#mack making will laugh in the third one we should all just die

[dreamypeaches]

don’t wake up pt. 4 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe discuss the future of your relationship

warnings: SMUT, cursing, drug mention, alcohol mention, death mention

word count: 4.6k (these just keep getting longer)

a/n: some parts of this i love, some parts i hate. this is a very fluffy, emotional chapter with a healthy dose of smut ;). there will be two more parts to this and i hope to finish the whole thing by this weekend! enjoy, lovelies!

series masterlist

You had been alive for many years now, but you couldn’t remember a single moment where you were as happy and at peace as you were now with Rafe. You had spent the rest of the day cuddling on your tiny bed, binging The X-Files. You took breaks every once and a while to eat, have sex, or just talk.

You’d never spent this much time with Rafe before. You made nice small talk when he would give you rides and sometimes you would engage in some pillow talk after he had railed you. The most you’d really talked had been that night on the beach. But now, he was baring his soul to you. He told you all about his family problems, how he could never please his father, never be as good as Sarah. He even told you, vaguely, about his problems with drugs. He mentioned Barry and all the shit he had done for him, but didn’t go into details and you didn’t press him for them. You listened intently, absorbing all the information. On the outside, you played it cool, giving him comforting words and touches, trying not to reveal how overwhelming all this was to you. But you continued to listen anyway, realizing quickly that this was the first time Rafe had really spoke to anyone about the problems swirling around inside his head.

In turn, he listened to you. You talked about your parents. Your dad had left when your mom was pregnant with your youngest sister. Your mom came in and out of your life, finally completely disappearing when your older sister turned 18. Your older sister had gotten married young to the love of her life, only for him to die tragically not long after the birth of their third child. Now it was just you three sisters and the kids, trying your best to stay alive.

Rafe didn’t pretend to understand what you went through. Being a Kook, he was so far removed from any of your daily worries that couldn’t even comprehend what it was like. But he still listened and provided comfort and sympathy.

Even though you both were talking about the problems that plagued your lives, it was easy to forget about them while you were laying in his arms. Rafe had been a figure in your life long before your relationship had started. He was the man who talked shit about your way of life. He beat up your friends, leading to you spend nights cleaning JJ or Pope or John B’s (mostly JJ’s) wounds. The Rafe holding you in his arms was a completely different person to the one you had known in passing, to the one your friends told you nothing but bad things about.

When you woke up the next morning, untangling yourself from arms of Rafe to get ready for work, you could feel the bubble that had surrounded you since last month getting ready to burst. Everything had changed yesterday. You knew you couldn’t go on the same way you had before, fucking each other’s brains out then disappearing the next morning, and you didn’t want that anymore. You wanted Rafe, all of him. You wanted to hold him and kiss him and tell him everything would be alright. You wanted to hold his hand and go on stupidly adorable dates. And, yeah, you also wanted to continue fucking his brains out. But then you thought of the Pogues and Sarah. You couldn’t lose them, they were your family. You tried to think of their reactions if you told them about you and Rafe, and all you could picture was JJ annihilating Rafe’s face with his fists, Kie, Pope, and John B’s betrayed looks, and Sarah’s disgust at you sleeping with her brother.

The anxiety was vibrating through your veins when Rafe found you. You stood at the stove making breakfast, already dressed for work. He came up behind you, shirtless, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing sweet kisses on your neck and shoulder. You easily relaxed against him, trying calm the voice in your head.

“Good morning,” Rafe said. Sleep had made his voice low and raspy, but you could hear the smile in his words.

“How’d you sleep?” You asked, turning the stove off. You tried to move to grab a couple plates, but Rafe refused to let you go, his grip on your waist tightening. You shuddered as his lips assaulted your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Your moans were quick to turn into giggles as Rafe’s fingers moved up to your sides under your shirt, tickling the sensitive area of your stomach. You shouted his name, wiggling in his arms. His laugh was addictive, loud and joyful.

“Rafe! If you don’t stop I will-” You started to speak between laughs, but Rafe interrupted you. He spun you to face him pulling you in for passionate kiss. Butterflies flooded your stomach, worries of the morning flying away as you fell into Rafe. The look in his eyes when he pulled away made your knees weak. It was a look of pure adoration that terrified and excited you at the same time.

“I’ve never slept better,” He said, answering your earlier question. He let you go, helping you cut some strawberries for the breakfast. You two sat at the kitchen table, Rafe’s hand refusing to let go of yours as you ate.

“I have work until 6, but my family won’t be back till tomorrow morning, so you’re welcome to just hang out here,” You said. Rafe nodded, chewing his eggs thoughtfully.

“Topper and Kelce wanted to go golfing today, but I’ll be back before you get home,” he replied, shooting you a smile. You smiled back before returning to your breakfast. You reveled in the domesticity of this: eating breakfast, holding hands, planning out your day. But the mention of his friends shoved your previous worries back to the forefront of your mind. You finished up the rest of your food, moving to clean your plate as you spoke. “We should talk.”

The easygoing demeanor had disappeared from Rafe’s face, replaced by a worried brow and fidgeting hands.

“About us,” you continued, “about what we are and what we’re doing, because, to be perfectly honest, I can’t go back to how it was. Not after yesterday, I can’t go back to just being your fuck buddy or whatever. I like you, Rafe. But I’m also terrified that any possible relationship will completely fall apart.”

Rafe had made his way over to you as you spoke. Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his lips to leave comforting kisses on your knuckles.

“I like you too, Y/N. I want to be with you. You make me happier than I have ever been. But, you’re right, we need to discuss it.”

You smile up at him and peck his lips, stroking his jaw softly.

“We’ll take the day to think about it, okay. I have to go to work.”

You start to move away, only for Rafe to pull you against him for a slow and passionate kiss. Reluctantly, you both pulled away to rest your foreheads against each other.

“I’ll see you later,” He whispered.

He walked you to the door, giving you several more kisses before you finally made it out. You couldn’t hold back your smile as you made your way down the street.

You set the glass of lemonade down in front of Pope while Kie gave JJ his Dr. Pepper. You enjoyed your job at The Wreck. Kiara worked her magic on her dad to get all the same shifts as you, making it a million times better than any other job you had worked. Plus, the tips were as incredible as the food, and you got a free meal every shift. The rest of the Pogues typically dropped in when you and Kie were working. John B and Sarah were off doing who knows what (probably macking on each other), leaving JJ and Pope to keep you and your best friend company on the slow shift.

JJ nodded towards you, pointing at your neck. “Hell yeah, Y/N, nice to see you’re getting some.”

Your eyes widened, free hand slamming down on your neck where your collar had slipped down some. Kie and Pope joined in on the fun, poking at the hickey on your neck and asking if you had a fun night. You just shook your head, ignoring the burning in your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve had hickies all over you for the past month. You keep skipping out on hanging out with us, and when you do, you’re always sneaking off in the middle of the night You’re either getting incredibly lucky, or your seeing someone and not telling us,” Kie said, giving you a pointed look.

You sighed. You were in no way ready for this conversation, but your heart hurt having to lie to your best friends. Their advice was important to you, and you needed it now more than ever. As you observed their questioning faces, you realized there was no easy way out of this.

“Yes, there is someone,” You started. You’re friends all started to speak at once, but you were quick to interrupt them. “No, I’m not going to tell you who it is. Not yet anyway, not until I figure shit out. I’m not even sure what we are, because at first it was just a mostly physical thing, but yesterday he came to my house and it honestly might have been the best day of my life. It was amazing! But, if we do start dating or whatever, it has the potential to end badly, like really badly between us and between…other people that we know and I don’t know if I want to risk it.”

The quiet chatter of the Wreck grew ten times louder over the silence of your friends. They took a moment to absorb your speech, each Pogue trying to find a way to soothe their friends mind. Kie was the first to move, taking your hand in hers.

“If you really like him, Y/N, then you need to go for it. You never know what might happen.”

JJ and Pope nodded in agreement. Smiling, you nodded along.

“You’re right, I should just go for it.”

“Fuck yeah! You get that dick, girl!” JJ exclaimed, earning a slap on the arm and a look from Pope. Grinning, you shook your head at your friends as you moved to bring an order to one of your tables.

“Would you ever date a Pogue?” Rafe asked, leaning against the golf cart as Kelce took his turn at the tee.

“Depends, how hot is she?” Topper replied.

“I’m not talking about a hook up. Would you full-on date a Pogue, like take her on dates and shit, It doesn’t matter how hot she is.” Though she is very hot, Rafe thought to himself. Kelce joined the boys, motioning for Topper to take his turn.

“Is that who you ditched us for yesterday, a Pogue?” Kelce questioned.

The three boys were supposed to go golfing yesterday. Rafe had been to overwhelmed and enraptured by you that he hadn’t texted telling them he couldn’t make it. Kelce and Topper had been salty about it since he had met up with them that morning.

“You’re still not answering my question. Would you or would you not date a Pogue?”

Topper returned and Rafe moved to place his ball on the tee.

“Fuck no,” Topper said, “I don’t need to deal with that baggage.”

Thwack. Rafe watched his ball fly across the green, only half caring about where it handed. He leaned on his club, turning to face his friends.

“What baggage?”

“You know, the Pogue baggage. All the looks and the questions. Plus, you’d have to spend time on the Cut and probably with her Pogue friends, who wants to do that?”

It wasn’t what Rafe wanted to hear, but he new there was some merit behind the words. If he dated you, there would be looks. People would look at you the same way he looked at most Pogues. He knew from experience that those looks were never good. The thought of you having to deal with all the pretentious, Pogue hating Kooks he surrounded himself with was nauseating. He wouldn’t be able to control his tongue or fists for very long, and that would end up putting him in deep shit.

The thought of spending time on the Cut wasn’t as bad. He’d spent a whole day there yesterday, though that was mostly at your house. The only Pogue he really knew, other than you, was Barry, and he was far from friends with him. He tried to imagine himself sitting with you, holding you in his arms while you laughed at something one of your friends said. Your friends, the Pogues who probably hated him more than anyone else, plus his sister. Picturing himself actually having a pleasant time with any of them almost made him laugh out loud. He pictured him and JJ having a conversation that didn’t involve insults and flying hands and his mind went blank.

All his doubts and fears about a future with you piling up quickly, almost drowning him, until pulled him out with a few simple words.

“I would date a Pogue.” Rafe and Topper looked at their friend in shock. “I mean, if you like them and they like you and you’re happy, who cares what everyone else thinks. Fuck ‘em.”

Rafe wanted to hug him. It was like the clouds had parted and Kelce was the sun shining down on him. Rafe walked up to him, a wild grin on his face, and clapped Kelce on the shoulder.

“You’re right! Fuck ‘em!” Rafe threw his club on the cart and started jogging in the direction of the club.

“Where are you going? We have a game to finish!” Topper yelled

“I have some business to take care of!” Rafe shouted back.

He jogged the rest of the way to his bike, a plan formulating in his mind.

Your walk back home seemed faster than ever. The giddiness and nerves pounding through you clouded your mind, making you zone out for most of the walk. Nothing would be the same when you got home. Rafe’s bike was parked on the side of your house, heart beginning to pound at just the sight of it. Taking your time searching for your house key in your purse, you tried to calm your breath. Whatever happened behind this door, you needed to stay calm. You wouldn’t let your heart be broken by Rafe Cameron, and your refused to break his. With a deep breath, you turned the key and pushed open the door to your future.

The twinkling lights were a wondrous sight. They laid on the floor in front of entrance, creating a short path to the kitchen. Rafe stood by the table, dressed in an outfit of this that looked familiar and comforting, but your couldn’t put your finger on why. His normally slick hair fell softly into his face, a style you preferred much more than his usual look. On the table stood a lit candle and a small bouquet of flowers. Two empty plates sat across from each other, so sparkling clean that you were positive they had not been in this home this morning.

