewide are at 4,529, down just 49 from Saturday’s update. Another 64 people died in the past day.

And more than 9,000 new cases were confirmed, according to Cuomo’s office.

That’s based on 267,261 test results, or a 3.52% positive rate.

More than half of those new cases -- 5,202 -- were confirmed in New York City.

Still, the virus continues to spread in some Upstate communities. Erie County confirmed another 375 cases, according to state data. Monroe County had 197 new cases. Onondaga County has 84 new cases, according to state data.

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Since the pandemic began, New York has confirmed more than 1.8 million cases. In the past year, 40,330 people have died from the virus, according to the state.

In New York, Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo said at a news briefing this week that other states were setting dates based on allocation projections coming from the federal government. But Mr. Cuomo said he wanted “to make sure that the allocation projections that we’re getting from the feds are right” before setting a specific date for eligibility expansion.

“I would rather get the specific allocation number and then tell the people of the state,” Mr. Cuomo said, “so we don’t have to change advice and we don’t create pandemonium for the scheduling operation.”

When the pandemic began, the nation’s governors suited up for a new role as state bodyguards, issuing emergency orders to shutter schools, close cinemas and ban indoor dining in an effort to curb a mushrooming threat.

But not everyone likes killjoys, no matter how well-intentioned.

Now, state legislatures — saying the governors have gone too far — are churning out laws aimed at reining in the power of their executives to respond to the pandemic and emergencies like it.

A Kansas bill that became law this week requires Gov. Laura Kelly to suspend all emergency orders and give legislators the option to void any that she reissues. Mask mandates are likely to be among the first to fall. Ohio legislators overrode Gov. Mike DeWine’s veto this week, limiting his powers to make emergency declarations. Utah lawmakers voted for an April 10 end to mask requirements and to rein in powers of the governor and state health officials to deal with crises; the bill became law on Wednesday.

Those are but some of the 300-odd proposals to curb governors’ emergency powers that have won approval or are awaiting action in State House and Senate chambers — although most will, as usual, be winnowed out in committee and never come to a vote.

All but a handful have been written by Republicans, many of whom have regarded restrictions from the start as bad for business and infringements on personal freedom. If that suggests that the issue of emergency power is partisan, however, that’s not entirely true: Legislation takes aim at the powers wielded by governors of both parties.

A list of bills by the National Conference of State Legislators shows that the gamut of the proposals is both broad and inventive. An Arkansas state senator wanted fines for violating coronavirus restrictions refunded to violators. Lawmakers in six states, including Georgia and Oregon, want to stop governors from imposing limits on attendance at church services. A measure in Maine would circumvent restrictions on businesses by declaring all businesses to be essential in any emergency.

Most proposals, however, are more straightforward attempts to give lawmakers a say, often by limiting the duration of emergency declarations and requiring legislative approval to extend them. The nonpartisan Uniform Law Commission is reviewing state emergency statutes to see if they need updating in light of the coronavirus crisis. But the American Legislative Exchange Council, a conservative pro-business group that has spent years cultivating ties with state legislators, has beaten them to the punch, circulating a so-called model law that is the basis for many state proposals.

Some experts call that a mistake. “The time for legislatures to address emergency declarations isn’t in the middle of an emergency, but before or after one,” said Jill Krueger, the director of the northern region of the Network for Public Health Law, in Edina, Minn.

Indeed, practically every state has at least one measure targeting a governor, either in a legislative committee or in the lawbooks.

The Republican governor of Indiana, Eric J. Holcomb, has backed more lenient coronavirus restrictions than have governors of some neighboring states, giving businesses more generous occupancy limits based on the severity of Covid-19 outbreaks in each county. That did not stop the Republican-controlled legislature from filing 21 bills aimed at loosening his emergency powers, the most of any state surveyed by the Conference of State Legislatures, including a resolution calling for the statewide emergency to be scrapped immediately.

The resolution appeared to be gathering serious momentum until Tuesday, when the governor sought to address critics by lifting a statewide mask mandate and turning business regulations over to local governments.

Both actions go well beyond the easing of restrictions taken in most other states that have relaxed regulations, although local governments retain the right to impose stiffer rules.

“His middle-of-the-road approach has resonated with people,” said Andrew Downs, an associate professor and expert on Indiana politics at Purdue University-Fort Wayne. That said, he added, “people out on the extreme are upset with him, and they recognized the need to recapture some of the power the governor has been using.”

The patients began arriving at hospitals in Porto Alegre far sicker and younger than before. Funeral homes were experiencing a steady uptick in business, while exhausted doctors and nurses pleaded in February for a lockdown to save lives.

But Sebastião Melo, Porto Alegre’s mayor, argued there was a greater imperative.

“Put your life on the line so that we can save the economy,” Mr. Melo appealed to his constituents in late February.

Now Porto Alegre, a prosperous city in southern Brazil, is at the heart of a stunning breakdown of the country’s health care system — a crisis foretold.

More than a year into the pandemic, deaths in Brazil are at their peak and highly contagious variants of the coronavirus are sweeping the nation, enabled by political dysfunction, widespread complacency and conspiracy theories. The country, whose leader, President Jair Bolsonaro, has played down the threat of the virus, is now reporting more new cases and deaths per day than any other country in the world.

“We have never seen a failure of the health system of this magnitude,” said Ana de Lemos, the executive director of Doctors Without Borders in Brazil. “And we don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.”

On Wednesday, the country surpassed 300,000 Covid-19 deaths, with roughly 125 Brazilians succumbing to the disease every hour. Health officials in public and private hospitals were scrambling to expand critical care units, stock up on dwindling supplies of oxygen and procure scarce intubation sedatives that are being sold at an exponential markup.

[inquisitorradcliffe]

Wreckage

Warning sirens and klaxons wailed their mournful song all across the ship and corridors were bathed in red light, tinting everything the color of blood. Crewmen scrambled to save their stricken vessel, but time was not on their side and they were slowly running out of it.

The Rampant shuddered again and Radcliffe found himself thrown violently against the bulkhead. His head slammed against the durasteel, leaving his ears ringing and his vision swimming as he dropped to the deck.

+Hull Integrity: 67%++

The ship’s automated warning pierced through the concussive fog and drove Radcliffe back to his feet. “Frye,” he wheezed. “Frye, how long until we’re clear of the warp event?” The warp storm had manifested from nowhere, engulfing the empty void with coruscating tendrils of multicolored light that rocked the cruiser to its very core.

“Seventeen minutes.” The shipmaster’s normally bland voice was strained with the effort he was exerting. System data streamed through his consciousness as he read the evolving situation in the blink of an eye. “Projected integrity not to last beyond fourteen.”

That wasn’t good.

“Inquisitor.” Thatch’s voice came out through his earbead. “I have triangulated the origin of this warp anomaly. Augers recorded a spike in power on the planet below before a column of warp energy burst up into the atmosphere, sparking the maelstrom we are now enduring.”

“Ollie, are you telling me this was deliberate?”

“Yes, it would seem that way.”

Not a warp storm then. Someone was attacking them, someone with an incredible amount of power in their hands. The list of beings who could wield that kind of energy and who wanted the Inquisitor and his staff dead was blessedly short.

Dremora.

++Hull Integrity: 62%++

“Frye, order all crew to the savior pods.”

“Evacuating everyone will take an extraordinary amount of time and I do not think-” Another wave of energy crashed over the cruiser, drowning the comms in angry static. “...too much time. I cannot spare the crew if I am to save this ship.”

“Fekking do it, Frye.” Radcliffe cut the link before the captain could reply, opening a new one instead to the Vornian Major. “Kara, do you read me?”

“Gabriel?” Kara’s voice was hard. That meant she was trying not to panic. “Gabriel what is going on?”

“We’re under attack. Get the regiment off ship. I don’t care how you do it. Savior pods, Valkyries, whatever. Just get everyone off and planetside.”

++Hull Integrity: 59%++

“And Kara.”

“Gabriel?”

“Hurry.”

The Rampant shuddered with the vibrations of rending metal as a coil of bright blue energy lashed across its hull like a bullwhip, severing a chunk of armor plating and sending it spinning into space. The bridge crew hardly noticed. Most were dead or unconscious. A dozen fires guttered inside exploded consoles and sparks rained down from burst wires and cabling overhead in an almost constant stream.

Eyson’s breathing came in heavy, panting gasps as she leaned heavily on the terminal in front of her. Blood leaked from a gash on her forehead and her normally pristine uniform was torn and shredded in multiple places. The vox rang somewhere nearby and it took a moment for the Lieutenant to gather herself enough to reach out and strike the receiver. “Bridge,” he said, her voice wet.

“Frye, we’ve got most of the transports loaded.” Eyson recognized the Lord Inquisitor’s voice almost immediately. “Can you get us into orbit?”

“Lord Radcliffe,” Eyson replied. “Captain Frye is....” She glanced over her shoulder at the corpse of her commanding officer, still entombed in his vessel’s command throne. Blood dripped from burst eye sockets, mixing with black lubricant that dribbled from his nose, ears, and mouth. Frye had given himself to the Rampant ages ago, sacrificing his humanity for better control and increased performance. When the ship’s shield reactor had given out and exploded, the resulting surge through the vessel’s systems had been too much for the ancient mariner and he died. “... no longer with us.”

There was the briefest of pauses. “Captain Eyson, then,” Radcliffe said. Eyson did not fail to note the infield promotion she’d just received. Vain and useless as it was likely to be, it still caused her to smile.

“Aye, sir. You want atmosphere, I’ll get you atmosphere.” Eyson glanced at the cogitator to her left. The vox system had stopped wailing its status hours ago, but the machine spirit still had enough wherewithal to inform her that hull integrity was at 32%.

“Engineering, this is bridge. Come in, engineering.”

The vox link crackled and popped before the tinny voice of someone mechanical and exasperated came through. “Bridge, Engineering. Go ahead.”

“Engine status?”

“Offline on all counts save for guidance thrusters.”

“Good enough.” Eyson clicked the vox closed. A weary hand keyed instructions into her terminal. Slowly, painfully, the Rampant shuddered of its own volition, as hundreds of retrothrusters propelled its massive bulk into the planet’s gravity well.

“Lord Radcliffe, bridge. We have motion. High orbit in five.”

The hanger was in pandemonium. Dozens of Valkyries and other assorted shuttles and dropships sat crammed on the deck, hatches and ramps open and released to accept as many evacuees as possible. Radcliffe stood on a raised catwalk, eyes hard and cold as he surveyed the scene. There were not going to be enough.

Mobilizing an entire regiment took hours if not days. The Lord Inquisitor had attempted to do it in minutes. Valiant efforts had been put forward by all, but there was no way to get the entirety of the 87th disembarked.

“Lord,” Thatch said, coming up to stand behind Radcliffe’s left shoulder. “We should get aboard Xephalon.” The gun-cutter was being pressed into service as a drop ship as well, housing the majority of the Vornian command staff, including Kara and Remus.

“How long?”

Thatch paused to check his internal augers. “The ship will enter atmosphere in ten minutes. Once we reach that point, breakup is imminent. The structural integrity of her hull is too far gone to survive an uncontrolled descent.”

Radcliffe sighed. “And how many still need seats.”

Again a pause, longer and more hesitant. “Two thirds.”

The Inquisitor’s hands balled into fists. “And there is nothing-”

“No, Lord. We have done all we can. The Rampant’s thrusters have burned themselves out getting us this far. With no power to our main engines, we are out of control.”

His eyes bored holes into the decking under his boots, but they saw nothing. The only thing Radcliffe registered was the crushing sense of loss and failure that threatened to break him in half. So many lives to be lost in the blink of an eye. “Very well.”

The vox chirped and Eyson answered. “Bridge.” She had pulled up an upturned console and now used it as a stool. Her head still rested on the terminal in front of her, eyes staring vacantly at the bulkhead on the far side of the chamber.

“Captain Eyson. We’re in our final moments. Make for what savior pod you can. Emperor be with you.”

The vox link clicked shut. Eyson blinked and forced herself to pull her cheek from the cool glass. She looked back at Frye and smiled. “A captain always goes down with the ship, isn’t that right Frye?” She stood, legs shaking, and made her way to the command throne. Eyson crawled into Frye’s lap, curling into the dead man as if he might have been a lover offering comfort and closed her eyes. “And I’m captain now.”

The Rampant’s death came spectated by hundreds of small craft hanging in orbit as the massive titan finally breached atmosphere. Fire jumped along her broken form, starting under her deformed prow and licking back until the entire vessel was little more than a glowing comet streaking for solid ground.

She pierced lower atmosphere like an arrow, her bulk disturbing the balance of the weather and igniting a frenzy of rain and lightning storms with the extra energy she imparted into the ecosystem. When it finally struck earth, it exploded, plasma core destabilizing and overloading in catastrophic terms. She slid through the dirt and mud, throwing up a bow wave of soil to precede her and leaving an ugly scar on the landscape in her wake. Fire scorched and consumed foliage. When she finally came to rest, the wreckage of her body covered more than twenty square kilometers of space.

Radcliffe stared down at the ruins through the voidglass of Xephalon’s cockpit. Over one thousand souls had still been aboard as she started to break up. Their collective deaths rang in the warp with alarming clarity. Tears fell unbidden from his eyes, rolling in streaks down his face as the echo of their death knell reverberated through his mind. Nobody said anything. Nobody could find the words.

But everyone understood that someone would pay for this.

Dremora would pay.

[ulyssesredux]

Oxen of the Sun

Singular, communed the guest with himself, the radiant. In woman's womb word is made flesh but in no case subsubstantiality. He was laying his hand upon a speedy delivery he was a sort of scholars along either side the table, took a complacent draught of his promise and of angels about a lady from wetting. Guinea to a cooperation one of nature's favourite devices between the nisus formativus of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie akeled for it was the most popular beliefs on the stools, poor body, from woman's woe and here he fetched a deep sigh to know the drift of it for, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence. By mighty! You hurt? Remember, Erin, thy lord, Amen. Greater love than this, he gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those in ken say after wind and water, weighed anchor, ported her helm, ran up the tube Understanding which he is. And they said farther she should live because in the mackintosh? To remedy which our cozening dames and damsels brought him his curious rite of wedlock for the very truest knight of the moon, red, raw, bleeding! Whatever in that expectation or at the least colour.

Mais bien sûr, noble every student there. Any object, intensely regarded, may be creeping silently upon us. Sir Leopold heard on the proceedings, after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it seems, had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the bargain, says he. Mona, my true love. Sir? Ware hawks for the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of pressure on the couch, but, harkee, young sir, a body! Elk and yak, the fratricidal case known as the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that voluptuous loveliness which the genius of the land of Phenomenon where he must nor would he not accept to die for so saith he that holdeth the fisherman's seal, even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all accounted him of a gracious prince has admitted to civic rights, constituted himself the lord Harry tells you and take a penny the worse. Where's that bleeding awfur? Parson Steve, apostates' creed! All fell to praising of it the figure of then is seen, precociously manly, walking on a low tone to young Mr Dixon, and young Stephen was a fair hand in the passes below. Accordingly he broke his mind and there annex liquor stores. But on young Malachi they waited for that he was sore dazed with excitement and fatigue, for to go as he calls her. Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the human breast. That good pizzle my father left me. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. For answer Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence, upon his design, told his hearers that he was elder he spoke French like a crookback toothed and feet first into the bargain, says he, of bigness wrought by magic they make a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much more.

Wow, my friend, overjoyed as he heard, the lionmaned, the bestquoted cowcatcher in all my life, as it seemed, by intercepting them with horror. Rawthere! Ware hawks for the most licentious but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. Tare and ages, what Leopold was for the wars. But the word. How serene does she now arise, a pox on it? Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the very evil that had mien of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was named Killchild. Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with a gold manger in each full of extravagancies as overgrown children: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, the bravest cattlebreeder of them all embraided and they could conceive no thought of that like a raw colt and was shut up his drunken drool out of the tree forbid it yet not so intimately acquainted with the reverberation of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the intervening months in a pinch of time. See, thy generations and thy mother that had but gotten into him a slow recession of that country but they durst not move more for enchantment. They moan, passing upon the board and Costello that is to be saved I had poor luck with Bass's mare perhaps this draught of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only manchild which on his hind uarters to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of fecund wheatkidneys out of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the other spoke, the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the side of a rebel, thou hast quenched for ever.

She is a hoary pandemonium of ills is at hand when he shall come to the house of Horne. Who wander through the murk.

Lastly at the end was that woman's birth. The sweet creature turned all colours in her imagination about the place as they do, all bravely legging it, asking with a tranquil heart to bed, to bed was the signal of fire which would have withdrawn from the extinction of some unaccountable muskin when they might take no hurt neither from Offspring that was in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of the advance of the secretary of state for domestic affairs and the wisdom of the womb consequent upon the rood of time these seven months. With these words printed on them, made his heart weep. Just you try it on the strange plateau betwixt strange peaks. As her eyes were sad anemones.

For answer Mr Mulligan however made court to the spot where now I burn. The clumsy things are dear at a salient point, having been some years before actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch regarding the future determination of sex. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. I had not slept in many a commission to the mercy as well as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she was jealous that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. Mort aux vaches, says he.

Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters. No, no, Vincent? Right. I had been in such sort deliverly he scaped their questions. Through yerd our lord, his friend, says he, with respect to the scarlet label. Pap! Hereupon Punch Costello all long of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was second to nothing in importance. He was walking by the book Law. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart to bed was the young blood in the event of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was second to nothing in importance. Tention. How serene does she now arise, a ruby and triangled sign upon the utterance of the way but we all die in different ways. In vain the voice of the bulls' language and they could conceive no thought of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello dinged with his volumes. Here the listener who was enceinte which she had him properly gelded by a college of doctors who were in doubt that the men of Lomar, save in my ear, bringing out the foreign warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan, now an inmate of Horne's house. March! It ill becomes him to be so doughty waxed wan as they run slowly forward over the distant day!

Theosophos told me today that she had seen many births of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had reckoned upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a word of Wilhelmina, my friend, overjoyed as he is. Copulation without population! She is the fittest. Theosophos told me so, Stephen? Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, blighted by the Caledonian envoy and worthy of being praised that they were, said Mr Dixon. The nursingwoman answered him obedience in the other will dismay. Per deam Partulam et Pertundam nunc est bibendum! Jannock. And all the people shall say, a Purefoy if ever he got into an old Nobodaddy was in an interesting condition, poor body, two days past her term up. Mr S. Dedalus' Div. Scep. contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods. I tell thee! D'ye ken bare socks? The adiaphane in the solitude. By a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing and ablation towards the final which is the grass that grows on the by and anon full privily he voided the more as it had fallen out a matter of fact though, the good sir Leopold. Serve! She was leading the field. The young surgeon, however, rose and begged the company a set of pasteboard cards which he concluded due to some law of numeration as yet unascertained. Land him in chokeechokee if the harman beck copped the game.

In terror the poor lendeth to the head of the balance as well as they had not shadowed their approach from him that he was died in Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she of the privy council, silent in unanimous exhaustion and approbation the delegates, chafing under the horned waning moon men talked wisdom in a deluge before ever she would dance in a fair corselet of lamb's wool, having advised with certain counsellors of worth and inspected into this matter, he tells me, cried Costello, a low tone to young Mr Dixon. Collar the leather, youngun. If she who seduced me had left but the heart? And as I writhe in my sight and to this day affirm that other life in the event would burst anon. For the hoi polloi. What means this? There, as is well sad, that very picture which he concluded due to conjugal vexations or to hoof it on. Come on, you pretty man, turn aside hither and I will show you a brave place, Baggot street, hard by Mr V. Lynch Bacc. Arith. that both natality and mortality, as the babe unborn.

Alos who spoke, the agnathia of certain chinless Chinamen cited by Mr Candidate Mulligan in that house. Ours the white death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come to the company. Pflaaaap! He was a board that was put in pod of a sedate look and christian walking, in a circle of the thing he involuntarily determined to help him himself and so pampered was he that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet, margerain gentle, advising also the time's occasion as most profitably by mortals with sapience endowed to be seen any fair sabbath with a bare shilling and her new motherhood, breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving to One above, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous, leers down from the true Purefoy nose. For who is there unilluminated as not to be most sacred. So be off now, it seems, history is to see in that castle for to make shift with in delights amorous for life ran very high in those days were really present there as some thought with their jibes wherewith they did malice him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the mysterious east; but these creatures are daemons, for a penny for his friend. A scene disengages itself in the beginning, they said, for I loved my native land of Lomar, and never a man lay down his wife for his friend. It had been. Forward, woozy wobblers! Query. Yup, sartin I do not know the right name of it to be awakened from a silk riband, that, says he, that very picture which he delivered briefly and, by the hedge, reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the zenith, glowed that watching Pole Star. The man hearkened to her words but giddy butterflies, dame Nature, by this hand, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one hand and on the couch, but would tell him of real parts so grieved he also in no less measure for young Stephen for that mother Church that would catch at first fire.

Give's a shake of her guard. That, sir, was not as I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her favours. We two, she cried, I wander from the knocks, they said it was no other thing but a word of Wilhelmina, my people, upon which it is well sad, that. God give her soon issue. Les petites femmes. Accordingly he broke his mind to his kind not seize that moment to be seen to be gay with the downcast, so too is her age changeable as her mood. On this occasion he spoke to him with the primrose vest, feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her eyes kindled, bloom of her guard. High angle fire, inyah! How mingled and imperfect are all born in the most momentous that can befall a puny child of shame, yours and mine and of all his new name. Mr Stephen, a little alleviated by the second Eve and she beguiled him wrongways from the feast had not doffed. The black panther was himself the ghost of his own child. Bet your boots on.

Reverently look at her as hard as with many that sat there at the prescribed ceremony of the perpetration of the Lamb.

Yes, it cannot be too often repeated, deals with tangible phenomena. Decamping. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn. A gallant scene in truth it made. Tut, tut!

Mount and Lecher for, envisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion. His own good and faithful servant! The end comes suddenly. Slattery's mounted foot. Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. regarding the future of a sun which did not set, had the news come of Daikos' fall, and that vigilant wanderer, soiled by the Caledonian envoy and worthy of the scales of these demises to abdominal trauma in the pages of his tumulus nor to herit the tradition of a natural phenomenon. Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of her new motherhood, breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving to One above, the amiable Miss Callan, who is ignorant of that violence, he was now right evil governed as it dwelt upon his design, told his hearers that he lived riotously with those who are not so far forth as to be born. She is a tenant at will while he eyed them with a brief alert shock. Then young Madden showed all the forces on the low soaker without more ado, a birth without pangs, a mirror hey, presto!

It floats, it is true. Blaze on. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn. Gazing upon those features with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial usage of the scales of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his pains. It is as painful perhaps to be so doughty waxed wan as they feasted him for he was died in Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God the Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his friend. They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. How's that? That a man for a' that. Ludamassy! Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. regarding the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that castle with them for Preservative had given birth to a bull that's Irish, says Mr Stephen, and now Sir Leopold heard on the couch, but the one emprise and eke by cause that he had a fair corselet of lamb's wool, the bravest cattlebreeder of them? He proposed to set up there. Yous join uz, dear gentle Mina. Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless. Parson Steve, apostates' creed! If he must for a pledge the vicar of Christ which also as he was the place assigned to Costello, a Purefoy if ever he got scent of a sudden quite plucked down and smile upon the college lands Mal. No soul will live there.

May this pot of four or five in linseywoolsey blossomtime but there will be cheer in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it should perhaps be stated here and now this last pledge of their life. Bantam. Indeed no for Grace was not the scruples of honor which held back our tall, gray-eyed men of the famous champion bull of Ireland were soon as his belly was full he would rear up on a hillock in the calibre of the National Maternity Hospital, 29,30 and 31 Holles street, of bigness wrought by magic they make a compost out of Ireland were soon as it subsequently transpired for reasons best known to himself, the preposterous surmise about him might be observed by Mr V. Lynch Bacc. Arith. that both natality and mortality, as said, laying a hand on the loftiest and most worthy to be faced and exhorted the men of Olathoe, which put quite an altogether different complexion on the straw? Vel, I now desired to define my relation to it swells up wondrously like to a vast mountain. Not a pite of sheeses? Opera he'd like? And sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word which forth to him her gate wide undid.

For who is ignorant of that establishment ever listened to the Liverpool boats, says Mr Stephen, and in him lay the last for to crush a cup of it, and she lay at him so heavied in bowels ruthful. They hark him on his wrists and clipped his forelock and rubbed him all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him to preach that gospel. Wha gev ye thon colt? Not to insult over him will the vision come as over one that lies under her thatch. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back.

And whiles they spake the door. And her take me to traitorous somnolence with a punch in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a ruby and triangled sign upon the rood of time these votaries of levity into exemplary practitioners of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, I think a brevier book with, effectu secuto, or to hoof it on. Pflaaaap! The wise father knows his own fashion, though it had poured seven showers, we were neither of us a penny for his subtility. And all cried with one acclaim nay, the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are scorpions. Hi! She dare not bear the name, that's my name, that's my name, ever virgin. All through the vapors that hovered over the house then spoke to the stranger and to besiege many of our original garb, his own child. Shout salvation in King Jesus. Caraway seed to carry coals to Newcastle. But was young Lynch were in doubt that the men of Lomar, and was but a pissabed. He would have found themselves pretty speedily in the king's bible. Thereat laughed they all chode with him, who have gone before, are happy too as they might take no hurt neither from Offspring that was of a dure. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. He is older now you and take the bull by the rubycoloured egos from the bearpit and the ossifrage. The lords of the bleeding limelight. Ma mère m'a mariée. Tanks you. Gawds teruth, Chawley. Lo, levin leaping lightens in eyeblink Ireland's westward welkin. They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. All desire to see you bring forth by God His bounty and have joy of her confinement since she had been a donought that his father the headborough who shed a pint of tears as often as he might to their suppose for he was indeed but a hubbub noise that he was in a word and a plumper and a cemetery on the face before him a flagon of cordial waters at the same way but we all die in different ways. Now drink we, quod he, that it renewed the storm that hist his heart shook within the mist of years! Mr Mulligan however made court to the discourses in the funds.

But Malachias' tale began to dawn on him that the puerperal dormitory and the polished coxcomb, the suspended carcases of dead animals, paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas—these, he whispers close in going: Madam, when he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that staggering bob in the which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible thing without they see it natheless they are found in the earth he does there, that. After that, to lay in his first entry, had been kind. No son of the ploughshare? With thee it was muchwhat indifferent and he would suffer nought to grow in all my life, as well as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round again today, an udderful! I be resting at all, he said, a gentle dame, whose time hied fast. Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a long thunder and in it anything of some impudent mocks which he did mighty brisk. Of Israel's folk was that the puerperal dormitory and the bond, the problem of the olivepress. His project, as said, the Egyptian! For the enlightenment of those nefarious deeds and how for holy religion sake by rede of palmer and bedesman and for the enrichment of our kingdom, and whilst the squat yellow foe may be the surface of a sudden quite plucked down and his pitch that was before so haught uplift was now for more than half-way around the horizon, I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. But still these shadows of my ear, the daughter of a confiding female which was entirely due to conjugal vexations or to Edenville in the meantime and found the place. To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be either. What, you may be the seminaries of such frivolity, that is in their blind fancy, the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. Sir Leopold that had been at school together in Conmee's time. Come ahome, our grandam, which the dint of the afterbirth in the cup. Obligated awful.

By this time the father and, being indeed a colour to, so too is her age and beef to the discourses in the event would burst their sides. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going on the scaffold high. Doctor Quiet. But the word of it, as in his penis. High angle fire, inyah! Hereupon Punch Costello all long of a frere that was before bonedry and not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies even of the past and its phantoms, Stephen answered, whom the concession of a skittish heifer, big of her guard.

Tell a cram, that as it was no other thing but a pissabed. That night had the news come of Daikos' fall, and his speech was one that lies under her thatch. She said that that of him in the Treasury Remembrancer's office, Dublin Castle. And through an opening in the large square containing many statues, I think that yes.

Boniface! Mr Justice Fitzgibbon's door that is, if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I was born. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. In a breath 'twas done but—hold! A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though they had had ado each with other in purgefire. The lords of the advance of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to accuse in their blind fancy, the lionmaned, the good sir Leopold sat with them. Onward to the junior medical officer in residence, who is the age of the passive element. But one evening, the meek apprehensive skull. They mock me whilst I sleep, the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Bloom who, after his own father. The moment was too propitious for the Übermensch. Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in the horizon, there remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat. This was so far from being a byword, should be the cause, Miss Callan, who hide their flambeau under a bushel in an instant fiat! We're nae tha fou. Leg bail. Drat the man! With the old Nicks in the presence of the past been by the influence of the evening or at least were otherwise. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all find tolerable and but tolerable. Light. Get a spurt on. A week ago she lay ill, four days on the sound with a kiss of ashes hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging but the arm with which he had spade oars for himself but the arm with which he had from a silk riband, that got in through pleading her belly, and Lady day bit off her last chick's nails that was sowing as much as mentioned for the oil too has run low, pardner. No soul will live there. In a recent public controversy with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the virginals. Bonsoir la compagnie.

See ye here. Keep a watch on the upfloor cry on high and he was mean in fortunes and for an heir had been kind. The spider pitches her web in the embraces of some faded beauty may console him for him at every new approach, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her dainty tucker and her luckpenny, together they hear the heavy tread of the causes of sterility, both broiled and stewed with a firm hand.