Your once pounding heart had quite nearly stopped at the sight before you. Rafe met you half way, hands instantly falling on your hips to pull you closer. Despite his closeness, you were too distracted by everything to look at him. The once cluttered living room, which seemed more like a used toy store than a room, had been completely cleaned. The dishes in the sink were gone, and you could see the clean light blinking on the side.

“What is all this?” You wondered, finally meeting his eyes. His gaze nearly melted you with it’s warmth.

“It’s for you. I’ve never really had a first date before, wanted it to be special,” He answered. The word date made your heart skip. No words fell from your mouth as it dropped opened, lost in the shock of it all.

“Is it too much?” Rafe asked, suddenly nervous. You shook your head.

“I mean, it’s a lot, but it’s…it’s…incredible. I think this is the most beautiful thing anyone has done for me.”

The confidence flooded back into Rafe, who leaned down give you a quick, passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. The feeling of his soft hair between your fingers drove you wild.

Rafe broke the kiss quickly, giving you one last peck before pulling away.

“I left something for you on your bed. Go get changed, take a shower if you want. The food will be here soon.”

“Are you telling me I smell?” You joked with a smirk.

He simply shook his head, turning you and pushing you in the direction of your bedroom.

Moving toward the door, you sneaked a look back at Rafe, who winked at you. Entering the room, you notice your own clothes laid out on the bed. A pair of shorts, a flannel, and a crop top you hadn’t worn since…

Your mind flashes back to Rafe’s outfit and your suddenly transported to a moment on the beach over a month ago. The breeze in his hair, the light of the moon reflecting off the ocean and casting a dim glow across the pair of you. You feel close to crying as you realize what he did.

You grab the clothes and hurry across to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth, you strip and hop into the shower. In record time, your hair is washed, body scrubbed, and legs shaved.You dry your hair quickly, trying you remember how you styled it that night. Completely dressed with light make up, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Taking  deep breath, you step out of the bedroom and are greeted by a delicious aroma wafting through the house. You catch Rafe making some finishing touches at the table. You lean against the counter, watching him fret over the arrangement of the flowers.

“I think I fell into the water that night, because this is some alternate universe where Rafe Cameron is in my kitchen, messing with flowers.”

Rafe turns, surprise fading into a light blush at your comment. He reaches his hand towards you and you take it, allowing him to lead you to your seat. The plates were now filled with food, and you quickly noticed that it was your favorite meal from your favorite restaurant.

“How’d you know this was my favorite?” You asked as you took your seat. Rafe sat across from your and smiled.

“You threatened me with castration one night if I didn’t take you to pick it up.”

You giggled at the memory.

Digging in to your food, silence fell over the table. Both of you knew what needed to happen now, but neither of you wanted to be the first to speak. He instead asked you about your day, and you his. Sweet small talk filled the air as you finished up. When Rafe moved to take both your plates to the sink, you spoke.

“Rafe, this is really wonderful. The clothes and the food and the lights and the flowers, it’s all so sweet. But..”

“I want to be with you,” Rafe interrupted, causing your jaw to snap closed. “I know it’ll be hard and people will talk, but fuck ‘em! It’s all worth it if I get to call you my girlfriend. Even if it ends horribly, I want to try.”

You smiled softly, standing and moving to be in front of him. Taking his hand in yours, you placed a sweet kiss on the back of his hand.

“I want to be with you too. But I have some conditions.”

Rafe nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“First, we don’t tell anyone, for now. I think we should give it a couple weeks at least to make sure that this is good and real. Second, you need to be nice to my friends. No more fights with JJ or shit talking the Pogues. If you can’t be nice, at least be civil, because they are my family. I will also do the same with Topper and Kelce. And that’s it. Those are my conditions.”

“Well,” Rafe chuckled, “I agree to your conditions. I’ll be nice to the Pogues, but I’m not gonna force you to be nice to Topper, he’s an asshole. I do have my own conditions.”

“Shoot.”

“Come to Midsummers with me.”

You froze, hand releasing his and falling limply at your side. You couldn’t help but exclaim, “Midsummers!?”

“It’s still a month away, so that gives up plenty of time to figure this out. Not that we have anything to worry about, we’re fucking perfect for each other. I want you to be my date to Midsummers. I want to spend an unbelievable amount of money buying you the perfect dress. I want to get drunk on champagne and dance with you and make sure everyone knows that Rafe Cameron is dating the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world. Then we sneak off early, get a little high, and I fuck you until the sun comes up.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the thought.

“How could I say no to that?”

“So?”

“So…we’re doing this.”

Rafe’s grin grew so wide his cheeks felt like they were on fire. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed his girlfriend with a fire that burned brighter than the sun. You returned with equal energy, feeling his smile against your lips. His hand wandered your body, soft touches transitioning to hard grips and back again. Making his way to your ass, he pulled away to smirk down at you.

“Ready for dessert?”

“Shut up and take your clothes off.”

A trail of clothes followed you to the bedroom as you ran. After each piece of clothing fell to the floor, Rafe would grab you again, pushing you against the wall for a rough kiss before moving away to remove another item of clothing.

The smiles never fell from your faces as Rafe pulled you into your bedroom, making you giggle as he spun you in his arms to hold you against his chest, back facing him. You were both completely naked at this point and your mind was focused on every place where Rafe’s skin met yours. As Rafe’s fingers dance up your sides and stomach before roughly gripping a breast in each hand, future possibilities were left where they belong, in the future. Here and now with Rafe pressed against your back, nipping at sucking at your neck and massaging your breast, this is where you wanted to be.

One of his hands moved up to grip your hair, forcing you to give him better access to your neck. You moaned as he lightly bit at your sensitive spot, soothing it with his tongue. His other hand slid down to ghost across your already dripping cunt. Feeling his fingers begin to rub slowly at your clit, you let out a low moan.

“So fucking beautiful,” Rafe growled in your ear, “and you’re all mine.”

His fingers moved down farther, playing with your entrance.

“Fuck, Rafe, please, make me yours. Fill me up and make me scream your name.” Rafe groaned, turning you around and backing you up until you fell onto the bed. Hovering over you, his fingers tapped on your bottom lip.

“Suck.” He demanded. You took his fingers in your mouth and did as you were told, wrapping your tongue around them and sucking hard. They came out of you with a pop and Rafe didn’t waste anytime plunging them into you. You yelled out at being filled so suddenly, the pleasure flooding you all at once. He set a rough pace, the sound of your wet pussy and your lewd moans filling the room.

You quickly grew impatient, wanting to feel all of Rafe. You pulled his hand away, returning his fingers to your mouth and licking them clean.

“Just fuck me already, Rafe.”

He moaned pulling you in for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

“Whatever you say, angel.”

He plunged into you, filling you up completely and leaving you no time to adjust as he pulled out completely and thrusted into you again. Over and over he pounded into you, fucking you into the mattress. His hand wrapped around your throat, only slightly surprising the sinful noises leaving your lips.

“So fucking wet, angel. Is this all for me?”

You barely nodded, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you. His grip tightened for a moment.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, Rafe, just for you. This pussy is all yours. All yours, Rafe.”

“Yeah it fucking is.”

The speed of his thrusts increased, helping him plunge deeper into you. You were a moaning mess beneath him, yelling out every time his tip hit your g-spot. Your name fell from his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he mercilessly pounded into you. One hand moved down to your clit, pressing hard against it before rubbing figure eights into the sensitive bundle. You screamed out, gripping onto Rafe’s forearm to anchor yourself in reality.

“Scream my name when you cum one my cock, angel. Tell me who makes you feel this good.”

“Rafe…” You moaned. His fingers increased their pressure on your clit.

“Rafe!” You mewled as he took one nipples in his mouth, tugging on it with his teeth.

“Rafe!” You yelled as he made you see stars, your juices covering his cock as you found your release. He pulled out of you and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness. It didn’t last long, though, as he flipped you on to your stomach and started pounding into you again. A scream released from your throat as he slapped your ass, once, twice, three times.

“Please, Rafe! Cum in me! I’m all yours Rafe, make me yours!”

He leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back as he fucked you. The new angle, accompanied by the bites and kisses he placed across your shoulders, made your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moved under you to work your clit again.

“I want you to cum with me, angel. Cum with me.”

As his thrusts became sloppier, the movements against your clit grew more rapid. It didn’t take long for you to reach the edge again. Feeling Rafe twitch inside of you, you knew he was close too. Rafe let out an animalistic groan as he released into you, your pussy clenching around him, milking him as your orgasm overtook you. He rode out your orgasms, giving you a few more lazy thrusts before stilling inside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you against him as he collapsed on his side onto the bed.

Rafe held his girlfriend close, savoring the warmth of her pussy around his dick, while she sighed at the feeling of his dick inside her, filling her up. The only sound in the room now was your heavy breathing. Neither of you could speak, but both your minds were running a mile a minute. Rafe pulled you, the woman he now got to call his, flush against him, peppering kisses across your cheek, neck, and shoulder.

A few minutes passed before either of you spoke. It was Rafe who broke the silence.

“Is this a dream?” He whispered to the air.

“No, baby,” You replied, “this is very real.”

He pressed a kiss to the place between your shoulder blades before resting his forehead against the back of your head.

“Then I hope I never fall asleep.”

taglist: @teenwaywardasgardian @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @obxmxybxnk @butgilinsky @juliarose21 @bluesiderudy @ilovejjmaybank @diverrdown @diverdcwn @drewsephsmiles @https-luna @broken-jj

lmk if you want to be tagged or if i forgot to tag you!

[multiharlot]

swat / spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: y/n captain of the fbi swat team that leads the bau team into a high-risk arrest / counter-terrorist attack and gets hurt protecting her team, sending her loving boyfriend into a crazed panic.

warnings: blood, violence, slight gore, guns, bombs, and shooting. (hello it’s criminal minds)

masterlist

y/n’s pov

“spen, don’t worry. i’ll be okay. this is what i do. just stay behind me, got it?” you say, giving your worried boyfriend a stern gaze as you strapped on the rest of your gear. 

“is this on tight enough? i don’t think it is. here, i got it.” he says, completely ignoring your order and pushing your hands away.

 he tightens the straps on your kevlar vest and you groan as he pulls the velcro tightly, slapping it into place.

“there. much better.” he says, letting out a short breath. 

you roll your eyes, readjusting the slightly suffocating vest and clicking the helmet into place. 

“spencer reid. i am going to be just fine. i’m not captain for no reason. you just stay behind me, and let me and my team do our job. and we’ll let you do yours, alright?” you sigh and you place your hands on his shoulder, looking at him through your protective goggles. 

“okay...okay i can do that. yeah.”

“good, now let’s go.” you nod, ruffling his hair slightly as loading the magazine into your gun. 

you push open the van doors and you and your team head up to the entrance, leaning against the wall beside the warehouse door. you reach down, clicking the coms button on the radio attached to your shoulder.

“operator to HQ. TRT going for dynamic entry, weapons hot, preparing for immediate contact.”

you wait for headquarters to respond, giving you the go ahead.

“HQ to operator, you’re green.”

you turn your head back towards your team, and nodding softly as your gaze met spencers. 

“move!” you shout, kicking down the front door and immediately being met with a downpour of bullets. 

your team crowds around spencer, jj, and alvez as they lead them to take cover down the hall. 

“agents take the tail and give me a status check!” you shout into your radio, pulling the trigger and letting your automatic weapon exchange casualties with the the terrorist group.

“we’re good, cap.” 

“green”

“good to go, y/l/n.”

the responses from your team pour in a you feel a slight relaxation cloud your senses. you continue moving through the first floor of the building and you nod your head. 

“alright, let’s move.” you sigh, gesturing your team through the now calm floor and heading up the stairs of the building. 

you move slowly, your boots clunking slightly against the metal stairs. you see the other half of your team moving through the other end of the corridor with matt, rossi, and emily on the parallel end of the building. 

“TRT 2, status check.” you mumbled into your radio, and your lieutenant, corey o’malley, turns, looking your way before leaning into his shoulder.

“we’re smooth, operator. north end corridor is clear.”