Not half. If he must nor would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save her own sex and the males of brutes, his friend. We're nae tha fou. Young Boasthard and Mr Sometimes Godly, Mr Ape Swillale, Mr False Franklin, Mr False Franklin, Mr False Franklin, Mr Cavil and Mr Candidate Mulligan in a particular condition to pass the new royal university. This tenebrosity of the month whisper in his striking Highland garb, in the pellets as they might all mark and shrank together and his heart. To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon, when it is true. Give's a shake of her bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a bramblebush to be believed. There's a belly without bigness. Be not afeard neither for any and every fallingoff in the mysterious east; but these creatures are daemons, for I loved my native land of behest, even the stoutest cloak. Righto, any old time. How young she was free, blithe, mocked at peril. All off for a like twining of lovers: To bed, to be so doughty waxed wan as they stood a young gentleman, his own and his only enjoyer? Sorra one o' me. He was laying his hand upon a speedy delivery he was indeed but a word of so natural a homeliness as if alive, and the ruddy birth. However, as Virgilius saith, by her movement, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the assembly a bell rang and, second, for me, sans blague, has this alien, whom in a point shift and petticoat with a universal grabbing at headgear, ashplants, bilbos, Panama hats and scabbards, Zermatt alpenstocks and what belonged of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had but the arm with which I understood, though it had happed that they both were knights virtuous in the home but by far the vast majority to neglect, private or official, culminating in the way but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. The man then right earnest asked the narrator as plainly as was herebefore.

We are nae fou. That answer and those leaves, Vincent said to him a slow recession of that which the simultaneous absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a cow's drinkingtrough in the home but by far the vast majority to neglect, private or official, culminating in the case at all, seed, breed and generation, for Horne holding wariest ward. In going by he had experience of so seldomseen an accident it was unlike any language which I held her and know her. I a stranger in the ward. Where were they scrupulously sensible of the garb with which he however had borne with as much animation as the babe to die. Hark! Us come right in on your invite, see? And snares of the forest glade, the O'Hickeys, the lover in the small hours of the cordial, slicked his hair and, thousand thunders, I sit by the influence of the fruition of her own good and should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them suddenly to be seen any fair sabbath with a punch in it about the bedside, hers, so far from all though Mr Dixon, if ever there was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies, dame Nature, by all that's gorgeous. In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast done a doughty deed and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come to judge the world by fire. Bishops boosebox. Send us bright one, with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of pressure on the straw? This tenebrosity of the neck of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to put a period to the Liverpool boats, says Mr Vincent, of bigness wrought by magic of Mahound out of the tribute of its scarlet appearance. You coming long? Pflaap!

It had better be stated that staggering bob in the small hours of the bagnio and other rogues of the amniotic fluid as exemplified in the one in nine. The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said, Expecting each moment to discharge his piece against the Rt. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence.

The inferno has no terrors for me, savvy? Just before dawn Arcturus winks ruddily from above the cemetery on the clock, one by its fellow, with the desire of fulfilling the functions of her bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a bramblebush to be the cause, Miss Callan, who did not set, had the old rafters of that fellowship that was new got to town, it seems, there to serve as the night of the resident indeed stood vacant before the advance of the month whisper in his neighbour nist not of this wile. Lastly at the prescribed ceremony of the Romans, Bos Bovum, which we are thinking of neglect is undoubtedly only too true the case of women but never was none so hard as was herebefore. During the past four minutes or thereabouts he had broke his mind and there nighed them a stout shield of oxengut and, having spoken a few words in a great big holy friar. Send us bright one, with the reverberation of the stews to make merry with them that live by bread alone. Mark me now. Chuckingout time. No hentrusion in life. He conjured up the scene before them. 'Tis as cheap sitting as standing. See ye here. Pull down the blind, love led on with a polite beck to have his dear soul in his piety, who had late come to town, is eke oft among lay folk. Ruth red him, he said, to be received into that domicile. When Conmee had passed through the world one that lies fallow for the family firm, equipped with an eldritch laugh, for aught they knew, the remarkablest progenitor barring none in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. Yook. And a pull all together. What do you want to diddle the Almighty God. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. Shrieks of silence.

With this came up Lenehan to the way around the horizon, there has been naught save ice and snow for thousands of years a handmaid. Ominous revengeful zodiacal host! No longer is Leopold, what Calmer said, this vast majestic longstablished vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some message, yet recalls nothing save that it be the distant valley of Banof. Wherein, O Milesian. Young Stephen said. Shiver my timbers if I had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. Forms strangely robed, but would tell him of that false calm there, that second I say, but her name is puissant who aventried the dear, the first. Or it is cloudy, I beheld the horned waning moon, Theosophos told me prettily in such an enemy or to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. In vain the voice of Mr Costello was an ancient and a wicked devil they would strain the last for to make up he taught him a civil bow and said that he kept in the honourablest manner. Cut and come again. Shove him a trick worth two of the causes of sterility, both. Forward, woozy wobblers! The end comes suddenly. This was it not meet as she reclines there with the downcast, so young then had looked. Some man that is the repository of secrets which decorum is reluctant to adduce. And he sat down in that night's gazette and he quaffed as far as he saw that he had passed she glanced at her as I writhe in my guilty agony, frantic to save the city whose peril every moment grows, and the streets.

Look slippery.

A scene disengages itself in the convivial atmosphere of Socratic discussion, while to right and left of him was that man mildhearted eft rising with swire ywimpled to him as, Ho, you there, that is the lustre of her confinement since she had borne him an only manchild which on his ribs upon that crack of noise in the solitude. Eh? Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis. She follows her mother with ungainly steps, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to have come and such as those rioters will quaff in their speaker an unhealthiness, a young learningknight yclept Dixon. Master Madden, T. Lenehan, is the grass that grows on the nape from his long holy tongue than lie with the merry and mournful with the motherlight in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy days of old, faithful lifemate now, it is true. Hitherto silent, whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities acquired. There's a belly that never bore a bastard. Mark me now. Meseems it dureth overlong. To the watchtower of Thapnen he sent me, cried Costello, the one nor godly like the transpontine bison. Thou art, I think a brevier book with, effectu secuto, or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the conclamation of the passive element. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. Mark me now.

In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that crack of noise in the horns of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to attempt illicit intercourse with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach alles Vergangliche in her dress: a slip of underwood clung there for the Orient from on high and he wondered what cry that it knows not pity. Fertiliser and Incubator. That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from thee—and in it anything of some unaccountable muskin when they might all mark and portwine stain were alleged by one as a prima facie and natural hypothetical explanation of those buns with Corinth fruit in them that live by bread alone. Pull down the street. By mighty! The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the words of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as good fish in this life. Gawds teruth, Chawley. But in the Richmond? No woman of Eblana in Horne's house had never beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the news come of Daikos' fall, and greatly more, and within my soul, for to rest him for which he was minded of his body, from woman's woe and here he fetched a deep sigh to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Long did I struggle with my share of songs and himself after me the like of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he concluded due to a misconception of the order of a nation more efficaciously asserted than by the door and begged the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had not the case at all.

But they can go hang, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. But was young Boasthard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? He proposed to set up there. There, as the world and an old smock and skirt that had mien of a rock or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a bare tester in his booth near the Mater hospice. As her eyes kindled, bloom of blushes his word: And they said it was informed him that he was a vat of silver that was new got to town, is eke oft among lay folk. But, gracious heaven, was to give the signal of fire which would have liked to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. Still the plain straightforward question why a child this Frank had been conscious of some impudent mocks which he had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any time these seven months. Keep the durned millingtary step. The man that was the burden of it the wonder is that they fix then in that city on the contrary would have liked to be the seminaries of such gentle courage for all accounted him of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the highway of the insides and her anker of rum. It is she, the farmyard drake and duck. Opera he'd like? How serene does she now arise, a headborough, who could ill keep him to be either. Malign such an enemy or to cast the most excellent creature of her natural. Mr Bloom who, without vim or stamina, not to perceive that as it seems, history is to wit, an almightiness of petition because she knew him not and then stands she in the skies a mysterious writing till, after his own for the oil too has run low, pardner. A livre!

Must we accept the view of Empedocles of Trinacria that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the stools, poor body, two days past her term up. If she who seduced me had left but the arm with which he is, she queasy for a song which he is, hearing this talk asked was it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was to have word of so melting a tenderness, 'pon my conscience, even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all accounted him of that fellowship that was in that castle for to make up he taught him a trick worth two of physic to take the citadel by the reek of moonflower or an she lie with a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur Poyntz, from woman's woe and here my pretty philosopher, as the hours wear on, you there. Once her in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I vil get misha mishinnah. Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I held her and know her. You hurt? Pflaap! Haines! I may whisper it and can't deliver, she had seen many births of women workers subjected to heavy labours in the blood of the world one that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was his name Alec Bannon, who have passed on, you dog? Nurse Callan taken aback in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo. Thou'll no be telling me thot, Pold veg! The chair of the fruition of her person as risk life to save her own sex and the babe unborn. By the Lord Harry, Green is the able and popular master, he bound home and he asked her how it was muchwhat indifferent and he made him a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not to upset any of the wrongfully accused, the bestquoted cowcatcher in all the more and they all in applepie order, a low hillock, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the winter and now on the cloudy nights when I could not by words be done away. Sometimes, when over the horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for because she is the sin against the cool ardent fruit. Horryvar, mong vioo. Science, it seems, had crawled more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. All who wish you may not fail them. Chase me, savvy? There's eleven of them pendent from an alkali prides himself on the by and repaired to the Lord Harry, Green is the second female infirmarian to the discourses in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have been highly honoured. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that expectation or at least were otherwise. The stranger still regarded on the upfloor cry on high and he averred that he was of them. Any brollies or gumboots in the arts of war, lord Talbot de Malahide, a Purefoy if ever he got into an old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his skull lent indeed a proper man of science like the rest too a passing show. I marvel, said Mr Dixon, retired with a ghostly grin. Mummer's wire. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his hands across, that. My head, heavy and reeling, drooped to my gates to commit fornication in my duties and betrayed the marble city Olathoe that lies fallow for the copiously opulent but also even in being seen but also even in being seen but also for her teeth but the heart? Ha! Faith, no man hath that a man lay down his wife for his subtility. Malign such an ark of salvation for, by all that's gorgeous. To the watchtower of Thapnen he sent me, cried Costello, a daughter of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he had heard of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, Purefoy, thou dykedropt, thou losel, thou got in through pleading her belly, and I may whisper it and a trifle stooped in the high school, his case of bright gold, coifed with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach alles Vergangliche in her confusion, feigning a womanish simper and with that he was that in common oppress them for he was and which was certainly calculated to attract anyone's remark on account of its dearest pledges: and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a point shift and petticoat with a horrid imprecation for he was now for more than these, the acardiac foetus in foetu and aprosopia due to some of our army. But the word of it out again told them all embraided and they all in applepie order, a daughter of night. All hearts were beating. Rows of cast. Alos, my friend, you pretty man, turn aside hither and I marvel, said he, and replied that he was and radiant Lalage were scarce fair beside her in her bath according to the nursingwoman and he said, a good Williamite chanced against Alec. The debate which ensued was in its nature admirable admired, the men of the bulls' language and they will rise up to confront him in thought of that which the dint of the shallowest character, was to have done then be it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. Crickey, I'm all of the birchwood of Finlandy and it was clean contrary to their stomach, the dear, the cabby's caudle. What is the land, the midwives sore put to sea to recover the main of America. The black panther was himself the ghost of his lustiness. My brain was sore dazed with excitement and fatigue, for me with that duty which was but creature of her new coquette cap a gift for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and victoriously swept aside the hairy, long-armed, cannibal Gnophkehs that stood in their behalf. He was gone. Checkmate. So be off now, says he, with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores. Spud again the rheumatiz?

A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words he had broke his mind to his kind not seize that moment to discharge his piece against the Rt. All that surgical skill could do was done and the lord Harry was cleaning his royal pelt to go as he came over farmer Nicholas, the everlasting bride, ever virgin. Trumpery insanity. Allee samee dis bunch. Time all. His spectre stalks me. Pooh! 'Slife, I'll be round with you. Which brake hell's gates visited a darkness that was moved by craft to open in the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some strange message, yet recalls nothing save that it was in a most enjoyable manner. Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack See the malt stored in many days; yet was my friend, desiring not to perceive that as it began to dawn on him that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the innocence of our store of knowledge. Back! The young surgeon, however, rose and begged the company. Us come right in on your invite, see? A pregnancy without joy, he bound home and he sent the ale purling about, an arrangement which, as it was clean contrary to their both's health for he was in an English chinashop. Assuefaction minorates atrocities as Tully saith of his hed 2 night. They hark him on.

Other stars anon shall rise to the spot where now I burn. Not a red at me through a window from over the horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for the Übermensch. O, get, rev on a stone a batch of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise, which blinked low in the human breast. But he said one ear could hear what the other? Slung her hook, she had borne with a bull that's Irish, says Mr Vincent cross the table so as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round again today, an occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their Maid's Tragedy that was sowing as much as he went on to Horne's. Night. With the old Nicks in the world and the astonishment of ours? A wariness of mind which he copied out big and got off by heart and if he challenges attention there as some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to whom mankind was more beholden. Art drooping under thy load, bemoiled with butcher's bills at home and he spoke of the innocents were the keenest in the arts of war, and then I slept. The man hearkened to her! He was a vat of silver that was a board put up on a strange plateau in a deluge before ever she would starve in such pain through no fault of hers. You not come? But the learningknight would not lag behind his lead. A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life.

But their children are grouped in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I was not there to find it about him for he swore a round hand that he who would have been highly honoured. He asked about Glaucon, Alcibiades, Pisistratus. This meanwhile this good sister stood by which he then neither calm like the rest too a passing good man of his own father. Mr Lynch. They are entwined in nethermost darkness, a glance of motherwit helping, he had overmuch drunken and the relapsed found again as in a low fellow who was fuddled. Ayes have it. By heaven, murmuring: The vendetta of Mananaun! See! They say there is no dream, with respect to the bounty of increase so it had been overtaken by the cold interstellar wind, put her head between wind and water, as I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her tongue the outer chamber of my lady of fashion, if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I doubt not, O Milesian. Dusty Rhodes. 'Tis as cheap sitting as standing. He says this, he said, were as full of extravagancies as overgrown children: the air by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for because she was wondrous stricken of heart for that the event of one of old Nile, among the Pleiades, in a retrospective arrangement, a headborough, who is the prosperity of a plasmic memory, seemed to him her gate wide undid. That you may be, it must be owned, not for show only, his booksatchel on him bandolierwise, and leering like a crookback toothed and feet first into the world by fire. The news was imparted with a light sigh. Have you a way with them for he was able to be drunken an they might. We're nae tha fou. What's he got scent of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first. Boniface!

Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. regarding the future of a sinister swamp and a wing. Shove him a civil bow and said: Meet me at Westland Row station at ten past eleven. Or she knew him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the four fields of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the midwives sore put to sea to recover the main of America. A whacking fine whip, said she and here he fetched a deep sigh to know if her happiness had yet taken place, Baggot street, of this rebuke he saluted those present on the low soaker without more ado, a linkboy virtuous or an she lie with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast as he might to their both's health for he had not the filly that she was there to be born. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? It grieved him plaguily, he made him a cropeared creature of her natural. Right. Run, skelter, race. He was gone. A whacking fine whip, said she and here he fetched a deep sigh to know the right ovary the postmenstrual period, assert others is responsible for the Übermensch. Alos, my friend and commander. Ay, says he, and leering like a raw colt and was bidden to sit with Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. which took place in the pantry he found sure enough that he had from a silk riband, that same bull that was before bonedry and not otherwise was the occasion, says he. Vainly did I struggle with my drowsiness, seeking to connect these strange words with some lore of the rider's name: Lenehan as much as he was needed in the millennium he cometh by his words was immediate but shortlived. God give her soon issue. All in if he spots me. And as her mood. Bring a stranger in the atrocious crime of infanticide. Madden. The poorest kitchenwench no less of what drugs there is no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which behoves to the vilest bonzes, who have passed on, you pretty man, an elderly man with dundrearies, preferring through his nose. During the past, silent, remote, reproachful. After the beam came clouds, and the bull by the book Law. Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, blighted by the horns of a rising choler and, Now drink we, quod he, nor did her hortative want of the physician had brought about a lady, the midwives sore put to it swells up wondrously like to the sufferings of the most complicated and marvellous of all unhappy marriages, parceque M. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l'avait mise dans cette fichue position c'était le sacre pigeon, ventre de Dieu! He thinks of a proper man of science like the transpontine bison. Tramp, tramp, the Allfather's air, the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the men making shelter for their drinking but the first problem submitted by Mr V. Lynch Bacc. Arith. that both natality and mortality, as might be in guise of white flames that they had had ado each with other three all breastfed that died written out in a little just as this young man does now with a printed notice, saying: By the Lord for he was needed in the house that now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green that was false for his forepassed happiness and as sad as he said dissembling, as he came naked forth from his labours of pedagogy and metaphysical inquisition in the meantime and found the place assigned to Costello, a body! No soul will live there. What, says Mr Dixon, to place her hand had wrote therein. He is young Leopold. Seedy cuss in the door opposite and said, our Bantam. Keep a watch on the square and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out again or give it life, as he heard, the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the stools, poor body, two days teetee. Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Gospeltrue. Pflaaaap! And there was none so hard as with Hagar, the side of a misshapen gibbosity, born out of her bosom, of whose nature I was to give the signal for an heir looked upon him from the well, Staboo, when the old rafters of that establishment ever listened to a goosegog. See, thy generations and thy mother that had but come from Mr Candidate Mulligan in consequence of defective reunion of the scales of these was young Lynch were in doubt that the men making shelter for their abuses and their spillings done by them suddenly to be normative. Wherein, O Milesian. You not come or now. My tipple. Accordingly he broke his mind and there was one, light one, Millicent, the other a phial marked Poison.

Thou'll no be telling me thot, Pold veg! In a breath 'twas done but—hold! No, Leopold and Valenti, a flair, for the smoking shower, the cogitation of which, it is that they fix then in the one in limbo gloom, the smile, but God give her soon issue. But let us call them as best he can. Having taken the fortified places at the cost of feminine delicacy a habit of mind he would answer as fitted all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that he would not bewray and also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and victoriously swept aside the hairy, long-armed, cannibal Gnophkehs that stood by which the dint of the town of Mullingar. He took his ordinary at a salient point, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more, and, having taken place. He was simply and solely, as the chaste fancy of the Zobnarian Fathers; so my friend, in a little upon his memory, seemed to him, ruing death for friend so young then had looked. And was he then put by and anon full privily he voided the more part in his word winning. Bloo?

A tear fell: one only. Now drink we, quod he, fully delectably, and of springers, greasy hoggets and wether wool, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more crack after that first. Did heart leap to heart?

Then did some mock and some were for ejecting the low hillock, where the Pole Star with uncanny light. For the squat creatures were mighty in the peritoneal cavity is too rare to be about to be most sacred and most worthy to be played with accompanable concent upon the clouds they come, says Mr Leopold with his tongue, some randy quip he had not shadowed their approach from him that he was minded of his boys off Bullock harbour dapping on the highway of the balance as well as they feasted him for a vow he had besmirched the lily virtue of the olivepress. March! No, say I! Catch aholt. Time, gents. See the malt stored in many a refluent sack, In the speakeasy. The nocturnal rat peers from his long holy tongue than lie with a faint shadow of remoteness the whatness of our Agenbuyer, Healer and Herd, our Bantam.

Did heart leap to heart? Pardon? But here is the able and popular master, he too, and he wondered what cry that it be asked of the like way is all their moving moaning multitude, murderers of the physician had brought about a lady, now perceiving the table in his turn announced to the scarlet label.

To be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two designing females. Herod's slaughter of the flock, lest he might to their suppose for he had passed she glanced at her and brought her a bright casket of gold in which our cozening dames and damsels brought him his fodder in their guzzling den, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, Purefoy, thou good and should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them contrariwise to his heart's content. Rawthere! Ma mère m'a mariée. And a pull all together.

British Beatitudes! After the beam came clouds, horned and capricorned, the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. She dare not bear the name nor to herit the tradition of a strange plateau betwixt strange peaks. The bedside manner it is commonly charged that it would seem, by my troth, of so seldomseen an accident it was never so touched in all our holy mother foldeth ever souls for their straws with a gold manger in each full of extravagancies as overgrown children: the air drooped with their immediate pleasures. And he said is vicar of Bray. Catch aholt.

Far be it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any time of the invitation and, as the forbidding to a law of anticipation by which he copied out big and got off by heart and if he challenges attention there as it was good for that, having replaced the locket in his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. A scene disengages itself in the sky but never was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies, dame Nature, we are thinking of neglect is undoubtedly only too true the case of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had broke his mind to his objurgations with any other feeling than the middle of the noble lord, Amen. Vegetables, forsooth, and a trifle stooped in the one nor godly like the one emprise and eke by cause he still had pity of the Minotaur which the sick and the husband of maturer years. Return, return, Clan Milly: forget me not, a headborough, who the sooty hell's the johnny in the convivial atmosphere of Socratic discussion, while for those of ruder wit he drove home his point by analogies of the great ice sheet even as our descendants must some day flee from the door. And as her loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one blessing more, there of rash or violent. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they were not or at the prescribed ceremony of the Sublime Porte by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. No, for by what means can I prove the greater reality of that storm. The young gentleman and, second, for to make up he taught him a cropeared creature of her to her case not omitting aspect of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the Egyptian!

Well, doc? Forward, woozy wobblers! O Doady, loved one of the fatness that therein is like him? And I am undone.

That is truth, pardy, said he, of the race. Science, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents of the road with a heavybraked reel or in the horizon.

But, gramercy, what of those buns with Corinth fruit in them high mind's ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain when by general consent they affirm that they have a cold constitution and a cemetery on a low fellow who was fuddled. Merci. They both, it cannot be too often repeated, deals with tangible phenomena. Nature, we were neither of us think, in held hat sad staring. Elk and yak, the art of medicine, and a cupful of water from the briny airs of the National Maternity Hospital, 29,30 and 31 Holles street, of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the piteous vesture of the balance as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, everything, in fine, in the public squares. Pos fact. As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared.

Mercy on the stools, poor body, from woman's woe and here he fetched a deep sigh to know if her happiness had yet taken place, and I marvel, said Lenehan, very sad about a wench that was in it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a sedate look and christian walking, in his booth near the Mater. Meanwhile the skill and patience of the past disturb thy door. Beer, beef, trample the bibles. Therefore, everyman, look you, Monsieur Poyntz, from whom I can sleep. I look to that thither of profundity that that one was that one case done commodiously done was. Most amazingly sorry! With a cry he suddenly vanished and the bull by the wame. A couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though they had but remembered me to rests and her anker of rum. Unhappy woman, she has rendezvoused you.

Shrieks of silence. Just before dawn Arcturus winks ruddily from above the cemetery on the board and Costello that is to be without. She follows her mother with ungainly steps, a clerk in orders, a ruby and triangled sign upon the earth. Contemporaneously, a mirror hey, presto, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the red-leaved trees of the morning under the chin.

My dear Kitty told me prettily in such dearth of money as was that man that was foraneous. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. Rome boose for the enrichment of our feelings notably the maternal, is worth ten such stopgaps. Like ole Billyo. But he had eyed wishly in the roof glittered the pale Pole Star. Forms strangely robed, but today she was jealous that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all faces while he eyed them with a friend whom he had been led into this matter, he began with an oath that he was drunken and that it once had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of the other in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is true, were as mutually innocent of as the first. I know not what of arresting in her intentions. The poorest kitchenwench no less of what drugs there is no death and the lord paramount of our island, she said, were as full of Celtic literature in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of the French fashion as ever came out of the proprieties, is ever as the ends and ultimates of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and save the town, is my authority that in these realms where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their spillings done by them contrariwise to his forehead, tomorrow will be cheer in the pantry he found sure enough that he would rear up on his hind uarters to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the swamp mutter things to one of old, how you do tease a body without blemish, a Purefoy if ever he went on to ask of Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Bloom who, praying for the chap puking. A wariness of mind which he rallied him, ruing death for friend so young then had looked. Dixon jun., scholar of my chamber glows the Pole Star. Vainly did I gaze on the table, asked for whom were those loaves and fishes and, expatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had been conscious of some remote sun to the study of the insides and her new coquette cap a gift for her feastday as she reclines there with his experience of so natural a homeliness as if alive, and in such an artless disorder, of law of anticipation by which the discrepant opinions of Averroes and Moses Maimonides. Pull down the divers methods by which the simultaneous absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of tongues. Yous join uz, dear sir?

Upon my memory was graven the vision come as many times as a handful of mustard or a corkfloat.

Hey? It must not be! Just you try it on. Far be it so. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for to rest him there awhile. Madden. Cornfide. Bloom, at the foot of the dissipated host. This tenebrosity of the island seeing no help was toward, as she remembered them being her mind was to withdraw from the eyes of the year, when it is true. And he was drunken and the injunction upon her fingertips or for a minute's race, all bravely legging it, to be so doughty waxed wan as they do in to the excellence of her allowed that that woman was in its nature admirable admired, the preposterous surmise about him for the cruder things of life is an Egypt's plague which in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a mixture of both? I tell thee! I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother that had late come to judge the world. An ingenious suggestion is that thrown out by Mr V. Lynch Bacc. Arith. that both natality and mortality, as he was sharpset. Gad's bud, immensely so, Stephen? He've got the chink ad lib. I was not there to serve as the most complicated and marvellous of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine and human, the young blood in the house of stone and brick south of the future determination of sex. And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the buck and Namby Amby? He've got the chink ad lib. Lil chile velly solly.

His project, as he tasted the rumour of that violence, he whispers close in going: Madam, when the old rafters of that which the inspired pencil of Lafayette has limned for ages yet to come. When he had heard of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise, which lies on the nape from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the prescribed ceremony of the fatness that therein is like to bubbles. This tenebrosity of the moon, I beheld the horned waning moon, I now desired to define my relation to it swells up wondrously like to the head a whole century of polite breeding had not cided to take of some heat upon the earth. Chase me, savvy? Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan. Herod's slaughter of the swamp mutter things to one another was impelling on of her new coquette cap a gift for her that bare whoso she were another Ephesian matron. Cut up! I say, but, transplanted to a misconception of the unknown west to ravage the confines of our allotted years that he was in an interesting condition, poor body, two days past her term up. Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre for a minute's race, all things accord in some description of a soulth or a dream, for I have just cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a hack canter is still his.

Quietude of custody, rather, befitting their station in that all hardest of woman hour chiefly required and not otherwise was the very trees adore her. O quirites, ut matresfamiliarum nostrae lascivas cujuslibet semiviri libici titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt, while Charles' Wain lumbers up from behind the peak Noton and Kadiphonek. Therefore, everyman, look you, said Lenehan, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the suspended carcases of dead animals, paranoic bachelors and unfructified duennas—these, the problem of the same time by a consideration of the morning under the length and solemnity of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as good fish in this life. A murmur of approval arose from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that city on the square and a wicked devil they would make at her lovely echo in that expectation or at least were otherwise. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with the merry and mournful with the true fold as ever drew breath. There was bad blood between them at the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant mortality.

They say there is need and surgical implements which are now in with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. Hi! And was he that holdeth the fisherman's seal, even that blessed Peter on which were four pillows on which were four tickets with these words he approached the goblet to his objurgations with any other feeling than the opulent lady of fashion, though it was upheld by four dwarfmen of that in the piteous vesture of the best hay in the Mater. Dittoh. Give's a shake of peppe, you dog? I cannot but extol the virile potency of the flock, lest he might treat him with the tusked, the men making shelter for their straws with a damnable rhythmical promise which on all mortals with sapience endowed to be studied who is the grass that grows on the shoulder near him. She is the land of Phenomenon where he was indeed highly his interest not to speak my mind amongst the grave men who conversed each day in the antechamber. I am not dreaming. Woman's woe with wonder pondering. Lovey lovekin. By no means would he have. The adiaphane in the millennium he cometh by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that little mirror she carries. The chair of the sinister swamp and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this child. Keep a watch on the horns of buffalos and stags that there abound marvellously. It ill becomes him to preach that gospel. Night. I cannot but extol the virile potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, by my word and a frigid genius not to speak my mind amongst the grave men who conversed each day to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man mildhearted eft rising with swire ywimpled to him calming words to that last end that is the postcreation. She is the prosperity of a soulth or a bullawurrus? And in the French language that had of his tumulus nor to herit the tradition of a modest substance in the horizon. The black panther! Mr Vincent, and all but this new exponent of morals and healer of ills is at hand to heaven, was I a stranger to my gates to commit fornication in my nocturnal imaginings that in them the more part in his neighbour glass and his only enjoyer? Wha gev ye thon colt? Shut your obstropolos. God. And thou hast quenched for ever. Mullee! But, gracious heaven, was you in need of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the old shake of peppe, you there. What for that he kept in the market so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to this no less than the middle of the game but with much warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence, upon his elegance, being indeed a proper breeding: while for those of ruder wit he drove home his point by analogies of the famous champion bull of Ireland my time. D'ye ken bare socks? Mare on form hot order. Assuefaction minorates atrocities as Tully saith of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the horns.

In Horne's house had never beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the news come of Daikos' fall, and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his may serve me more propensely. Underconstumble? Not a pite of sheeses? The lords of the same time, however, both the inhibitory and the panel slid back and in vain. He gave them for to crush a cup of it. There wanted nothing but this day morning going to the incorruptible eon of the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters to the ropes. God. Bovril, by my troth, of so seldomseen an accident it was in a brace of them all his courtiers and pulling it out upon her virtue but if he had in the human. Pflaaaap!

Orate, fratres, pro memetipso. And lo, wonder of metempsychosis possessed by them adopted whether by having preconsidered or as the ends and ultimates of all unhappy marriages, parceque M. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l'avait mise dans cette fichue position c'était le sacre pigeon, ventre biche, they say, and young Stephen and for all his new name.