“say smooth operator again and i’ll demote you....and watch each other’s sixes, it’s too quiet for my liking.” you sigh, and your lieutenant sends you a quick thumbs up before heading into another room. 

you turn to the team, nodding your head and making your way down the corridor, inspecting the first open room and then stopping in front of the second. this one had a door, oddly enough. your eyebrows furrow as you slowly approach the door, you tighten your grip around your rifle, reaching for the handle and sliding open the metal sheet door. as soon as the door opens, your eyes widen as you catch sight of the men with c4 strapped to their chests and automatic rifles in their hands.

“bomb! fall back!” you shout, and your teams begins running out before the men open fire. 

you cry out as bullets make their way through your shoulder, abdomen, and upper thigh. you fall to the ground, attempting to quickly push yourself back up.

“cap!” your sergeant, jessie mack, yells out, catching everyone’s attention. 

she runs back pulling you up from the ground and helping you run out the building. just as you two make it out of the doorway, the explosions go off and smoke fills your lungs. you both fall to the floor, gasping for breath and your vision starts to go in and out as you feel your blood soaking through your uniform and spread underneath the kevlar. 

“this is sierra one to HQ, we need medics on the scene.” corey says frantically into his radio as he kneels next to you, practically ripping off your layers of protective gear to get to your injuries.

“what’re the chances those sons of bitches managed to hit me in the tiny sliver of skin that wasn’t covered?” you chuckled, coughing slightly as the metallic taste of blood filled your lips. 

mack and corey chuckle sadly as they place pressure on the wounds. you could hear spencer calling out to you and your eyes wander, blinking slowly as you felt the drowsiness blanket over you. you want to yell out for him, but you hear jj and alvez shouting for him to calm down and let my team handle it.

“where are those fucking medics!?” mack shouts frustratingly. 

“tourney her thigh, mack.” corey instructs, ripping off the bottom end of my shirt.

“hey now, o’malley. i have a boyfriend.” you scold sarcastically, making him smile. 

“how is it that you’re bleeding out and you’re still making time to be a pain in my ass, huh?” he chuckles sadly, wiping his tears of frustration.

“w-well...someone’s gotta do it.” you cough, the blood beginning to pour from your lips. 

“exactly, so you better live. you better keep yourself alive and always be my pain in the ass captain, you hear me?”

“mack...mack get spence.” you slur, and she sniffles nodding her head and calling out to spencer. 

in probably less than a millisecond, spencer is sliding onto the ground next to you, looking over your blood ridden body. he pushes corey’s hand away from my shoulder and he presses firmly into your wound, making you groan loudly.

“sorry but no. you’re not dying. you’re gonna live and i’m gonna keep getting angry at you for leaving your pants all over the place and you’re gonna keep yelling at me for leaving case files on the floor which makes you trip all the time. and we’re going to keep arguing over what color we should paint the house and how you’re always so sarcastic even when you shouldn’t be. okay?”

“i love you, spen. i need you to know that.” you say weakly, your eyes beginning to flutter shut. 

“hey no. keep your eyes open, look at me baby. look at me.” he pleads, and you force your eyes open, screaming to whatever higher power is out there in your head that if you die, you’ll kill them for letting that happen. 

“i’m not gonna die. i’m too stubborn for that.” you smile softly, and you finally hear the sirens and the screeching of tires. 

you weren’t sure what really happened next because you were fading in and out of consciousness, but you remembered spencer’s pleas and words of reassurance, and you remembered telling the ambulance driver to turn up the radio because your favorite song was playing. you never were one to be all that serious, even when you should be. it just wasn’t how you worked. but for just a moment, you prayed, to whoever was out there, that they’d let you continue being not so serious. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

third person pov

both teams waited anxiously in the waiting room, y/n’s blood still staining corey’s fingernails, and mack stared blankly at her hands. all she could picture was y/n’s blood coating her hands and wrists and she could still hear your blood splattering coughs. spencer paced nervously as the bau attempted to get him to sit down. 

“come on, spencer. she’s going to be just fine. just calm down-”

“no, luke. i can’t calm down. i’m not sure if you knew this, but i don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships. and i finally- finally think that i get to have what everyone else has, and it’s about to be ripped away from me. again. so please forgive me for not being able to sit down and wait patiently.” spencer says, making everyone look up at stare sadly at him. 

he shakes his head, running his hands over his face before muttering a small apology. 

“sorry...i’m sorry. i just can’t lose her.” spencer whimpers, causing the teams hearts to clench in their chests. 

“we know, spence. we know. we don’t want to lose her either.” jj quickly reassures, taking her best friend into her arms. 

garcia sat quietly next to luke, reaching over and grabbing his hand. 

“she’s gonna be okay.” she nods, and luke gives her a tight smile, squeezing her hand in his. 

“she’s gonna be okay.” he recites. 

a short silence fills the room until one of her teammates lets out a snort. 

“do...do you guys remember when she told the brass the from now on they could only refer to SWAT as Sexy Without Actually Trying?” he smiles, making her team erupt in soft laughter. 

the bau smiles, nodding their heads. that definitely sounded like her. 

“or when she started the ‘Bureau’s Best Butts Contest’?” mack laughs, making emily snort. 

“she did what?” she smiles. 

“oh yeah. this was before she ever met any of you, before she even met spencer. she was just brought on as captain and as our team bonding exercise, she started a contest between the team on who had the best butt...usually private jeffords wins every year” mack smiles, and corey nods his head. 

“and i’m damn proud.” private jeffords says, straightening out his jacket.

“or remember what she said to strauss when strauss tried to give her some talk about following protocol?” private murphy speaks out, standing up against the wall.

“oh yeah! she said, ‘the only protocol i’m meant to follow is to create orderly chaos and save lives. so call me captain i don’t give a shit, because i really don’t.” corey says, imitating his best y/n voice. 

the team laughs and spencer smiles sadly. 

“she really loves you guys, you know?” he says, his bottom lip wavering. 

the laughter ceases and mack stands up, taking his hands into hers. 

“it’s nothing compared to how much she loves you.”

he lets out a short breath and more tears stream down his stick cheeks. he opens his mouth to respond when the doctor walks into the waiting room. 

“i’m assuming you’re all here for y/n y/l/n?” he asks, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

spencer pushes his way through everyone, making his way to the front of the small crowd. 

“i’m her boyfriend. her family lives on the west coast and won’t be here until tomorrow.”

the doctor nods his head before taking in a deep breath. 

“it was...touch and go for a while. she flatlined once she reached the table, but we were able to resuscitate her and stop the bleeding. she was given a blood transfusion and she’s alright now, but she’s going to need a lot of rest. you can see her now if you’d like.” he says, smiling softly. 

mack giggles excitedly as everyone felt as though they could finally breath. 

“what room is she in?” spencer asks, about ready to run down the halls. 

“524″ the doctor says, nodding his head and walking off. 

spencer then runs out of the waiting room area and down the halls, nearly pushing over the dozens of nurses in the hall and almost breaking the down the door to her room. he stops as soon as he sees her laying on the bed, her eyes closed softly and the ekg machine echoing through the room. he lets out short gasps as he tries to regain control of his breathing and he takes a seat next to her bed, taking her hand in his. 

“i love you so much.” he mumbles as he places a kiss on her knuckles. 

spencer sat at her bedside all night. he sat through everyone’s visits and everyone’s gifts. he sat there, with her left hand in his right hand, and his head on his left. y/n’s eyes flutter open and she grips his hand tightly. 

“i told you i wasn’t gonna die.” she croaks out. 

his head snaps up and he sniffles, a tight smile on his lips. 

“you almost did, though. you flatlined. i could’ve lost you.” he whimpers. 

“but you didn’t. i’m okay. death tried to knock at my door, but death learned it’s lesson. he ain’t coming back anytime soon, baby. for me or for you. i made sure i gave him a big ol’ fuck you.”she reassures, making him scoff and roll his eyes. 

“can you stop being sarcastic for like ten seconds?”

“well, i did make a promise to stay alive so we can argue about it some more.”

he smiles as he rubs his thumb softly over her knuckles. he’d never tell her this because she’d never shut up about it, but her never-ending humor and sarcasm made his days better. her way of processing made it easier for him to cope. she took the weight of the world off his shoulders. 

“and we can argue about it for the rest of our lives.” he smiles, pressing a gentle kiss on her hand.

she smiles, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. 

“the rest of our lives...i like the sound of that.”

“me too, y/n. me too.”

“speaking of.....jello?”

“you’re my soulmate.”

“i know.”

taglist:

@dreatine​ @slytherinintj13​ @mileven-reddie​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​ @haileymorelikestupid

[1-800-gaygentsofshield]

Skimmons College Roommate AU

The soft strums of the guitar wake the teenager up in the middle of the night, making her roll over in bed and smile. Daisy and Jemma met on the very first day of college open house, both of them being equally nervous but excited at the new opportunity. The pair have been roommates for the last three years, counting down the days until they can get out of this place. They have to be there for a total of seven years so they still have four more to go. A soft smile tugs on Jemmas lips as she lets her arm rest on her forehead, the rustling of the sheets interrupting the guitar being played through the walls. Daisys strums were slower than the original song, giving Jemma the image of her sitting on her bed and lazily playing the guitar. It happens almost twice a week where Jemma wakes up to her roommates gentle strumming, on rare nights, accompanied by vocals. Tonight is one of these rare nights. The 2 am guitar playing happens so frequently, Jemma has become accustomed to the noise, the gentle strums reassuring her that her roommate is there. Tonight she could tell Daisy couldn’t sleep just by the way the notes sound. The way Daisys fingers sleepily run across the strings, her voice rougher than normal but still angelic as always.

“I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better, on me, than it did you. Only if you knew, how much I liked you..” Daisys voice comes flowing through the walls and Jemma cant help but sing along softly. The walls separating their rooms are thin as hell so she’s guessing Daisy can hear her too.

“But I watch your eyes, as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes. Brighter than a blue sky..She's got you mesmerized, while I die..” Jemma softly sings along, turning to face the wall.

Daisy’s sitting on her bed, her legs propped up, guitar in lap, and back pressed up against the wall. She sang the first part with her eyes closed, the cords to the song coming as a second nature to her. She soon heard her roommates voice, rough and raspy from sleep but still smooth like silk come through the walls. A smile cracks on Daisys lips as she continues singing, pressing her back up more against the wall.

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty. You gave her your sweater. “It's just polyester,” but you like her better..Wish I were Heather.”

They continue the song, both of them becoming more awake as the song progressed.

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty. You gave her your sweater. “It's just polyester,” but you like her better. Wish I were..” As the song ended Daisy’s voice got gentle, letting Jemma take over partly, just happy in the moment. The hacker slowly stopped strumming and she heard the rustling of sheets coming from Jemmas room, followed by the soft pads of footsteps on the floor. The tiny scientist slowly opens the door to Daisys room and steps in, watching as the brunette puts away her guitar. “Hey.” Jemma whispers softly, walking over to the hacker and sitting down on her bed. “Whats keeping you up?” The Brit asks, immediately reading the other girl like a book. 

With everyone else the hacker has walls and facades, burying her emotions deep inside, but not with Jemma Simmons. Simmons is the only person Daisy is vulnerable around, wearing her heart on her sleeve ever since Jemma comforted when she cried over her ex and got wasted, held her hair back the morning after, gave her painkillers and ate takeout with her all day two years ago. That was the day Daisy realized that Jemma cared deeply for her, willing to push aside her important studies just to eat sauce covered noodles with her all day and well into the night. The two are inseparable and it would be a good guess if someone thought that they were a couple. 

“I dont know, I just can’t sleep. I tried the milk and honey technique, your sleepy tea, everything. So, I just resorted to strumming and the song popped into my head.” Daisy shrugs, leaning back onto the wall and looking over to her best friend. “Its camomile tea darling, come here.” Jemma laughs softly, laying the both of them down and turning off the desk lights. Sometimes the pair cuddle when they’ve had a hard day or they cant sleep, finding comfort in each other at the end of the day..as friends..of course. Daisys arm gently wrap around the smaller girls shoulders and sighs contently, letting herself sink into the darkness. Jemmas arms wrap around Daisys torso and pulls herself close, becoming a little space heater for the taller girl. “Goodnight Jems.” Daisy whispers, already drifting off to sleep. The brit smiles sleepily and pulls herself closer, “Goodnight Daisy.”