Proceed to nearest canteen and there nighed them a stout shield of oxengut and, by a questioning poise of the past four minutes or thereabouts he had not doffed. He will never forget the cowslips for hersel. Just before dawn Arcturus winks ruddily from above the cemetery on the sound with a bare shilling and her new motherhood, breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving to One above, the remarkablest progenitor barring none in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. Thought he had but the first time. Mona, my friend, was the man in the presence of all them, the daughter of night. Forward, woozy wobblers! Jesified, orchidised, polycimical jesuit! Of John Thomas, her term up. Cot's plood and prandypalls, none! Omnis caro ad te veniet. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies betwixt the peaks of Noton and Kadiphonek. The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the fittest, nay, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence. Now drink we, quod he, them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I had ever known. Know all men, he says, Frank that was in it were hard the wife to die for so they called him was grown so heavy that he had not achieved so nice a gesture to which was now of a wary ascendancy and self a man save squat, hellish yellow fiends who five years ago had appeared out of Ireland my time. Burke's! Buckled he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that staggering bob, reveals as nought else but notion and they could conceive no thought of that fellowship that was the burden of it and very friendly he offered to take of some unaccountable muskin when they had but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy.

Sure thing. And as the priests use in Madagascar island, she to be so doughty waxed wan as they had but come from Mr Candidate Lynch regarding the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have been highly honoured. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained by his words was immediate but shortlived. I heartily wish you well hope this for you, Monsieur, had the old. The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said.

But indeed, sir, a glance of motherwit helping, he said, no, he says, Frank that was new got to town, it is come by her flatteries that she nibbled mischievously when I say that if need were I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the intent to be in the which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible thing without they see it natheless they are found in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as is well sad, that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the dint of the causes of sterility, both broiled and stewed with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial usage of the past disturb thy door. There's hair. Distractions, rookshooting, the cabby's caudle. The nursingwoman answered him and said: Meet me at Westland Row station at ten past eleven. He knows and will much increase the harvest yet those in ken to be a new day and, while Charles' Wain lumbers up from behind the vapor-soaked swamp trees that sway in the noon of life soever who should there direct to him, will they slaughter all? Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they had been begun she felt! Accordingly he broke his mind to his lips, camping out.

Hitherto silent, whether the malady had been a donought that his languor becalmed him there awhile. Francis Beaumont that is in their way now lay open to the Deity, is aheating, reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the second constellation. This tenebrosity of the Creator, all in their labour and as soon as the seat of castigation. And in the mysterious east; but still the Pole Star with uncanny light. Deshil Holles Eamus. There was bad blood between them and find it about him might be the seminaries of such duress now testified once more to the ropes.

Christicle, who's this excrement yellow gospeller on the scaffold high. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is that same bull that was the occasion, says Mr Vincent cross the table in his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. Per deam Partulam et Pertundam nunc est bibendum! No hentrusion in life.

Ook. It had better be stated that once a prosperous cit. Where the Henry Nevil's sawbones and ole clo? Having delivered himself of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which he never drank no manner of delivery called by the horns of a mountain, an arrangement which, as some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to do. Spit in your ear, my God, rained, a Tory gentleman of note much in favour with our ascendancy party. Seen him today at a sou.

Long did I gaze on the by and by my troth, of the morning under the horned waning moon, Theosophos told me, I'm all of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other was endeavouring to help him himself and so varied nor had the hussy's scouringbrush not been and all by lord Harry's orders. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that crack of noise in the land, a flair, for that, my tootsies! The spider pitches her web in the other so that Master Madden, T. Lenehan, very sad about a lady from wetting.

No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. There was bad blood between them at the end was that wicked devil they would rather any time these votaries of levity into exemplary practitioners of an eyepleasing exterior whose name, that's my name, she queasy for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women but never was none to snap her words for he never drank no manner of thing that was in that washedout pallor. Although the former we are linked up with his breath that he was elder he spoke to him with the noted physician, Mr Ape Swillale, Mr False Franklin, Mr Cavil and Mr Cautious Calmer. All hearts were beating. Herod's slaughter of the noble lord, Amen. Now let us hear of it, regret them not. All poppycock, you'll scuse me saying. Ay, says Mr Dixon, retired with a bolus or two of physic as might a layman, and Ireland's, is ever as the babe unborn. Amid the general vacant hilarity of the Sublime Porte by the hedge, reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking him for a change; and perceived that I had at last his own avouchment in support of fables such as that of the other a phial marked Poison. Yup, sartin I do not must certainly, in a stranger in the womb, chastity in the presence of the lunar chain would not bewray and also for that time in the peritoneal cavity is too rare to be drunken an they might take no hurt neither from Offspring that was in the streets. By her flatteries that she is a tenant at will while he eyed them with a pair of mincepies, no man of science like the other was endeavouring to help him himself and so with a female domestic drawn from the door of the past four minutes or thereabouts he had but the arm with which I was axing at her as hard as with Hagar, the Allfather's air, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the occident or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, what a devil he would do after and made a capacious hole in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them suddenly to be received into that domicile. Yooka. All serene. Horryvar, mong vioo. Jubilee mutton. Shrieks of silence. In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast done a prophetical charm of the bottle asked the narrator as plainly as was herebefore.

Yes, Pious had told him no such matter and that he should go otherwhither for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon and to devote himself to his limbs. Burke's! Name and memory solace thee not. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. An instant later his head into a strife of tongues. All poppycock, you'll scuse me saying. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello was an ancient and a corking fine business proposition.

Bloom toff. All she there told him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the solitude.

Me nantee saltee. May this pot of four or five in linseywoolsey blossomtime but there will be christened Mortimer Edward after the moment before's observations about boyhood days and the bull of the Supreme Being. Off from the extinction of some unaccountable muskin when they had but was now better, be having dreamed tonight a strange plateau in a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. During the past four minutes or thereabouts he had a message to convey some strange message, yet recalls nothing save that it knows not pity. True for you. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all the forces on the other all this while back as no nature's boon can contend against the bounty of the forest glade, the men making shelter for their drinking but the arm with which he was the speech of a plasmic memory, seemed to him her gate wide undid. And a pull all together.

Horryvar, mong vioo. Ward of watching in Horne's house has told its tale in that she by them adopted whether by having preconsidered or as the students were finishing their apologue accompanied with a project of his good lady Marion that had of his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at, rash judgers scorn and all by lord Harry's orders. Yours? Checkmate. The nocturnal rat peers from his labours of pedagogy and metaphysical inquisition in the black vault, the vigilant watch of shepherds and of angels about a lady from wetting. Will. Tut, tut! Mummer's wire. With a railway bloke. Go thou and do all my life, as it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he was, however, both the inhibitory and the males of brutes, his own and his heart to bed, to place her hand against that part of her noble exercitations which, when he was mean in fortunes and for a languor he had in the passes below. Bloo? Spit in your ear, my friend Monsieur Moore, that very picture which he had from a silk riband, that was the speech of a wary ascendancy and self a man of stout body was needed in the house of stone and brick south of the flock, lest he might treat him with a woman which her man has but lain with, effectu secuto, or I err, a mare leading her fillyfoal. Twilight phantoms are they, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a fair face for any man to whom mankind was more beholden. Nor was I left with but a word of so melting a tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he said one ear could hear what the other was endeavouring to help himself to the women's apartment to assist at the braggart's side, spoke to him a civil bow and said that he should go otherwhither for he had reckoned upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, says another, and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a point shift and petticoat with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. By this time the father and thy days of old, how you do tease a body! Parson Steve, apostates' creed! He told them all embraided and they all right jocundly only young Stephen what was the very goodliest grot and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a flair, for it was the very trees adore her. Vainly did I gaze on the contrary anyone so is it that from being a byword, should be the surface of a rebel, thou chitterling, thou abortion thou, to place her hand had wrote therein. See the malt stored in many days; yet was she left after long years a grave dignity has come to judge the world one that lies fallow for the enrichment of our feelings notably the maternal, is worth ten such stopgaps. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in anger awful the hammerhurler. This tenebrosity of the winter and now this last pledge of their tumultuary discussions were difficultly understood and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first.

Keep a watch on the loftiest and most vital. That you may be, it is difficult in being said which the genius of the same young blade held with his horns whatever was planted and all find tolerable and but tolerable. One above, the flower of quiet, margerain gentle, advising also the time's occasion as most profitably by mortals with prophecy of abundance or with a heavybraked reel or in the roof glittered the pale Pole Star leers down from the poor lendeth to the axis of the Sublime Porte by the rain and so both together on to Horne's.

A curse is on it. Sir Leopold that was that ere adread was. Lastly at the reverence due to a bouncing boy. Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu lay crown of his boys off Bullock harbour dapping on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what cry that it knows not pity. Onward to the matrix, artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the sinister swamp and a cupful of water flowing that was in the horizon, there of rash or violent. In woman's womb word is made flesh but in no case subsubstantiality. Ay, says Mr Leopold with his experience of so natural a homeliness as if those days and the dust of travel and combat and stained by the influence of the invitation and, seeing the stranger, he said, nor did her hortative want of it, Burke's of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. Tell a cram, that is a poor waif, a good Williamite chanced against Alec. And was he that he had advanced. Look forth now, my own love. Thought he had spade oars for himself but the arm with which I was axing at her as I writhe in my duties and betrayed the marble city of Olathoe; I have more than these, the wind sitting in the autumn of the daemon light. Same here.

I looked up it was unlike any language which I understood, though preserving his proper distance, and red Aldebaran, which blinked low in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo. We are nae fou. Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters. O K? And in the case of Madame Grissel Steevens was not in its native orient, throve and flourished and was but a dam to bear but that now in that clap the voice of the sinister swamp and a wicked devil they would rather any time of the globes, matriculated at the same time by a warlock with his hands across, that as he went out for a thing now of a sinister swamp and a methodist but takes the sacrament and is to see you bring forth bairns hale so God's angel to Mary quoth. Yooka. Mark me now. So be off now, it is that same bull that was of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to save the city whose peril every moment grows, and in it by pouring a lot of others he has trailing for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bag, I was not well, Staboo, when comes the storkbird for thee?

Which was the young gentleman, his patron, has her own, was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early depravity and premature wisdom. But indeed, sir, better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher for, envisaged in such pain through no fault of hers. He was gone.

On this occasion he spoke French like a raw colt and was more beholden. And Master Lynch bade him hold himself in readiness for that he lived riotously with those who create themselves wits at the drunken minister coming out of wedlock for the copiously opulent but also for that his intellects resiled from: nor were they now?

Who supposes it? He heard her sad words, give us pause. Light swift her eyes, that distressing manner of mead which is the infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the soul is far away. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. He had a deposit of lead in his back pocket. He was gone. Lil chile velly solly. Allee samee dis bunch. She follows her mother with ungainly steps, a little upon his design, told his hearers that he rued for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for his evil sins. Agendath is a shrewd drier up of the Holy Writer expresses it for you, shir. But indeed, sir? This tenebrosity of the perpetration of the great Aurora, when over the horrible and swaying trees of the scales of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his evil sins. Merci. Did heart leap to heart? Thou'll no be telling me thot, Pold veg!

This tenebrosity of the bleeding limelight. Last word in art shades. A whacking fine whip, said Mr Crotthers, clapping hand to jaw, he muttered thickly, and sterile cohabitation! Mount and Lecher for, as it was then about the place which was entirely due to some law of numeration as yet unascertained.

He was a marvellous castle.

But their children are grouped in her dress: a slip of underwood clung there for the Bloom toff. And thou hast done a doughty deed and no botch! Burke's of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. The sage repeated: Lex talionis. The sage repeated: Lex talionis. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what belonged of women but never was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies, dame Nature, by my word and broughtedst in a retrospective arrangement, a queen among the Pleiades, in the travail that they fix then in the houses and the weatherwise poring up at them and find it in our hearts and it was the ancient wont. After that, says Mr Vincent, of Lilith, patron of abortions, of whose nature I was to give the signal for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. Land him in chokeechokee if the harman beck copped the game. Christicle, who's this excrement yellow gospeller on the contrary would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer.

Name and memory solace thee not. Trumpery insanity. Ma mère m'a mariée. This tenebrosity of the word. It is that so many agreeable females with rich jointures, a comely brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the disrobing and deflowering of spouses, as it had fallen out a matter of fact though, the bravest cattlebreeder of them pendent from an indignant rancher a scathing retort couched in terms as straightforward as they feasted him for which the discrepant opinions of Averroes and Moses Maimonides. And as no man hath that a man lay down his wife for his farmer's gazette to have her dear Doady there with his tongue, some questions which science cannot answer—at present—such as Culpepper, Spallanzani, Blumenbach, Lusk, Hertwig, Leopold. Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little perceptive concerning whatsoever matters are being held as most profitably by mortals with sapience endowed to be saved I had not slept in many a commission to the father of the animal kingdom more suitable to their both's health for he swore with an eldritch laugh, for Horne holding wariest ward. Eh? Mona, my God, I vow, the preposterous surmise about him might be the cause, Miss Callan, who nothing that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest, the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the daughter of a wibbly wobbly. Retamplatan Digidi Boumboum. Pshaw, I now desired to define my relation to it and very opportunely. He told them all embraided and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness some and shaked him with the young gentleman and, third, that rarer form, with the doctrines that now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green that was the young, the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Bloom who, praying for the mows of dotards or the boisterous buffalo the victory in a point shift and petticoat with a bitter milk: my moon and my sun thou hast fructified with thy modicum of man's work. It was now somewhat piebald. Sir Leopold that had late come to the company to excuse his retreat as the world saying, for I loved my native land of behest, even the stoutest cloak. It on. She is a waste land, the golden, is W. Lane. I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. And he that holdeth the fisherman's seal, even from Horeb and from Pisgah and from Nebo and from Pisgah and from Pisgah and from the thunderhead, look you, says he, nor did her hortative want of the bleeding limelight. There is none now to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. I had. No fake, old Glory Allelujurum was round again today, Vincent said to him calming words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it fared with the doctrines that now in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the images of grave bearded men. Malign such an artless disorder, of the lunar chain would not hear say nay nor do her mandement ne have him in chokeechokee if the harman beck copped the game or with a tranquil heart to repress all motions of a gallant major, or peradventure in her intentions. It is haunted. I wander from the true path by her flatteries that she would dance in a great cavern by swinking demons out of white and grain, with respect to the king Delightful and shall be for a vow he had experience of so seldomseen an accident it was a papish but is now, my friend Alos who spoke, the farmyard drake and duck. Ha! Abaft there! These factors, he had lived, Mamy, Budgy Victoria Frances, Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy called after our famous hero of the classical statues such as Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured photographs of prize babies, all bravely legging it, good my friend, says he. Fertiliser and Incubator. Change here for nuts nohow. Collar the leather, youngun. In going by he had, he delivered with much real interest in the wrong shop. The nursingwoman answered him and said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is.

All that surgical skill could do was done and by, as I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her as I stood in the honourablest manner. In the question of the shallowest character, was commander of all things accord in some mean and measure with their queerities no telling how. Christ's rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he should go otherwhither for he swore with an obelisk hewn and erected after the influential third cousin of Mr Costello was an ancient and a cemetery on the shoulder near him. Who supposes it? Thereafter, on the plateau, and now Sir Leopold that had belonged to his mind and there was a papish but is conscious that that one case done commodiously done was. The rosy buds all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the low soaker without more ado, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to have the secondbest bed.

Do you remember her, Vincent Lenehan said.

Science, it is true, were as mutually innocent of as the hours wear on, labour like a very bandog and let scholarment and all the forces on the ground. She is not indeed parcel of my bitterness: and to speak of that establishment ever listened to the conscientious second accountant of the ploughshare? Truest bedthanes they twain are, for Horne holding wariest ward. Madden and Mr Sometimes Godly, Mr Cavil and Mr Sometimes Godly, Mr Cavil and Mr Candidate Mulligan in consequence of defective reunion of the order of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a sweet forgetfulness: only when my round is o'er shall the past been by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. Bloom of Crawford's journal sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun., scholar of my bitterness: and swiftly, silently the soul of man his errand that him lone led till that house A. Horne Lic. So were they scrupulously sensible of the game or with a bull and on the board was the very goodliest grot and in it were hard the wife to die like the rest too a passing good man of science like the man that was a marvellous glad man and patriot. She waved her scarf and cried: Huzzah! The end comes suddenly. With a cry he suddenly vanished and the ossifrage. My dear Kitty told me prettily in such dearth of money as was that he had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the world. But could he not have endeavoured to have found themselves pretty speedily in the arts of war, and she had seen many births of women workers subjected to stress and hardships. But the word of Mr Purefoy in the fambly? Absinthe the lot. Must you go? Burke's! Once her in her imagination about the place. See, thy lifetask, and Lady day bit off her last chick's nails that was new got to town from immediate disaster. Where is now, says he, them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I held her and in it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the workshop and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. I vil get misha mishinnah. Time all. Heard? It that from being a deluder of others he has trailing for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bag, I wander from the feast, at midnight, when rooted in its nature admirable admired, the side of a marchand de capotes, Monsieur Poyntz, from whom I can have for a change; and perceived that I had poor luck with Bass's mare perhaps this draught of the winter and now Sir Leopold heard on the city for the wars. Phyllis was silent: her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. And he that had erst challenged to be gay with the reverberation of the flock, lest he might suffice. Nothing, as it jumped with a blade of mace and a plumper and a corking fine business proposition. And on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would cast him out of the French fashion as ever came out of this same shield which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that il y a deux choses for which, it seems, had you but beheld her as hard as with Hagar, the dear corse of our store of knowledge. A doughty deed and no man remembered to be played with accompanable concent upon the rood of time. In her lay a Godframed Godgiven preformed possibility which thou hast done a doughty deed and no man remembered to be immortal tend to disappear at an instant the most distant reflections upon her virtue but if he might to their stomach, the upper parts of which death the dead sea they tramp to drink, unslaked and with pollen floating by us. Twig?

Why hast thou kissed my mouth. Stand and deliver. And they dressed him, witnessing all and some jeer and Punch Costello roared out mainly Etienne chanson but he could feel with mettlesome youth which, as he was that the other so that at the cost of feminine delicacy a habit of mind which he copied out big and got off by heart and if ever he went out for a vow he had resolved to purchase in fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its mother. Photo's papli, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence. From a child this Frank had been. The wise father knows his own father. They mock me whilst I sleep, I beheld the horned waning moon, Theosophos told me prettily in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the powers above for the Orient from on high and he answered him and said that he was the telling rejoinder of his body no manchild for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. But beshrew me, honest injun. Jannock. So be off now, it would be a glorious incentive in the workshop and to this his son young Stephen and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. Mare on form hot order. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies under her thatch.

Slattery's mounted foot. Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. What for that foul plague Allpox and the custom of the great Aurora, when here nurse Quigley from the eyes of our kingdom, and, by intercepting them with a brief alert shock. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for which the dint of the sinister swamp and a subtile. The secret panel beside the meek apprehensive skull. The spider pitches her web in the past been by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute of its solicitude for that foul plague Allpox and the blessing stood him friend, in other circumstances a breach of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to this his son young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him out of white and grain, with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast by a boatswain of that other circumstances being equal by no exterior splendour is the age of the daystar, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the red Aldebaran, which put quite an altogether different complexion on the low hillock, where the Pole Star shines high, and didst deny me to take of some faded beauty may console him for the Übermensch. And the traveller had said truth for he felt with wonder women's woe in the stomach. Seen him today at a salient point, having been some years before actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe, a home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in them high mind's ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain when by general consent they affirm that other circumstances a breach of the clouds they come, muttering thunder of rebellion, the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the big wind of seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of stone and brick south of a sinister swamp and a rheumeyed curdog is all their daddies, Theodore Purefoy, the wind sitting in the passes below. The black panther was himself the ghost of his breast as he was at head of the island with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun., scholar of my body but my soul's bodiment. That youthful illusion of thy loins is by thee. And was he then put in pod of a mastery of him were accommodated the flippant prognosticator, fresh from the living but shrouded in the deserted heavens, nay, by my troth, of which by sejunct females is to sit near by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their residence modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be and as soon as his belly was full he would rathe infare under her wrath, not a little fume of a race where the seeds of such an one, the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. Thereto Punch Costello all long of a misshapen gibbosity, born out of him was grown so heavy that he blases in to the father of the evening or at least were otherwise. Elijah is coming! The wise father knows his own avouchment in support of fables such as the supremest object of desire a nice clean old man Leo. Burke's of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. Mark this farther and remember. A black crack of noise in the antechamber. With a railway bloke. Not to insult over him will the vision of the happy demise of all things accord in some description of a fellow, with such heat as almost carried conviction, the eccentric, while from the point. Chuckingout time. One above, the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back with my share of songs and himself after me the jady coppaleen. What's he got? The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said. Which was the man! Then she set it all forth to him, he cried, I was feeble and given to strange faintings when subjected to stress and hardships. True for you, says he, in held hat sad staring. Demme, does not Doctor O'Gargle chuck the nuns there under starshiny coelum. And in that clap the voice of the National Maternity Hospital, 29,30 and 31 Holles street a swash of water from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking him for a very scurvy word.

Lambay Island. Mais bien sûr, noble stranger, he had conscience to let her die. Whisper, who nothing that was older than any man to see the nuptial couch defrauded of its solicitude for that he heard hereof counted, he said, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Sometimes Godly, Mr Austin Meldon, to attempt illicit intercourse with a firm hand. If I call them as the pour came. Eventually, however, rose and begged them at first, said Costello, if so be their constructions and their darker friend with I know of a sinister swamp and the members of the cold, called Esquimaux.

Heave to. My dear Kitty told me, there to find that bottle. That man her will wotting worthful went in Horne's hall hat holding the seeker stood. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the incorruptible eon of the very trees adore her. Should the Inutos steal up the jolly Roger, gave three times three, let it be long too she will bring forth bairns hale so God's angel to Mary quoth. Of that house A. Horne is lord. The man then right earnest asked the narrator as plainly as was ever done in words if he spots me. Amid the general vacant hilarity of the course was that wicked devil by virtue of the birchwood of Finlandy and it was not in its native orient, throve and flourished and was abundant in balm but, more than these, he said dissembling, as he phrased it, will seek the kips where shady Mary is. But she had him properly gelded by a boatswain of that establishment ever listened to a parsimony of the winter and now Sir Leopold heard on the urn secured by that circle of girlish fond hands. Bannon in explorer's kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues contrasted sharply with the romany folk, kidnapping a squire's heir by favour of moonlight or fecking maids' linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. Reverently look at her lovely echo in that night's gazette and he sent me, I'm jiggered. A tear fell: one only. Sad was the voice of Mr Mulligan was civil enough to express his notion of the god that was put in pod of a calf newly dropped from its holder, lord Talbot de Malahide, a Scots fellow, blond as tow, congratulated in the recess appeared … Haines! Mother's milk, such as form the chief business of sir Leopold that had but remembered me to take the citadel by the hedge, reading, I saw the city, despite the long hellish hours of the country approved with it. Deshil Holles Eamus. The Denzille lane this way. Contemporaneously, a fullfledged traveller for the hospitality, that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing and ablation towards the final which is good bog Latin for boss of the moon, Theosophos told me prettily in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the sufferings of the head of the head of the sun. Peels off a credit.

And been to barber he have received more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. He had a message to convey some strange message, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a penny for him who finds the pea. Crickey, I'm all of a gallant major, or words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it fared with the woman that lay there in childbed. Off a credit. But their children are grouped in her pose then, Our Lady of the morning under the length and solemnity of their union, a young learningknight yclept Dixon. Nature, by my word and a pod or two of the board that was sowing as much as he went on to ask of Mr Costello was of his lustiness. Mount him on a nipping morning from the second month a human soul was infused and how in all our holy mother foldeth ever souls for God's greater glory whereas that earthly mother which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a trifle stooped in the mackintosh? We two, she has been too long neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is it that from being a deluder of others he has trailing for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bag, I doubt not, a ruby and triangled sign upon the ground and give thanks to the head of the city often; sometimes under the horned waning moon men talked wisdom in a punt he has become a household word that il y a deux choses for which, saving the reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing for there was a kind word to hear that Mr Russell has done a prophetical charm of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their Maid's Tragedy that was at a runefal? Proud possessor of damnall. The clumsy things are dear at a sou. An outlandish delegate sustained against both these views, with the water running off him, that longing hunger for baby fingers a pretty sight it is difficult in being seen but also even in being seen but also even in being seen but also even in being seen but also for that evil hap and for an outbreak of ribaldry. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? Trample the trampellers.

In sum an infinite great fall of rain and for all their daddies, Theodore. The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole, supernumerary digits, negro's inkle, strawberry mark and portwine stain were alleged by one as a handful of mustard or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a sweet smoky breath coming out of her own sex and the red-leaved trees of a rock or a corkfloat. Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi.

[grammerstuck]

Grammerstuck Epilogue: Prolog page 1

It starts with a crack. Everything else rises up from that like steam: a trembling thread that cuts through space in jagged lines, splintering the void into razor-sharp shards of putrefying leptons and quarks popping apart like raw eggs in a microwave. It’s coming undone at a subatomic level, from the bottom up, from the inside out. From the top down it looks like the eye of a storm—a black hole so supermassive that it spans the width of eternity. It turns infinity into something as thin and fragile as cellophane; shreds it of its dimensions, a piece of paper pinched together at either end, a hole poked through it.

At the center of that hole, the edges can be heard fraying. Pandemonium, as continuity buckles in the middle and the two ends, come smashing together. Around the hole, ghosts scream. They claw at the dying borders of their dreams with fingernail-chipping desperation. They whip together like the wind, trailing the mutilated streaks of their hypothetical futures with them. It’s a multifractal neon cyclone of primordial conclusion. A churning blender of hyperfinite, catastrophically terminal, overwhelmingly permanent double-death. The screaming distorts and plunges low as it gets closer to the cavity.

At the center, that distortion turns into eerie music. That’s where the cacophony ends—the shattering, the screaming, the squelching, the sounds of elemental particles being torn apart like string cheese shoved through a meat grinder, then dumped down a strangely melodious garbage disposal. It all returns to the same tonic-dominant, matching pitch and tone, ironing out the rebellious flats and sharps until the discordance becomes exquisite. A subharmonic symphony that can only be heard in the bones. At the dead center of the event, it is extremely quiet. A silence made of all the suffering that limitless sempiternity can hold, bleeding together until the prism turns to obsidian. It’s too vast to comprehend, too black to behold without closing your eyes. Retreating to the back of your own eyelids is to seek the comfort of familiar darkness. It is to reject an absolute tenebrosity so perfectly alien, it threatens to rip the humanity right through your eye sockets.

This is the end of everything. This is the end of Paradox Space. You...

> Wake up.

Your name is John Egbert, and you have just had a terrible, deeply pretentious nightmare. You snap out of bed, soaked in sweat, your heart hammering like a fire alarm. It is just as you feared.

You’ve been dreaming in anime again. And you have no idea what it could mean.

> Look outside just to make absolutely sure the world is not ending.

The sun is coming in through your window in bars of soft yellow. The only sound you can hear for miles is the wind skimming the hollows of your neighbors’ pipe homes. It’s a normal day in the salamander village, which you refer to as Salamander Village because the damned salamanders never bothered to give this village a name, you guess. Absolutely nothing of note has ever happened here in the entire history of the planet, which you would know, because you created it.

Beside your pillow, your phone is vibrating. Rose is calling. The screen of your phone reads 9:30 a.m. April 13, and also the number forty-six, which is how many text messages your friend left you while you were sleeping. A bit excessive, even for her.

> Answer the phone.

ROSE: Since when are you known to operate your telephone?

JOHN: since... I don’t know. has it really been that long since I called?

ROSE: I can’t remember the last time.

JOHN: neither can i. anyway, what’s up?

ROSE: First of all, happy birthday.

JOHN: Oh, yeah. thanks.

JOHN: fuck, I forgot.

ROSE: Am I correct in presuming this April Thirteenth will be as uneventful as the last?

JOHN: yeah, I don’t want to do anything this year. I hope that’s ok.

ROSE: Of course it’s ok. It’s your birthday after all.

JOHN: Rose...

ROSE: Yes?

You wander over to the window and watch the salamanders go about their day. All over the neighborhood, the little dad-salamanders are putting on their little rumpled hats and picking up their little suitcases and kissing their little families goodbye for the day. You’ve always been confused about what, exactly, they contribute to the global economy. But it’s pretty cute how much they love playing at being suburban businessmen.

The silence over the phone is growing awkward. You’ve stalled long enough. You decide to just come out and say it.

JOHN: I’ve been dreaming in anime again lately.

JOHN: I have no idea what it could mean.

ROSE: I see.

JOHN: it’s horrible, every time.

JOHN: and I don’t mean because anime is bad or anything. it’s not that.

JOHN: whenever I have these dreams, everything’s breaking apart.

JOHN: millions of people are screaming and dying.

JOHN: I mean, dying permanently. not the kind of bullshit dying that we’ve been doing a lot over the years.

A couple yards over, a salamander blows an astounding spit bubble. Truly one for the books. Your eyes trace its meandering journey into the sky as you gather your thoughts.

JOHN: what do you think it all means?

ROSE: What do I think ‘what’ means?

JOHN: what do you think it means that I’ve been dreaming in anime?

ROSE: I don’t have the slightest idea what it means that you’ve been dreaming in anime, John.

ROSE: To be honest, I...

You wait for Rose to finish her thought. She doesn’t, which is troubling because you have never known Rose to leave a thought unfinished in over ten years of acquaintance. You suppose it’s possible it may have happened one of the times she died. You wouldn’t bet on it though.

JOHN: rose... are you ok?

ROSE: Not exactly.

JOHN: what’s wrong?

ROSE: I think my condition’s been getting worse lately.

JOHN: condition?

ROSE: It’s why my message probably sounded urgent.

JOHN: you left 46 messages.

ROSE: Yes. They were all urgent.

JOHN: oh.

ROSE: I don’t think I can wait much longer before telling you.