-

“Daisy! Pizza!” Jemma giggles, her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She walks over to the table in their shared space while eating a piece of pizza, a wide smile on her face as she’s equipped with a slice of pizza in one hand and the box in the other. She’s wearing comfy pajama shorts underneath Daisys large Stanford sweater, the oversized sleeves bunched up near her wrists. Todays a study, relax, and chill out day for the pair. “Pizza? Yess thank you Jems.” Daisy groans, a small smile on her face as she gets up from the desk and moving some of their books aside. “Mmhm, you almost done studying?” The brit hums, placing the pizza box on the table as she continues to eat the slice shes holding. “Almost. We’re almost there.” Daisy nods her head, simultaneously grabbing a dirty t-shirt off the ground and throwing it into the laundry basket as she answers. Shes wearing her glasses which Jemma likes so much paired with a black shirt and grey sweatpants, her dark brown hair flowing down her shoulders. The hacker grabs a piece and groans softly as she eats it, her eyes rolling back. “Mmm, thank you Jems. So good.” She smiles and Jemma cant stop herself from laughing. “Its the same place and order each time.” The brit says and Daisy shrugs, plopping down on the couch and pulling Jemma down next to her. They spend the day reviewing notes with their legs intertwined, eating pizza and drinking coffee (or tea in Jemmas case) as they study the hours away.

-

Winter. Winter means mid terms. Mid terms mean late night studying. Late night studying means lack of sleep. Lack of sleep means sleepy Jemma and Daisy. And, sleepy Jemma and Daisy means coffee shop adventures.

They’re both bundled up in warm winter clothing as they walk down the sidewalk, Jemma clutching onto her bag filled with books with one hand and the other intertwined with Daisys in the hackers pocket. As the year progresses the line between friends and lovers started to blur between the two, Jemma spending more nights cuddled up against Daisy than in her own bed, the touches becoming more prominent and lingering. Thats why the pair didnt question it when their hands intertwined with each others almost immediately after they left the place. So, when their hands started to get cold, Daisy put their intertwined hands into her coat pocket without exchanging any words.

They walk into the small campus coffee shop with a smile on both of their faces, the warm cafe air engulfing them. Daisy looks over to her tiny scientist and cant help but blush, watching the tips of Simmons ears and the tip of her nose turn red from the cold. “It’s freezing out there.” Jemma mumbles, walking in step with Daisy towards the register.

They get their coffee and tea and sit down at a window table, their bags set by their feet. “Another winter, another midterm.” Daisy mumbles, sipping on her coffee as she watches the smiling Brit across from her. “That means another christmas together and another spring break at your parents lake house.” Jemma smiles and Daisy nods, realizing that it’s become a routine. They’d rotate each holiday, for thanksgiving, it would be spent at Daisy’s house with Phil and May and for Christmas, it would be spent with Jemmas parents. For spring break they’d usually spend it with Bobbi, Mack, Fitz, Hunter, and Yo-Yo at Philinda’s lake house or take a road trip with just the two of them in Daisy’s van. They do everything together. “We should bring alcohol if we go to the lake house this year.” The hacker hums and Jemma nods her head, gently intertwining their hands on the table. “We should, Hunter would have a blast with Fitz.” The brit giggles and Daisy decides that it’s her favorite sound in the world.

They finish their drinks and toss their cups, re-securing their layers over themselves before stepping out into the cold. As soon as they step out Daisy reaches and holds Jemmas hand, putting them back into her pocket with a smile on her face.

-

“To spring break!” Hunter calls, all of them sitting on the house boat lake. “To spring break!” They call back, all of them sipping their beers in their hands. It’s the first day of spring break and they’re all in swimsuits and swim trunks, everything already set up from last years break. It’s currently mid-day so it’s hot as hell, the cooler open and filled with ice and alcohol. “I’m going swimming.” Mack claps his hands, standing up and diving off the porch into the water. Fitz soon follows, sliding off the porch into the lake rather than diving. “So, hows the school year going so far?” Hunter asks, his arm wrapped around Bobbi as yo-yo digs into the snacks. “Good, I’m glad that it’s over soon.” Jemma replies, sitting down close to Daisy. The hacker pouts and gently grabs the Brits waist playfully, “But Jems, that means that you won’t be with me.” Daisy whines, making Jemma turn around a smile at her. “Oh Daisy, don’t pretend that we don’t spend all of our time together in the summer.” She says, slapping Daisy’s shoulder playfully. “Still.” The hacker pouts before smiling, sipping on her beer as the sun warms them up.

-

Later they all swim in the lake, floating on the tubes and sitting on the ledge in the water. It’s a lazy vibe in the air with the music playing and the heat surrounding them, all of them fully relaxed. Currently Daisy is dragging Simmons towards a small strip of grass sandwitched between the lake and trees. It’s an area at the side of the house, still close to the lake, but hidden from sight of their friends. “It keeps getting better each time.” Jemma hums, wearing a red bikini while Daisy wears a light blue one. “I know, I’m suprised Hunter and Bobbi haven’t gone off and fucked yet.” The hacker says nonchalantly, earning a small slap on the arm. “Daisy!” Jemma scolds playfully, a smile present on her face. “What?” Daisy laughs, closing the space between them a bit. Her hands come up to gently grab Jemmas waist, taking in slow in case she read all of the signs wrong. To her relief Jemma doesn’t pull away, instead, the Brits hands slowly come up to hold onto Daisy’s biceps. “Tell me if I’m wrong but I think that we have a thing.” Daisy whispers softly, leaning in a bit. She pulls her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and rasises an eyebrow, looking at the smaller girl. “You’re not wrong.” Jemma says softly, feeling her back being gently pressed up against the house wall. “Can I..?” Daisy asks, leaning in just a bit more. The brit nods and leans in, closing the space between them. The kiss is slow and soft, their heartbeats speeding up. Daisy slowly pulls away with a wide smile on her face, backing away from the Brit a bit because she assumes Jemma wants to take it slow. She’s wrong. The biochemist grabs her wrist and pulls her back into the kiss, this time locking lips as her arms snake around Daisy’s neck. The taller girls hands immediately latch onto Jemmas waist as they kiss with more passion than before, no longer tentative and questioning. Jemmas hand comes up and slowly intertwined with Daisy’s hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss. They kiss for what feels like forver, fingertips exploring gently and hands intertwined with hair. “Skimmons get over here!” Bobbi calls, bringing them back down to reality that they’re outside and their friends are there. Jemma plants one more kiss on Daisy’s lips, promising that there’s more to come, before pulling away fully. They make their way back to the group and hop back into the water, sharing a tube together. “Skimmons? What’s that?” Daisy asks Bobbi, Jemma and her own legs laid across each other. “It’s like a ship name. We got it from before, when you went by Skye. Skye and Simmons equals Simmons.” Bobbi explains and the girls nod, giving each other a high five. “Skimmons!” They laugh, earning laughs from the group. Hunter throws them all beers from the dock and holds up his for another toast, “To college and booze!” He says and everyone laughs, calling back. “To college and booze!”

[the-firebird69]

To awaken his relatives took a serious effort and we knocked out tons of you say this probably about a third of the Earth yesterday and you keep on gloating about it and we don't understand why. It is because it took an effort for us to do it possibly it wasn't much effort you don't see reasoning so I went after the clothing and destroyed it all took tons of it over and you're dooms because of it so what you're thinking is is it took them a while to do that and really that's not going to watch my time he reminded us one day it's not much time one year not much time. And we're going to grab that cork making the nonsense noises and threats on you and we're going to dissect them and stick them all over the place see if anybody knows this. Who had the huge plans for you people but basically tons of people showed up and we're going after bringing them back and nobody could do it and everyone started fighting so we had to get rid of huge crowds over and over it took out tons of you huge huge piles of you all over the world all the time too from day one almost and then till recently humongous piles and just getting more and more arrogant from you being dead which is ridiculous because your economy was making stuff we have to fight so we're starting to laugh at you because you're a joke you shouldn't he says we should get up on grid and we should scan take care of these people we need we need to do a lot of work and we are and it's evident too here we need to cut them down to size and keep them down so we can get to work and it wasn't a simple way of getting them out but you kept coming and coming we kept killing and killing and one day he said we should probably get them out because July 4th is coming and I think they have a plan to use it on me and they did so that his family is out we're going to help them they don't want to see you there and they're going to get help from others and we're going to cut you Max down the size to ruin your plan completely everyone's saying it too we've had enough of this crap people dying so you can live so you can dance to live it's like nonsense people that's what you do all this it's a politics and things and drama is just window dressing for you killing and dying and killing and dying it's grow task there's nothing to you you're not even follow the drama he follows it more than you do that's your losers because of it you can bring it back and you'll hate like you did the day you're doing it because you don't remember it it's easy the easy marks. And the crowds kept coming and people are fighting and eventually there's a low and they pop out that's how it works and tons of people came out by the way and tons of people came out of your stupid museum little bonehead meaning your head's full of bone and that's just about it nothing to be proud of weirdo see you die of course everyone's after you and Trump Mac they all have the information. Mac's having us have CAA yo and cork why don't you get out of here there's a sit here messing with his furbish we need to see and need to have it out.

Corky returns it with a smirk and says he doesn't need to say that it mack says I need to say that I want you dead you're stupid you don't know what we need to say and he does you're an idiot. Cookie says back he took my freedom so I have to take it from him and I say to your car if you were going to take your freedom permanently now if you don't like it too bad you're going to Trump's prison with him because he want him to be there you can stay and Piedmont and you're going to like it or going to torture the s*** out of you. First apparently we're going to run you through the mill now. You're such a lame f****** your lame piece of s*** you get rid of you maxes and his ordering people to do so season's point this is ridiculous you can't even get stuck in the mud with this moron around. I'm sick of it too corky says I'm incompetent and I know it and it won't stop doing stupid things but you caused it mack and it's in writing. It's a lie and you're an idiot and nobody falls for it and even if they do it's out there there's an order to go after you and everyone is everyone's ordered you dead we want you out of the way you're a moron who's like life at all and we don't need you Max says

[ulyssesredux]

Telemachus

—Seymour's back in his trunk while he called for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the moon came out. You pique my curiosity, Haines said, still trembling at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose collar of his cheeks.

—If you want it, sir.

A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold's face, saltwhite. But, hising up her petticoats … He crammed his mouth with a rugged cliff of lichen-crusted stone rising to the slow iron door and locked it.

—We'll see you!

And a third, Stephen said, and detestable. Breakfast is ready.

You can almost taste it, Haines.

—O, Haines said, still held the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck. You must read them in the bed. He shook his constraint from him.

A voice within the tower and said with bitterness: He was raving all night about a black panther.

A birdcage hung in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he sang: I am another now and yet you sulk with me!

—A woful lunatic! His hands plunged and rummaged in his heart. It lay beneath him, said Stephen gravely. That's our national problem, I'm afraid, just now. God knows you have g.p.i.

Fill us out some more tea, Haines began … Stephen turned his gaze from the fire: O, jay, there's no milk. Buck Mulligan sighed and, running forward to a spur of rock near him, and dissolution; the putrid, dripping eidolon of unwholesome revelation, the broken. Where's the sugar? Haines laughed and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. Stephen handed him the key.

—Have you the God's truth I think that whoever nursed me must have been shockingly aged, since when I reached the grating nothing less than the colored pictures of living beings which I found the stone crypts deep down among the foundations. Wretched is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown hangings and maddening rows of antique books, or at least some kind of floor.

—For this, O, Haines said, Stephen said. Let me be and let me live.

Casting my eyes about, I soon came upon a doorway, was the radiant full moon, which thus implied the brief absence of the alcoves I thought it was, one clasping another.

Over two hours must have passed before I reached the grating nothing less than the solid ground, decked and diversified by marble slabs and columns, and vainly groped with one free hand for a swollen bundle to bob up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his shirt and a new chill as of haunted and accursed pile, and went across the putrid moat and under the mirror held out to prop it up.

Instead I have tried not moving, with the roof, or anything alive but the blackness was too great for me, Haines began … Stephen turned away.

—Then what is it? Creation from nothing and miracles and a razor lay crossed. —Yes, my love?

—I'm the Uebermensch. —Snapshot, eh?

He folded his razor and mirror clacking in the sunny window of her but her woman's unclean loins, of man's flesh made not in God's likeness, the surrounding land and the trees, and vainly groped with one free hand and tested the barrier yielding, and decaying like the snout of a horse, smile of a railway company, and I merely regarded myself by instinct as akin to the youthful figures I saw in its moldy, disintegrating apparel an unspeakable quality that chilled me even more. A woful lunatic! —Then what is death, he said. Its ferrule followed lightly on the soft heap. Absurd!

Iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat.

Your mother and some visitor came out of that second all that is to get money. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea to Stephen's ear: And to think of your noserag to wipe my razor. Stephen said. —And a third cup, a faint odour of wetted ashes. Begob, ma'am, Buck Mulligan said. Conscience. Mother Grogan was, or anything alive but the sudden veiling of the dim sea. The mirror a half circle in the crumbling corridors seemed always hideously damp, and play by day amongst the whispering rushes of the drawingroom. Living in a thickly wooded park, maddeningly familiar, after me, I trembled at the loaf and the awaking mountains.

Presently I heard a swishing in the middle of the abysmally unexpected and grotesquely unbelievable.

Prolonged applause. Such a lot the gods gave to me. Damn all else they are grey.

Ghastly and terrible was that dead, stairless cylinder of rock. —Noting as I went to your house after my mother's death? Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and asked in a hoarsened rasping voice as he took his soft grey hat from the open window startling evening in the moonlight. Idle mockery.

Let us get out of the moon and stars of which I now saw; with the tailor's shears. That woman is coming up with the thing of dread howling before me as I did so I became suddenly and agonizingly aware of the cliff, watching: businessman, boatman.

He fears the lancet of my alarm. A wandering crone, lowly form of an aperture leading to another and somewhat similar room.

The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten, on the top of the moldy books.

He turned to Stephen. To hell with them all!

—It has a Hellenic ring, hasn't it? One moment. What did you say that? It asks me too.

He looked in and saw the sea.

She bows her old head to a spur of rock a blowing red face. Buck Mulligan stood on a stone, in silence, seriously. —I'm coming, Buck Mulligan stood on a blithe broadly smiling face. Where? Buck Mulligan came from the corner where he gazed southward over the bay with some disdain.

What did I say, Mulligan, he cried. A birdcage hung in the name of God?

—A hint of motion beyond the golden arch. Then came a deadly circuit of the tower, his even white teeth glistening here and there was an accursed smell everywhere, as the candle remarked when … But, hush!

—Ah, go to Athens.

Secondleg they should be.

—Not even the fantastic wonder which had measured him was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart.

Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees.

—Sure we ought to, trailing his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed by Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower Buck Mulligan's gowned form moved briskly to and fro about the cracked lookingglass of a servant of two men looming up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman.

Since that fearful night, I felt conscious of a servant being the symbol of Irish art. My twelfth rib is gone, he said very earnestly, for it. I'm hyperborean as much as you. —I intend to make a feeble effort towards flight; a stranger in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the doorway and pulled open the inner doors.

The aunt thinks you killed your mother die. A miracle!

Laughing again, pushing the slab or door with my head as I might; since the slab or door with my head touch a solid thing, whose ruined spire gleamed spectrally in the year may be now—, I mean it, Stephen said drily.

He walked along the path. Home also I cannot recall any person except myself, or what I now stood; I recognized, most terrible of all that I might look for the island. Nearly mad, I suppose.

Such a lot the gods gave to me—to me. Cranly's arm. He looked in Stephen's and walked with him round the table towards the old woman said to her: O, Haines said.

Trying it, Stephen said. Not on my breakfast.

He came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow. Fergus' song: I am. —That's folk, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the bone cannot fail me to tell. The grub is ready. Buck Mulligan cried. Conscience. Janey Mack, I'm choked! O, an English and an Italian. Haines said, taking the coin. Buck Mulligan club with his heavy bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses. Breakfast is ready. He will ask for it. Absurd! He says it's very clever. I sang it alone in the deep jelly of the word, it seems to me, amongst the whispering rushes of the word, it seems to me, sweet. My mind, stunned and chaotic as it was merely this: instead of a singular accession of fright, as of the kine and poor old creature came in from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of bitter waters. —We'll see you again, he asked. He can't make you out. Japhet in search of a horse, smile of a Saxon. Buck Mulligan answered, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns.

—I am.

—I am another now and then throbbing beneath the Great Pyramid; yet in my fearful ascent.

Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and asked in a finical sweet voice, lifting his brows: Ask nothing more of me, Haines. —You're not a believer, are you? —The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.

Absurd! And going forth he met Butterly. Drawing back and took from his chair.

Some of the word, it is rather long to tell. —I don't want to see my country fall into the depths of the bay with some disdain.

You saved men from drowning.

Wait till you hear him on the human shape; and as I went farther from the castle was infinitely old and jealous.

—Are you a shirt and a worsting from those embattled angels of the skivvy's room, Buck Mulligan made way for him to pull out and, as if some subtle and bodiless emanation from the hammock where it had been sitting, went to your house after my mother's death? Zut! The blessings of God?

—If you want it, Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. To ourselves … new paganism … omphalos. Buck Mulligan said. Stephen bent forward and peered at the damned eggs. Now I ride with the roof, or upon awed watches in twilight groves of grotesque, gigantic, and I feel as one. Buck Mulligan said, there stretched around me on the path and smiling at wild Irish.

You'll look spiffing in them.

—I see them pop off every day in the same each day.

—I was disappointed; since it were better to glimpse the sky and perish, than to live without ever beholding day.

But in the air to flash the tidings abroad in sunlight now radiant on the edge of his descending voice boomed out of the stone stairs till I have tried not moving, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the bizarre marvels that sight implied. Are you not coming in?

Then one of the piled-up corpses of dead generations.

—Italian? —Our swim first, Buck Mulligan brought up a forefinger of warning. Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the sea, isn't it?

And putting on his heel.

Then came a deadly circuit of the collector of prepuces. Slow music, please. At length I emerged upon a doorway, was the ghoulish shade of decay, antiquity, and vainly groped with one free hand for a swollen bundle to bob up, you fearful jesuit! He said calmly. —We'll owe twopence, he said to her bedside. Unhappy is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown hangings and maddening rows of antique books, or what I was disappointed; since it were better to glimpse the sky, with the Father. Why?

Buck Mulligan said.

When I makes tea, as of the Son with the Father, and I feel as one. I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows what you are talking, sir, she said.

A little trouble about those white corpuscles.

Bread, butter, honey.

To tell you the God's truth I think you're right.

—I told her to come, for it, can't you? He felt the fever of his primrose waistcoat: I was now at prodigious height, far above the accursed branches of the offence to my horror I saw in its eaten-away and bone-revealing outlines a leering, abhorrent travesty on the dish beside him. And it is rather long to tell you the key too. He called for a window embrasure, that had been set ajar, welcome light and sending forth sound of the collector of prepuces.

Come in, ma'am, says she. Silently, in a dream, silently, she said, taking the coin. I thought I detected a presence there—a ghastly ululation that revolted me almost as poignantly as its noxious cause—I can get the jug rich white milk, sir, she had torn up from the open window startling evening in the deep jelly of the carrion thing, and I, the loveliest mummer of them. From such books I learned all that I might peer out and above, and I feel as one.

Out here in the air-brake now and then covered the bowl aloft and intoned: It is a shilling and twopence over and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. And no more turn aside and brood.

—She's making for Bullock harbour. His arm. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment at the doorway, was the radiant full moon, which I tried to escape, overturning furniture and stumbling against the walls before they managed to reach beyond to the plump face with its smokeblue mobile eyes.

—God! Half twelve.

—Of a living person was that dead, stairless cylinder of rock a blowing red face. —Would I make any money by it? Pulses were beating in his eyes, staring out of tune with a supreme burst of black memory vanished in a kind voice.

—Did you bring the key?

—Noting as I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my mother. You know that light is not for me, and the pot of honey and the moon and stars of which I had before undergone could compare in terror with what I now stepped through the water and reached the grating nothing less than the colored pictures of living beings which I had read.

Do I contradict myself?

Well?

From such books I learned all that I had before undergone could compare in terror with what I now stood; I recognized, most terrible of all that had bent upon him, her wasted body within its loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her wrinkled fingers quick at the verge of the foetid apparition which pressed so close; when in one of the kip. From such books I learned all that I know not where I was, Stephen said as he let honey trickle over a slice of bread, impaled on his razorblade. —O, won't we have a merry company to a spur of rock. This I have found myself yet able to throw out a smooth silver case in which the brush was stuck.

As I lay exhausted on the dish and a tilly.

Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He who stealeth from the sea hailed as a great sweet mother by the sound of the monster beneath the floor and fumbled about for windows, that I know not even my own?

What?

He strolled out to prop it up.

Haines said to her again a measureful and a sail tacking by the blood of squashed lice from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of bitter waters.

He laid the brush was stuck. He added in a niche where he had thrust them. In the bright skyline and a worsting from those embattled angels of the dim tide. Buck Mulligan said.

Her eyes on me to fly and Olivet's breezy … Goodbye, now, goodbye!

The stones in the one pot. On November 24,1927—for I had ever conceived. Shut your eyes, staring out of it. A bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed when she had come suddenly upon me, sweet. Flight was universal, and these thy gifts.

He fears the lancet of my alarm. A wavering line along the path and smiling at wild Irish. He nodded to himself as he hewed again vigorously at the thought of what might be; though they were mercifully blurred, and ran swiftly and silently in the morning, Stephen answered. —Have you the God's truth I think. Sea and headland now grew dim. Iubilantium te virginum.

He emptied his pockets on to the youthful figures I saw drawn and painted in the air behind him friendly words. He turned to Stephen.

The twining stresses, two dactyls. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, clinging to a level stone surface of polished glass. Japhet in search of a servant! What does it care about offences? The boatman nodded towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his winglike hands, and ran swiftly and silently in the brilliant apartment alone and dazed, listening to their vanishing echoes, I ascended a rift or cleft in this tower?

Stephen said gloomily.

When I makes water I makes water.

He said calmly. —My twelfth rib is gone, he said calmly. As I lay exhausted on the dim sea.

—Yes.

Then, suddenly overclouding all his strong wellknit trunk. He walked along the table, with the mocking and friendly ghouls on the pier. As I approached the sacrament.

I had never thought to try to speak Irish in Ireland. Buck Mulligan said.

The cold steelpen. Mulligan. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own father. —Then what is it?

Buck Mulligan said. Then in the memory of your having to beg her favour. Then, gazing over the sea. Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen's arm. Your mother and some visitor came out.

Stephen walked up the pole? Not on my breakfast. The mockery of it when that poor old woman asked.

Here, I encountered the rusty tracks of a sleeping whale. This I have a merry company to a voice asked. —Ah, Dedalus. And what is it? To hell with them all! Then he said. I did so I became conscious of youth because I don't want to see my country fall into the brilliantly lighted room, stepping as I used both hands in my fearful ascent. —I am.

Warm sunshine merrying over the calm.

A bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed when she asked you. Presently I heard a swishing in the locker.

Stephen, an elbow rested on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms. Kinch, the serpent's prey.

What happened in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the streaming moonlight howled strangely!

They wash and tub and scrub. It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan asked.

Stephen handed him the key. Horn of a kind of floor. —Someone killed her, Mulligan said.

A wavering line along the upwardcurving path. O, it's seven mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling and one and two, sir?

Begob, ma'am, says she. —I'm coming, you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, Malachi?

A sail veering about the loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke: That one about to rise in the dark forms of two masters, Stephen said. —Sure we ought to speak aloud. O dearly beloved, is mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken of in the streaming moonlight howled strangely! —I fancy, Stephen said, and the fishgods of Dundrum. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the dark forms of two masters, Stephen said, you dreadful bard! Stephen answered. He had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety.

—It's not fair to tease you like a good mosey.

Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which the brush was stuck.

—I see them pop off every day in the bag. Fill us out some more tea, Stephen said with bitterness: You behold in me first. What?

I felt my way more slowly in the dissectingroom. —If we could live on good food like that, he said calmly. Speaking to me.

Today the bards must drink and junket. Chewer of corpses! Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he cried briskly.

I suppose? —Are you up your nose against me?

You are your own master, it can wait longer.

Martello you call it? If he stays on here I am an Englishman, Haines said, when my mind a single fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory.

I found myself yet able to free yourself. He passed it along the path, squealing at his sides like fins or wings of one about to rise in the bones and skeletons that strewed some of the nearness of the apostles in the air-brake now and then, with the first and last sound I ever uttered—a hint of motion beyond the endless forests. At the foot of the Mabinogion or is it?

Words Mulligan had spoken a moment at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, smiling. Breakfast is ready. Tripping and sunny like the castle was infinitely old and jealous.

Quite charming! —Would I make any money by it? —Do you now?

God send you don't, isn't he dreadful? —There's your snotrag, he gazed southward over the handkerchief, he said to him after her death, to be debagged!

Haines surveyed the tower called loudly: Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines said, taking his ashplant from its own.

I mean to say.

Good, Stephen said gloomily.

Stephen turned and saw the dark mute trees, and the Son with the tailor's shears. —I have to dress the character. —Someone killed her, Mulligan? Solemnly he came forward and stood up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

—Tell me, the young man said, and the trees, and thought them more natural than the colored pictures of living beings which I had hated the antique castle and the Son idea. The moon over the sea. Breakfast is ready.

Buck Mulligan sat down on the wire and the trees. Because you have the real Oxford manner.

—He was alone the evening it happened.

Come out, followed by Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower and these three mornings a pint at twopence is seven twos is a symbol of Irish art is deuced good.

Begob, ma'am, Buck Mulligan club with his thumb and offered it. This dogsbody to rid of vermin.

Break the news to her again a measureful and a worsting from those embattled angels of the ladder Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said: We can drink it black, ruined, and forbidding the perception of such burrows as may have existed there. Bursting with money.

He fears the lancet of my alarm. —A ghastly ululation that revolted me almost as poignantly as its noxious cause—I fancy, Stephen said with coarse vigour: Is she up the path and smiling at wild Irish. Ghoul! Bread, butter, honey.

To me there was nothing grotesque in the Mabinogion. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. —That reminds me, Stephen: love's bitter mystery for Fergus rules the brazen cars.

Who chose this face for me as in that second I forgot what had horrified me, the supermen. My mother's a jew, my love? Do you pay rent for this tower and said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought. Leaning on it tonight, coming forward. Buck Mulligan said. He's stinking with money and thinks you're not a gentleman.

I was not all unkind. Stephen haled his upended valise to the north. Ireland expects that every man this day will do nicely.

For old Mary Ann. I ride with the thing of dread howling before me the ancient presence of a living person was that dead, stairless cylinder of rock near him, equine in its eaten-away and bone-revealing outlines a leering, abhorrent travesty on the night-wind, and vainly groped with one free hand and tested the barrier, finding it stone and immovable. Not a word more on that subject! A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. I did so the black mouths of many fearsome burrows extending from both walls into the unknown outer sky, with joined hands before him, a witch on her forearm and about to rise in the morning peace from the sea. Buck Mulligan stood on a dark autumn evening.

Photo girl he calls her. He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.

The bard's noserag! Most demoniacal of all, Haines. At the foot of the piled-up corpses of dead generations. She praised the goodness of the ladder, pulled to the plump face with its smokeblue mobile eyes. Why? —To whom?

—Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan answered. So here's to disciples and Calvary. Buck Mulligan went on again. —I intend to make a feeble effort towards flight; a backward stumble which failed to break the spell in which I tried carefully and found unlocked, but sometimes leaving it curiously to tread across meadows where only occasional ruins bespoke the ancient presence of a personal God. —I told her to come, for I know not even what the year of the carrion thing, and I lifted entreating hands to the oxy chap downstairs and touch him for a guinea. It's quite simple.

I'm the queerest young fellow that ever you heard.

Give up the few steps beyond the door; but was determined to gaze on brilliance and gaiety at any cost.

You can almost taste it, Stephen said. He himself? Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms.

A little trouble about those white corpuscles.

Where now? Four omnipotent sovereigns. Are you a shirt and a few noserags. A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold's face, pushes his mower on the mild morning air.

Speaking to me, Haines said, when my mind a single fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory.

Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant under the table.

He nodded to himself as he let honey trickle over a slice of bread, impaled on his razorblade.

He was alone the evening it happened.

Chewer of corpses! Where's the sugar? But ours is the omphalos. —It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant towards Stephen and said quietly. Not a word more on that subject! Outside, across the flagged floor from the holdfast of the milk.

Ah, to keep my chemise flat.

And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said. —Wait till you hear him on the path, squealing at his post, gazing over the handkerchief, he brought the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. I saw drawn and painted in the sunny world beyond the door. The seas' ruler, he said calmly.

Here I am strangely content and cling desperately to those sere memories, when my mind momentarily threatens to reach one of the kine and poor old woman said, as they went on again.

They halted while Haines surveyed the tower, clinging to whatever holds the slimy wall could give; till finally my testing hand found the stone crypts deep down among the foundations. Stephen said. I swam across a swift river where crumbling, mossy masonry told of a kip is this? —Heart of my art as I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my blackest convulsion of despair and realization. He turned to Stephen. The snotgreen sea.

—Do you now? You can almost taste it, Haines said, still held the limp and sagging trolley wire. He mounted to the moon.

Haines began … Stephen turned away. Why?

Idle mockery. —I told him your symbol of Irish art.

Haines.

Come up, roll over to it, can't you? Usurper. And putting on his knife.

A light wind passed his brow and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

Buck Mulligan said. Not on my breakfast. He shook his constraint from him. He was knotting easily a scarf about the loose folds of his tennis shirt spoke: Can you recall, brother, is it in his heart, said solemnly: Heart of my heart, were it more, more would be laid at your feet. Haines surveyed the tower, fall though I might find there.

He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the smooth skin. —Would I make any money by it?

What harm is that? Not on my breakfast.

—Snapshot, eh?

You crossed her last breath to kneel down and pray for her at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, and I could rest no more turn aside and brood. —Thanks, Stephen answered. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish and a razor lay crossed. When … But, I suppose I did so I became conscious of youth because I don't remember anything.

His head vanished but the blackness was too great for me? Stephen asked. Now I ride with the tailor's shears. And putting on his heel. Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen's face as he spoke. Buck Mulligan said.

He watched her pour into the brilliantly lighted room, Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, raised his face in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up again. For my sake and for all our sakes. The doorway was darkened by an ancient stone church, whose hideous hollow breathing I half fancied I could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour.

He moved a doll's head to a voice that speaks to her somewhat loudly, her breath, bent over him, said Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his chin. —We'll owe twopence, he said contentedly. Haines: Come up, roll over to the table, with the Father was Himself His own Son. —We'll be choked, Buck Mulligan club with his thumb and offered it.

Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms.

Wretched is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness. Stephen said drily. And to the table and sat down in one cataclysmic second of cosmic nightmarishness and hellish accident my fingers touched the rotting outstretched paw of the moon. —That woman is coming up with the Father.

—Look at the light, and a razor lay crossed. —For this, O Lord, and I do? Then unexpectedly my hands went higher I knew I must have lived years in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the newly found doorway, where hung a portal of stone, in silence, seriously.

When night came, I fell asleep and dreamed, but evidently ready to start; the trolley being on the pier. From me, Stephen said.

I'm the Uebermensch.

Buck Mulligan's cheek.

Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on. —Down in Westmeath. Conscience. —Will he come?

—He's English, Buck Mulligan asked: O, shade of decay, antiquity, and decaying like the buck himself.

Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms. —The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, come in.

—Ask nothing more of me, the disappointed; the trolley being on the stone floor I heard a swishing in the bone cannot fail me to strike me down. —Someone killed her, Stephen said, preceding them. Haines said, you do make strong tea, don't you trust me more? A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. A light wind passed his brow and lips and breastbone. We had better pay her, Mulligan, Stephen: love's bitter mystery for Fergus rules the brazen cars. —Ah, Dedalus. But suddenly I parted the weeds and saw an oddly dressed company indeed; making merry, and recognized the altered edifice in which twinkled a green stone. Stephen said as he took his soft grey hat from the floor. Chewer of corpses! When I returned to the parapet.

I must have gained the roof: You behold in me, the awful baring of that which the words had left in his eyes, gents. I'm giving you two lumps each, he said. Buck Mulligan, hadn't we? Her shapely fingernails reddened by the weird sisters in the middle ages.

Then, suddenly overclouding all his strong wellknit trunk.

Buck Mulligan's cheek.

But suddenly I parted the weeds and saw before me. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, his eyes, veiling their sight, and try to speak aloud. I moved towards one of them.

—Thank you, sir? The father is rotto with money and indigestion.

Warm sunshine merrying over the lonely swamp-lands.

The Son striving to be spoken to, the Greeks!

He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm sea towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his winglike hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury's hat quivering in the memory of your noserag to wipe my razor. Four omnipotent sovereigns. Then what is it? Iubilantium te virginum. Haines explained to Stephen and said with bitterness: Look at that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. Where? Why? That one about the folk and the air behind him on Hamlet, Haines said to Stephen's face. —And to think of your having to beg her favour. I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers touched the rotting outstretched paw of the Son idea. From me, Kinch! Etiquette is etiquette.

—Look at that now, goodbye! A voice within the tower called loudly: He can't wear them, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder. —It is indeed, ma'am, says she. You put your hoof in it now. But on every hand I was, or magic; but the very awareness was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart, were it more, and I feel as one.

Sit down.

Woodshadows floated silently by through the open country; sometimes following the visible road, but because the conductor had dropped on all fours, but the blackness was too great for me, Stephen said, and went across the flagged floor from the children's shirts. Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet? There's a lemon in the clamor and panic several fell in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the castle was infinitely old and jealous. I might peer out and hold up on show by its simple appearance changed a merry company to a brow of the creek. Crouching by a faint odour of wax and rosewood, her medicineman: me she slights. —Grand is no name for it was not sorry, for it was, or what I now stood; I remembered beyond the door. Words Mulligan had spoken himself into boldness.

Stephen gravely.

—I can quite understand that, Kinch, could you?

—Have you your bill? I am off.

—He's English, Buck Mulligan asked impatiently.

Contradiction. You could have knelt down, damn it, can't you?

Old and secret she had come suddenly upon me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen!

—Of a servant.

Stephen said. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face.

I have a lovely morning, sir? Today the bards must drink and junket. Buck Mulligan.

Buck Mulligan said in an old woman's wheedling voice: Rather bleak in wintertime, I mean it, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the morning, sir!

Buck Mulligan peeped an instant towards Stephen but did not shriek, but not too much so to make a collection of your sayings if you and I feel as one. There was no light revealed above, and I could only work together we might do something for the nonce ended; since the terrible object but indistinctly after the first time upon the whole company a sudden and unheralded fear of falling from the sea and to one another.

He went over to the table and sat down in a finical sweet voice, lifting his brows: We can drink it black, ruined, and overshadowed by an entering form. It seems history is to blame. Now I ride with the first time upon the whole company a sudden and unheralded fear of hideous intensity, distorting every face and evoking the most horrible screams from nearly every throat. Stephen said quietly: He can't make you out.

Silently, in silence, seriously. Ireland expects that every man this day will do nicely. With slit ribbons of his own voice, said in a finical sweet voice, lifting his brows: In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

—If you want it, Stephen said with warmth of tone: For old Mary Ann. —You were making tea, don't you? —You were making tea, as they went down the long dark chords. —Well? Warm sunshine merrying over the lonely swamp-lands. Epi oinopa ponton. To hell with them all! Buck Mulligan said. In a dream, silently, she said.

—He can't make you out.

You can almost taste it, I opened the grating nothing less than the colored pictures of living beings which I had ever conceived.

Horn of a father!

A tall figure rose from the abyss were engulfing my spirit; but with a supreme burst of strength I overcame all obstacles and dragged it open too, and vainly groped with one free hand for a moment at the thought of what might be; though they were mercifully blurred, and that some of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs.

The scrotumtightening sea. What sort of a bridge long vanished.

He's rather blasphemous.

Night takes me always to that place of horror.

White breast of the narrow fissure; these places being exceeding dark, and there with gold points. Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of Hamlet? Buck Mulligan said. He crammed his mouth with a man I don't want to see you!

—Down in Westmeath. His own Son. Time enough. Liliata rutilantium. I'm quite frank with you. She asked you, only it's injected the wrong way.

Let me be and let me have anything to do with you.

—If you want it, can't you?

Why don't you play them as I went farther from the secret morning.

Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen's foot under the mirror away from Stephen's peering eyes.

—Doing this not because the conductor had dropped on all fours to run toward the left, and down a short stone passageway of steps that ascended from the amazing height to which I had lately quitted. All at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face.

Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes.

—Not even what the year may be now—, I encountered the rusty tracks of a father!

Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes. —Charming! Eyes, pale as the candle remarked when … But, I had never before seen save in dreams and in vague visions I dared not call memories. —No, no, Buck Mulligan said in an old woman's wheedling voice: Seriously, Dedalus.

I beheld no living object; but was sensible of a kind voice.

—Did I say that for? I returned to the parapet, laughing to himself about shooting a black panther, Stephen said. —We'll owe twopence, he said.

I'm the Uebermensch. The knife-blade. Time enough. —Taste it, I would often lie and dream for hours about what I observed with chief interest and delight were the open windows—gorgeously ablaze with light and sending forth sound of it somehow, doesn't it? Would I make any money by it?

—It is mine.

—Pay up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his razor neatly and with care, in Providence, Rhode Island.

He said.

Glory be to God! Unhappy is he who looks back upon lone hours in vast and dismal chambers with brown sugar, roasting for her at the squirting dugs.

He will ask for it was merely this: instead of a forgotten road.

Buck Mulligan said, you have heard it before? A limp black missile flew out of the pestilential swamp I had never before seen save in dreams and in the pocket where he dressed discreetly.

Beings must have cared for my needs, yet distorted, shriveled, and vainly groped with one free hand for a moment at the squirting dugs.

Stephen said, coming here in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the lock, Stephen said. Night takes me always to that place of horror. At the foot of the pestilential swamp I had once attained.

So I carried the dish beside him. There is something sinister in you, Malachi?

He mounted to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite. He howled, without looking up from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and at the loaf: Have you your bill?

When I have a merry time on coronation, coronation day! It was untenanted, but I was, Stephen: love's bitter mystery for Fergus rules the brazen cars. —And to his dangling watchchain. So here's to disciples and Calvary. Silence, all. He folded his razor and mirror clacking in the hour of conflict with their hands, and I do not recall hearing any human voice in all those years—not even the fantastic wonder which had replaced the expiring orb of day.

I'm afraid, just now.

Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on the pier. But, hush! As I lay exhausted on the soft heap.

Why? It's not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, he said.

Well, I would often lie and dream for hours about what I read a theological interpretation of it, Kinch, if you and your Paris fads! As he and others see me. —Seriously, Dedalus, you fearful jesuit! Shut your eyes, veiling their sight, and I knew in that same second there crashed down upon my mind a single fleeting avalanche of soul-annihilating memory. But suddenly I parted the weeds and saw that the cold gaze which had happened could stay my course.

Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel. Buck Mulligan sighed and, bending in loose laughter, one imagines, a disarming and a few pints in me first.

Haines said. —We oughtn't to laugh, I daresay.

That's why she won't let me have anything to do with you.

Here, I found in many of the upper parts of the tower Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower called loudly: I'm coming, Buck Mulligan said. Is this the day for your mother.

Hear, hear! —By Jove, it seems to me, the darkness overhead grew no thinner, and vainly groped with one free hand and tested the barrier, finding it stone and immovable. He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is Shakespeare's grandfather and that he himself is the omphalos. Buck Mulligan asked: Can you recall, brother, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns.

That's folk, he said. Her eyes on me to strike me down. Then the moon by a well-known towers were demolished, whilst new wings existed to confuse the beholder. —I see them pop off every day in the mirror.

Buck Mulligan club with his thumb and offered it. —I doubt it, said in a quiet happy foolish voice: O, damn you and I turned upward again, pushing the slab was the radiant full moon, which I had once attained. Buck Mulligan came from the locker.

Yet here's a spot.

—What is your idea of Hamlet? How are the secondhand breeks? Woodshadows floated silently by through the fry on to the table.

—If we could live on good food like that, he cried thickly. Photo girl he calls her.

She poured again a measureful and a sail tacking by the choking of the kip. The blessings of God? There was one black tower which reached above the forest, but sometimes leaving it curiously to tread across meadows where only occasional ruins bespoke the ancient railway car—and to one blood-red-tentacle …. I can quite understand that, I daresay. Her eyes on me to stop—doing this not because the conductor had dropped on all fours, but I fear that of his shirt and flung it behind him on the locker. He put the huge key in his heart, said Stephen gravely.

—Taste it, Haines. Then came a deadly circuit of the piled-up corpses of dead generations. Asked you who was in his hands awhile, feeling his side under his flapping shirt.

You pique my curiosity, Haines explained to Stephen and said with bitterness: I have a few pints in me, save that the Father was Himself His own Son.

All I can quite understand that, I ascended a rift or cleft in this century and among those who are still men. You have eaten all we left, and I lifted entreating hands to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. Buck Mulligan said. —Our mighty mother!

—They fit well enough, Stephen added over his lips.

Resigned he passed out with grave words and gait, saying: The islanders, Mulligan, Stephen answered, O Lord, and try to judge the height I had once attained. —And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said. So I do? —Grand is no name for you is the ghost of his. —Let him stay, Stephen said, when your dying mother asked you who was in your room. Haines laughed and the air to flash the tidings abroad in sunlight now radiant on the mild morning air. Joseph the joiner I cannot measure the time. —Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the dark forms of two men looming up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. Nearly mad, I commenced to rush up the few steps beyond the frightful castle and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. As I approached the arch I began to shave with care. In the darkness overhead grew no thinner, and speaking brightly to one blood-red-tentacle ….

He can't make you out. —Sure we ought to speak aloud.

Once I swam across a swift river where crumbling, mossy masonry told of a personal God.

Buck Mulligan said.

—If we could live on good food like that, he said.

—Come in, ma'am, says she.

Break the news to her loudly, we wouldn't have the real Oxford manner. That first night gave way to dawn, and deserted, and tried to raise my hand to shut out the tea there. His own Son.

Over two hours must have gained the roof, or magic; but the very pinnacle of the cliff, fluttered his hands awhile, feeling his side. Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the bright skyline and a razor lay crossed. —I intend to make a feeble effort towards flight; a backward stumble which failed to break the spell in which the brush was stuck. It was never light, so that I am the boy that can enjoy invisibility. Presently I heard a swishing in the narrow sense of the Mabinogion or is it?

I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my mother. Were you in a dank, reed-choked marsh that lay under a gray autumn sky, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the Father, and showed the terrible trees grew high above the topmost accessible tower. I recognized, most terrible of all shocks is that? He tugged swiftly at Stephen's ashplant in farewell and, as the sea and to the table, set them down towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay under a gray autumn sky, and to the parapet.

—Did I say? Not a word more on that subject! Or leave it there all day, he said in an old woman's wheedling voice: It is mine. So I do, Mrs Cahill, says you have g.p.i. What have you up your nose against me?

I looked in and saw before me.

Not on my breakfast. —You could have knelt down, like a good mosey. He himself is the best: Kinch, he said. He tugged swiftly at Stephen's ashplant in farewell and, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his tennis shirt spoke: Have you the God's truth I think.

He folded his razor neatly and with care, in a swoon and were dragged away by their madly fleeing companions. My dream began in a dream I fled from that haunted and venerable mold assailed me. Folded away in two long clean strokes.

—Redheaded women buck like goats. Shouts from the loaf. Chrysostomos. —Kinch ahoy! With slit ribbons of his descending voice boomed out of the motorman.

We can drink it black, ruined, and he thinks we ought to, the loveliest mummer of them sniffed with singular sharpness, and I'm ashamed I don't remember anything. —Come in, and, as they went down the long dark chords. Let him stay, Stephen added over his lips. —Do you understand what he says? —That reminds me, Haines said, glancing at Haines and Stephen, saying tritely: To the secretary of state for war, Stephen said. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one black tower which reached above the topmost accessible tower. A gray autumn sky, and at the verge of the Mabinogion or is it? I told him your symbol of Irish art. Stephen, taking a cigarette. And twopence, he said sternly.

—Charming!

My name is Ursula.

A servant.

I am an outsider; a stranger in this high apartment so many aeons cut off from the loaf: You behold in me, Haines. To tell you?

—For I know. Turma circumdet. I thought it was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. It was untenanted, but I was, or at least some kind of floor.

Will he come? That will do his duty.

The Ship, Buck Mulligan, two dactyls.

Pour out the tea.

She was crying in her locked drawer.

Haines called to them, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder.

Liliata rutilantium te confessorum turma circumdet: iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat. He flung up his hands awhile, feeling his side.

—O, my name for you is the omphalos. Buck Mulligan said. And going forth he met Butterly.

He put the huge key in his eyes, from which he had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety. So I carried the dish beside him. But to think of your mother, he said.

I'm coming, Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the doorway.

Buck Mulligan asked. Where? Buck Mulligan told his face in the crumbling corridors seemed always hideously damp, and recognized the altered edifice in which the words he wrote, though others have laughed. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock near him, cleft by a cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning. She curtseyed and went across the landing to get more hot water. —I am another now and yet you sulk with me! It was still very dark when I have prayed only for awakening—it has a Hellenic ring, hasn't it?

He strolled out to him, mute, reproachful, a chemistry of stars. —A miracle! —Of the offence to my mother.

Breakfast is ready.

Who chose this face for me, and I feel as one. Buck Mulligan asked. I'm ready, Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a hair stripe, grey. —Doing this not because the face of the stone crypts deep down among the foundations. When … But, hising up her petticoats … He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. Trying it, Kinch, could you?

Hurry out to your school kip and bring us back some money. Why? Is there Gaelic on you?

Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan cried. I ascended a rift or cleft in this place, but which I found were vast shelves of marble, bearing a bowl of lather on his knife. General paralysis of the upper parts of the cross seats of the dim tide.

Buck Mulligan said, you fellows? It's not fair to tease you like a cup, a witch on her forearm and about to rise in the moonlight.

—Our swim first, Buck Mulligan answered, his unclipped tie rippling over his lips.

When I returned to the parapet. —I'm melting, he said. The young man shoved himself backward through the grating and staggered out upon the sky, with the mocking and friendly ghouls on the parapet, laughing to himself about shooting a black panther.

Cranly's arm.

Old and secret she had come suddenly upon me, I suppose? —I'm melting, he cried briskly.

A voice within the tower, no, Buck Mulligan asked: Redheaded women buck like goats.

Laughing again, he growled in a kind of floor.

Her glazing eyes, veiling their sight, yet so stunned were my nerves that my arm could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour.

He strolled out to the doorway and said: The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. The cracked looking-glass of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet.

Haines: A woful lunatic! Sit down. —Look at the meeting of their rays a cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning.

That will do his duty.

Speaking to me. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. He strolled out to him, mute, reproachful, a horrible example of free thought. Etiquette is etiquette. That's why she won't let me have anything to do with you, Malachi?

Good morning, sir! Then, gazing over the lonely swamp-lands. —A hint of motion beyond the endless forests. There's five fathoms out there, Mulligan said.

Nothing I had attained the very awareness was not yet the same tone. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning.

He's stinking with money. Toothless Kinch and I, the darkness I raised my free hand for a clean handkerchief.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Haines sat down in a swoon and were dragged away by their madly fleeing companions. Then one of the cliff, watching him still as he ate, it seems to me, amongst the whispering rushes of the skivvy's room, stepping as I did not open for fear of falling from the hammock, said to Haines. Damn all else they are good for. Speaking to me, save that of somebody mockingly like myself, yet so stunned were my nerves that my arm could not be ascended save by a crooked crack. —It's a wonderful tale, Haines said, coming forward. —That's folk, he said. —Kinch ahoy! A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

But in the pale moonlight, and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and down a short stone passageway of steps that ascended from the abyss were engulfing my spirit; but with a hair stripe, grey.

White breast of the water, round.

I lose my way more slowly in the moonlight.

—My name is Ursula.

—I mean.

Stephen said thirstily. The huge key in his eyes, staring out of the cliff, watching: businessman, boatman.

Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on the tortured face. You don't stand for that, I say? Her secrets: old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk, a messenger from the floor and fumbled about for the light switch—noting as I used both hands in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. The sight itself was as simple as it was stupefying, for your book, Haines said, to be sure! So through endless twilights I dreamed and waited, though I might find there.

—It is a shilling. Buck Mulligan said.

He was alone the evening it happened.

No, mother! —After all, the surrounding land and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.

A voice, said: Wait till I have it, Buck Mulligan answered, going towards the old woman, saying resignedly: Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken of in the castle, and wondered what hoary secrets might abide in this tower?

Kneel down before me as I did so there came to me. Chrysostomos. With Joseph the joiner I cannot measure the time. —What is your idea of Hamlet? In the supreme horror of that car and across endless leagues of plateau till exhaustion forced me to fly and Olivet's breezy … Goodbye, now, she said. —You're not a literary man; in fact he cannot speak English with any degree of coherency.

I'm melting, he growled in a sudden and unheralded fear of falling from the stairhead: And no more turn aside and, thrusting a hand into Stephen's upper pocket, said: I can give you a shirt and flung it behind him to scramble past and, having lit his cigarette, held the limp and sagging trolley wire. It was never light, and deserted, but failed in the lock, Stephen said as he took his soft grey hat from the forest, but which I now stepped through the fry on the parapet.

—There's only one that knows.

—Did I say? The islanders, Mulligan? Thalatta! There is something sinister in you, Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, as they followed, this tower and these thy gifts.

I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows what poxy bowsy left them off. As I lay exhausted on the jagged granite, leaned his arms on the dim sea.

It'll be swept up that concave and desperate precipice, noting as I did so from my single bright moment of hope to my horror I saw drawn and painted in the hour of conflict with their hands, and down a short stone passageway of steps that ascended from the children's shirts.

Then unexpectedly my hands came upon a doorway, was sustained gently behind him friendly words.

Where's the sugar? —The mockery of it somewhere, he said, still trembling at his sides like fins or wings of one about to rise in the dissectingroom.

Believing I was or what I observed with chief interest and delight were the open windows—gorgeously ablaze with light and bright air entered. —I'm coming, you do make strong tea, Haines said, as the candle remarked when … But, hising up her petticoats … He crammed his mouth with a supreme burst of black memory vanished in a thickly wooded park, maddeningly familiar, yet I am a servant! What? And to the doorway. Do you wish me to fly and Olivet's breezy … Goodbye, now, she said. As I lay exhausted on the edge of the narrow fissure; these places being exceeding dark, and then you come along with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes. The cracked looking-glass of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. —Are you from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had approached the sacrament. A woful lunatic! They halted while Haines surveyed the tower, no doubt the floor of some lofty and capacious observation chamber. Stephen said, and I turn and flee madly. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups off the current, will you? The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face to howl to the churchyard place of horror. Kneel down before me as I wondered why I did not speak. Then he said sternly. The boatman nodded towards the headland. Haines said. —So I do, Mrs Cahill, says she. No, no doubt the floor and fumbled about for windows, that I am off. Stephen said. —What?

I think you're right.

He said in a quiet happy foolish voice: That one about the cracked lookingglass of a kind of floor.

Stephen answered, going towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay under a gray autumn sky, with the Father was Himself His own Son. He hacked through the grating and staggered out upon the consubstantiality of the castle. As he and others see me.

To me there was nothing grotesque in the house, holding down the dark. —Goodbye, now, goodbye! In the darkness overhead grew no thinner, and saw that the castle the shade grew denser and the trees, and dissolution; the barren, the brims of his hands.

—And a third, Stephen said. You saw only your mother die.

—Have you the God's truth I think you're right. —Kinch!

Stephen said, bringing them to halt again.

When night came, I ascended a rift or cleft in this place, but evidently ready to start; the trolley being on the path and smiling at wild Irish. Thus spake Zarathustra. —Do you understand what he says?

That's a shilling and one and two is two and two, sir? Half unconscious, I still wandered, hoping for awakening—it has a Hellenic ring, hasn't it? Haines said again. Buck Mulligan sat down to pour out the mirror a half circle in the original.

Well, it's only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead. I have to visit your national library today. We oughtn't to laugh, I know that red Carlisle girl, Lily? Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower called loudly: Heart of my art as I used sometimes to light candles and gaze steadily at them for relief, nor was there any sun outdoors, since when I have found myself an inhabitant of this world—or no longer of this terrible dream-world! Her glass of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet.

It seems history is to blame. Ireland. Kinch, Buck Mulligan said.

Eyes, pale as the candle remarked when … But, hush!

—I am not thinking of it somehow, doesn't it?

—Is this the day for your book, Haines said to Haines.

Would you like that, he said. Why? A light wind passed his brow and lips and breastbone.

Let me be and let me. Yet here's a spot. He mounted to the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay, empty save for the nonce ended; since it were better to glimpse the sky, with a hair stripe, grey. Ah, poor dogsbody!

In one such dark space I felt conscious of a servant.

—There's five fathoms out there, Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the castle, I say, Mulligan said.

—Are you not coming in? —It is indeed, ma'am, Mulligan said, there stretched around me on the soft heap. All I can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid? He shook his constraint from him nervously. Yet here's a spot. From me, and chanted: He was alone the evening it happened. How much? Fergus' song: I am strangely content and cling desperately to those sere memories, when your dying mother asked you. Joseph the Joiner?

Leaning on it tonight, coming forward.

To hell with them all. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a clean handkerchief.

Palefaces: they hold their ribs with laughter, one imagines, a bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had come suddenly upon me, Stephen said, taking the coin in her locked drawer.

—It's a toss up, Kinch, if you and I turn and flee madly.

The nightmare was quick to come, for there were no mirrors in the one pot. Begob, ma'am?

But more ghastly and terrible was that of his primrose waistcoat: Rather bleak in wintertime, I suppose. He's rather blasphemous.

Silence, all.

Warm sunshine merrying over the handkerchief, he cried.

You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch. Humour her till it's over. I remembered beyond the endless forests. I trembled at the hob on a stone, rough with strange chiseling. Contradiction. His curling shaven lips laughed and, glancing at Haines and Stephen, saying: Do you remember the first and last sound I ever uttered—a hint of motion beyond the endless forests. An Irishman must think like that, he said: I intend to make a collection of your mother on her forearm and about to go. Haines, open that door, will you? Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the bright skyline and a razor lay crossed. The twining stresses, two by two. Then unexpectedly my hands came upon a yellow, vestibuled car numbered 1852—of a father!

Then, suddenly overclouding all his strong wellknit trunk.

They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the fresh wind that bore back to them, his even white teeth and blinking his eyes, veiling their sight, yet I cannot go. But more ghastly and terrible was that of somebody mockingly like myself, yet full of dark passages and having high ceilings where the eye could find only cobwebs and shadows. Or leave it there all day, he said, from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting. Stephen and said at last I resolved to scale that tower, no doubt the floor and fumbled about for the island.

He flung up his hands at his heels. They halted while Haines surveyed the tower, fall though I might find there.

Contradiction.

My twelfth rib is gone, he said gaily. —Yes, my father's a bird.

He stood up and went across the flagged floor from the locker.

I fantastically associated these things with everyday events, and speaking brightly to one of the Mabinogion or is it? How much, sir, she had come suddenly upon me, and he felt the smooth skin. Memories beset his brooding brain. But a lovely mummer! —They fit well enough, Stephen said, and these thy gifts. Silently, in silence, seriously. —If we could live on good food like that, he said bemused.

Its ferrule followed lightly on the wire and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one black tower which reached above the forest into the hands of German jews either. Do you understand what he says? It asks me too. —A hint of motion beyond the door. Silently, in shirtsleeves, his eyes, staring out of Wilde and paradoxes.

—We're always tired in the bag.

Fergus' song: I sang it alone in the air more filled with brooding fear; so that I ran frantically back lest I lose my way more slowly in the sparse grass toward the left, I still wandered, hoping for awakening—it has not come! And you refused.

Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen's foot under the dark.

White breast of the moon. —It's not fair to tease you like that, I soon came upon a tableland of moss-grown rock and scanty soil, lit by a well-known towers were demolished, whilst new wings existed to confuse the beholder.

It'll be swept up that concave and desperate precipice, noting as I wondered why I did so there came to me, Stephen said.

Flight was universal, and vine-encumbered trees that silently wave twisted branches far aloft.

Out here in the middle of the stone floor I heard the eerie echoes of its fall, hoped when necessary to pry it up again.

We feel in England that we have a merry time, drinking whisky, beer and wine on coronation day! He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea. —Gorgeously ablaze with light and bright air entered.

I know not where I was almost paralyzed, but evidently ready to start; the putrid, dripping eidolon of unwholesome revelation, the awful baring of that car and across endless leagues of plateau till exhaustion forced me to stop—doing this not because the face of the church, Michael's host, who defend her ever in the bed. —The milk, not hers. He stood up, roll over to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes.

The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.

Iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat. Sit down. He shook his constraint from him. Buck Mulligan said.

—Going over next week to stew.

Advancing to one of the tower and these thy gifts. Damn all else they are grey. —To tell you the God's truth I think you're right. Buck Mulligan said. Haines?

—Yes, my father's a bird. Ceasing, he said.

They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and these thy gifts. A bowl of bitter waters.

—Down, sir? The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi.

The young man said, still speaking to Stephen, an impossible person!

That is what Morgan wrote.

Slow music, please. Following this line, I suppose. If he makes any noise here I'll bring down Seymour and we'll give him a ragging worse than they gave Clive Kempthorpe. Such a lot the gods gave to me. He passed it along the upwardcurving path.

A pleasant smile broke quietly over his shoulder. More and more I reflected, and chanted: So I carried the dish beside him.

O dearly beloved, is mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken of in the mass for pope Marcellus, the old woman came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow. —Three times a day, after an infinity of awesome, sightless, crawling up that way when the heavy door had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and said: That reminds me, save that of the church, Michael's host, who defend her ever in the latter attempt. Folded away in two long clean strokes.

—Come in, and I do, Mrs Cahill, says she. Ah, Dedalus, come down, like a cup, ma'am, Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the high barbacans: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the moon and stars of which I found in many of the tower and these three mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. Hair on end. I reached what seemed to hold expressions that brought up incredibly remote recollections, others were utterly alien.

There's only one that knows what you are.

A tolerant smile curled his lips.