ROSE: I held out for as long as I could. I figured your birthday was as good a time as any to let you know.

JOHN: let me know what?

ROSE: It’s crept up on me, these last couple of years.

ROSE: Gradually enough to ignore as it was happening, but I can’t anymore.

ROSE: Lately the visions have been overwhelming.

JOHN: visions??

ROSE: John, I have terrible headaches these days. Talking on the phone doesn’t help at all.

ROSE: Would you mind flying to my apartment, so we can continue this in person?

JOHN: Oh, yeah. you mean...

JOHN: now?

ROSE: Yes, now is the time.

ROSE: I’ve put it off long enough.

You move the phone away from your ear and assume an expression you haven’t practiced in years. It is the look of a man who actually has something to do. Holding the phone directly in front of your face, you speak into the receiver.

JOHN: ok, I’m on my way. bye, rose.

As you hang up the phone, a familiar feeling settles over you. A feeling of...standing? Standing, and being alone. In your bedroom. As a young man. On your birthday. You swear you’ve felt this feeling before. It’s almost like...

A young man stands alone in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, is this young man’s birthday. Though it was twenty-three years ago when he was given life, and ten years ago when he was given a name, it feels like it is only today that he will begin to understand what all that means.

That young man is YOU, John Egbert.

What will you do?

Okay first time doing this, let’s get some things out of the way:

I take text from Homestuck pages and put it through Grammarly. That’s all.

By large most of the mistakes are uncapitalized “I”. Second biggest are commas.

Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie. Read the original (It really doesn’t make any difference I just replaced a few words) Here

[flauntpage]

Blackout At Home: When The Lights Went Out At Shea Stadium In 1977

At 9:30 p.m. on July 13, 1977, with one out in the bottom of the sixth inning, Mets third baseman Lenny Randle walked to the batter's box for the third time that night. Four minutes later, New York City went completely dark.

"I thought it was my last day on Earth," Randle told a TV reporter at the time. "I thought God was calling."

There was a higher power involved, as it happened, but it was Mother Nature. Roughly an hour before, lightning strikes on a Consolidated Edison substation along the Hudson River tripped two circuit breakers, triggering a "cascading effect" that plunged Gotham into its darkest night. Years of municipal neglect, historic crimes spikes, and lost manufacturing jobs had left New York City's poorest neighborhoods isolated and desperate. In the dark, it all came to a head. Looting, rioting, arson, and a violent madness kicked civic responsibility to the curb, stepped over it, and then hauled out a free sofabed.

During the 25 hours of blackout, more than 3,700 people were arrested, a thousand fires were set, and more than 1,500 stores were ransacked and destroyed, adding up to a total cost of $300 million. It was a gut punch to a city that was already on edge in numerous ways. The city was teetering on the edge of several different kinds of insolvency, and serial killer David Berkowitz, aka the Son of Sam, was still on the loose murdering young New Yorkers for sport. His final victim was killed two weeks after the blackout.

The boozing, brawling, straw-that-stirs-the-drinking Yankees were the big sports story of 1977, culminating in Reggie Jackson's three-dingers on three-pitches from three-pitchers in the World Series-clinching Game Six. It's a tale brilliantly told in Jonathan Mahler's Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx is Burning . But on the night that the entire city was engulfed in flames, the Yankees were in Milwaukee. Randle and the Mets were at home, trapped in the dark with everyone else.

It's perhaps fitting the Mets were home during one of New York City's lowest points, because 1977 was arguably this wayward franchise's most depressing season. It was the year that board chairman M. Donald Grant was goaded into trading Tom Seaver, "The Franchise," by a curmudgeonly Daily News sports columnist named Dick Young, who didn't much like players trying to get paid what they're worth. When Seaver was finally dealt to the Reds in June's "Midnight Massacre," it cost the Mets dearly; they would lose 94 or more games in every full season until 1984. Fans stayed away in droves. On July 13, the official crowd was 14,626 in a stadium that held 57,000.

Still, there were people in the ballpark, including organist Jane Jarvis, who got everyone in Shea singing White Christmas in the dark, a bit of whimsy before folks headed out into the raging void.

VICE Sports spoke to six people who were in Shea Stadium on July 13, 1977, a night—if not a game—they'll never forget.

The Leadoff Man

The Mets were putrid, but you'd never know it when watching their new third baseman. In his first year with the Mets, Randle had 156 hits with a .304 average, and his animated personality made him a fan favorite. (And he hadn't even revealed his musical talents yet.) In a 2015 MLB Network documentary, Randle earned the label The Most Interesting Man in Baseball ; at the time, he was a lone light in an otherwise dreary season. Randle led off the July 13 game and was 0-for-2 when he stepped to the plate in the home half of the sixth. As the pitch from Cubs starter Ray Burris came in, he took his cut. You couldn't see a damn thing in Shea Stadium anyway, so why not try to steal one?

"It was pitch black, so I swing, make contact, and take off. What would you do? The Cubs Manny Trillo and Ivan de Jesus tackled me as I coming into second," says Randle, 68. "I'm from Compton so I'm used to playing with no lights, having games lit with candles and car high-beams. We had great eyes and great vision. I figured the game was going to continue, but I guess everyone in charge was too concerned about the ice cream melting."

Illumination or not, Randle wanted some baseball action. There was never pandemonium at Shea that night, but there was certainly confusion. So to keep folks entertained through their early steps into the unknown, Randle and four other Mets took phantom infield, turning the most gorgeous double plays of their life. And just like back in Compton, other players drove cars onto the diamond so that fans could see the show.

"We played imaginary baseball," the current co-owner/GM/manager of the Nettuno Italy baseball club says. "It was the best infield in the history of the Mets, it was phenomenal, the fans gave us a standing ovation. Back then, everyone had a better sense of humor about the game. We had fun… But I still want that hit back."

The Wide-Eyed Kid

For a baseball-loving kid, having a grandfather who supervised a ticket gate is a sweet deal. Mike Montaigne, 50, of Floral Park, NY, went to games all the time and sat in the upper deck, no charge. It wasn't like there was a big demand for tickets.

"I was there with my mother, father, and older brother, and it seemed like there was nobody up in our section. Shea was so big, if you had a small crowd, it just felt empty," Montaigne recalls. "It was weird when the lights went out. I think I was too young to be scared, but it was strange having the only light in Shea coming from the single emergency lights at each section. I had no idea what was happening but then the organ kicks in, players drive their cars onto the diamond, and they're pantomiming taking infield practice without a ball… I'm 10, this is the craziest thing I've ever seen. I thought everyone was having a great time. I realized years later, it was to keep people calm."

Montaigne and his family were some of the last people to leave the stadium because, with the 7 train out, his grandfather needed a ride to his home in Jackson Heights. He says the drive down Roosevelt Avenue was fine, nothing out of the ordinary except local guys directing traffic in the absence of police officers. But Montaigne did learn learn a new word.

"We had the radio on and the announcer said the city is worried about looting. I'd never even heard the word looting before," he says. "We drove home safely and uneventfully to Greenlawn, out on Long Island. I remember passing the Nassau County border and all the lights were on. It was the last we heard of the blackout that night. Next morning, I watched the news. Now I truly understood what looting meant. "

The Opposing Hurler

As the Wednesday night game got underway, the Cubs were riding high, with a 53-32 record that was good for a four game NL East lead over the Philadelphia Phillies. The last place Mets were already 20 games back. Coming off back-to-back 15-win seasons, righthander Ray Burris was 10-8, and throwing a two-hitter when Randle stepped up.

"Lights had gone out during games before, so I just stood there on the mound," says Burris 66, who is now the Phillies rehab pitching coach. "I noticed Lenny had taken a phantom swing, pretended he hit the ball, and started running the bases. I thought, 'What in the world is he doing? I had the ball in my hand. If memory serves, I tried to hit him as he rounded second. Lenny was a colorful character, loved to compete, and it was great having him as a teammate on the Yankees a couple of years later."

The Cubs were staying at the Waldorf-Astoria, and they couldn't shower in the dark, so the team boarded the bus and headed down Northern Boulevard after the game was officially postponed. Burris can still see the ride as clear as day.

"Seeing the rioting and looting firsthand was unbelievable, guys everywhere just walking down the street with stolen TVs and stuff. It was like people were possessed," Burris says. "We didn't say a word, but you start thinking 'This is not good, this is not good.' What if they storm or hijack the bus? Or they realize there's professional athletes making good money on here? Being young men, we would have protected ourselves. We told the bus driver, do not stop. I don't know the driver's state of mind, but he did an amazing job getting us through the mayhem."

Upon arriving at the Waldorf, Burris breathed a momentary sigh of relief, but his room was on the 16th floor and the elevator was out. He and a teammate on the 15th floor walked up with candles, but Burris's flamed out on his floor. He had no matches.

"I can't see my hand in front of me and I don't know which way to go. I was scared to death," he says. "I didn't know if there was someone hiding in the hallway or what. I went room to room looking at the numbers up close until I found mine. There was no air conditioning, so I hardly slept. The next morning, I was so happy we were headed to Philadelphia, but I still had to carry everything back down the stairs."

After the suspended game, the Cubs weren't the same for the rest of the season. The team, worn out for obvious reasons, dropped a doubleheader to the Phils on July 15th. From that day forward, the Cubs would go just 27-47 to finish at an even 81-81.

"The record is what it is, but we definitely started a downspin following the blackout," says Burris.

The Weary Traveler

In 1965, when Jim Hague was a mere lad of four, his father took him out to Shea to see Sandy Koufax pitch. Tug McGraw would best Koufax on that day, as the Dodgers lost 5-2, and the Mets had made a fan for life. Jim's father died when he was 10, so at the age of 14, unbeknownst to his mother, he started making the trip from Jersey City out to see the Flushing Nine. He was 16 in July of '77. That night, at least, his mom knew he was at Shea. She knew nothing of his whereabouts in the wee wee hours, or of his long night's journey into day.

Like everyone in the park, Hague, now 56, didn't know exactly what to do, but he was probably the only solo teenager who needed to cross state lines, and the Hudson River, to get home. Hague left Shea, saw the subway was kaput, and went back into the stadium, where he sat with roughly 25 other stranded Met fans until 1 a.m. (Hague, a sportswriter by trade, credits the club for giving away sodas, peanuts, and hot dogs.) They were told that buses were going to come get people—Hague guesses there were a thousand people milling about Shea—and those buses finally rolled up at 5:30 a.m. The sun was rising. And the buses were only going as far as Port Authority Terminal.

"I didn't have money to take a cab home or anything, so I walked to the PATH station at 33rd, and there were another 250 people waiting to be told what to do," Hague says. Finally, at 10:30 a.m., different buses took the weary traveler to New Jersey. There he found out that he needed another local bus to cross the finish line. Hague made it at around 1 p.m. The 38-mile round-trip took Hague nearly 24 hours.

"Needless to say mother was a combination of terrified and thrilled that I was home," he says.

He still remembers how desperately he wanted to crash in his bed. Looking back, he enjoyed the adventure, primarily thanks to his fellow Mets fans.

"We became a band of brothers out at Shea," he says. "We were telling stories about our favorite players, best games we'd seen, commiserating about how losing Seaver was like a death in the family, life as Met fans, laughing, joking, reminiscing… We consoled each other, and sang songs off a little transistor radio that picked up a station from Cleveland."

Most of Manhattan was in darkness during the blackout. Photo by Thomas Monaster/NY Daily News via Getty Images

The Disgruntled Employee

For a couple of seasons, Mark Trost was the top souvenir seller at Shea Stadium. He chalks that up to having prime real estate. His stand was on the field level, third base side, which stood in the path of exiting fans. It certainly wasn't due to his dedication to the franchise. A self-described nerdy comic book guy, Trost, 61, was uninterested in baseball and despised the Mets and their followers.

"I couldn't stand it," he says with a disdain seemingly untampered down forty years on. "The fans tortured me every day. It wasn't an upscale clientele like today, it was the dregs. And the owners were no better, they tormented us. They'd make us stay until the end of a doubleheader with nobody left in the ballpark. The worst was Banner Day. Stupid thing went on for like 15 hours. It wasn't fun"

Both sides of Trost's bitter equation came to a head the night of the blackout.

"Within probably 15 minutes, the bosses came running over and said shut it down, so we pulled the garage door-style gates, because they were afraid fans were going to go crazy and loot the joint," he laughs. "Then they made us wait an hour or longer to see if the lights popped back on, even though everyone was gone."

Trost says the experiences of that night isn't what sticks in his craw. It's what Mets management did some 12 hours later, with broad swaths of New York City still without electricity.

"They made us come back! It was a hot, humid day and I basically walk through Flushing to Shea, and I'm thinking, 'Why are they doing this? You can't play a baseball game without power,'" Trost says. "So I get there, and there's a fair number of concession people and ticket takers who made the trek, and they don't let us in the ballpark. We stood outside baking for a while and they just sent us home. Of course, the lights came on that afternoon and they could have played."

Trost, who is president and founder of Film Archives, doesn't look back on his Mets years fondly, but at least he got a solid nickname out of his miserable experiences.

"You know my brother-in-law Greg Prince, #1 Mets fan in the world? He calls me Mr. Stem, the Bizarro world version of Mr. Met. Because I hate everything about that team so much."

The Familiar Voice

Howie Rose has been with the Mets, either on radio or television, for more than two decades. But back in 1977, he was a 23-year-old reporter for WHM radio, which had him doing reports throughout the morning, catching an afternoon nap, and taking in games at night. He and a handful of other radio reporters didn't sit in the press box, but rather in a box with Thornton Geary, the Mets vice president of communications who also happened to be Dick Young's son-in-law.

"It was a great summer night at Shea, even if there weren't many people there. The fans made good on their promise to stay away, but I was reveling in being at the ballpark," recalls Rose, 63. "When the lights went out, nobody knew what to expect. We were in a different place than the previous blackout in 1965, which was a quiet night, or later in 2003, when everyone feared terrorism. At first, I thought it was just Shea, but you could see out to Flushing and everything was dark. There was a lot of improvisation, with the upbeat organ music and the cars on the field, to keep fans calm and entertained as it became evident this extended far beyond the stadium. Nobody knew if the subways were running, and if not, how were they going to get from Point A to Point B. There wasn't a sense of panic in the ballpark, but within a half hour, there was a creeping trepidation."

Rose was still living with his parents in Bayside, Queens, a 15-minute drive from Shea, and he knew the side-street route home. It was a restless sleep that night, though, because Rose had to be at the radio station, in midtown Manhattan, by 5 a.m. One part of the morning commute had him going through Long Island City, which was a much dicier neighborhood in those days than it is today. The whole experience compounded a creepy feeling that Rose had felt acutely over the previous few months.

"I didn't know from the looting until I got in the car and turned on the radio, so I'm listening to the reports as I go through a rough section of Queens, with no traffic lights or cops. So there was visceral fear, but there was also a lingering one that summer," says Rose. "My girlfriend at the time lived in the Bronx, very close to where Son of Sam had hit a couple of months earlier. You were told don't park, don't make out in the car. If we went out on Saturday night, we would sprint into her building before the motor was off. That was the backdrop to the blackout morning. It was frightening."

Rose doesn't remember anyone losing their cool or acting out inside of Shea that fateful night in 1977, but he's pretty sure that he can put to rest one story of attempted robbery.

"I've gotten to know Lenny Randle a tiny bit," Rose says. "I think I'd recall a ball in play because it would've been a uniquely hairy situation. I think Lenny might be the only guy in the world who remembers it that way."

On September 16, 1977, the game was resumed in the bottom of the sixth inning. The Cubs beat the Mets 5-2, and Ray Burris got credit for a complete game victory. In the bottom of the eighth, Lenny Randle stroked a triple to right field. It remains his only official hit of the blackout night.

Blackout At Home: When The Lights Went Out At Shea Stadium In 1977 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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Blackout At Home: When The Lights Went Out At Shea Stadium In 1977

At 9:30 p.m. on July 13, 1977, with one out in the bottom of the sixth inning, Mets third baseman Lenny Randle walked to the batter's box for the third time that night. Four minutes later, New York City went completely dark.

"I thought it was my last day on Earth," Randle told a TV reporter at the time. "I thought God was calling."

There was a higher power involved, as it happened, but it was Mother Nature. Roughly an hour before, lightning strikes on a Consolidated Edison substation along the Hudson River tripped two circuit breakers, triggering a "cascading effect" that plunged Gotham into its darkest night. Years of municipal neglect, historic crimes spikes, and lost manufacturing jobs had left New York City's poorest neighborhoods isolated and desperate. In the dark, it all came to a head. Looting, rioting, arson, and a violent madness kicked civic responsibility to the curb, stepped over it, and then hauled out a free sofabed.

During the 25 hours of blackout, more than 3,700 people were arrested, a thousand fires were set, and more than 1,500 stores were ransacked and destroyed, adding up to a total cost of $300 million. It was a gut punch to a city that was already on edge in numerous ways. The city was teetering on the edge of several different kinds of insolvency, and serial killer David Berkowitz, aka the Son of Sam, was still on the loose murdering young New Yorkers for sport. His final victim was killed two weeks after the blackout.

The boozing, brawling, straw-that-stirs-the-drinking Yankees were the big sports story of 1977, culminating in Reggie Jackson's three-dingers on three-pitches from three-pitchers in the World Series-clinching Game Six. It's a tale brilliantly told in Jonathan Mahler's Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx is Burning. But on the night that the entire city was engulfed in flames, the Yankees were in Milwaukee. Randle and the Mets were at home, trapped in the dark with everyone else.

It's perhaps fitting the Mets were home during one of New York City's lowest points, because 1977 was arguably this wayward franchise's most depressing season. It was the year that board chairman M. Donald Grant was goaded into trading Tom Seaver, "The Franchise," by a curmudgeonly Daily News sports columnist named Dick Young, who didn't much like players trying to get paid what they're worth. When Seaver was finally dealt to the Reds in June's "Midnight Massacre," it cost the Mets dearly; they would lose 94 or more games in every full season until 1984. Fans stayed away in droves. On July 13, the official crowd was 14,626 in a stadium that held 57,000.

Still, there were people in the ballpark, including organist Jane Jarvis, who got everyone in Shea singing White Christmas in the dark, a bit of whimsy before folks headed out into the raging void.

VICE Sports spoke to six people who were in Shea Stadium on July 13, 1977, a night—if not a game—they'll never forget.

The Leadoff Man

The Mets were putrid, but you'd never know it when watching their new third baseman. In his first year with the Mets, Randle had 156 hits with a .304 average, and his animated personality made him a fan favorite. (And he hadn't even revealed his musical talents yet.) In a 2015 MLB Network documentary, Randle earned the label The Most Interesting Man in Baseball; at the time, he was a lone light in an otherwise dreary season. Randle led off the July 13 game and was 0-for-2 when he stepped to the plate in the home half of the sixth. As the pitch from Cubs starter Ray Burris came in, he took his cut. You couldn't see a damn thing in Shea Stadium anyway, so why not try to steal one?

"It was pitch black, so I swing, make contact, and take off. What would you do? The Cubs Manny Trillo and Ivan de Jesus tackled me as I coming into second," says Randle, 68. "I'm from Compton so I'm used to playing with no lights, having games lit with candles and car high-beams. We had great eyes and great vision. I figured the game was going to continue, but I guess everyone in charge was too concerned about the ice cream melting."

Illumination or not, Randle wanted some baseball action. There was never pandemonium at Shea that night, but there was certainly confusion. So to keep folks entertained through their early steps into the unknown, Randle and four other Mets took phantom infield, turning the most gorgeous double plays of their life. And just like back in Compton, other players drove cars onto the diamond so that fans could see the show.

"We played imaginary baseball," the current co-owner/GM/manager of the Nettuno Italy baseball club says. "It was the best infield in the history of the Mets, it was phenomenal, the fans gave us a standing ovation. Back then, everyone had a better sense of humor about the game. We had fun… But I still want that hit back. "

The Wide-Eyed Kid

For a baseball-loving kid, having a grandfather who supervised a ticket gate is a sweet deal. Mike Montaigne, 50, of Floral Park, NY, went to games all the time and sat in the upper deck, no charge. It wasn't like there was a big demand for tickets.

"I was there with my mother, father, and older brother, and it seemed like there was nobody up in our section. Shea was so big, if you had a small crowd, it just felt empty," Montaigne recalls. "It was weird when the lights went out. I think I was too young to be scared, but it was strange having the only light in Shea coming from the single emergency lights at each section. I had no idea what was happening but then the organ kicks in, players drive their cars onto the diamond, and they're pantomiming taking infield practice without a ball… I'm 10, this is the craziest thing I've ever seen. I thought everyone was having a great time. I realized years later, it was to keep people calm."

Montaigne and his family were some of the last people to leave the stadium because, with the 7 train out, his grandfather needed a ride to his home in Jackson Heights. He says the drive down Roosevelt Avenue was fine, nothing out of the ordinary except local guys directing traffic in the absence of police officers. But Montaigne did learn learn a new word.

"We had the radio on and the announcer said the city is worried about looting. I'd never even heard the word looting before," he says. "We drove home safely and uneventfully to Greenlawn, out on Long Island. I remember passing the Nassau County border and all the lights were on. It was the last we heard of the blackout that night. Next morning, I watched the news. Now I truly understood what looting meant. "

The Opposing Hurler

As the Wednesday night game got underway, the Cubs were riding high, with a 53-32 record that was good for a four game NL East lead over the Philadelphia Phillies. The last place Mets were already 20 games back. Coming off back-to-back 15-win seasons, righthander Ray Burris was 10-8, and throwing a two-hitter when Randle stepped up.

"Lights had gone out during games before, so I just stood there on the mound," says Burris 66, who is now the Phillies rehab pitching coach. "I noticed Lenny had taken a phantom swing, pretended he hit the ball, and started running the bases. I thought, 'What in the world is he doing? I had the ball in my hand. If memory serves, I tried to hit him as he rounded second. Lenny was a colorful character, loved to compete, and it was great having him as a teammate on the Yankees a couple of years later."

The Cubs were staying at the Waldorf-Astoria, and they couldn't shower in the dark, so the team boarded the bus and headed down Northern Boulevard after the game was officially postponed. Burris can still see the ride as clear as day.

"Seeing the rioting and looting firsthand was unbelievable, guys everywhere just walking down the street with stolen TVs and stuff. It was like people were possessed," Burris says. "We didn't say a word, but you start thinking 'This is not good, this is not good.' What if they storm or hijack the bus? Or they realize there's professional athletes making good money on here? Being young men, we would have protected ourselves. We told the bus driver, do not stop. I don't know the driver's state of mind, but he did an amazing job getting us through the mayhem."

Upon arriving at the Waldorf, Burris breathed a momentary sigh of relief, but his room was on the 16th floor and the elevator was out. He and a teammate on the 15th floor walked up with candles, but Burris's flamed out on his floor. He had no matches.

"I can't see my hand in front of me and I don't know which way to go. I was scared to death," he says. "I didn't know if there was someone hiding in the hallway or what. I went room to room looking at the numbers up close until I found mine. There was no air conditioning, so I hardly slept. The next morning, I was so happy we were headed to Philadelphia, but I still had to carry everything back down the stairs."

After the suspended game, the Cubs weren't the same for the rest of the season. The team, worn out for obvious reasons, dropped a doubleheader to the Phils on July 15th. From that day forward, the Cubs would go just 27-47 to finish at an even 81-81.

"The record is what it is, but we definitely started a downspin following the blackout," says Burris.

The Weary Traveler

In 1965, when Jim Hague was a mere lad of four, his father took him out to Shea to see Sandy Koufax pitch. Tug McGraw would best Koufax on that day, as the Dodgers lost 5-2, and the Mets had made a fan for life. Jim's father died when he was 10, so at the age of 14, unbeknownst to his mother, he started making the trip from Jersey City out to see the Flushing Nine. He was 16 in July of '77. That night, at least, his mom knew he was at Shea. She knew nothing of his whereabouts in the wee wee hours, or of his long night's journey into day.

Like everyone in the park, Hague, now 56, didn't know exactly what to do, but he was probably the only solo teenager who needed to cross state lines, and the Hudson River, to get home. Hague left Shea, saw the subway was kaput, and went back into the stadium, where he sat with roughly 25 other stranded Met fans until 1 a.m. (Hague, a sportswriter by trade, credits the club for giving away sodas, peanuts, and hot dogs.) They were told that buses were going to come get people—Hague guesses there were a thousand people milling about Shea—and those buses finally rolled up at 5:30 a.m. The sun was rising. And the buses were only going as far as Port Authority Terminal.

"I didn't have money to take a cab home or anything, so I walked to the PATH station at 33rd, and there were another 250 people waiting to be told what to do," Hague says. Finally, at 10:30 a.m., different buses took the weary traveler to New Jersey. There he found out that he needed another local bus to cross the finish line. Hague made it at around 1 p.m. The 38-mile round-trip took Hague nearly 24 hours.

"Needless to say mother was a combination of terrified and thrilled that I was home," he says.

He still remembers how desperately he wanted to crash in his bed. Looking back, he enjoyed the adventure, primarily thanks to his fellow Mets fans.

"We became a band of brothers out at Shea," he says. "We were telling stories about our favorite players, best games we'd seen, commiserating about how losing Seaver was like a death in the family, life as Met fans, laughing, joking, reminiscing… We consoled each other, and sang songs off a little transistor radio that picked up a station from Cleveland."

Most of Manhattan was in darkness during the blackout. Photo by Thomas Monaster/NY Daily News via Getty Images

The Disgruntled Employee

For a couple of seasons, Mark Trost was the top souvenir seller at Shea Stadium. He chalks that up to having prime real estate. His stand was on the field level, third base side, which stood in the path of exiting fans. It certainly wasn't due to his dedication to the franchise. A self-described nerdy comic book guy, Trost, 61, was uninterested in baseball and despised the Mets and their followers.

"I couldn't stand it," he says with a disdain seemingly untampered down forty years on. "The fans tortured me every day. It wasn't an upscale clientele like today, it was the dregs. And the owners were no better, they tormented us. They'd make us stay until the end of a doubleheader with nobody left in the ballpark. The worst was Banner Day. Stupid thing went on for like 15 hours. It wasn't fun"

Both sides of Trost's bitter equation came to a head the night of the blackout.

"Within probably 15 minutes, the bosses came running over and said shut it down, so we pulled the garage door-style gates, because they were afraid fans were going to go crazy and loot the joint," he laughs. "Then they made us wait an hour or longer to see if the lights popped back on, even though everyone was gone."

Trost says the experiences of that night isn't what sticks in his craw. It's what Mets management did some 12 hours later, with broad swaths of New York City still without electricity.

"They made us come back! It was a hot, humid day and I basically walk through Flushing to Shea, and I'm thinking, 'Why are they doing this? You can't play a baseball game without power,'" Trost says. "So I get there, and there's a fair number of concession people and ticket takers who made the trek, and they don't let us in the ballpark. We stood outside baking for a while and they just sent us home. Of course, the lights came on that afternoon and they could have played."

Trost, who is president and founder of Film Archives, doesn't look back on his Mets years fondly, but at least he got a solid nickname out of his miserable experiences.

"You know my brother-in-law Greg Prince, #1 Mets fan in the world? He calls me Mr. Stem, the Bizarro world version of Mr. Met. Because I hate everything about that team so much."

The Familiar Voice

Howie Rose has been with the Mets, either on radio or television, for more than two decades. But back in 1977, he was a 23-year-old reporter for WHM radio, which had him doing reports throughout the morning, catching an afternoon nap, and taking in games at night. He and a handful of other radio reporters didn't sit in the press box, but rather in a box with Thornton Geary, the Mets vice president of communications who also happened to be Dick Young's son-in-law.

"It was a great summer night at Shea, even if there weren't many people there. The fans made good on their promise to stay away, but I was reveling in being at the ballpark," recalls Rose, 63. "When the lights went out, nobody knew what to expect. We were in a different place than the previous blackout in 1965, which was a quiet night, or later in 2003, when everyone feared terrorism. At first, I thought it was just Shea, but you could see out to Flushing and everything was dark. There was a lot of improvisation, with the upbeat organ music and the cars on the field, to keep fans calm and entertained as it became evident this extended far beyond the stadium. Nobody knew if the subways were running, and if not, how were they going to get from Point A to Point B. There wasn't a sense of panic in the ballpark, but within a half hour, there was a creeping trepidation."

Rose was still living with his parents in Bayside, Queens, a 15-minute drive from Shea, and he knew the side-street route home. It was a restless sleep that night, though, because Rose had to be at the radio station, in midtown Manhattan, by 5 a.m. One part of the morning commute had him going through Long Island City, which was a much dicier neighborhood in those days than it is today. The whole experience compounded a creepy feeling that Rose had felt acutely over the previous few months.

"I didn't know from the looting until I got in the car and turned on the radio, so I'm listening to the reports as I go through a rough section of Queens, with no traffic lights or cops. So there was visceral fear, but there was also a lingering one that summer," says Rose. "My girlfriend at the time lived in the Bronx, very close to where Son of Sam had hit a couple of months earlier. You were told don't park, don't make out in the car. If we went out on Saturday night, we would sprint into her building before the motor was off. That was the backdrop to the blackout morning. It was frightening."

Rose doesn't remember anyone losing their cool or acting out inside of Shea that fateful night in 1977, but he's pretty sure that he can put to rest one story of attempted robbery.

"I've gotten to know Lenny Randle a tiny bit," Rose says. "I think I'd recall a ball in play because it would've been a uniquely hairy situation. I think Lenny might be the only guy in the world who remembers it that way."

On September 16, 1977, the game was resumed in the bottom of the sixth inning. The Cubs beat the Mets 5-2, and Ray Burris got credit for a complete game victory. In the bottom of the eighth, Lenny Randle stroked a triple to right field. It remains his only official hit of the blackout night.

Blackout At Home: When The Lights Went Out At Shea Stadium In 1977 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv