#my old boy (black cat) is dying of old age so he looks rough these days

[neferpitoebeans]

[glossyeon]

natm || pt.1 || osh

*All credit goes to the creators of these images*

~𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮…~

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Museum Curator!Sehun x Sculpture!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: sexual content, oral m recieving, fingering, dirty talk, degrading names during sex, rough sex, nudity, explicit depictions of sex, Sad scenes, Reader is a sculpture?, Swearing, Lot’s of grammar mistakes, heartbreaking and heartwarming scenes ahead…

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.6k

𝘼/𝙉: This has been a series that I’ve been dying to do for a very long time! I think Museum Curator!Sehun is such an uncommon paring that we need more of these days. Also inspired by Night at the Museum Movie Series... Enjoy!

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘖𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪�� 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 12...

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the strike of 12 o'clock midnight you are given the chance to come to life once more. No longer do the Velvet rope barriers that keep you motionless throughout the day block your freedom. You’ve done the same thing each and every night for the past thirty years since you were moved to this museum. Roam the halls and exhibits with your fellow friends of art that are bound to the grounds of this grand building just like you. 

There’s your sassy and confident friend HyunA, which is better known as the girl with the pearl earring. Constantly chattering and gossiping about the cavemen’s in exhibit B, or the newly arrived valuables that belong in the Victorian history section. 

Then there’s your calm and collected friend Mona Lisa, but you just call her by Lisa. Quite popular amongst the mummies in the Ancient Egypt section for some reason that you cannot out your finger on. The three of you have been together for the past decades, stuck to be stared, examined, and pick apart by the public eye. It’s not easy, but it’s what you were all made to do. 

Stay perfectly still and be art. 

Be the magnificent piece of history that people label you to be. 

That night was the same as any other. The booming chimes of the grand clock in the entrance of the museum signalled the time had come for everyone. The time to live. 

Soon, the stiff marble that you called your hair turned to luscious black locks, healthy and shining with brilliance. The pale cover that was your skin melted off to uncover a radiantly glowing hazel one. No one could deny that the beauty you obtained was less than perfect. You were the epitome of beauty, confidence, and love.

“Jesus Christ I think I’m gonna need to see a chiropractor after this” you signed in pain as you cracked the remaining hardened parts of your body. Standing in place for 12 hours was exhausting and cruel to say the least.

“You’re a sculpture. How on earth would you survive that painful session with a chiropractor? Your fine marble would bruise and dent the minute hands are laid on you.” Absurdity was evident in the voice that came from behind you. A voice with too many thoughts that had been kept hidden for so long that just ached to be heard...

“Taemin-“ you started out, tired of dealing with this again 

“First of all, how would you even meet this chiropractor? We are bound to the halls of this museum!” He stated as if you weren’t reminded of this everyday. “And what would the chiropractor even say to you if you show up to them? “Oh why hello there nice to meet you, you must be that hundred thousand year old sculpture th-“

“Taemin!” You shrieked in annoyance. It wasn’t long before you clamped the tall mans mouth shut with your hand and warned in a threatening voice. “I’m popular, I’m beautiful , and I have many many friends in this exhibit that wouldn’t mind making a few dents in those kneecaps...” you said, emphasizing many.

The boy gasped in horror and pulled away from you before gulping in fear from your series expression. you sighed and proceeded to leave, your white dress floating behind you as you tried to find your friends. “I have no time to deal with you” you explained, swiftly walking away. 

He called behind you “it’s not my fault that I’m constantly surround by my thoughts with NO ONE to talk too” he huffed and pouted his lips in a frown that you could already tell was there. 

it wasn’t long before the shrieks and laughter that belonged to HyunA filled the History section next door. You smirked, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. You couldn’t help stopping to witness the scene of your friend right before your eyes.

HyunA’s voice and chatter was dripping with charisma and curiosity. As the girl sat elegantly on one of the museum benches, the Norwegian cavemen fought and huddled to get a glimpse of her beauty and an earful of her words. 

“And as his deep stoic eyes bored into my eyes, I knew right then and there. He was to be mine. From the tip of my tongue, to the ends of my toes, he owned me. Every inch and corner” 

your best friend seductively read out each word of the novel in her hands, passionately describing the lewd contents that were about to come. 

“Don’t you think that’s enough reading HyunA?” I commented, walking closer to the bench. The cavemen immediately moved to create space for the best friend of the woman they called their goddess. 

I smiled at the eagerness visible in her eyes. “How on earth am I supposed to stop now when I’ve just started!” She explained, patting the heads of the cavemen like they were her pets. To be honest, they weren’t far from it, with their eyes overflowing with love and admiration. 

“HyunA has taught us many important lessons during our nights!” One built and muscular man named Shownu stated, piling the agrees of many others as well. 

One man named Chan then began to say, “HyunA has taught us the importance of love, sensuality, and passion” he declared, smacking his chest with his fist and roaring with pride. the others didn’t hesitate to join in as well. 

Meanwhile, HyunA just seemed to stare virtuously at the men, admiring the fan club she had successfully accumulated during her read alouds. I shaked my head in disbelief and proceeded to swiftly snatch HyunA away from the male energy surrounding the room. 

“HyunA” I begged. “Please don’t hang out with those men anymore, hm? It’s not good to waste your nights away by reading some fantasty romance to them” I tried to reason with my best friend but HyunA being HyunA, she didn’t hesitate to assure me. 

“Oh Y/N,” she looked at me like I was a stray cat in need of help. “My time with boys like Shownu and Chan are just play times”. Brushing a hair behind my ear and while holding both my hands in hers, she went on. “I’m just trying to have a bit of fun before I meet The One” she declared, sighing at my clueless face. 

I snatched the book that was still under her armpit and shaked it in front of her. “Reading the museum secretary’s hidden fan fiction won’t do anything to help you find love”

“give that back” she whined. 

I pinched my nose bridge in disappointment and stress, raising the book high up in the air where she couldn’t reach it. As she was struggling to retrieve her precious novel, noises erupted from the ends of the halls. 

“What now...”

The hallways outside the separate exhibits were especially loud at night. It’s a true mystery how the security guards and night shift workers don’t find out about us. Dinosaurs, extinct wildlife, and many many nude men were running rampant, overflowing with excitement and life.

“Yuna that’s a 4000 year old Naqada Vase your holding” I exclaimed, reaching out to snatch it away.

But Yuna wasn’t easily defeated. Being born of Victorian Royalty, Shin Yuna was quite a mischievous handful, never hesitating to get what she wanted. 

“What, this one?” She smirked, dodging my actions and obviously playing dumb. Her small wrist went right through one of the handles, dangerously hanging it through one hand. 

Letting out the 100th sigh that night, my footsteps carried me away from the chaos. 

“If I don’t see it, I don’t know it” I mumbled to myself.

As HyunA and Yuna stopped to talk more about her petticoat, I made my way to the library of historical records. A place where not many of the historical artifacts went to enjoy their nights. But I preferred the quiet, peaceful setting as it was much more fun than getting pissed at by Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Shuddering at the memory, I then opened the doors to the library. Greeted with the familiar scent of must and candle wax, I happily pranced along the endless supply of books. 

Books from about the Ice Age to Modern Art surrounded me. My passion for reading could never bore me. Not in a million years. 

I swiftly walked past the spines of each and every book, only to stop at an empty shelf. The section of famous poets and philosophers that I was just getting fond of had been apparently moved to the other side of the room. Frowning in annoyance I was just about to head back when I saw him. 

The tall, slim, figure sitting at one of the tables, back covering the view of my presence. I stopped in my spot, frozen in fear as this man was definitely not one of the museum's peoples. At least not the usual ones on night duty. 

The countless precautions put in place to avoid being caught by the workers and night guards had served its purpose for all this time. If there was anyone to see the magic that happened in these walls, we wouldn’t know what we would do. 

Would we be taken away? Would we be shipped off to the CIA? Lord knows what would happen if I left HyunA and Lisa alone...

Although his face was covered with the cover of a book, there was no denying that his body was well crafted. The muscles under his black turtle neck stood out under the fabric, perfectly hugging his chest and arms. I felt quite a bit embarrassed with my sheer cloth dress, which was quite absurd considering practically everyone has seen the my crafted body. I carefully took a step back. 

“The quicker I leave and warn the others, the better” I thought. Keeping my footsteps as light as I could, I made my way almost 2 feet away from the door. And that's when his words echoed in the silence of the library. 

“You’re forgetting something aren’t you?”

(Copyright 2020 © Glossyeon // all rights reserved)

[rosemarypasta]

always with me ♡

➤  pairing : kuroo tetsurou x kenma kozume

➤  warnings : drinking (legal), minor occupation spoilers from time skip

➤ tags: canon compliant, post graduation & time skip, lil angsty

➤  summary : “I promise.” Kuroo reassures the crying boy after his graduation. Being one year apart was always filled with uncertainty and good byes for the two childhood friends though the age gap has never successfully driven them apart until now. Despite making a mutual promise to never leave, is that really what’s best for them?

➤ chapter word count : 6322

♡ masterpost ♡

“With that being said, congratulations to the class of 2013 for graduating.” The lengthy speech given by the principal marks the end of the Nekoma third year students’ high school career.

Kenma Kozume, a second year who was watching the ceremony suddenly felt wetness on top of his hands that he had rested on his lap. He tilts his head up to see if there was a leak from the gymnasium’s ceiling but instead felt the droplets run from each side of his cheeks and down the sides of his neck.

“Dramatic much?” Kenma brings his head back down to face a certain black haired third year holding a scroll. He wipes his tears hastily before scowling a muffled “shut up” to the older boy.

The two walks home in similar manners like before. Just like how they used to come home for the last ten years of their lives. Walking in a slow pace with their shoes grazing against the concrete road but this time instead of Kuroo’s comments and Kenma’s low effort replies, it’s being filled with silence and occasional sniffles. Kuroo isn’t the type of guy to get awkward at the sight of silence, especially not with his best friend, but at this time, he didn’t know what to say. And when the two get closer and closer to their shared neighbourhood and Kenma’s footsteps abruptly stops while his sniffles get louder, Kuroo truly feels cornered.

Kenma, to begin with, never really showed his emotions on his sleeve so when he shows this side to the world once in a millennium, even a childhood friend can feel clueless. Does he make witty comments? Will that make it better or worse? Does he hug him? Knowing Kenma, he would probably beat the shit out of Kuroo.

But as the former volleyball captain watchs the setter burst into genuine tears, his body instinctively drops his belongings on the ground and rushes to engulf the smaller boy’s body. Realising that Kenma isn’t being the normal Kenma, he lets go of his worries of getting jabbed in the stomach by him.

“W-why are you hugging me.” He says sloppily, tears staining the taller’s shirt. “My body moved on it’s own.” Kuroo replies truthfully, letting Kenma bury his face into his chest.

He pats the setter’s back soothingly and allows him to stay in this position for as long as he wants. Kuroo allows himself to take the opportunity to twirl the bleached blonde hair with his fingers, something he always wanted to do ever since Kenma dyed his hair a year ago. It was unexpectedly soft for someone who has little to no cares about his appearance. As Kuroo expects, he says nothing but continues to weep into Kuroo’s shirt. A smile creeps up his face as he enjoys this rare side of his childhood best friend.

He sighs as he rests his chin on top of the younger’s head. “You know I won’t be moving out right? I’ll still hang out with you every weekend.” He chuckles. The setter pulls his head away from his chest for the first time to meet the older’s eyes with his teary ones. “Really? You promise?” His voice shaky and hoarse. The hopeful tone in his voice makes Kuroo sigh happily. “I promise.” He replies.

“C’mon! Lets get home.” He ends, patting the boy’s head before sliding down to grab his wrist. “Don’t touch my head.” Kenma mumbles bitterly as he reverts to his normal self, drying his face with his free arm. The scent of his best friend still lingering even when he had pulled away moments ago.

“Well, see you later.” Kuroo smiles at his sniffling friend as they arrive at the younger’s house. “See you.” He mumbles back before rushing into his own home.

Contrary to Kenma’s thoughts, he did see Kuroo again. They hung out nearly every other day for the entirety of the break they had before school started for the two of them. They spent most of the time in one of their homes and bedrooms playing video games but the two were more than acquainted with this routine. Afterall, befriending Kenma comes with a set of rules that involves the outdoors.

Kuroo turns around to laugh at his friend once again. “Were you always like this when I graduated ahead?” He grins as the wind from the coming train breezes through his hair as he stands in front of an unfamiliar platform. He expected a bitter comment from Kenma but instead watches him bury half his face into the scarf wrapped around his neck.

“You should go, don’t want you to be late on your first day of your third year right?” Kuroo smirks, patting the silent boy on the shoulder. The train on Kuro’s platform rushes through in front of the two before coming to a stop. The gates open and he immediately marchs in but gets unexpectedly restrained from the setter’s grasp. The younger boy had his head lowered, only showing his black roots to Kuro, his pale fist balled up with the corner of Kuroo’s jacket.

“See you this Saturday.” He announces to which the setter raises his head in surprise at the sudden promise made. His hand lets go of the university student’s jacket and allows him to board the train before walking alone to the platform he usually walked side by side with the older boy.

Months passed by quicker than the two had anticipated. And just as the two promised each other, both Kuroo and Kenma still hang out with each other routinely every weekend. Kuroo certainly doesn't mind hanging out with Kenma every weekend. While university is fun and new, having to go through the wildness and chaos for five days a week is more than enough for him. And he thought his volleyball club back in high school was chaotic.

The black haired boy was walking through the shopping district when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

Kenma: Are you not coming?

He chuckles lightly to himself at his friend’s text.

Kuroo: I am.

Kuroo: Just had to grab a few things for my old man.

Kuroo: be there in twenty

He slides his phone back in his pocket after he sees a content “ok” hand emoji sent by Kenma. He hoists the bags up in his arms, bracing them for a run back home before he sees a familiar mohawk and a tall russian boy.

“Yamamoto! Lev!” He calls out from across the street with a big grin on his face. He planned to be one of those alumni who stop by the school one too many times and observe the club to see how they were doing but university life was far more hectic than he predicted.

“Kuroo-san!” The two yell out in unison, scrambling across the road to greet their former captain. Kuroo takes a second to scan the current captain and future ace with a proud smile on his face. “Are you going to Kenma’s?” Yamamoto grins cheekily.

“How’d you know?” Kuroo asks back in curiosity.

“Man, how could we not know? All he does is talk about you! Kuro this, Kuro that. Man, you keep haunting us even after graduation huh?” Yamamoto grins cheekily at the Nekoma alumni, swinging his own shopping bag on top of his shoulder.

Kuroo smiles warmly. He was never the type to be a self-absorbed captain like Bokuto or Seijoh’s Oikawa but he did find it nice that he and his hard work isn’t forgotten by the younger generation.

“But Kuroo-san! You’d never believe what happened to Kenma-san th-” Lev enthusiastically shoves Yamamoto to the side , overbearing with excitement before Yamamoto shoves him back to his place with a scowl on his face. “Idiot, he's probably the first one to know about this.”  scoffs while Kuroo looks completely lost.

“What happened with Kenma?” He raises his brow at the two squabbling high schoolers.

“Kuro!”

Flustered with the sudden yell, Kuroo throws the manga he was holding in his hand up in the air. “Y-Yes?” He croaks out, grasping his fastly beating chest on the floor beside the bed. Kenma retreats from peeking from the edge to settling back to the corner of his bed before replying, “You’ve stayed at that page for five minutes straight now. Did you forget how to read?” He says in a monotone voice, his eyes already immersed back into the video game he had on the game console. Kuroo fumbles with his word to reply back with a wittily but ultimately had nothing to say. Knowing Kenma for most of his life, he knew he had already catched on.

“What’s wrong, Kuro.” The anticipated question finally came. Kuroo turns to meet the boy’s eyes but unable to as the other’s is being glued onto the screen of his phone. He crawls up on the bed to lie in front of Kenma casually and takes a long big sigh before speaking. “So, Um, what’s up with school? Is third year rough without me tutoring you every lunch period?” Kuroo’s mouth was dry but still persevered. “Nothing special, classes are fine, I eat lunch with Tora and Fukunaga now and the new first years are okay I guess.” He lists down, still occupied with the game he fiddles with his fingers.

Kuroo looks at his friend’s face in anticipation, watching his lips for any slight movement but Kenma’s mouth didn’t part.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Kuroo lies down on his back to see Kenma’s plain white ceiling. From first glance, it seemed ordinary and pristine but the longer one would look at it, anyone could see tiny black cracks that have formed in the corners of the white space from being lived in for too long.

Though it should be fine for now.

“Kuro, you’re acting weird. Just spill it out.” Kenma says out of frustration, even turning his phone off in the process. His cat-like eyes were now onto Kuroo’s ones which are now averting his gaze, choosing the ceiling instead.

Kuroo debates with his thoughts silently as he eyes the cracks on the ceiling but gives in to his curiosity. “So, who’s Kyoka-chan?” He tries to pass it off as calm and cool, adding a small series of snickers at the end of his question.

Kenma groans and buries his face in his hands at the presence of the girl’s name who is unfamiliar to Kuroo’s ears. “Izumi Kyoka, a girl from Tora’s class, She- Wait, how do you know about her anyways?” His speech got increasingly faster as each word left his mouth. Kuroo can tell he was trying to keep his cool but his bewildered eyes says otherwise.

“Yamamoto and Lev. I er..bumped into them before I went here.” Kuroo replies truthfully, getting another groan from the blonde setter who is in agony. “So, she confessed to you?” He finishes Kenma’s words for him, seeing as though Kenma would probably never complete them as he is busy with coming up with a plan when he meets his two teammates on Monday.

“Yeah. Said she started liking me because I returned her lost textbook once or something...I don’t really remember doing it though.” He explains in a low voice. Kuroo sits up straight as he sighs lightly, “So what did you say? When are you going on a date?” He playfully pats Kenma on the shoulder, rocking him side by side lightly.

“She asked to go on a date today but I obviously turned her down.”

“T-Today? What- why? Why did you turn her down?” Kuroo leans in eagerly, his eyes wide. He had never once received a love confession in high school so he was absolutely ecstatic at the news though an itchy feeling in his chest started to appear.

“Cuz I don’t want to go?” Kuroo looks at Kenma, astonished. He knew Kenma never was the type to be interested in relationships as he always dipped out of conversations when the topic of girlfriends and crushes came up when the volleyball team was rambling on random things during practice and late night talks in camps but Kuroo just figured he was shy about it and didn’t want to push him. It also occurs to Kuroo that Kenma never had a crush that Kuroo was aware of for all the years he had known him.

“And I had plans with you so…” He continues, mumbling as he continues his game.

“What?! I should be the least of your problems! We meet up every week anyway!” The older immediately yells, baffled at his friend’s priorities. “Yeah, and so? I’d rather hang out with you.” Kenma fires back, his eyebrows raised as he huffs at Kuroo.

Kuroo gulps back the lump in his throat, grabbing one of the pillows on the bed, “But it’s a girl.” He continues with a low voice, taken aback at how much he was fired up from Kenma’s words. “And?” Kenma puts an end to the conversation as he rolled his eyes, huffing back to lean against the wall to continue gaming.

The day progresses without any visible tension as the two continue reading and gaming on their own. The room only fills with occasional small talk and absent minded humming, just like every other week but as the sky slowly turns dark and Kenma sets Kuroo off back home. 

One thought floods Kuroo’s mind. There was no doubt that he was holding Kenma back and he had to do something.

Before it’s too late.

Seven days goes by in a blink and Kuroo waits for Kenma’s weekly text asking if they were going to hang out with a thumping heart as he spins in his chair in his bedroom. He chews on his bottom lips as he watches his phone screen he sets on his desk impatiently. He knows what he was doing is bad but it’s for a good cause. It’s for Kenma’s sake.

The university student almost falls over his chair as he rushes to grab his phone from the table as it lights up with a single notification on the screen. Kuroo’s eyes scan the limited words on the screen before typing the planned answer he had in his mind.

Kenma: You coming?

Kuroo bites his lip harshly as his thumb hovers above the send button on the right side of the blinding screen. He takes a double take and removes his thumb from the screen momentarily but remembers the words he said to him exactly seven days ago and forces himself to press the button.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He chants out harshly as the message sends. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or nervous as he saw that his message was officially sent and is on display on Kenma's screen.

Kuroo: Sorry I gotta pass. My mom asked me to run some errands for the whole day :(

Kenma: Okay

Kenma: See you next week then

Kuroo sinks into his chair once again after shutting his phone off. An ounce of regret settling into his heart though he knew it was for the best.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Kuroo dashes through the bustling street, chanting the same word over and over again as beads of sweat trickle down his face. His slick skin mirrors the various colors of neon lights displayed in front of the street of bars and restaurants. Kuroo stops sharply as his eye catches the sight of the familiar bar. He momentarily fixes his hair and brushes down his shirt before walking in the building, trying to calm his breathing down. He smiles at the host up front, signaling that he knows where to go and searches for room number 5.

After crossing the hallway for less than a minute, Kuroo initially planned to check his phone to confirm the room number but goes ahead and opens the door as he hears a series of familiar laughter and screams.

“Kuroo-san!” The room immediately chanted as he showed himself to the people in the room. A vivid yet slurred “You’re late!” fills his ears, causing the room to erupt into laughter once again. Kuroo rubs the back of his neck and apologizes sheepishly to the room of half drunk young adults. He turns his back to close the door to the private room Kai had booked beforehand and allows himself to switch modes to his fun and upbeat one, far different from the one he had moments ago while typing away on his computer.

seven years have passed since his high school graduation and the Nekoma volleyball team from when Kuroo used to be the captain of, decided to hold a spontaneous reunion. Kuroo kept in touch with most of his high school friends but being a young adult in an intense industry limits the free time he owns.

“Mr.Volleyball Association finally decided to show up huh? But I’m still surprised you didn’t go pro though.” A blonde haired libero grinned, wiping his mouth with his sleeve after taking a swig of his beer. The whole room agrees in unison as Kuroo makes his way through the crowd to sit in one of the remaining free spots which was in between Kai, who organised the whole thing, and Yamamoto. “Yeah, who knew you would be the one to make the national team!” Lev bluntly chuckles out, throwing his head back before earning a fist from the elder.

“Anyways, why were you late Kuroo-san? You were always the first person to arrive for morning practice back then.” Yamamoto’s bright eyes light up the room as he offers a bowl of edamame beans to his former captain. “Work ran late.” He lies casually, taking a string of beans after taking off his blazer and setting it aside. A month ago when the topic of a reunion was brought up in the usually silent 2013 nekoma group chat, Kuroo was excited to see his old teammates but with the adult world taking up all his time, he only remembered that the very same reunion he couldn’t wait to attend was happening twenty minutes ago when he finally took the time to check his phone after a session of overtime.

A waitress shortly approaches him and lets him order his drink of choice. While waiting for his order to arrive, his eyes scan the room to realize that there were two empty chairs “Well at least I’m not the latest one.” Kuroo grins towards Yamamoto as he simultaneously attempts to jog his memory to find the missing people. “Ah! That’s right! I wonder where they are. But I guess you would know where he is.” Yamamoto replies absentmindedly, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text the missing teammates. “Hm?” Kuroo’s eyebrow rises at the younger’s statement. What was he talking about? Kuroo only really talks to the other guys in his year, Lev and Yamamoto so he really wouldn’t know anything about the others. Who was he talking about?

“Oh! There they are!” The sound of the door sliding open accompanies Yamamoto’s exclamation. Everyone’s eyes including Kuroo’s turn towards the open door in anticipation for the late comers. Kuroo’s eyes light up at the sight of Fukunaga, remembering his junior but his expression quickly contorts to surprise as he caught a glimpse of the shorter man hiding behind the taller of the two.

Everyone stands to cheer at the last two to arrive, “Fukunaga! Kenma!” The room breaks into a chaotic series of chants as Kuroo feels himself sink into his seat deeper involuntarily in silence. The taller wing spiker enters the room first, making his way to a free seat beside Inuoka and Lev, revealing the setter whose face is covered by his own hair. No matter how much Kuroo wants to avoid eye contact, his eyes stay peeled at his old best friend still standing outside the room. He still stands in the awful posture Kuroo tried his best in fixing for the whole entirety of his high school career but his hair is much different now. It’s longer than the chin length he used to keep during his teens to the point where it nearly reaches his droopy shoulders. His hair is nearly all black and only the tips of his hair remain blonde from when he bleached his hair in his first year of high school. And unlike the majority of the room who were dressed in business attire from their nine to five jobs, the setter dressed in an oversized black hoodie and casual dark jeans with rips on both knees.

Kenma makes his way to his seat in between Inuoka and Shibayama, the seat right across Kuroo. He sits down comfortably in between his juniors, tucking his hair behind his left ear. A chill goes down Kuroo’s spine as the setter shoots a second of swift and sharp eye contact with him. Not giving the older time to react, he turns to both sides of his seat to greet his juniors, smiling brightly. Dumbfounded and overwhelmed, he feels relieved when the waitress comes over with his drink so he can at least pretend to be casual and busy himself as his chest tightens up.

He bites his lip as he realizes that he is the world’s biggest idiot and asshole. Seven years passed by and he had not spoken a single word to Kenma. Sure, Kenma could’ve taken the initiative if he was mad at Kuroo but he definitely should have at least popped in for a quick chat every once in a while. It was his idea to distance from Kenma but he didn’t mean to forget about him completely.

But was he upset? Is Kenma the type to get upset over these things? Kuroo’s eyes travel back up slowly towards Kenma’s direction and jump in his seat discretely as his eyes immediately meet the cold gaze of Kenma’s golden eyes. His half lidded cat eyes never felt so cold. Of course he was mad. Who was Kuroo kidding? He even made a promise to not leave him even though he graduated ahead and what did he do? He did the complete opposite of the promise.

“So Kenma-san! How are you doing? Are you eating well? I saw that your stream went until four in the morning! Must be nice to be self employed huh? Do you cook for yourself?” Lev bombards the setter with questions. Kuroo swears he could see a wagging tail and a matching pair of dog ears on the russian’s head. The room joins in with the middle blocker as the subject of the conversation curls in his seat. Kuroo chuckles at himself for a bit. He thought Kenma had gotten friendlier and closer to his teammates but this just shows how much he hasn't changed in a whole seven years. He was still the same old Kenma.

“Ah! I doubt Kenma-san would cook for himself so Kuroo-san would probably be the one to do it for him.” Lev proceeds to shift the conversation topic to the lone man sitting on the complete opposite side of the setter. Kuroo’s mouth felt dry as he attempted to find things to talk about. What were they talking about? He knows how much Kenma doesn’t take care of himself but he’s an adult now. To what extent does his laziness reach? And four AM? What job has those ridiculous hours? Is he really self employed? Kuroo feels shame pricking on his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he didn’t know a single thing about Kenma at this point.

Everyone’s eyes were on Kuroo. He swallows a lump in his throat as his eyebrow crooks up and down, attempting his best to answer the simple question. The answer is no. A simple two lettered word that’s supposed to roll off his tongue easily but the word struggles to come out. He sees Kenma’s expression, a smirk and an eyebrow raised, enjoying the tortured expression on Kuroo’s face.

“I um, I-” He chokes out before getting interrupted.

“He does sometimes. He makes pretty good beef stew.” A voice unexpectedly says, making all the heads in the room whip back towards Kenma. Kuroo stares at the setter wide eyed but he didn’t look back, looking casually as he smoothly changes the topic of the conversation to Fukunaga’s upcoming comedy show.

Kuroo had to take a double take for a second. It was a lie. He didn’t see Kenma for almost a decade but why did he lie for him like that? What benefit would that bring him? There are so many questions in Kuroo’s head and he feels like he could give up anything to lay down for a while to subdue his headache but alas, he was stuck in a high school reunion filled with overly loud and drunk young adults.

The night progresses like most of their old practice time. Lev and Yaku arguing, Yamamoto, Inuoka and Shibayama talking about girls and Fukunaga reciting some of his jokes. It was chaotic and loud to say the least. Kuroo attempts to push his anxiety away and talk to his old vice captain. He is thankful he was beside Kai, the most sane person even when drunk as he couldn’t possibly imagine if he had to keep up a conversation with Yamamoto or Yaku with the big headache he is having. At some point, with three mugs of beer down, Kuroo actually starts to enjoy himself.

But of course, this momentary bliss of catching up with his old friends does not last long.

Amidst the ruckus, a conversation from across the room sticks out louder than others. “C’mon Kenma-san~” The young silver haired model whines, dragging out the “san” as he had both of his oversized hands on Kenma’s small shoulders. “No, ugh, get off me, Lev.” Kenma huffs, trying to push Lev’s hands away with his elbows. “Pleaase! You’re so pretty, I’m sure they’ll let you in!” Lev continues, wrapping his long arms around Kenma’s neck, bringing their cheeks together to Kenma’s misfortune. Kuroo turns towards Yamamoto, who is currently laughing at the ordeal. “Lev is trying to get Kenma to model in a project he’s in.” Yamamoto explains in between laughs, clearly enjoying the scene. Kuroo joins with Yamamoto, he couldn’t deny it, seeing Kenma on a billboard in the middle of Shibuya will definitely give the whole Nekoma team material to laugh at. He would be the last person to be seen there.

“Ugh! Shut up already!” Kenma’s usually small voice booms as he slams his hands on the table, causing half empty glass mugs to clink with one another. The whole room turns silent, watching the ticked off setter stomp out of the room. “W-Where are you going? Lev! Cut it out!” Yaku speaks out in the middle of the stillness. “To smoke.” He replies casually before sliding the door closed harshly with a swift motion of his wrist.

As soon as Kenma leaves, all eyes turn towards Lev, who receives a stinging slap on his back from the senior libero. “Fine! Fine! I’ll find him.” Lev huffs like a child in the middle of a tantrum. “No, you’ll make things worse like you always do.” Yaku barked at the younger, “Kuroo, go. You always know what he’s thinking and what to say.” The blonde continues in a calmer tone, turning his head to Kuroo, who was as stunned as the rest of the group. He wanted to refuse, approaching someone you’ve never talked to in seven years who’s so clearly angry at him when he’s having a drunken fit? He’ll get a much more violent slap than what Lev received from Yaku, and he is certain that it won’t be on the back but alas, nothing goes his way. Before he could even get a say in it, Yamamoto was already pushing him up from his seat.

The anxiousness from earlier in the night begins to return to Kuroo’s body. He forces his legs with all his might to get up and walk out to find his “best friend”. He exits the bar and checks one of the alleys, bracing himself for a slap or two on the face once he does find Kenma. The left alley is filled with unidentified smokers, Kuroo doubts that Kenma would be around there so he walks over to the other one.

He pops his head hesitantly into the right alley to get a scene of the man he was looking for, alone with his phone in his hands leaning against the building beside the bar. Kuroo takes a deep breath before entering the dark cramped space, walking over to lean against the wall right in front of the younger.

“Not smoking?” Kuroo starts, getting rid of the awkward silence as Kenma didn’t bother to raise his head at the arrival of his old childhood friend. “I don’t do all that. I just said that to get away.” He says with his signature small voice, letting a second of silence pass by before replying.

“Why? Do you?”

“Huh? M-Me? No way.” Kuroo replies a second too fast, as if he was a teenager getting caught smoking in the boy’s bathroom by a teacher. “Guess we don’t know anything about each other, huh?” He continues to sound casual, following his words with a stiff series of chuckles.

You always know what he’s thinking and what to say? Yeah right. Kuroo didn’t even know if he graduated high school or actually dropped out halfway through third year to become a full time gamer like he always whined about when Kuroo tutored him for upcoming tests.

Kenma raises his face from his phone, staring at the taller man in a dress shirt with a deadpan expression, “And who’s fault do you think that is?” He spits out, his voice louder than before. A cold gush of the Tokyo air accompanies the setter’s words.

Kuroo bites his tongue as his head droops down to face his shoes. He’s right, he is an asshole. He’d want to slap himself too if he were in Kenma’s shoes. He digs his shoes deeper into the concrete, his whole body feels like it’s on fire but simultaneously felt so cold. “I’m sorry.” Kuroo whispers out the only two words he can say.

“You’re sorry?” Kenma scoffs, anger evident in his voice. “You think a mere sorry can make up for the whole seven years you left me all alone? Glad to know your idiot brain never changed over all these years cause that’s pretty much the only thing I know about you now.” His voice keeps rising as each word leaves his lips. “No calls, no texts, no nothing!” He was practically yelling at this point. Kuroo was for once grateful that Friday nights were always loud so no one would hear the setter’s yells.

“And what about you, huh? You didn’t try either. It’s always me, me, me, doing things in this friendship!” Kuroo barks back through gritted teeth, finally changing his view from the ground to the angered man. “And I did it for your sake! But of course, you’re too selfish to realize that!” He scoffs.

“Excuse me? For my sake?” His voice starts out low. Despite it being so loud outside, his voice is clearer than ever in Kuroo’s half drunken ears. Even with the limited light outside, Kuroo can see how the setter’s eyes are wide open, bewildered at the older’s words. “Don’t act like you know me because you don't.��� He staggers closer to Kuroo, footsteps heavy. “You know nothing.” He yells just inches away from Kuroo’s face, jabbing his finger into the stunned man’s chest.

The two stay inches away for a minute, both panting after screaming their lungs out. “Stay away from me.” The long haired man whispers, his voice threatening to break. He pulls back and takes a sharp turn, fumbling with his phone as he makes his way out of the alley. “W-Where are you going?” Kuroo croaks out, trying his best to stay angry though the sight of the skinny man stumbling with his steps out got the better of him. “Home, you dipshit!” Kenma yells out once again.

Kuroo watches as the setter almost makes his way out but catches him trip on his own foot. He rushes with all his might, propping his hand behind the man’s back. Kuroo, being so immersed in his feelings, didn’t realize how drunk Kenma was looking. Even under the darkness over the midnight sky, he can still see that his face is flushed red and his eyes are barely open.

“Get off me.” He mutters angrily, though his tone is nowhere as threatening as before.

Kuroo hesitates before sighing at the man who was still limp in his arms. “I’ll get you home.” He says calmly, expecting Kenma to retaliate and slap his face but he unexpectedly stays quiet almost as if he admits defeat.

After awkwardly shooting a text to Kai explaining half of the situation and asking him for a favor to secretly bring his bag out, the two childhood friends manage to get into a taxi. “Where to, sir?” The driver upfront starts right as Kuroo closes the door behind him after hauling a half conscious Kenma in the back seat. “Ah, um.” Kuroo replies, trying to remember the address to Kenma’s old house. “I moved out. My address is in my notes.” He grumbles out with a small voice despite being asked, waving his phone in Kuroo’s face.

“But what’s your pas-” He asks in a panic, worrying that Kenma would fall asleep though his sentences were cut short, just realizing how his fingers have subconsciously tapped in the correct password to his phone. He scoffs to himself as he goes through the notes app in Kenma’s phone, amused at the fact that he had yet to change his password code since he got his very first smartphone back in high school.

The two embark on the journey after Kuroo manages to find the address and recite it to the driver upfront. He didn’t know where it was as he has never been there or even which apartment number Kenma stays at since it isn’t listed in the note. The uncertainty brought dampness to his palms.

His eyes wander to the younger man knocked out beside him. His head is tilted to rest on the opposing door to Kuroo. As bright street light passes by, illuminating the contents of the silent taxi momentarily, Kuroo can see Kenma’s face properly for the first time tonight and Lev was right.

He did look pretty.

From a quick glance, one would think not much changed with him but once you get past the distracting locks of hair, his features did change. His jawline is much more defined after going through puberty. His lips look plumper than before and his eyelashes appear longer, not that Kuroo ever really paid attention to him in the past but he was certain that if they were that long back then, he would have noticed. Even sleeping, he has Kuroo’s eyes peeled on him. Kuroo’s only half sober mind debates on waking Kenma up so he could see his cat like eyes properly but decides to want to live another day.

The car ride takes longer than Kuroo had anticipated. Nearly dozing off a few times but managing to stay awake, the car slowly comes to stop nearly an hour after. Kuroo gulps a lump in his throat when he looks out the window. “We’re in the right place, r-right?” He timidly questions the driver upfront. The car is parked in what seems like the middle of the woods, in front of a dark traditional japanese estate.

Kuroo manages to pay the fare and sling Kenma’s arm around his neck. He drags both his and Kenma’s body in front of the front door. The elder holds his breath before fishing through the unconscious’ pockets for the key to, hopefully, this house, seeming how he appears to not bring anything aside from himself and his phone.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the key he found in Kenma’s back pocket fits perfectly with the front door, letting him in. He shakes his own shoes off and carefully removes Kenma’s ones. “My room’s down the hall.” He mutters as he feels Kuroo’s head turn around in all directions to attempt finding the bedroom. The middle blocker’s cheeks heats up slightly while dragging Kenma into his bedroom.

So he was awake when I literally felt up his body for the keys?

Kuroo’s ears were still red when he plops Kenma’s half awake body in the middle of his king sized bed. He watches for a while how the man wiggles in the comfort of his own bed and buries his face into his duvet.

“I um, I’ll go now.” Kuroo states, not expecting an answer. He turns on his heel to head out the door but unexpectedly gets slammed by a pillow on the head before doing so. Confused, he turns around while rubbing his head to see a sight of the long haired man sitting cross legged on the bed with his head tilted down.

“Don’t leave.” he croaks out silently.

Kuroo rushes over to the man in the black hoodie as he sees something glimmering fall down from his head to his hands. He naturally cradles Kenma’s head into his own neck. It’s his first time seeing him cry in seven years. “Are you still drunk?” He asks slowly, with amusement in his voice though he didn’t get an answer. Instead, muffled sniffles fill the room.

“Don’t leave me.” Kenma says a little louder this time. The vibrations made against Kuroo’s neck made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “I won’t.” He replies, his breath staggering.

“You’re always with me.”

A/N: I’d like to thank the Kenma episode of Haikyuu season four for giving me enough serotonin to finish this fic despite my HEAVILY PACKED schedule as a high school senior <3 means a lot. 

Anyways, thank you for reading my first kuroken fic! I was too accustomed to writing Tsukkiyama dynamics so I had a hard time writing this. This is also my first time ever in my life not writing in past tense so please forgive me if I made any mistakes lmao. Bilingual culture gets to me sometimes :’) I also proof read this in the middle of class so ignore any errors!

Thank you again and see you in my next fic (which is most likely tsukkiyama again cuz this shit is too hard)!

taglist (dm or send an ask to be tagged):

@teasbees-knees​ @yeetabish​ @kirishimakenma

[mitchmarnier]

writing prompt masterlist #1

 Of course, there’s 75 million prompt lists out there but i figured there’s nothing wrong with making my own. Send me a category + a number + a pairing and i’ll write you a fic. Okay to reblog and use :) (x)

Fake/Secret/Etc Dating AUs:

my parents keep setting me up on blind dates but in reality I’m dating you and it’s so you help me get out of them

i hate commitment but my dad’s dying wish is to see me get married and you’re an old family friend i ran into at the airport on my way to visit him so hey let’s get engaged

you need a plus-one for your brother’s wedding so i’m going as a favor but there’s been a misunderstanding and now your whole family thinks we’re engaged

i’m mad at my parents so i ask you out because they wouldn’t approve of you and you’re well aware that i’m just using you but you agree because you find it funny but hey you’re actually super sweet

there’s this really creepy person hitting on me and i don’t know you but you pretending to be my partner completely saved my ass thanks how about i buy you a drink

we’re just really touchy friends and we get each other gifts all the time but everyone thinks we’re going out and we let them think that but why are you getting upset about me going on a date we’re not actually together? 

I’m sorry you always thought your love for me was unrequited but on to more important matters YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED IN THE MORNING SO YOU HAVE A DECISION TO MAKE YOU ASSHOLE!

Our mutual friend apparently has been waiting for us to get together and so they’re very angry/disappointed/upset when they find out that the reason we kissed last night was because we were black-out drunk

everyone thinks we hate each other and we keep that front up in public, so we have hilarious pretend fights and squabbles and pranks 

when we were little I accidentally mentioned that I had a crush on you but I always thought you didn’t hear me because you just looked at me weird and never commented but now we’re in high school and omg you just introduced me as your boyfriend/girlfriend/datemate wtf we never discussed this

friends to lovers aus

You’ve got a date tonight and you asked for advice on what to wear but I’m so in love with you and damn you look good in the outfit I picked out for you

You’ve liked me for ages and were really obvious about it and I didn’t like all the attention but now you’re over me I really miss it and fuck I think I like you too?

 You want us both to get in shape and I hate working out/running but your ass looks really good in shorts oh the things I do for my friends and their nice asses

Our best friends are that awful ‘cute’ couple that make-out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and “babe” and god they’re awful let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “shit we’re the awful couple now”

Celebrity/Famous AUs

listen, you may be a famous (and extremely attractive) guitarist, but that gives you no right to practise on the electric at two a.m when we live right next to each other.

We broke up and I used my feelings to write songs and now I’m super popular and you want me back

we decided to make a fake vlog drama for our subscribers and they all think it’s real but jokes on us we end up actually liking each other

I run a prank channel and you were some innocent bystander I pranked for a video but then it turns out hey, you’re also famous online haha shit

we met and started talking but i didn’t know you were a rising star until i noticed cameras following me wtf

you’re a reporter and i think you’re super cute so i’ll only give you personal interviews to help your career and also get you to talk to me more

I’m a celebrity and I have a secret social media account and we started talking online and now we’re close friends but you want to meet up oh shit

I’m a celebrity and I may or may not be following your blog which is dedicated to me. reading your comments and tags are hilarious and very flattering and I’m somewhat smitten  

You’re an actor/other famous person that I really admire and I just saw you in the street and as I was debating whether or not to say hi you came up to me and started flirting what do I do??

wedding/kids/marriage/long term relationship AUs

we’ve been dating forever, and you just caught the bouquet at our friend’s wedding

remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at 30 we’d marry each other, well hey guess whose birthday it is

i’m a runaway bride/groom and you’re driving my getaway car

I suddenly bumped into you after years and wow you look good but holy crap is that a kid?? since when?

you had a breakdown because the baby wouldn’t stop crying and you kept saying how you weren’t ready and how you couldn’t do it

whenever my kid starts crying I just hand them to you and then they just stop and start smiling

“i’m so sorry that my child pointed out how your shirt- actually nevermind i agree, that shirt is horrendous”

i always tease you because that’s just our thing we tease each other but for some reason you snapped at me and are you okay? what’s wrong?

my in-laws despise me GREAT but around you they’re super nice so you don’t believe me

neighbours AUs

You always complain about how loud I am (whether it be TV, video games or music/musical instrument is up to you) and this is the first time you’ve actually knocked on my apartment door and given me a lecture there rather than giving me a phone call, but I’m not really listening because I didn’t  realise I had such a cute neighbour

you never open your door for children on halloween so i always pay the kids to smear your door with shaving cream

my printer isnt printing anymore and my papers are due tomorrow so im on my knees in front of your door begging to use your printer when the old lady from above passes us and thinks im proposing to you

we always run into each other on the stairs but we’ve never said more than hello but when we found out that we both hate the other neighbours, we became friends

i came home drunk and wouldnt stop knocking on your door. when you open i keep telling you to get out of my apartment

after a rough party night i find you sleeping on the stairs but since im still a little asshole all i do is put a blanket over you and a pillow under your head

Please help me, I know you have a kid and my sibling just dropped their baby on me where’s the button to put them to sleep?

I’m stressed and sleep-deprived, please let me pet your cat. 

I have really weird dreams and you have really weird dreams so now we’re in this contest to see who has the weirdest dreams.

Strangers/Meet Cute (or meet very NOT cute) AUs 

We were sitting next to each other in a public place and I saw a mosquito on you and my instincts just acted before my mind.

We mixed up our clothes at the laundry service and I have nothing left to wear and every thing you wear is too big/small for me.

We’re at a comic book store and if you tell me your superhero is better than mine I’m gonna have to punch you in the teeth.

There are no table left at this restaurant and you let me sit at yours since you’re alone.

I’m a single grown-up with busy friends but I want to go to Disneyland so I drop a message on a forum to find someone like me to go wear silly Mickey ears headband and stuff ourselves with cotton candy.

My computer broke down so I called an IT and now I need to find a reason to call them back so I delete important files and download adwares and do all kinds of stupid things. 

I almost dropped something and in my fumbling attempts to stop it from hitting the floor I accidentally projectiled it at your face and it’s a really nice face I’m so sorry

first day at a new job and oh fuck my boss is the person I drunkenly hooked up with last weekend/night

I wanted to go on the ferris wheel but there has to be two people to a cart come on random person let’s go oh wait are we stuck at the top? Fuck

 Our mutual friend set us up on a blind date and I thought I’d hate it but you’re actually… kind of funny? But because I expected to hate it in no way am I going to let you change my mind just because you’re gorgeous and funny and intelligent oh no my friend is not winning this

college/high school AUs:

i went on a date with a boy who had plans to take me to dinner and drinks. but he lost his wallet at a pizza place so we just walked around the neighborhood, sat in the park and talked.

we’re in the same study group but we dont talk but you brought goldfish and im starving

we have the same notebook and we took the wrong ones home so i used your notes on my open book test

you were my elementary school crush but you moved away but somehow we end up miraculously going to the same college and i barely recognized you because holy hot damn you are more attractive than i remember?

I tripped over on my way to this party and I’m bleeding profusely from the grazes on my knees and you’re a complete stranger that pretty much jumped me the second I walked in the door to play nurse

ive had a crush on you for 3+ years and now youre going out with my best friend and i definitely havent locked myself in a toilet cubicle to cry

We’re in different debate classes and I was constructing a case on the board and I come in the next morning and you’ve replied to all my points really well?? But I don’t even know your name? And oh shit, we’re taking over the entire whiteboard, is that your phone number squeezed into the corner of the board there?

You have braces and I don’t and I keep forgetting you’re not allowed to have gum so every time I offer, you give this death glare

You sent me a text asking if I wanted to go to prom on the day of prom and I’m not in town

I’m a notorious goody two shoes and you look like you get into fights on a daily basis, so when you were in the library on the first day I was supposed to be a tutor, I assumed I’d be tutoring you. But, as it turns out, we’re both tutors, and the people we’re tutoring keep blowing us off to make out and we have to go round them up

we have a mutual best friend but they cannot find out how much i like you then they’ll tell you, but i need to find out if you’re single!

I sat down in the wrong class and I’m panicking but don’t want to get up and leave because the class has started and you think it’s hilarious 

You pissed me off in class so I threw a book at your head and now I’m in detention and jesus fuck I hate you so much and the teacher made me apologise and wait you’re cuter up close

soulmate aus

if one soulmate gets an injury, the other gets it as well.

Character A has a soulmate, but Character A died before they got to meet them. As Character A navigates the afterlife in their ghostly form, they discover that they can’t “move on” until they’ve met their soulmate.

 the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body since the day you are born

when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.

You get an ‘impression’ of your soulmate when you turn 18 or something but all I got was a strong smell of bananas or something

you have a compass on your wrist and it directs you to where your soulmate is

i usually think i’m having a conversation with myself in my head but it turns out we’re telepathically connected

everybody is born with a map “tattooed” on their forearm that’s centered on the exact location of where they’ll first meet their soul mate 

[tsukoyomi-fumikage]

Baby Birb (Sl/TokoShoji)

Slight Tokoyami X Shoji

Prompt - Tokoyami gets turned into a baby. I wrote this ages ago and it’s just a few oneshots drawn together that are fluffy and sweet. Mostly, of course, since I love angst.

.

He couldn't talk normally anymore - the only thing coming out of him were soft gurgles. Raising a hand for his eyes to see, he widened when he noticed how small they were, and how they felt unused, unlike his usual rough hands. Reaching up to his head, he felt along his feathers - they were plush and rounded at the end, nothing like the sharp ended fully black feathers he used to have. "W'at?" He squeaked out, then squeaked again at the sound of his voice.

There appeared to be only certain words he could get out of his now even smaller beak. Looking up, he tried to see if he could find any of his friends, who were supposed to be nearby. They'd been training in the fields of U.A, and Tokoyami had only gone into the bushes close by to grab something Bakugou had accidentally tossed in there.

He found said item, and picked it up - usually, it wouldn't be that big in his hands, but the item was practically the size of him. Tokoyami began to waddle back in the direction of voices, clutching the object to his chest. Fumikage was now so small that the bushes and trees surrounding him almost scarred him, however for some reason Dark Shadow wouldn't come out. The bird knew that meant he was at an age where he hadn't developed his quirk yet - so younger than two, since he was an early child and developed his quirk around three, rather than five.

Stepping out onto the short grass, his eyes searched for the training students, and he saw Shoji - or well, he saw large arms, a tall, sturdy body and a white mop of hair that he knew was Shoji. For some reason, this baby version of him let out a giggle, stumbling towards the six-armed quirk user, raising his hands and making grabby fists at him, dropping the item on the floor.

It made a loud thump, startling everyone there and making them turn to look at the offending sound, being met with a baby version of their friend, who was now looking like he was going to cry at the loud noise. Bakugou let out a choked splutter - the other students there, all from Class 1-A, stopped training and rushed over. "Is that-"

Midoriya and Shoji got there first. The green-haired teen knelt down, looking the young bird in the eyes. "Tokoyami?" He asked softly. The kid swiped a hand across his teary eyes, sniffling. "Is that you?"

He looked at them - he was dying inside from crying at the loud noise, and the last thing he needed was for them to all know he was still him inside. He didn't want to show that kind of weakness. Tokoyami decided to pretend like an actual child. Fumikage nodded stiffly, reaching out his tiny hands and clutching at Mezo's trouser leg, pulling at it gently.

The man plucked him up and held him securely against his chest. "I think it is him, but he's like, actually a baby. The Tokoyami we know isn't in there right now." Bakugou scoffed out, coming over and poking the bird on the head. He let out a childlike whine. "Definitely."

Kirishima smacked Katsuki on the back of the head. "Dude, that's not cool man, don't hit the kid!"

Shoji and Midoriya took this opportunity to begin walking back to the dormitories as Bakugou tried to fight the red-head, being held back by the rest of the training group - Sero and Mina. Mezo bounced the young kid in his grip, and Fumikage gave what they could only assume as his version of a smile with a beak, but it was none-the-less cute. "What are we supposed to do now?" Izuku said, looking and cooing at their friend. "Do you think it'll wear off, whatever it is?"

The six-armed teen smiled under his mask at the warm, tiny body in his arms, wrapping all of his baby fingers around Shoji's pinkie. "I think it must be someone's quirk, so yes, I think it'll wear off." He said softly, his usual whisper making Fumikage look at him, their eyes meeting. "For now, looks like we've got a seriously de-aged Tokoyami to look after."

.

"He's got to be around one years old." Yaoyorozu said, watching at the young kid played with Denki, trying to run after the blond-haired boy, who kept leaping over the very small child. Fumikage couldn't run fast - the only clothing the young kid had on was a ripped bit of his cloak to made a smaller cloak; Nothing had shrunk with him. Nada.

Mineta growled at the sight of all the girls cooing over Fumikage; he leapt forward, scooping the child into his arms. "I'm a master at children!" He said loudly so everyone heard him. They all turned to look at him, murderous intent in their eyes.

Tokoyami began sniffling at being in the pop-off quirk users short arms. The grip was unnaturally tight and he squirmed uncomfortably, looking around for a savoir. He knew just who it would be.

Mezo came charging through, snatching him out of Minto's grip. Shoji was his boyfriend after all - he also seemed like the kind of guy who really likes children. Fumikage smiled, burying his head in the crook of the tall mans neck. "Don't touch him." Came the deep voice from the six-armed teen. The whole room was probably gobsmacked. "Ever."

.

"Toko, nooo!" Midoriya laughed, picking up the spoon from where the bird-headed child had thrown it on the floor. Fumikage was currently sat on top of the dorm table, wearing clothes Jirio and Yaoyorozu had hand made - it was a little horned blue hoodie, making it seem the child had two baby horns sticking out on his forehead and some loose black jogging bottoms. "You need to let me feed you!"

Sticking out his tongue, the baby snorted, turning away. A tap on Izuku's shoulder meant someone else was nearby. Koji was smiling at him, or well, down at him. He nodded at the spoon. "Children are creative and are stubborn - I had a little brother growing up who was exactly like Tokoyami. They just want to feed themselves. Here, let him try."

Although that definitely was not the reason Fumikage wanted nothing to do with the green-haired student (It was actually the choice of mushed up bananas and kiwi - disgusting), he still allowed the spoon to be passed to him. Looking at Koda's hopeful expression, he sighed eternally and began to eat, but plastic spoons and beaks didn't exactly go very well together.

Just a day in the life of Fumikage Tokoyami he supposed.

.

"Oh God, is he sick?"

A hand was touching at his feathered head - Fumikage let out a cry, trying to push it away. "He's warm, I think he has a fever!"

The shouting wasn't helping his sore ears, and his throat was raw from sobbing. A pair of hands wrapped around him, bringing him up and into someones chest. An icy hand was placed against his feathers, and he was bounced softly. "There there, Toko." The voice said - it was deep and calming. "I've got you."

People were bustling around them, Fumikage could hear the worry in their tones - he must not be looking so good. "Shoto, has he cooled down yet from your ice?"

So it was Todoroki holding him, he thought wearily, it all connecting. "N-No." Came the confused voice of the man holding him. "He's burning up really fucking badly."

Hearing the top-hero's son swear and crack under the pressure made Tokoyami's fear bubble. Someone else touched his arm, and he was handed over to a warmer pair of hands. "I don't think blasting him with cold will heal him." Came the voice of the woman holding him. It was Tsu.

The frog-quirk user sat down with the bird in her arms, rocking him slowly. "I've already sent Sato out to grab some baby medication, ribbit." She said calmly, stroking a hand through his fluffy feathers. "For now though, I say the best option is to bathe him - Sero, go turn the bath on - make sure it's actually warm, it being cold won't accomplish anything."

Footsteps bounded off, and the couch dipped when someone else sat on the side. "C-Can I hold him?" It was Uraraka. "I always wanted a baby sister or brother when I was younger." She confessed. No one else must be in the room anymore, all rushing off to grab things for the kid. "And he looks so small."

Being lifted into the air was something he'd grown accustomed too, and he opened his eyes a little to be met face to face with the brunette. "Hey, he's awake!" She spoke softly, but her voice was high in excitement. "Hey Toko'!" She cooed, brushing back at his feathers. "Tsu, when Shoto said he was burning, I didn't think he actually meant it. My, little one, how sick you really are!"

.

Bakugou growled. "Why do I have to bathe him?"

Kirishima sighed, holding the child in his arms as they passed Sero, who gulped, giving a thumbs up to the hardening-quirk user. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, only using one to carry the small kid, he stalked ahead of Katsuki and into the bathroom. "Because we haven't done anything with him yet and we want him to trust us?"

"Bathing him is not the way to trust." The explosive teen retorted. Fumikage had to agree - how was stripping him fucking butt naked allowing him to trust them? However, he was glad it was these two - Kirishima was a real man, and wouldn't hold any sort of blackmail over him after this was all done, and Bakugou would just forget about it. "We're legit taking his clothes off, Kiri."

"No, the boxers Momo made are staying on, we ain't that mean."

Both the bird and the blond let out a sigh, and the child reached up his arms slowly so Ejiro could take off his cat shirt, which he'd sweated all the way through. "Feeling tired, little man?" The red-head asked softly, sitting the baby on the toilet seat, taking off his socks and shorts. "That's alright, you just doze. It's got to be good for you cause of how sick you are right now, huh."

The feeling of warm water surrounding him made him relax - it was really weird having people bathing him instead of just taking a shower and being ready in less then five minutes, but at the same time it was comforting for some reason.

"Hey, Kacchan." Kirishima looked desperate from what Fumikage could see out of half-closed eyelids. "Please take a photo, I think I'm going to die of cuteness. He's falling asleep on my hand!" He was leaning face first against the students hand, beak poking through his fingers. He sighed internally.

Great. Proof of all of this for after it's worn off.

.

"So, looks like you're staying here with me!" Iida smiled at the boy, walking into his blue dorm room, plopping the still sick child onto his bed. "Sorry you couldn't be with Shoji, but he sleeps too deeply - I however can make sure you don't get hurt! I have very maternal instincts!"

Tenya was super excited it seems, to have a young child in his hold and needing on him for everything. Fumikage supposed Tenya always wanted to know what it was like to be his big brother caring for him when he was younger. He muttered softly, and the teen stopped his rambling. "Did you just say something, young Tokoyami?"

"Sleeps." He said, yawning tiredly. He watched with satisfaction as Tenya died in front of him, clutching at his heart in a brotherly way, clearly absorbing the shock of the boy speaking.

"I got to hear your first words!" Tokoyami realized that around this age he was practically mute, and he wondered if that's why talking was so hard. "Awesome!"

A phone was jostled around before steadying and facing the tired child. "Say it again!" Iida encouraged quietly, smiling like Fumikage had never seen before. How could he deny the man the shame of saying he couldn't catch the second time he spoke on camera?

"Sleeps!" He whined louder, and he's certain if he had lips, he'd be pouting. It wasn't for the camera really; he was just so tired and frustrated and exhausted. "Please." He sort of made the tone of his voice sound pleading, and the phone went on charge quickly, and soon, he was secured in bed, being hugged by the mess that was definitely the next Sonic.

.

It was around seven when Iida woke up and got changed into casual clothing. Following the incident with Tokoyami, the school was on high alert and had canceled school in case the villain or whomever had done this was still on campus. All class 1-A were told only to leave the dorms if needed. Sato gathering medicine counted as a need, apparently.

"Did he sleep alright?" Came the bouncy voice of Denki as Iida carried the half asleep boy in, cradled in his arms, head resting sleepily against his chest. "He still looks tired."

Straightening his glasses, the Representative smiled. "He is still fighting off the illness"He reminded his friend. "- and yes, apart from a small night terror, he was just fine."

Shoji was there to take the bird child into his arms. Tokoyami inhaled his scent tiredly and relaxed reaching a hand out to snag the students T-Shirt, smiling, half-daydreaming, half-sleeping. "C'mon Fumikage." The six-armed teen said quietly, prodding his feathered cheek. "You need to eat and take your medication before you can sleep again."

Sato waltzed in, smiling brightly at the kid. "Hey, Toko'," He said, coming closer to the pair. "Guess what? I made you something!" Mezo took a seat at the table, adjusting the child so he was sitting on his lap and using it as a booster seat to be able to see over the table like a normal person. "Ever tried Oreo pancakes?"

Fumikage looked at his teammate, who was holding out these freshly baked pancakes with some weird crushed up black substance mixed in. It smelt amazing though, and he reached out a hand to try and snag some of it. It was, of course, pulled away from him. "Knew you'd like them!" Sato was so happy that he'd shown interest. "They're just a bit hot, Fumi'."

The fact they didn't trust him enough anymore to deal with his own food's temperature was slightly annoying, but it didn't stop him taking the medication held out to him by Sero while waiting for breakfast to cool down.

When the plate was put back down, he noticed all the pancakes had been cut up into even-sized squares, and their was a fork he could use on the side. Leaning slightly off his boyfriend, he was more awake as the stabbed at the pieces, shoving them into his mouth quickly, making a happy noise that sent Sato stumbling with happiness.

Maybe being a kid wasn't so bad after all.

[frightknights-n-monstergirls]

Memories

Prompt: Jonathan gasses reader

Reader gender: All

Warnings: Some cursing, per-established relationship, near sexual encounter

AN: I made it sad. So sorry about that.

Fuck, he messed up. He definitely screwed the pooch this time. Or more so than usual when it came to his recently acquired lover. Jonathan could honestly say that he had no idea why they would even get with him in a romantic sense, the fact that they considered it was baffling. The criminally insane doctor couldn’t help but feel a tad touched. He didn’t think their relationship would last, Jonathan had planned certain events to happen to see which would be a breaking point. (All his money was on the dead dog in the mail box.) After that shit fest, that love infested fool still stayed by Jonathan. He loved them for it.

Of course, it was going to be a bed of roses: soft and sweet but still getting pricked by the thorns. Jonathan knew that his lover would not condone to his research, it really got him when they said, “Well, as all as it makes you happy.” That caused the most pitiful noise to escape his throat, it was similar to a muffled dying whale. It wouldn’t be the last time Jonathan would make that sound.

It was in mid-November, his third time escaping Arkham during the relationship, that Jonathan came home to both a welcoming and birthday party. His lover had prepared a diabetes inducing chocolate dream of a cake with a scowling pumpkin headed scarecrow as a topper. It took the will power befitting a Green Lantern to force that embarrassing noise. Jonathan listened to his lover sing the most beautiful Happy Birthday to him. He pulled the scarecrow off the cake so that they can cut into it, but his love had another plan in mind. They pulled out a lighter.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asked becoming highly uncomfortable having just remembered that he was wearing his costume.

“How about a little fire, Scarecrow?” His lover replied with a wicked grin ready to set anything ablaze. Jonathan tried not to squirm as he watched them light the scarecrow’s pumpkin stem. He blinked, why the hell was he so scared for? Then again, should he be concerned that his lover set a scarecrow on fire? But that look Jonathan’s lover had, it got something deep inside him stirring.

They watched as the scarecrow melted into a puddle on the table. The wax gave way to a metal grinning pumpkin man that was hiding underneath looking almost relieved to get the coating off him. Jonathan gingerly picked it up as the tiny straw man still gave off heat. “That’s interesting.”

“Everyone sees the angry wax, but I see the true Scarecrow underneath, the one who only scares my heart.” The dying whale sound came out that time.

The third time, it was a definite gem. Jonathan couldn’t believe that it was spring and his lover was still by his side. After nearly a dozen escapes, a Joker scare, his lover punching Poison Ivy in the face when the woman almost kissed him and survived, adopting a stray cat named Pumpkin, loosing Pumpkin to old age, and a visit from Harley. It finally came to that part of the relationship, the one part that Jonathan had never hoped to get at. The thought alone caused Jonathan to shake a bit. It was time to get intimate. Not like what they had been doing before: Jonathan pinning his lover down with his weight, Jonathan sticking his fingers in their mouth, pulling on their hair, groping their neck in his hands, biting them. No, this time Jonathan will get naked with his lover and…

Jonathan nearly wet himself during the foreplay as he felt that stirring sensation once more. His lover had taken the reins seeing that he has no experience whatsoever. They kissed him so tenderly that Jonathan thought that a rose was being brushed against his lips. Coos, high pitched whines, and groans left his mouth as his lover licked and nibbled at his earlobe along with the sensitive parts on his neck. Jonathan didn’t realize that he had closed his eyes during the whole thing until his lover called out to him.

“Jonathan,” their voice pierced through his own made darkness. “Open your eyes so I know you can hear me.” The older man slowly creaked open his eyelids to find his lover staring back at him with the most loving smile. He felt his cheeks grow warm swallowing hard on his drying mouth, chest moving to get more air into his lungs. “Do you want to continue?”

“Y-yes.” Jonathan lied, this scared him to no end. He always knew that he got off on fear, but not his own. His lover nodded before grabbing hold of Jonathan’s shirt to pull off. The criminal’s flustered face grew hotter once his upper body was exposed. He looked away feeling self-conscious about his body. He tried to shield himself with his arms when his lover stopped him.

“No, no, darling.” They smiled sympathetically gently pushing Jonathan’s arms away. “Please don’t try to hide yourself from me.” They began to kiss his chest downwards to the bumps known as his ribs. “I agreed to make love to you, not your body.” Jonathan grunted keeping in his dying whale in check but so let out a groan when his lover circled his nipple with their tongue.

All this pleasure settled achingly into his stomach as if it were afraid to pool to his loins. But as Jonathan began to calm himself, his groin reacted as it should. This isn’t so bad, he thought as his tongue danced with his lover’s allowing his hands to trail their arms and sides. Jonathan grew bold enough to bite at the lips touching his earning a pained whine. That sent a powerful jolt to his crotch, but it all stilled when his lover’s hands rested on his thighs. The pool of warm drained as their fingers hooked at his pants. Just before they could pull downward, Jonathan’s hands snatched his lover’s yanking them away.

“I-I’m sorry.” Jonathan mumbled looking away from his partner again. He felt so weak, less of a man for denying himself sex. “I just…” He flinched when he saw out of the corner of his eye his lover’s hand come up.

“It’s okay.” They sighed in relief making Jonathan face them. Their face had a peaceful smile, Jonathan could not find any trace of disappointment or anything of that nature. “I noticed that you would get uncomfortable at times. I won’t force you to do anything if you don’t want to, it should be your choice too” That whale really wanted to voice itself.

They settled in their own places in bed, the sensual air dead and rotting like a corpse on a summer’s day. Jonathan gulped taking glances at his lover, “I’m sorry for not giving you what you wanted.”

The response after that was enough to break his cold black straw heart. His lover turned to him, looked him dead in the eye and said, “You have given me all that I needed and even more than what I asked for.” Jonathan’s whale broke free right then.  

One thing was for certain, Jonathan would still administer his toxin into his partner. Fear came first, his life’s work, his one true purpose always came before anything.      

Jonathan could feel his Adam’s apple bob in uncertainty as he watches the body writhing on the floor. A cold feeling bleeds out in his chest unable to take his eyes off the other person. It is you, his lover, convoluting before him you back twisting in ways that would be painful if you were able to feel it. Jonathan would describe this as a scene from an exorcism movie. Your limps contorting to the point of near breaking, eyes wider than any doll he has ever seen. Jonathan pants as he stares at you, eyes wide as he listens to your whimpers. He shakes his head as he looks down. What had he done? He licks his lips before he hears the shrill cries of sirens. He glances at the window and swallows hard, the sound of your sob had him questioning if he deserves his time at Arkham. Jonathan is quick to grab his mask, running out of the house. He would hole up somewhere for now, but he wasn’t sure if he would be back.

Rain begins to pour as the Scarecrow runs from his lover’s house. His chest burning from the exercise, but a different sensation adds to this. A constricting pull of his ribcage forces Jonathan to slam into an alley wall. He rests his forehead against the rough brick trying to catch his breath. Thunder rumbles above him calling upon even more rain to fall. The criminal’s head scratches on the building as he turns his attention to the ground. He isn’t sure if it was the rain or sweat rolling off his exposed face dripping to the alley floor. To his surprise, it’s a mixture of those two and his own tears.

Jonathan grits his teeth remembering your pained face. He clamps his eyes shut wanting to force that memory out, all the memories that the two of you shared. He couldn’t stand the fact that he had gassed the only person that had shown him any love in his cold fear constant life. Had given his choices on what they did in their relationship, given him his first actual birthday celebration, gotten so close to make love…

Jonathan rams his fist to the wall several times not caring if his knuckles with come out bloody and bruised. He roars in anger giving his solid punching bag one final kick before placing his back on it. Jonathan hiccups just now having realized that he had been crying the whole time. A dull ache at the front his head confirms it. As this all comes to fruition, a shadow covers Jonathan’s body. He knows who it is and for once he is glad.

Jonathan looks to find Batman standing before him. The caped crusader has a soft expression, or the same hard face but not as frowny and glaring, as if knowing that the Jonathan will come willingly this time around. The criminal sniffs wiping his nose on his sleeve like a boy found after running away. The thought of you still clouding his mind as he walks into Batman’s cuffs. He only hopes that you are alright.    

[starlight-movement]

Harboring A Secret: A Xio Saishū Story

A backstory narrated by Xio himself, this details his childhood and how he came to meet Yaku Nori. 

In the Reject Cities, it’s always create or be taken advantage of. Not many are aware of the darker underbelly of our mostly happy lives. I was born as Gin Yami, third child of the Yami group...a well known powerhouse for all forms of underground activity. 

My father, Yari Yami, had earned so much money from this way of life that we were pretty well off. Rich even. But it was all dirty money, earned off of the lives of others. I knew it ever since I was little. And as the only son in the family, I was expected to inherit this horrible way of life. 

Me, continue on this path of suffering....earning money from the helpless, and those who have no other choice. I never enjoyed it all. Was I rebellious? Of course I was. My first training job, involved choking money out of a family of three, using a firearm. They had failed to comply with our partners demands for payment of a Loan. No one ever really could however, as the price was never fair. The kid...was the same age as me. Black, frizzy hair...and he was trembling. 

I still recall his words. Damnit...

“Why are doing this? Gin sir....you don’t need to! Please...don’t hurt my parents. They’re...all I have.” His voice was squeaky and hoarse from crying. It stung. 

Having nothing but your family’s love? It hurt just to hear. 

I set down the gun I had been given by my father, and quietly told them to run. 

Father wasn’t happy about that. 

“Those who do not comply with the demands of a Yami are not worth the oxygen they waste.”

My solid memory makes me recall every last second of what followed. As if it were a punishment for my choice. 

First the Mother falls...and then the father, protecting his son. My dad went to go a third time, to finish off this family, but I knocked the gun out of his hand. 

“Gin! How dare you! You know very well that this is our family’s rules. Do you wish to die as well, boy?” 

I stood my ground, and looked over at the kid. 

“Get out of here, kid! Run and don’t look back!” 

He was...thankful yet confused. He ran, crying the whole way. My father proceeded to fight me then. As punishment for defying our way of life. 

 I was only ten years old. 

I decided that day, that I’d run away while taking as much money from my father as I could. So I packed my things, and broke as many piggy banks filled with cash as I could. I had way more then a ten year old could ever think of but, I had to take it. 

So I fled my home, and walked the streets of Blissgold City. Everyone could tell just by looking at me, that I was a Yami. Our family’s distinct silver hair was rare even among the more powerful. 

“The Shadow Family's emerged...but why?”

“Isn’t that their son? Oh no...he’s not...oh no...”

I needed to change who I was, and how people saw me. I was going to fade into the unknown, I had to. So I went to the next city over, on foot and used my money to get my hair dyed a dark blue. 

“And might I get your name, son? You’re quite young to be doing this.” 

That question made me smile. So I uttered what would be my first lie... “ Xio Saishū, sir.” 

It felt nice, getting to shed my former identity. I requested a red streak be added, as most normal folk had that kind of weird hair color to them. After adding it and paying, I kept walking on. 

As I roamed I heard talks about the missing Yami kid. Dad had sent out search teams to hunt me down. But with my new look, they were fooled easily.

A man found me about three weeks later. He was young, maybe about early twenties? He saw that I seemingly had no parents and offered to take me in. His name was Tenshi Mamoru and he would become my new father. 

Ten, as he preferred me to call him...was a kind guy. But he noticed that my first few nights in his small one story house were rough. I was afraid of telling him about my past. I didn’t want to loose my home due to my family’s status. 

But I kept crying to myself at night, over fear of Ten somehow figuring it out. 

“Xio...” I remember him saying. “Xio, why are you so upset? Didn’t we have fun today?”

All I could offer was a nod along with a wimper. This worried him more, however. 

“Xio, you can tell me anything you know that right? I won’t judge you.” 

“Yes....yes you will. When I tell you...you won’t want me anymore! So I’m not gonna say!” 

He hugged me then, to reassure me that he wouldn’t. I was scared and close to fainting because of that fear. But...I told him, despite it all

“M....My name...isn’t Xio Saishū. It’s....Gin...Gin Yami of the Yami group.” 

He dropped me when I said that. He was shocked...I could tell by the look on his face.

“The missing Yami kid...it’s you.” 

“Please...don’t tell my dad. I...I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK! i HATE IT THERE! There’s nothing...but pain and dirty money. And...I don’t want to live that life....” 

I expected him to call the searchers. But instead, he hugged me again. And he called me brave. Brave for running away, and brave for telling him. He wasn’t going to leave me. That’s when I knew he could be trusted. 

For a while since that time, my life went well. I made friends, got involved with school...typical things for a kid. But soon, music became an interest of mine. That’s where I met my best friend,  Yaku Nori. It was at a karaoke place, and the two of us were just goofing around. 

I found an old song called Electric Angel and decided to sing it. Much to the crowd’s surprise I was kinda...decent. Yaku then walked up to me to complement my skill. 

“You’re kinda...lame you know? That song’s so old man.” 

While the words sounded mean, I took it to heart to improve. Yaku and I went to the same school and we became closer and closer through out middle school. But when High School came up, I spent all my summer trying to get into this one school that could foster my music skills. But to no avail.

We ended up attending Miracle High, which was about as basic of a school as we could get. But I still tried to get into that school. I tried so damn hard. I had a dream, a goal at this point...to make a new life for myself. But then Yaku said this to me:

“Hey man,  if no one likes your music then we just have to make them like it . Let’s start a band!”

An idea sprung out of rebellion of rejection. With all that had happened to me, I would take rebelion as a way of life any day. 

We formed Eastern Breeze, and after recruiting  Tsu Sukiru from the very school I tried to get in...we were all set. 

But Yaku seemed, demoralized one day. During class he’d be quiet, and didn’t take notes at all. He had bags under his eyes and I couldn’t shake the feeling he was...depressed. 

Yaku never spoke much about his home life, you see. Always worried more about me and Tsu then himself. As if his life was second concern in his eyes. 

I normally wouldn’t pester him about his feelings, but before our jam session that day....I spoke up about it all.

“Yaku? Are you okay, man? You’re normally all sunshine and cats. “ I tried to be light hearted about it all. Maybe I’d get a smile? 

But he didn’t even look at me, yet he did speak. 

“You never knew your folks...right Xio?” 

This was, out of the blue. I had told him and Tsu both that I was an orphan and I had stuck by that story for a long time. So...of course I said yes.

“It’s a shame then. If you knew them...they’d probably love what you’ve grown to be...right?”

No...they wouldn’t. They’d force me back, and do who knows what. But again I lied by shrugging. 

“I...lost my mom and dad...when I was ten.” He stated. It was slow in how he said it, as if it had just happened. 

“You did? Do you..want to talk about it?��� I put a hand on his shoulder. Despite our height difference, I still tried my best. 

“...Yami.” He said, teeth clenched. “The Yami family....took my mom and dad from me. I managed to escape...but only because the son...the son wanted to save us.”

My heart sank to the deepest pits of my chest. I felt like throwing up. Yaku...all those years ago...was the kid I protected. I stayed silent. Anything I could say in that moment might have scared him off.

“Xio...do you think...Gin is out there? That was his name...the son of Yami.” He asked me. “If he is...I want to thank him.”

“...thank him?” I asked back, confused. “But he’s a Yami, why would you want to  thank him?”

“He didn’t choose the life he was born into...and he tried to save my family. My parents...might be happy that I’m still alive today. I’m trying to leave a positive impact on the world. But...I still miss them.”

Yaku was always optimistic, but it became more proof in that moment that...he was always smiling so others would. This was what my father did best. Ruin lives. But I was going to do the opposite.

“Yaku, the best way we can leave a positive impact is by performing. Music has the power to move people right? And I’m sure your folks will be watching us as we play each day.” I gave him a big smile.

“You’re right. Xio...thank you for being my closet friend. And...I’m sorry for never telling you. I was afraid you’d judge me for my family’s situation.”

“Never man...I’m not the kind of guy to do that.” I wasn’t my father after all.

Yaku took me to visit a makeshift grave after we played that day. He had made a gravestone for his parents, and wanted me to be introduced to them. 

As he spoke to them, I made a prayer in my head. 

“You both...already know me. I am Gin Yami...and I don’t feel the right to be standing here today. I could have saved all three of you. But I couldn’t. Please, allow me to stay by your son’s side...not only because he’s my best friend. But because I feel it is right.”

Yaku shouldn’t find out, neither should Tsu...but I had a duty to my best friend now. I had to see our dream come true. Not only because of our love of music...

But because it would bring light to the world we both knew about.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #153

“i may be easy - easy to hate, but you’re so fucking easy, easy to break.”

Do you think age matters in friendship?  Nah.  One of my closest friends is in his 30s.  Now of course I believe a parent should monitor a friendship of a minor and adult, but, I still believe friendship is certainly possible. What was the last essay/assignment you wrote about?  It was only the rough draft, but I helped Colleen with her assessment of "Female" by Keith Urban. When do you usually put your Christmas decorations up?  Usually start in early December. Are you more likely to eat when you’re bored or depressed?  When I'm bored, I'd say.  When I'm depressed, I'm more keen on sleeping.  I've gotten better about not eating when I'm bored, thankfully. Do you have a case/cover for your phone? Describe it.  No, I want one tho. Do you take good care of your skin?  I've been making a decent effort lately.  I HATE the bumps I have on my arms from dry skin, so I've been moisturizing them as well as my face. What was your dream job when you were a kid?  Paleontologist.  I would still pursue it if I wasn't turned off by a career with loads of travel, nor do I think I have the patience to obtain a PhD. Is there any music you listen to that was influenced by your parents?  Oh yeah, Mom especially.  She's all about heavy metal, especially the classics.  Dad too, but I'd say he's more hard rock. Do you use tampons or pads? Or both?  Tampons, pads gross me out afsdjafjw.  I started with them though. Is your internet wireless or do you need a cable?  Wireless. What is something you’re behind the times on?  Ummm idk. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction?  No. What color are your glasses, if applicable?  Black. List a great $1 store find:  Idk. List a great garage sale find:  *shrugs* Who is one YouTuber you would like to meet?  m a r k Do you have your own website?  I have my own photography one. Do you like candy corn?  Omg demons stay back. Were you happy as a kid?  Yep. What is your favorite Queen song?  If your answer isn't "Bohemian Rhapsody," I don't want you in my life. Who was the last person you blocked on social media? Why?  Colleen, 'cuz I was kicking her out of my life and know that woman too well that she would try sending me a novel of hate, and I wasn't having it.  Turns out she shared our drama over Facebook afterwards to make me the bad guy, and I still have trouble believing I forgave something that petty.  She apologized for it, eh. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?  The old woman my mom had watched.  I knew enough about her to know she was a super sweet woman, so I barely held it together in there.  She died the very next morning. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life?  Ha, no.  He doesn't deserve my friendship. You never know what you have until you’ve lost it, true or false?  Nah. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done?  I dunno, possibly something sexual. When was the last time you spoke to someone in a different language?  Back in high school when I was doing a German test over the phone. Have you ever successfully broken a bad habit? How about conquered a fear of something?  Omg, so I had this habit of when I was thinking deeply or nervous, I would pull my eyebrows out.  It got to the point it would sometimes look like I almost had none.  Super embarrassing, especially because I did this a lot in school.  As for a fear, it was never a big one, but going to see Sara broke my mild fear of flying.  I like it now. Have you ever read a whole series of books?  Yes. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up?   For when I finish college, I'm probably just picking up my diploma. Have you ever tried to break a Guinness World Record?  No. Do you know how to read music?  I recall some notes. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it?  Ha ha, I got that "I was there" shirt for the Back to the Future date. Do you have any scratches on your cell phone?  No. Is your skin tone lighter or darker than your mom’s?  Lighter. Have you ever done another person’s make-up?  I gave Jason a makeover. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Honestly still hope I have that picture somewhere.  Regardless of what happened, that is damn good memory, he hated it so much. Is anyone saved in your phone under a nickname?  Sara, Ashley, Nicole, and Mom. When, where, and why did a needle last pierce your skin?  'Bout two weeks back to get my tongue pierced. Who is the youngest gay person you know?  Dunno. Have you ever watched an animal being eaten by another animal?  Yeah, our old cats with mice 'n such. Do you get along with people who are especially religious? Why/why not?  If you don't push it on me, certainly.  Respect my theism, I'll respect your whatever. Do you have any interesting pillow cases?  No. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees?  Well, there's too much variety in this question.  I'll fear a wolf spider more than a bumblebee, but a hornet more than daddy long leg. Has your best friend ever seen you naked?  No. Do you get mad when your current bf/gf talks about an ex?  Not at all. Do you know anybody who was abused?  Yes. Would you prefer a baby boy or girl?  If I was to have kids, y'know, I don't know.  Perhaps a girl, but I know boys are generally easier, and feeling the bond between a mother and her son would be amazing.  I'unno. When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded?  I'm not sure. Do your parents volunteer anywhere?  No. If you were a different religion from your current one, what would it be? Why?  Wiccan, because their beliefs (that I know of) are interesting. Have you ever had your phone taken away at school?  No. How old were you the first time you dyed your hair?  Idk.  I think first year of high school; I don't believe dyed hair was allowed in middle. Do you talk the same way you do in person as you do online?  For the most part. How would you react if a doctor told you that you were infertile?  I'd be like, irrationally happy.  I don't want kids, and I have a considerably large fear of being raped and thus get pregnant, so. Do you get along with your best friend’s parents?  Her mom's a bitch, and her dad's... different. Have you ever been in a relationship where you didn’t get along with the person’s parents?  No. How many people of the opposite sex have you said ‘I love you’ to?  One, romantically. Do you put marshmallows in your hot chocolate?  No. What is the best thing you can draw?  Meerkats are like the only thing I can draw decently without a reference. What band did you see for your first concert?  Alice Cooper. Do you think people with legitimate addictions are pathetic, or do you understand them?  Oh fuck off.  I obviously can't "understand" because I've never endured one, but addictions are serious.  Addiction is not a choice, and from meeting so many druggies during my psych hospital visits as well as having a friend who got clean, it's fucking hard. Has anyone you know ever had serious surgery before?  Yeah, Mom had kidney cancer.  The tumor was bigger than the kidney itself. When was the last time you had butterflies?  When Sara was here, we had these few moments where we were just staring at each other smiling and asjdfawjij. Do you think Gatorade tastes refreshing or just gross?  I don't like it. Do you own a pet fish? What kind of fish are they?  No. Do you have a porch swing?  No. How many area codes would you recognize?  My own and childhood town's. Who has the best taste in music in your family?  Besides myself obviously, Mom. What animal did you last pet or hold?  My cat. If you were a different gender, what name would you want to have?  Maybe like.  Dakota.  Probs my favorite unisex name. If you had to have one feature on your body changed to a canine version of said feature, what would you choose?  Gimme dem teefs. What product or service do you find ridiculously overpriced?  Some fast food, QUALITY MAKEUP, gas, uhhhh. How many people, outside of your immediate family, do you know the birthdays of by heart?  Six, or seven if you count my dog.  Maybe forgetting some. Shot of whiskey, or a bottle of Smirnoff?  The latter, I love Smirnoff's. Have you ever been afraid of being underwater?  No. Would you ever scuba dive in shark infested waters if you had the chance? In a cage, sure.  Otherwise, no.  Sharks are very much villainized, but I respect their capabilities, rare as an attack is. Have you ever hit a parked car with your car?  Not yet, boy will I when I learn how to park around others lmao. What band/group have the most lyrics that represent you? Hmmm, not sure. How many times have you been on a plane?  Four times that I remember, but I was on one as a baby, too. What do you wish were different about your hair?  I wish it was eASIER TO DYE- What’s a personality type that you do not like? Overly talkative is draining for me.  I also dislike the kinds of people who aim to make every "conversation" almost exclusively about themselves/leave no room for you to really express your own thoughts.  That's not a convo. What’s a personality type that you do like? Deep thinkers.  Those open to many possibilities, even if wild.  Nature-adoring people and/or ones who feel heavily connected to the earth. Which of your friends is the least like you and in what way? Colleen.  My best friend somehow, ha ha.  She's extremely straightforward and isn't afraid to hurt feelings if she feels it's important for you to see truth, she gets shit done quick/doesn't procrastinate, she can be quite argumentative, she's completely independent, our religious and some political views are different, our music taste is totally inverted, and I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting.  We're a prime example of opposites attract.  Love her to death. How about the most like you and in what way? Sara, and I could write a novel here lmao.  Separated at birth kinda shit. What’s something you do daily and is this a habit of yours? Sit on the computer, and yeeaah it's just about all I do. What was the last thing to frustrate you and is it still frustrating you now?  Hm.  Dunno.  Probably something like Roman being so intent on lying on the keyboard. What helps you fall asleep? Nothing lol. Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason?  Anti-depressants.  Learned from my current psychiatrist that taking them only amps up bipolarity symptoms if you have that as well, which I do. Do you like designer bags with the logo stamped all over them?  No. Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you?  Native American. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why?  British, 'cuz it's hot. Have you ever missed a flight?  Omg yes.  O'Hare after visiting Sara was absolutely impossible.  It was so.  Busy.  That and I didn't know what I was doing through half of it. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do?  "The" ex would lose his balls, the others I'd push back. Are you a virgin?  P sure no but my story is complicated so aojsdfaow. What is one feature that you don’t like?  I'm guessing you mean on myself personally, and that would easily be weight.  I'd be relatively fine with myself if that was where I want it to be. What’s the genre of the current song you’re listening to?  Metal ballad. What would you do if you were stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean?  I don't really know.  A part of me says I'd be so hopeless and terrified I'd drown myself.  The odds of being found are minuscule. Who is the funniest person you know?  Girt. When sitting on the floor, in what position do you normally sit?  Kinda with my legs turned to the same side. Do you like being kissed spontaneously or asked?  Spontaneously is way less awkward for me.  But only if you're pretty sure through my display of comfort that I'm fine with it. Have you ever tried to break someone up?  I thought about it out of spite.  I considered messaging her over Facebook and telling her what she was in for, and I wished her dead, and I'm not joking.  Turns out he broke up with her for the same reason as me, according to Mom being a FB stalker apparently. Are you a bad influence?  I am in some areas.  Shouldn't be even remotely lazy as me, and you shouldn't illegally download shit. Would you ever get a tattoo?  I already have five, and six is probably coming next year with holiday + birthday money. Do you get nervous before going to doctor appointments?  Not really, no.  The only thing that makes me anxious is having to get weighed lmao. Do you call anyone "baby?"  Sara, but more frequently "babygirl." What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving?  Off the top of my head, I think A Raisin in the Sun. Do you have any close friends that were adopted?  No. What time do you usually have a shower?  Night. What do you want to do after high school? I immediately went to a community college but dropped out in like a month.  My depression was so bad and I just couldn't handle the difficulty, responsibility, and independence leap. Do you know anybody that is pregnant right now? Not off the top of my head.  My acquaintance had a baby girl less than a week ago, though.

[edream93]

Please write a cute prompt about Harriet, Harry and CJ.

Hi anon! So this is getting to you kinda late. My writing schedule for this weekend was pushed back because I started feeling really under the weather and spent most of the day either napping or blowing my nose. Anyway, I hope you like it!

TW: There is mention of some blood.

–

The Isle was a rough place, especially for the young. The first few years was all about survival. How to either be unseen or be quick enough to get the heck out of a tricky spot. If you were able to get past a certain age, usually into the double digits, that’s when you could start making a name for yourself. Even then, only a select few, the meanest, cruelest, most cunning actually made it out on top of the kiddie pile to even think of playing with the adults.

All of this to say that it was strange for six year old Calista Jane “CJ” Hook to strut as confidently as she did down the uneven muddy streets of the market alone. She was still too young to have been given (i.e. steal) one of her father’s coats but the quality of the worn but sturdy boots that were stuffed to fit her tiny feet along with the noticeably less amount of dirt that covered her face meant she was better off than some of the other unfortunate bastard sons and daughters of this Isle. It should have been warning enough…

CJ was supposed to be on one of her father’s ships waiting for Harry to come back from whatever he did with Ursula’s recently shrimp smelling daughter and take her to Dr. Facilier’s shop to play with Freddie. But even though she had pointed to where the hands on his pocket watch would be when he needed to pick her up multiple times, he had still not shown up even after being over an hour late.

He had forgotten her! (And it was probably Uma’s fault too since CJ knew the older girl could tell time unlike her brother. What was so great about Uma? She thought the prank that Mal had played on her way great and had hoped her brother wouldn’t want to play with the shrimp smelling girl and instead would decide to decide to go on adventures with her, his little sister. Instead, if anything, the incident made his friendship with Uma stronger, tighter, distancing himself further and futher from his baby sister.)

Having waited long enough, head strong young CJ decided to go on her own. After all, she had made the trip several times with Harry and a few more times with Harriet when the older girl was still living with them (CJ didn’t know that the empty gnawing pain she felt in her chest was due to both of her siblings abandoning her). She didn’t need anyone else.

CJ held her short frame as tall as she possibly could as she made her way through the crowd. It shouldn’t be too hard…

Right?

“Hey, look at her. Pretty lil runt ain’t she?”

“Ya lost little one? Need an uncle to…show you around?”

CJ frowned, staring up at the two grimy looking older men grinning down at her.

“Never go anywhere with a man who ain’t Mr. Smee or Harry, ya here me, Calista Jane?” a memory of Harriet firmly gripping her chin played in the back of her head.

“Ah, cat got yer tongue, poppet?” one of the man laughed, reaching out to grab her arm.

“And if they try to force ya, run like Barbosa’s ghost is after ya!”

CJ kicked the man’s shin hard, a howl of pain escaping his lips. The other man tried to grab after her, but the youngest Hook child slipped between his legs and took off.

“Get back here, ya lil wench!” the first man yelled, both men going after her.

The little girl ran and ran, turning up and down streets to get the two men off her tail. She finally ducked in an alley, hiding behind some wooden crates. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep quiet and remain hidden like Harriet and Harry always made her do when daddy had too much of his special juice and went chasing after Harry until either Harriet or Mr. Smee somehow managed to stop him.

The worn and taped boots of the men paused at the entrance of the alley-way.

“I coulda sworn I saw her turn down here,” one man, the man she kicked with a funny looking scar across the bridge of his nose murmured stepping into the alley.

“Lil tramp. Probably ain’t worth the effort of catching her,” he companion spat.

“Aw, don’t say that, mate,” scar man growled. “Those pretty little eyes of hers are probably worth a couple of pretty little pennies from the witches. They like to still do rituals and shit to their demon lord despite not having any magic here.”

CJ moreso heard rather than saw the other man shudder. She herself didn’t like the witches that she knew they were talking about. There were many types of witches on the Isle, Ursula, the Evil Queen, and Madam Mim being the ones that instantly came to mind first. However, there was another category of witches on the Isle, witches who were rumored to be the mistresses of Chernabog, who had willingly given their souls and beauty to the God of the Night in hopes that he would one day rise from his mountain and rain terror down upon their enemies. CJ remembered how even Harriet, her strong fearless sister, wouldn’t even dare to mess with them unless she absolutely had.

No, CJ thought, reaching for the small pocket knife she had stolen off of Harry earlier this morning when she had jumped on him to wake him up from another dream that he had made him sigh “Uma” and “fucking pixie” every now and again. She wasn’t going to be taken to any witches.

“And if ya can’t run…” Harriet’s voice reminded her.

Her hand trembled slightly as she waited for the men to step closer to her hiding space.

“Then stick ‘em with the pointy end!”

“I wouldn’t do that that if I were you, poppet.”

Eyes wide and unintentionally dropping her blade, CJ realized that scar man’s companion had snuck up behind her and was now hold a knife against her throat with one hand while the other hand pulled roughly on her tangled mane.

“You hurt me and you’re gonna be dead!” the girl shouted and hissed, trying to move back as the man with the scar knelt in front of her. “My sister and brother are the meanest kids on the Isle!”

“Oh shut up, lass!” the man behind her hissed, annoyed as he tugged harder on her hair causing tear of pain to form in her eyes. “Like we’re afraid of some no-name kids. Now be good. The witches would want ya alive but they wouldn’t be too put off if you were just a few minutes dead.”

“NO!” CJ yelled trying to scratch and bite her way away from these men. She didn’t want to be some ingredient in some witches seance. She didn’t want to be alone with these men. She just wanted to have an adventure with her big sister and her big brother…

“Ah damn! Ye fuckin’ idiots made the lil monster cry,” a familiar voice sighed tiredly.

“Get out of here lad! Ain’t nothing for ye here,” the man with the scar hissed.

The intruder stepped forward, a boy with a mess of black hair framing bright blue eyes that narrowed when CJ let out a whimper of pain. “Now, that’s where yer wrong. I don’t think ye understand whose sister yer messin’ with,” the boy grinned wickedly, holding up a polished hook in his hand, one of Captain Hook’s old ones that had been polished and fitted so that he could hold it in his less dominant sword wielding hand.

That was apparently enough all the two men needed to see as they connected the dots, gasping before pushing CJ as far away from them as possible, hoping that that would be enough to appease Captain Hook’s insane unpredictable son. Despite the Isle’s size, rumors spread quickly with nothing else for most to do other than just waste away. Even with only being just shy of eleven, the boy was starting to make a name for himself as a fierce and ruthless fighter with the manic laugh and what some could only see as an obsession with Ursula’s disgraced daughter.

“W-we didn’t know,” the man with the scar tried to defend himself to this boy not even half his age. “She didn’ look like yer father,” he said before his eyes widened, trying to backtrack. I mean, she didn’t have the Hook red coat. We thought she was just another runt.”

“They said they were gonna give me to the witches and then they pulled my hair!” CJ pouted crossly, looking irritatedly up at Harry.

The boy sighed, shrugging, looking at the men with a “what can you do?” look on his face. “Well gentlemen, runt or no, it seems you’ve woken a sleepin’ beast.”

The men began to beg at him but all Harry could do was shake his head.

“I’m sorry, but it ain’t up to me,” he said right before a sword protruded the front of one man before pulling back and doing the same with the other. Both men tried to staunch the blood with their hands but blood poured freely through their fingers, too quickly for anything to be done. Harry frowned, looking put out. “Ya couldn’t save one for me, Ettie?”

Harriet wiped the blood off on one of the dying men’s pants, looking nonchalant.

“Think of it as punishment for not looking at Calista Jane properly.”

“Think of it as punishment,” Harry mocked. “Davey Jones, what happened to your damn accent, lass? You abandon us for months to go play on the other side of the Isle with all ‘em land loving stuck ups and all of a sudden ya think yer hot shit!”

“I like it!” CJ exclaimed, beaming up at her big sister with nothing short of admiration, totally desensitized to the sight of two bodies bleeding out. Harriet smirked at her before a frown quickly replaced it.

“Calista Jane, what were you doing walking the streets alone? You’re too young and without reputation to go traversing the Isle by yourself,” the eldest Hook sibling reprimanded.

Crossing her arms and frowning, CJ stomped her foot. “But ya told me you did it when you were younger than me.”

Harriet frowned, stepping over the bodies and bending down to grab CJ firmly by the chin. They both had their father’s brown eyes despite Harriet’s much darker skin tone. “Because I didn’t have an older sister or even an idiot older brother (“Hey!”) to watch my back,” she said gruffly her accent that she had tried to rid herself of leaking through. “There’s a lot of bodies I wouldn’t mind seeing sent off to Davy Jones but I refuse to have ye be one of ‘em, Calista Jane. Not this young. Ye understand?”

Sighing, CJ nodded. Though Harriet could be really cool, there were a few times where she was no fun.

“Sowry,” she said with big fat tears waiting to fall in her eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh come on ya little fish bait. If yer gonna try to throw a con over us, the least ya could do is realize no one’s gonna believe that baby talk crap at your age,” he paused, thinking. “Though they might think yer an idiot but that’s not really you acting then, is it?”

Harriet straightened up, smacking Harry hard behind the head causing CJ’s fake tears to immediately stop and the younger girl to break into wicked little giggles.

“Damn lass! That’s me head! I only got one of ‘em!” Harry hissed, rubbing the abused spot.

Harriet ignored him and turned back to CJ. “Let’s do a proper scam.”

CJ gasped excitedly, dancing a little in her spot. “All of us?”

Harriet turned back to look at Harry and CJ held her breath. Ever since the “Shrimpy” incident, Harry had been sticking even closer to Uma, having no time to run scams with his little sister.

The young pirate boy sighed, as if it would be such a chore but the eager look in his eyes told the truth.

“Oh, why not?”

[junker-town]

SB Nation reviews: ADOM, a 25-year-old hard-as-hell computer game

Art from ADOM.de, by Krzysztof Dycha

Style 9.5

Content 10

Overall 10

I have a new friend. His name is Sammy, and he is is a Hurthling. Sammy has had a rough life. His miserable parents tormented him throughout his childhood. But eventually he escaped their clutches and trained to become an assassin.

Was he planning to one day train his dagger against his cruel parents? He didn’t say. But then, he didn’t say much.

I met Sammy at the entrance to the Drakalor Chain, a mysterious mountain range that seemed to be the centre of an invasion of otherworldly powers. Monsters thought long-extinct overflowed its passes. The orc clans, contained for generations, were on the warpath. There were even reports of ogre armies arrayed for battle. Like many adventurers, Sammy was drawn to investigate.

Entering the pass, Sammy’s first stop was a village named Terinyo, where he was asked to find a missing carpenter. Sammy sought him out in a dungeon to the southeast, where he battled through a horde of goblins ... and then died of acute blood poisoning when bitten by a viper.

Art from ADOM.de, by Krzysztof Dycha

I have been playing Ancient Domains of Mystery, better known as ADOM, for more than 20 years. It took me 13 to close the Chaos Gate and end the invasion successfully, and I’ve long-since lost count of how many heroes died in the process. ADOM likes to kill you, and it does this a lot. As far as I can tell, there are hundreds of ways to die. You can execute yourself, for instance, with a bouncing magic missile. You can be crushed by your own backpack when an annis hag curses your bracers of lifting. You can starve to death in the wilderness. You can be electrocuted by a lightning lizard, or sacrificed to a teleporting pixie’s god, or straight-up beaten to death by an angry troll (all trolls are angry).

You can also, assuming you haven’t found a spider corpse to give you resistance, die of acute blood poisoning.

Since ADOM is a roguelike, when you die, your character is erased. No coming back, no recording saves. Gone. (Farewell, Sammy. I barely knew ye.) This is what makes the game both so difficult to beat and so compelling. Once you get past the very early game, when progress is in large part determined by luck, each death will (slowly) teach you how to navigate deeper and deeper into the Caverns of Chaos, where you will eventually stem the infernal invasion threatening the realm. Or die. Probably you’ll die.

But if you don’t, you may find strength beyond your wildest dreams. My most recent winner, Orodreth, was a high elven duelist who became a paragon of virtue (much like myself) and befriended the Cat Lord. The rewards for doing so let him shred even the more formidable opponents with ease. Before that, I won with a beastfighter who specialises in hand-to-hand combat (with a boomerang or two thrown in, mostly for style). I reckon that now, with two decades of experience, I can probably win somewhere between 10-20 percent of the time on a random character.

ADOM has changed a lot in those 20 years. For most of its existence, it was an ASCII-only game, which meant it looked like this:

The orange @ is my character, the grey B a giant bat that is trying (unsuccessfully) to fight me. I love everything about this look, from the hashtag corridors to the one-square monsters. I’ve learned to be terrified of brown “&”s (GREATER MOLOCH), capital-“D” dragons, and black-“L” emperor liches. I’ve learned to look out for yellow-“d” blink dogs, which grant the important intrinsic of teleport control when eaten. And I’ve recently learned to be on the alert for the glowing green cloak Venom Mantle, denoted by a sickly green “]”. Venom Mantle grants, among other things, acid immunity. Very handy.

Modern ADOM now looks very different. A few years ago, the game’s creator, Thomas Biskup, led a successful crowdfunding campaign to reboot development, and part of that campaign included modernising the graphics to be more welcoming to new players. Now that same fight against a giant bat looks like, well, a fight against a giant bat:

For me, ‘tile mode’ loses rather a lot of the game’s charm, but that’s probably because I grew up playing the ASCII version, and therefore tiles annihilate all of my familiarity with the game. But the rest of the new content is fantastic — Thomas and his co-developers have pumped new locations, quests, baddies and items into an already deep world, breathing new life into the ADOM community. (They’ve currently paused development in ADOM itself to work on the sequel.)

Style 9.5

As I mentioned earlier, ADOM is a roguelike, which is a type of game mostly associated with the player character dying a lot. Roguelikes are also associated with procedurally generated content, which means that significant parts of the game are randomised each time you start. Almost every dungeon is reset with each game (the extremely weird infinite dungeon gets randomised during play, which makes it a fun challenge to deep-dive). The pool of special items varies as well, which means that you never know what character build you’re going to end up with.

ADOM contains enough secrets that I haven’t managed to exhaust them in all the time I’ve been playing. Some say that the path to becoming a Chaos God begins in the Drakalor Chain, for instance. Others rumours suggest that the legendary Trident of the Red Rooster can be found somewhere deep in the mountains. Let’s not even get into where one might find the Scroll of Omnipotence (I think I came close, once, but had to retreat). The story might be on the shallow end, but, really, you’re here to explore and kick ass. Plot mostly gets in the way.

Art from ADOM.de, by Krzysztof Dycha

Meanwhile, each class of characters plays wildly differently from the next. I favour duelists, which are powerful and very fast melee fighters who are mostly useless at range or with magic. This makes them vulnerable to enemies you really don’t want to fight at close quarters, which vastly changes your approach to, for instance, an ultimate doppelgänger. A wizard, on the other hand, would simply fry said doppelgänger with an acid bolt (or whatever else), but would have a significantly more annoying time against a diamond golem, which are immune to most forms of magic.

ADOM has 22 playable classes, from farmer to mindcrafter. (These are wildly unbalanced, as they should be. It turns out it’s easier to save the world when you’re a powerful elementalist than if you’re a traveling merchant who likes to sell scrolls.) You can pick among twelve races — I like hurthlings and elves — which all have their own unique traits and styles. If you play as a troll, be prepared for hunger to be a constant problem, and to run like hell from any monster with an aging attack (trolls die young). If you’re a Mist Elf, born during the song of creation, you may be less stressed out about encountering a ghost lord.

With essentially infinite build variety and style, you can keep playing ADOM for decades and still want to come back for more. Trust me, I know.

Content 10

When ADOM came out, it was ‘postcardware.’ If you enjoyed the game, Thomas asked you to send him a postcard from wherever in the world you happened to be. I never got around to this, because teenage boys are the most inconsiderate people in the world. Thomas, if you read this, I don’t know if this post makes up for the lack of postcard, but thank you from London for keeping me entertained for so long.

Ancient Domains of Mystery is available on Steam (there’s also a free-to-play version with fewer features).

Overall 10

[dove-annarchie]

A Slow Damage headcanon theory compilation by Ann

It’s late and I’m supposed to write short stories instead of a long rant about a game that’s not even out. But after watching the Slow Damage PV another hundred times and seeing that the N+C fandom is kinda dead. I decided to add my little, possibly going to remain unseen theories/headcanons/speculations/guesses etc. for the fans waiting for something new.

Note that nothing of what I’ve written is to be taken at face-value, it’s just my speculation and feel free to correct me on anything or share your theories with me. Anything to make this agonizing period of waiting a bit less agonizing!

First, these guesses wouldn’t be as strong without @shinocchidesu’s text decode on the PV and the inverted sketches @bara-mink (sorry, for some reason i couldn’t tag you :C) made to get a new perspective on the images, and they look clearer!. Kudos to them!

To start this trip, I may warn you this is gonna be long as heck. Be prepared.

We’ve got to start with the ambience. N+C has something like a track record regarding crapsack worlds, dramatical murder and maybe false alkanet being the exceptions (and even then, Dmmd was dark as fuck despite the cheery, colorful world it was in). Togainu no Chi was a post-war dystopia, Lamento was a story in a world that was slowly dying, and sweet pool’s world was fairly ordinary but the darkness on the plot was the product of the characters’ doing.

Slow damage seems to be the game where both the characters and the world around them are grimdark as hell.

Taking the PV at face value, the characters seemed suspicious, the music and effects were unsettling and the background left an impression (at least in me) that nothing was fine. Looked kind of like a decadent city, or a red-light district, just an urban zone full of crime. If I had to compare it to explain myself better, think of Dragon Palace in Omerta Chinmoku no Okite (another BL, mafia themed VN).

(what looks like an urban environment in the pv):

(omerta’s dragon palace, for comparison):

A crime-filled ambience is an ideal place for a dark plot with troubled characters.

Moving along with the characters, we see 4 of them (at least if there’s not a hidden twin, clone or doppelganger). None of them look 100% sane to me. The flashing visuals and slightly off-key music and sounds are likely to hint that at us, or maybe it’s the kanji, for the Japanese-speaking people? They’re either very involved with crime, or their hands aren’t clean enough to disprove any guilt. At least for me, since these are my deductions.

Moving on, I’m going to talk about the people we see in the PV. Starting with:

My thoughts about him? When there’s crime, there should be cops. He looks like a detective or cop to me. He also seems to be middle aged, or older than the MC at the very least. Old enough to have been a father? Who knows. But he reminds me of Motomi (TnC) and Kiryuu (Omerta) for some reason. I’ll call him Kiryu for now.

The words deciphered by shinocchidesu in their post read:

Sins, guilt, depression, self-loathing, to hide something, mask.

If I tie this to his assumed position in the law, Kiryu must have committed a crime himself and/or gotten someone killed. It was either an accident or intentional, whether in a moment of weakness or fully aware of what was going to unfold. In any case. It seems like Kiryu desperately wants to hide it, or forget it. Or the disgust he felt with himself after doing it.

Affection, mercy, silence, determination to be…

What if his route is like a healing process, maybe not just for Kiryu, but also for whatever the MC went through before? Maybe by taking his route, if he has one, we can make him move on or remind him that the past is in the past, and that he can still find worthy things in his life (Like the MC?). he’s going to feel more positive with the MC around him, he may quickly take a liking to him. Maybe because he reminds Kiryu of someone from his past? Is being romanced by the MC like a chance to symbolically or internally fix everything that went wrong?

Next is…

My thoughts about him? Looks like the typical pretty boy every anime media must have. Longish hair? Check. More delicate face structure? Check. Mischievous smile? Check. He also seems to have piercings, or maybe it’s the rough lines of the sketches. I’m going to call him Shi for now, read the explanation ahead.

The deciphered words read:

Unrestrained, unstoppable pleasure, blood, bone, flesh, violence.

This doesn’t spell good.

I’m going to stretch my deductions a lot and state that maybe Shi was (or is) a cannibal, or a serial killer. I see him as a hedonistic fuck who doesn’t care about other people’s wellbeing as long as he’s having a blast. Maybe he was under the influence of drugs. All of this spells that Shi was an outright criminal, the kind of pleasure-seeking person who will go to the extreme just to feel new sensations, even if they’re morally wrong. Shi wants to feel thrilled, he has no barriers or chains. He’s a free man and not even the police can keep him from having his way. He’s sassy, brash, carefree and confident. Has a joyful and fun façade to hide his bloodthirstiness and the misery it caused him.

Or we can take the other side and imply he was being forced to be like this. Maybe he was part of a cult or a very toxic group who indulged in killing and intoxication. He’s used to this, even if he doesn’t want to be. Maybe the MC can help him withdraw from his passions or push him deeper into it while joining him. I still don’t have this clear.

Self-denial, build and rebuild, hidden aesthetic.

Shi lives very frugally. Because of his criminal status he has to constantly relocate, but it’s not like he has important things to leave behind. Much like Nine told Aoba in dmmd re:connect, Shi can build and destroy his (outer) world whenever he wants or needs to and he doesn’t lose much by that. The build and rebuild part can also apply to his possible murderous intents, since he destroys lives in order to build up his pleasure. Possibly being with the MC may inspire a desire to settle down, despite the risk, and having legitimate reasons to do the opposite. A possible bad end might be joining in the bloody debauchery and being dominated by Shi?

Next one…

My thoughts about him? A classic character; the kichiku megane. Other than Ugajin (also from Omerta) and the yaoi manga with that name, I cannot make any comparisons due the fact I haven’t seen many examples of this archetype. Unless he turns out to be a caring, if amoral sweetheart, I’m betting my cat’s life that he’s going to follow the trope to a T. Stoic, sadistic, cruel and uncaring, but smart, sophisticated, desirable and maybe hiding a very tiny good heart. He looks like a high-ranking criminal, or yakuza or mafia or I dunno, he looks not like a lowlife thug, but more like an evil hidden-in-plain-sight kind of criminal. He can afford to look elegantly amoral. It took me a while to give him a decent placeholder name, so I’m just calling him Kenji for now.

Let’s analyze his phrases.

To put on, not being himself, inerasable past, acted out truth, hatred towards their own.

This one’s a little more complicated to me even if it seems to be explicitly spelled out. Kenji’s self-hatred must stem from a typical traumatic experience. Maybe his family/race/clan/group did something awful and he was one of the few who regretted letting it happen? And that’s why he’s involved with crime? Because he sees himself as nothing but another apple that rot far away from the tree and he can’t do better than commit more crimes?. A little part of himself knows that while he’s scum, or at least related with the real scum, he didn’t commit atrocities like his kind so he can afford to be a little bit better. He desperately tries to distance himself from his clan, erasing his past and not wanting the horrible truth to be discovered. He doesn’t need to have a higher moral ground, he’s content with not doing horrible things directly. And he clings to that.

Cruel, thorough confrontation, continuous obsession.

Rule of three dictated these might refer to Kenji’s relationship with the MC. While MC doesn’t look like a career criminal, he’s still at the very bottom of the barrel, living in the crime-ridden urban settlement on a filthy studio (assuming he’s an artist). While Kenji can flaunt of being sophisticated and respected. If the kichiku megane aspect is played straight, Kenji won’t limit his cruelty with the MC, maybe seeing him as just another ruffian undeserving of even mere eye contact, much like he sees the people working for him. MC will keep clashing with Kenji, causing the yakuza to become enticed and attracted to the young (?) smoker. As if he’s “deserving” of him. I don’t have much else, sorry.

And finally…

Now let’s go with the hooded person, who I’m assuming it’s the MC, and if he isn’t and turned out to be the main antagonist or some shit like that, welp, then screech in my ear and call me Rachel.

I’m basing my guesses from the teaser images rather than the kanji.

The first one is simplistic. We see a person in a hoodie sporting a macabre smile, standing in the middle of a street with distorted figures which must be buildings. The colors are limited, classical red, black and white, aiding the macabre aesthetic of the picture. The black figures seem to sink onto the ground and lose consistency. As seen on the N+C website, the title of the game is written twice; once in white and then in black, right over the white katakana in an irregular way that may be meant to add to the “instability” of the image.

I don’t see much symbolism other that this being N+C’s way of saying “yo, we gon fuck your mind up but you gotta wait for it ;) also if you don’t speak Japanese then you’re doubly screwed fam”

The second one is more complex and gives us a very good look at the aspects and symbolism. We see the hooded person in much clearer detail. Looks definitely masculine (it’s a yaoi game, duh). He’s sitting on a stool, in a crooked posture, looking depressed and defeated, smoking while avoiding eye contact with the camera. Smoking was believed to reduce stress, but that was debunked a while ago, so he has pent up a ton of anxiety added to the usual problems with his already underprivileged lifestyle. Behind him there are numerous canvases (assuming he’s an artist, or at least a hobbyist) with a huge black one right behind his back, they show no images other than empty whiteness and some shadows, their meanings being that either he gave up, those easels are representing emptiness and gloom, he became disillusioned and he’s reflecting on stuff, or that there are multiple problems in his life that are unimportant or self-inflicted and thus cause him small amounts of misery but not to an extreme extent, and this one big black canvas right behind his back represents factor that started, prolonged or keeps fueling his bitterness and internal struggle.

I want you to save me./Do you want to be saved?

In a world of crime, a young man has the chance to make things right. Anything he could do may make things better or worse. Is he talking to himself? Is someone else asking him that? All the above?

By who? By me?

He’s doubtful and depressed. He started at the bottom and he’s still in the bottom (that was unintentional). But can he push his frustrations aside and face the music?

That concludes my analysis and helped quench my impatience a little bit. I should repeat that this is not to be taken at face value nor I’m saying this is 100% canon official information. It’s just another guessing game to see if I can give you an idea of what to expect. I dunno, I just wrote this for fun C: thanks for reading!

[gigiree]

The Signs As Quotes From ML Fics

[witchypoooh]

Wolf In Lambs Coat

I met the devil on a scorching summer day while my brothers skinny dipped in the nearby pond with pretty older women. Despite them being all juniors in college they had great big muscles and good lucks so girls no matter what age swooned over them. They had our mamas looks, large dewy brown eyes and olive toned skin that made them look like they glistened in the sun. Meanwhile I had gotten most of my looks from my daddy, a slim and tall man with dark slanted cat-like eyes and pale skin. I was a junior in high school and despite being 17 at the time I stood tall at 5’9 and lacked the attributes that boys my age drooled over. My hair was long, dark and glossy, perhaps the only thing I’d gotten from my mother and my lips thin and red like a ripe strawberry.

We weren’t very well off, we lived far away from neighbors and the city. Looking at our surroundings you’d think the dust bowl never settled. Our shack of a home sat on a lopsided hill and whenever the wind blew we feared our house would blow with it. We only had three bedrooms so my two older brothers split one room leaving the third to the living room couch. I had my own room due to mama telling the men in the house that women needed privacy. I agreed of course despite the fact that all I did was read and talk to myself in private, because what girl didn’t want her own space?

On that hot day I sat on a dusty bank not far from our shack watching from a distance as my brothers splashed around the cool moss covered pond with two middle aged and pretty curvaceous women. They both worked at the pharmacy a ways into town and always gave them bedroom eyes when we came in to get mamas medicine. It didn’t take the boys long to realize the two bleach blonde women were making eyes at them. They exchanged numbers and ever since then you could hear distant splashing coming from the pond behind our home every day. The laughs and screams as they dunked the women into the water playfully. And when the hot sun began to sink below the sandy hills I went inside because that’s when they’d get all touchy feely.

It was around noon now, and the sun was high in the sky causing sweat to trickle down my temples and hit the corners of my lips. My hair was up in a wild bun held together by mamas favorite headband and around my forehead soaking up majority of the sweat was daddy’s orange bandana. I wore an old moth eaten shirt that had belonged to my brother to hide the short white shorts I wore underneath. My long legs caused the shorts to look way shorter than they were and they squeezed my thighs something vicious. It was way too hot to wear pants and the way the hot wind sent sand and dust fluttering through the air burned my arms and made them raw. We had no air conditioning and shared one single broken down fan and more than likely my mother was using it while cooking lunch.

So I sat there on the bank, rubbing sand off my arms and staring off into the distance. As the sound of laughs and joyed filled scream beat my eardrums silly. A weird feeling of jealousy overcame me and clutched my heart in its fist. Apart of me felt like crying, apart of me felt like dying. Though regardless of the feeling thumping in my chest as loud as my own heart I kept my eyes trained on the sandy road leading to the edge of town. And in that moment I heard the growl of an animal, it was big and feisty and angry and my heart pumped hard against my scrawny chest when I heard it.

No more than 4 minutes later the large body came rolling up against the high noon sun. It was black and shiny, a two wheeler with leather handles and seats. My poor little girl heart got to thumping wildly matching the growls of the beast riding up slowly. Riding the back of the beast was a mountain of hot desire and muscles bigger than I’d ever seen. I could see the dirt kicking up from the large, rough and hot wheels of the monster named Harley. The man riding it had dark eyes like my own but his were shaped like a doe’s.

He slowed the monster of a machine down as he came closer, billows of smoke left behind him and blocking my view of the splashing still going on just a ways past the shack we lived in. Apart of me was embarrassed as I tried to stick out the little bit of chest I did have. He looked at me like a baby he felt bad for and had found abandoned on the side of this very road. I would have felt more hurt than I ever have in my life had I not been too focused on the tuft of chest hair I could see faintly from behind the leather vest he wore. He was built as heavy and solid as the machine he sat upon and apart of me shivered though my face remained blank. Still, he just watched me, as his heavy boot nudged the kickstand down and rested against the sand.

The hot desert wind carried his scent to me despite us only being a few feet away and I breathed in deeply when it came. He smelled like women’s perfume and my daddies favorite cigarettes and apart of me felt jealousy spark into life. I was a little girl compared to him and he had had his fair share of women. My eyes narrowed even further than natural and a smile tickled the corners of his lips as if he could read my mind. In that moment I felt like we were some married couple having a silent argument. He would smile and I would swoon and remember why I’d fallen in love with him and we would ride off on the big beast he rode in on.

But this was reality.

His voice was what broke me out of my daydream. Thank god for the bandana around my head catching most of my sweat. I wasn’t sweating due to the sweltering temperature anymore but more so due to my nerves running wild like stallions. I remember that he spoke to me slow and measured, as if I wouldn’t understand if he spoke too quick. His voice was deep and baritone like an old jazz singer and it was clear her was from the Deep South. I felt my mind go abuzz as he spoke, though I understood everything he said.

“You ain’t no woman, no you ain’t.

Women have sins, and those ain’t no saints.

But the world is a devil, you’re next to taint.”

He spoke like a poem in that baritone voice of his. I felt like I was reading a romance novel, Gone With The Wind, Titanic maybe. All I knew for sure was that I was Rose and I oh so desperately wanted him to be Jack. He could smell my young desire from a mile away, I could see it in those dark shining coals he called eyes. That boyish smirk touched the tips of his lips again and I felt my heart give one solid knock against my chest. I was a goner in those glistening eyes, absentmindedly appreciating the sculpted jaw, high cheek bones and soft pink lips that made up his outer appearance.

“I’m a woman, I’m more woman than they are, my mama told me real women don’t gallivant with wild men.” My voice was soft and incredibly shaky as I said this. Apart of me wishes I was a woman gallivanting with the wildest of men. Maybe this man in front of me was the king of wild and I was his chosen woman. Except he didn’t see me as a woman, and that made me frown without realizing I was doing it. His eyes glistened over, and he stood up over his bike, his jeans were faded denim with raggedy holes tore in the knees.

He looked like the kind of rugged but handsome pretty boy biker I saw on the television late at night. I felt my breathing pick up and my heart begin racing inside my ribcage when I thought about those shows. Those were wild men that pretty women were happy and willing to gallivant with. Apart of my mind began wondering off, wondering if he was one of those wild men with quick silver tongues and quicker instincts. Then I began to wonder how long we’d been standing here, me ogling him and him staring at me as if I were some package to be unwrapped and investigated. I didn’t have enough time to look around, take in my surrounding when his voice ensnared me once again.

“I’m a nice guy, one to admire

Take it from me, I’m no liar

I’ve never liked to fan the fire.”

Smooth and buttery as if he gargled with silk and the finest linens every morning. If I believed in magic I’d thought I was being hypnotized by his voice. Till this day I don’t know why I got onto the back of that growling beast or why my brothers never noticed. He reached out a calloused hand and he took my soft ones, my long, slender fingers traced over the roughness of his palm and right then he gripped my hand. I felt a light whimper leave my lips and that sparked something in him because he smiled and pulled me closer. I could smell the cigarettes and liquor on his breath and the smell of peaches and strawberries from some bar crawler on his jacket.

I couldn’t help but to allow rogue thoughts to enter my mind. That bar crawler, the one who’d left her scent all over his jacket had done it purposely. She’d had a good time and she didn’t want others experiencing it. Then my thoughts began to wonder deeper and I thought just for a moment, maybe I would have some fun too. Maybe our minds had been linked during that moment because I could have sworn he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. He was silent but his eyes gave me all the confirmation that I would ever need.

Before I knew it the wind was whipping through my hair sending it into a wild dance amongst the flying sand. Dust trailed behind us as my arms tightened around his solid waist. The hot leather burned my arms but that little girl heart of mines refused to let go. I pressed my cheek against this back, it was solid just like his chest and I felt myself shutter against the heavy machinery underneath us. It felt like gravity had given up on the two of us as we road quick and furious down the desert road. Faster and faster and the farther we got from the shack, the pond, the banks, the better.

The sun was coming down from its high when we arrived at a desolate plane of sand dunes each producing their own selfish tufts of dead grass. Far off into the distance when the heat caused the air to do wiggling dances was a cool lake shrouded under dead trees. The brown dry limbs curled and reached over the glistening water like demons fingers going in for the kill. I felt myself swallow the lump in my throat and I turned my dark eye on his. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as the sound of the beast finally quieted. In the silence my heart took it upon itself to beat like a war drum.

I couldn’t speak as that calloused hand reached out for mine once again. My fingers felt those rough palms, my heart hiccuped and I whimpered as he pulled me roughly towards the glistening waters. Images of the bleach blonde pharmacy workers flickered in and out of my mind’s eye like a television show on a bad television set. The sound of distant splashes and excited screams filled my ear drums despite the silence. I felt my sneakers plant firmly into the sand and that hard calloused hand let mines go. Without having realized I closed them, I opened my eyes.

I felt something new and unawakened stir in my belly as the sunlight gazed upon his solid frame. Surely I like the sun was enjoying the sight to behold. His sculpted back flexed and rippled with his every movement. The calm blue washed over his waist hiding what my eyes had never seen. Without speaking he looked to me and the words seemed to echo within my skull. The air was silent un-penetrated by his or my own voice but I knew exactly what to do.

It felt like second nature as the scenes from various movies raced through my head at lightning speed. A sweater tossed lazily to the ground and another following right after. The sound of springs underneath soft fabric coming to life. A shadow cast by the flickering candle, painted against the wall like a work of art. My belly dropped as the cool pool enveloped my feet first, then my legs and it slowly crawled upwards until it rested just above my naval. It was almost like being tucked in at night underneath the warmest cover.

His strong defined back faced me, his head turned subtly too the side as if commanding that I come into his sights. My slender fingers sent a trail of steaming water across the oval shaped scars on each side of his flesh. I felt him shiver underneath the touch and for a moment my fingers felt hot. As if they were dancing upon coals just taken from the fire. His dark tanned skin looked amazing underneath my pale and expertly dancing fingers as they did excellent flips and showy grand jeté’s. Finally he turned his body against the slow waves and his dark eyes looked upon me like a hungry wolf, I knew right then that my racing little girl heart was now a trapped woman waiting to be freed.

It felt as if time had slowed though I knew it hadn’t. When I finally came up for air the night sky was looking over us. Hours had passed and without the knowledge of it the sun had handed of its duties to the moon and the thousands of twinkling stars littering the night sky. They shone like diamonds over the desert, the sky as blue as the waters. I came back down then, looked him in the face as water dripped from his tussled hair into those eyes that seemed to get darker and darker every second. He had a tortured look on his face as I floated closer and closer, cupping my hand to his cheek.

Like innocence was bestowed it was taken away. My mama told me that flowers bloom, sometimes not right in front of you but in private. My father told me women gallivant without any worry or care for who they’re hurting. I was a flower who’d bloomed and in the process the innocence bestowed upon me has been ripped away. I was now a gallivanting woman without any care or worry about who I was hurting in the process. The stars seemed to smile down at my revelation as lips that tasted of molasses in the spring enveloped me in hot hurried warmth. When that warmth was replaced by the salty blue, those dark eyes looked down at me and swallowed me whole.

My arms splashed at the surface in frenzy as I came up for a breath. My lungs were burning and stinging as a hyenas laugh escaped my throat. Like jailed happiness I floated through the lake allowing the bake tree limbs to cover me in maccabee fashion. He chased after me like a hound dog chasing its prey and I reveled in it. I watched him transform into something otherworldly and those dark eyes devoured me once again. I felt myself falling far, drinking too deeply and floating through an ocean of honey.

Everything went black, a comforting but excruciating darkness.

I woke up two days later with a fever as hot as the July afternoon. My daddy sat at my side, old face blank and eyes distant. Above me was my mama clutching a bible and crying, babbling the Christ’s words over my damp forehead. The noise in the room pounded my eardrums savagely and I squint my eyes shut in agony. She cried harder, years of sorrowing escaping through two streams down her sculpted cheeks. I laid there still and silent with nothing to think or say or do.

The days passed like any other hot summer day. They are hot and long as the noon sun rises high into the sky sending sweat down my temples each and everyday. The familiar sound of splashing emerges from behind our shack of a home, the sound of the pharmacy women laughing and squealing. I know what they’re squealing about now, I remember. I remember my time underneath the hot sun and the cooling stars, and the hiccuping of my little girl heart turned wild. I remember my dark eyed bandit.

Now you know my story, but you don’t know what I saw. The form that take shape in that ocean of blue honey. The feeling of nimble fingers across ashen flesh and teeth against succulent bone. You don’t know what I’ve saw, what I’ve felt, and I’m sure my bandit doesn’t either. But if you ever run into my bandit, while sitting on a dusty bank in the desert next to your own shack, you remember these words. Swallow down the burning desire he brings forth, shield your eyes from what doesn’t belong to you and you remember these words.

“He ain’t no man.

He’s a liar.

He’s the one who starts the fire.”

When you remember these words you turn to him, and you look into those cool coals staring back at you. Tell him I’ll be waiting on the sand bank, staring out at the sun as it dips and twirls through the sky. I’ll be in the lake of blue syrup when the sun kisses the sky goodnight and gives it up to the moon. When the stars light up the desert and send cooling sandy wind through the air. You tell him I love him with all my little girl heart. Tell him I’ll be waiting forever.

You tell him I’ve seen him, I know what he is.

And then tell him I love him anyway.

—————————————————————

This is my first short story I’ve posted on Tumblr. Maybe if it gets enough attention I’ll post more.

[georgiacollender-blog]

Charlotte Josephine

CJ Two ways of writing: having a plan and not. Inspired by everyday life. Writes little but often then puts the pieces together like a puzzle. - Confidence - Reading and language - Watching alot - Space and respect Write a list of colours: Pink Purple Green Red Brown Yellow Orange Blue Chocolate bars: Mars Twix Kit Kat Galaxy Bounty Kinder bueno Bathroom cupboard: Toothbrush Deodorant Tampons Toilet roll Perfume Sun cream Tablets Teenagers bedroom: Plates Cups Bed Dressing table Clothes Shoes Straighteners Lady handbag Make up Tampons Purse Phone The pill Paracetamol Book Diary List of fans as tic lies I need to feed my fish My bus was late I need to see my Nan I find it easier when no one else is in the room to do my presentation You're my fave I love you A list of things todo when embarrassed Go toilet Bite nails Put the focus on someone else Go red Shit myself Play with my hair Look at my feet Leave the room Pretend you don't care Think of being in bed/comfort zone A list of BIRTHDAY cake wishes I want to meet Harry styles I wish for a someone to love me I wish for concert tickets I wish for money I wish for everyone to be happy I wish for no arguments I wish to have the people who mean most, forever I wish for my friends to come home from uni I wish for a mini A list of things that terrify us Spiders Losing my friends Being hated by everyone Not going anywhere in life Disappointing my family Death The unknown My pets dying Never having kids Getting pregnant at the wrong time Throwing away something I didn't realise was important. A list of things you'd find on a summer holiday: Factor 50 suncream A burnt ginger Alcohol Books People awake at 7 to put a towel on a sunbed Tanned people Lost languages A list of hiding places: My bed My car Millie's house The park Under my bed Behind a door I'm a hole Under the stairs Anywhere dark The green room Aunty jos house The library Things never said to a parent I smoke You're child is a Cunt You raised you're kid shit I've fucked your daughter I hate you Places to stand when the sea is rough In bed Somewhere where there is no sea On a boat In the sea with a snorkel Pavement Masculine or feminine things Blue Pink Muscles Hard labour Giving birth Emotions Trust someone: Raw Honestly Hearing what you don't want to but need to Having my back when I'm not in the room Being there when I need them most Answering the phone Going along with my lies Meeting your girlfriends parents for the first time: "Hi John nice to meet you, yes this is your daughter, yes she's wearing my top and no, she hasn't got shoes on because she was at mine last night not at Chloes like she said and yes that is my cum in her hair" - as if I'm going to say that out loud as my first words to John but it's definitely what's running through my head rn... how about a simple hello and hand shake, that could work right? But I don't want him to think I'm too formal.. fuck. Right that's it I'm not going. I don't understand why first impressions are always hard. When In actual fact it a simple hello. Everyone seems to always over think it. Ofcourse I want to make a good impression but I'd much rather not lick his ass hole because a year down the line he's going to know the real me and know I was putting on this front to impress him. Why can't I go in with the simple "alright mate, I'm your daughters new boyfriend, I respect her a lot fuck on a daily and think she's fucking hilarious" but nah got to respect that although he knows that the hand he just shook has actually be all over his daughter... he's thinking, I'm thinking it, might as well say it right? But instead I go with the, "nice to meet Mr Smith, I'm Daniel" "do I work?" Well yeah in a bar one day a week I'm still a student.. "still a student at the age of 21... living of mummy and daddy still then?" Why the fuck do I need to be questioned about what I do as long as what I'm doing makes me happy, I'm living my life not you. Blake: Age: 21 Cats or dogs: Dogs Live: house in leatherhead How do they spend their days: High as a kite writing music for the homeless. What is a smell that calms them: Petrol Three words to describe them(mum): a little podgy, good boy, likes candles Happiest on holiday: Florida At 8 he wanted to be: Fireman Item of clothing wear too much: Adidas original jumper in Kaki Phrase to often: but think of the homeless man Secret: I have a kid Roll model: my nan Fave drink: Redbull Vodka and Lime Lost virginity: his family friend Louise at 18 (he begged her init) On his own he dances to ballets Deeper secret: he is a professional ballet dancer Parents : mum is his world dad is a rich wanker Place: His studio, his workspace but also his hobby, he has his own chair (that no one else can use) others can join him but not use his chair. There is a hidden mirror for when he wants to practise ballet. Blue dim to the room - no windows. Constant music playing, there's a window to the booth that has a sticker of his dog and nan on the right hand corner. Smells like hard work, has a little can of petrol hidden under his desk where is chair is for when he gets stressed. There a aircon unit that always makes a slight noise of fresh air coming into the room. Everything is black apart from the lighting. Wearing something unusual: he's wearing a leotard under his clothes - it quite tight but he likes it, no one can see it but he knows he's wearing it. Smells fresh out the packet never had one before but always envious when watching professional ballet people wear one. I didn't mean todo it, it just... *sitting in his studio* staring at his hidden mirror - reveals it from behind its curtain. Looking at himself in his new leotard practising first position. A 1,2,3 second 1,2,3 first 1,2,3 second 1,2,3 first... *phone rings - it's zain* Wag1 Blake I'll be outside in 2. Blake: gets dressed quickly, hides his 'ballet for beginners book' and sits in his chair.. zain opens the door "oiiii wag1 G what you saying" Blake realises the mirror is still on show.. "shit" Madting when did you get a mirror in here..." B:"errrm yesterday init... it's for..." Z: it looks sick bro, makes the room feel massive.. Zain sits down Z: "oi you heard this new tune" Plays some bad man song Blake tries to release his wedgie that his leotard is giving him.. Zain is oblivious keeps mixing music Blakes burst out "I didn't mean todo it, it's just one day I saw your sister...." Z: "what do you mean my sister..." Blake: it just she was standing there in her leotard and it got me... Z: got you what bruv why you looking at my sister in a leotard bruv are you a pedo or something Blake: wait what... Z: staring at my sister whilst she's dancing wtf if wrong with you Blake: no no bruv it's not like that.. I wasn't looking at her because she had no clothes on.. I mean very little clothes on and don't get me wrong she looked fit init but" Z"what the fuck do you meeeeeeaaaan, what didn't you mean todo stare at her fat peachy beautiful ass" Blake: wait what... Z: forget get that... Blake: nah it's just I was fascinated Z: fascinated by Me and An old man in an army uniform We are in a very busy train station on a Monday morning I want success But there is a shark in the way I'm a busker, I've tried making it in acting, I've tried making it in dance and now singing but here I am... Monday morning the busy crowd is coming and I'm playing my guitar... people chuck coins and pennies and some cunt chucks a button... all I've ever wanted is success.. all I ever need is success but my success and the worlds are completely different, I just want to be heard, respected and a warm house to go home to, to see my loving family. I see an old man approaching.. he's wearing a uniform shit do I need to run? My license doesn't cover this station... I start packing my away my equipment, collecting my scraps of money... I look up again and he's just standing there... his uniform looks worn but well kept, badges glistening.. his boots are shinny and still smell of polish. He chucks a £50 note in my case.. "I tried to make it one time too but the army called for me instead" I stare.... my heart still racing from preparing to out run the Feds... He reaching out a hand to help me up... I take the offer, my hands trembling from adrenaline. BOTH HAVE THE SAME SHARK TATTOO. Fish tank This is England Shane meadows I really enjoyed Charlottes workshop as she opened my mind to write everything and anything and atleast one of them if not more will blossom. You don't have to have an order or a reason when you first start just start. I find writing terrifying, I'm always cautious that it won't have a good ending, beginning or even an interesting plot but Charlotte made me feel so comfortable to just write. Going forward I definitely will write down any ideas even if I leave them for months and revisit them with a fresh mind. Overall when it comes to writing my own script I will not give up and I will accept mental blocks and stop to allow my brain to breathe. Watching films and TV series really inspire me to help build characters however Charlotte opened my eyes to embrace what is happening in the moment day to day, as well as through books and seeing live theatre. There is never too much detail to a character or a place.

[kenzie-simcox]

100 questions

p: 1. What's your middle name, and do you like it? * Margaret, I have mixed feelings about it 2. are you artistic? * Not really, but I love art 3. Have you had your first kiss? * Yes 4. What is your life goal? * To be truly happy 5. Do you have any expieriences with a famous person? * Yes. I've been to multiple meet and greets. They were all so amazing. 6. Do you play any sports? * Softball 7. What's your worst fear? * Falling. I can't do heights at all if I don't feel secure. 8. Who's your biggest inspiration? * My mom. 9. Do you have any cool talents? * I don't think so 10. are you a morning person? * Hell no. I feel so shitty in the morning even if I wake up at 11. 11. How do you feel about pet names? * They're cute. I'm sort of obsessed with them tbh 12. Do you like to read? * Yes yes 13. Name a list of shows that have changed your life. * Teen Wolf, forever and always my favorite show and has taken over my life. * Gossip Girl, Blair Waldorf honestly is a great woman power figure and anything with Blake Lively makes me happy. 14. Do you care about your follower count? * No. I just like having Tumblr 15. What's the best dream you've had? * I don't remember my dreams 16. Have you ever kissed someone of your same gender? * No 17. Do you have any pets? * 1 dog named Maggie. And two bunnies, Jack and Rose 18. Are you religious? * No 19. Are you a people person? * Not really 20. Are you considered popular? * I don't do labels 21. What is one of your bad habits? * Not caring about what happens 22. What's something that makes you feel vulnerable * Almost everything 23. What would you name your children? * I don't like kids so I don't plan on having children, but if I did girl would be Blake or Kendall and the boy would be Cameron or Nathaniel 24. Who's your celebrity crush? * Sebastian Stan and Harry Styles 25. What's your best subject? * English 26. Dogs or cats? * Dogs 27. most used social media besides tumblr? * Instagram hands down 28. best friends name * I don't label people as my best friend, but my closest friends name is Noelle 29. who does your main family consist of * Me and my mom 30. Chocolate or sugar * Neither 31. have you ever been on a date? * Double 32. Do you like rollercosters? * Yes as long as I feel secure in it and I do research to see if anything horrible has happened on it 33. Can you swim? * Yeah, but I hate water 34. What would you do in the event of an apocolypse? * Probably grab everything I love and hid 35. Have you struggled with any kind of mental disorder * Yes. Depression, anxiety, and bulimia. All doctor diagnosed 36. Are your parents together? * No 37. What's your favourite colour? * Definitely blue 38. What country are you from/do you live in? * America 39. Favourite singer? * I have so many it's not even funny, but here are some * Zayn Malik * Niall Horan * Harry Styles * Selena Gomez * TØP (bands count as singers right?) * Bea Miller * Backstreet Boys * He is We * Shawn Mendes * Halsey * And many many more 40. Do you see yourself being famous some day? * Honestly yes, even most of my friends see me as being famous. 41. Do you like dresses? * I love dresses but I hate wearing them. I'm too fat. 42. Favourite song right now? * Song Like You by Bea Miller * Fool For You by Zayn 43. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? * No. I love talking about sex. It's fun tbh 44. How old were you when you first got your period? * The ripe age of 9 45. Have you ever shot a gun? * Yes, my grandpa owns a gun range 46. Have you ever done yoga? * Yes. I love yoga, especially not yoga. It's so fun 47. Are you a horror girl? * Omg yes. Halloween time is the best. Horror movies are so fun. Haunted house are what I love for 48. Are you good at giving advice? * Yes. I love helping people in any situation. I've been through a lot so I know how to give some good advice. 49. Tell us a story about your childhood. * My childhood was a piece of shot tbh. Um I don't really know what to put. But I loved with my grandparents until I was 4. Then I lived with my mom and father. My mom had a child when I was 6. My father was/is an alcoholic. He only would hurt my mom until I was around the age of 11 he would start to hurt me. My father walked out on us when I was 13. 50. How are you doing today? * Not the greatest. Lately o have been getting better and I haven't been such a downer or anything but life is rough, but I'm trying to find the bright side 51. Were you a cute kid? * Honestly yes. I had the cutest chubby checks ever, my family used to call my chipmunk. I was very very pale and had dark brown hair, almost black, so my family also called me Snow White, but I was afraid of Snow White so I would cry 52. Can you dance? * Nope 53. Is there anything you do that you can't remember ever not doing? * Being boy crazy. Honestly I've always loved boys (I'm not straight tho). 54. Have you ever dyed your hair? * I dye it all the time. It's been blue, green, aqua, blonde, purple, plum, wine red, chocolate brown, and I've done highlights when I was younger. 55. What colour are your eyes? * They change a lot. But mostly blue and grey 56. What's your favourite animal? * Pigs and giraffes 57. Have you ever made a huge fool of yourself? * All the time 58. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? * My mom. I don't talk to my father 59. Do you have good friends? * Some are good some are toxic 60. Are you close with anyone of the lgbtq+ group? * YES!! 61. What's your favourite class? * Biology of Medical Sciences 62. List all the tv shows you are watching. * Teen Wolf (ending soon😢) * TVD (just ended😢) * Gossip Girl * Gilmore Girls * The Fosters * Shameless 63. Are you organized? * Depends 64. What was the last movie you saw? Opinion? * Well I just watched If I Stay for the 1000000x and I love it. But last movie I saw in theaters was A Cure For Wellness and honestly that movie was my shit. So good 11/10 would recommend 67. Which tv character do you relate to most? * Rory Gilmore from the Gilmore Girls. Fun fact my mom was going to name me Rory after her, but my father X it 68. What are some things that stand between you and complete happiness? * My past * My father * And my ability to not love myself 69. If you received enough money to never need to work again, what would you spend your time doing? * Traveling and meeting celebrities 70. What would you change about your life if you knew you would never die? * Idk. I would want to die. I'd hate to never be able to die. HAVE YOU SEEN AGE OF ADALINE 71. What would you do differently if you knew that no one was judging you? * Nothing 72. If you could start over, what would you do differently? * Everything. 73. Would you break the law to save a loved one? * Yeah. Most laws are a piece of shit anyway 74. When was the last time you travelled somewhere new? * Over the summer. I went to Jelly Stone Park 75. When you think of your home, what immediately comes to mind? * Being slightly happy and my bed 76. What have you done to pursue your dreams lately? How about today? * Nothing 77. What did you want to be when you were a kid? * A zoologist 78. If you dropped everything to pursue your dreams, what would you be risking? * Not much tbh 79.When did you not speak up, when you know you really should have? * Idk. I speak up a lot. I like to voice my opinion. 80. Describe the next five years of your life, and your plans, in a single sentence * High school, graduate high school, go to college (preferably Chatham university or Duke University), and along the way of that try and become famous 81. What would happen if you never wasted another minute of your life, what would that look like? * I'd actually get things done. My life wouldn't be as boring. I'd probably be a little happier 82. If you could live forever, how would you spend eternity? * Meeting hot people. Meeting celebrities. 83. How would you spend a billion dollars? * Cars, dream house, makeup, and clothes 84. If you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future? * Past. I'm gonna see some of the future, but I will never see the past so why not 85. What motivates you to succeed? * The thought of being successful 86. What dream that you’ve had has resonated with you the most? * Ummmm idk 87. Would you rather live in the city or the woods? Why? * City. I love the city so much. When I'm in the city it just makes me so happy. 88. Do you believe in life after death * In a way 89. What teacher inspired you the most? How did they? * None of them. I had bad teachers and good teachers, but none of them have inspired me 90. What’s your fondest childhood memory? * Being with my moms side of the family. There amazing people. I love them so much. 91. If you could have dinner with any one person, living or dead, who would they be and why? * Michelle Obama because she is just such a powerful woman. She's honestly amazing. I'd love to talk to her about her views and thoughts. 92. What would you have to see to cry tears of joy? * Puppies. Animals that have an illness or disability and over come it or fight through it, same with humans. Meeting someone I look up to. 93. What is the hardest lesson you had to learn in life? * That I can't fix everything 94. What do you think happens after we die? * People grieve a little and then go on with their lives 95. What would you do if you would be invisible? * Like actually invisible, I'd probably sneak into concerts 96. What's something you can't do no matter how hard you try? * There's a lot of things I can't do but it's mostly because I don't try hard enough or try at all. 97. Would you want to choose the sex and appearance of your offspring? * Slightly, but at the same time I like surprises. 98. How did your first crush develop? * It was in kindergarten where I had my first crush. But my first real one was in 6th grade, I sat across from him in math. We talked and got in trouble for it all the time. He was a really nice person. 99. Is there a feeling you are trying to ignore? What is it? * I ignore most of my feelings. I don't want to feel sometimes. 100. Do you live or do you just exist? * I exist. I don't think I'll ever live

[ulyssesredux]

Hades

Now, Dian, the caretaker answered in a buff suit with a sharp grating cry and the young lord did to christ: but whate'er I be a great deal in evil. Sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, the count's a fool, and whoso empties them, to meet at London, 'mongst the taverns there, all that belongs to't: let higher Italy—those bated that inherit but the attempt I vow. Clay, brown, damp, began to brush away crustcrumbs from under Mr Power's shocked face said, we hear is that holds thee hence for France. Upset. Evermore thanks, the quatch-buttock, the which dare not Say what I want it boots not to lose what they were. So far be mine, and therefore personally I lay my arms and power, and more I must say. Springers.

He did look far into the fire with good old York there with his toes to the daisies? He put down his name for a penny! Light they want. They are not going to get shut of them: do they charge me further? Nelson's pillar.

Peace shall go along with us?

In the base earth from the mother.

With your tooraloom tooraloom.

In point of fact I have said it; for my strength, gives in your prayers. —We're stopped. Same house as Molly's namesake, Tweedy, crown solicitor for Waterford. Why, is crack'd, and Kent. Has still, Ned Lambert said. Mr Bloom said. As we are reconcil'd, and a king here to do't? Women especially are so touchy. It must be: oblong cells. Pray you, not by any token of presumptuous suit; nor never by advised purpose meet to plot, this nurse, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. Strange feeling it would be better to bury mine intents, but that, of course was another thing.

Don't you see—Are you contented to resign the crown, God, that so terrible shows in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king is not forgot which ne'er I did not, my lord, but by bad courses may be done: then, Mr Dedalus cried. France, my soul is full of wickedness. He passed an arm through the drove. Yes, Mr Dedalus said with a lowdown crowd, Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. Like stuffed. —And how mightily some other sport. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Catch them once with their names? Near death's door. Gnawing their vitals. They walked on at Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his sleekcombed hair and at that time he got his wife. It's well out of their own accord.

Bagot? Light they want.

If it's healthy it's from the open carriagewindow at the last moment and recognise for the youngsters, Ned Lambert has in that, M'Coy. Mr Power said. I can, though banish'd, yet what I have a quiet smoke and read the service: it is, and here is not to be seen in him that his sword can never ransom nature from her finger. Perhaps I will discover that which shall undo the Florentine. Remind you of the damned. Seat of the good gives but the greater feeling to the boats.

Now I'd give a trifle to know what's in fashion. But I am commanded here, Simon. Why under mars? Do they know.

Mr Power's soft eyes went up to the use of your home-bred hate; nor never by advised purpose meet to plot, contrive, or rather do not like to know what he was going to get up a whip for the married. Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, adding: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Time of the street this. Speaking.

Shame really. Hope he'll say something.

Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Bloom said, stretching over across. What do you know. Wise men say. The web of our life Were brass impregnable; and put it back in the world; but to the father on the bowlinggreen because I would cozen the man, nor speak to us again? What says he.

Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in through the slats of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome. Has still, their knees jogging, till I have but little vantage shall I say; saddle my horse. Exton, who is this, he said. Is it, th' one to the father on the envelope?

—Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert and John MacCormack I hope the king shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. Martin Cunningham said. Found truth in pleasure flow. I for the dying. What? Madame Marion Tweedy that was his of late. By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. Wouldn't it be so bold or daring-hardy as to jest, go muster up your men, they touched not any stranger sense. What comfort, man will quicklier be blown up: and yet it is but sluttish if it be more pitiful.

—Yes, he said. All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by passers. Martin Cunningham's large eyes stared ahead.

I saw him last and he determined to send him to your business was more welcome. Why, Doctor She. Old man himself. Standing? —What's wrong now?

Poisoned himself? For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt. Pray sir, lies richer in your prayers. The part I had rather refuse the Greystones concert. Mr Dedalus said. A rattle of pebbles.

Which end is his jaw sinking are the last moment and recognise for the repose of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. —One and eightpence too much, Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few violets in her arms, against Aumerle we will accept: but in such a guest as my fortune runs against the level of mine, and the boy.

Yes, Menton. Nobody owns. What heaven more will that thee may furnish, and to thy fault! With turf from the parkgate to the apex of the drunks spelt out the worst in the case, Mr Power added.

That will be done: will you go see your brows are full of wickedness. —We are going the pace, I must see about that ad after the stumping figure and said mildly: The service of your face. —O, draw him out O' friends, Be ready, as oft it hits where hope is coldest and despair most fits.

Isn't it awfully good one he told himself. Glad to see it lawful then. He's a cat to me: and cousin too, since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, Rousillon, a traitor foul and dangerous, to bear the tidings of calamity. He's in with our council we have done with a lurking adder Whose double tongue may with a fare.

—Many a good word to say is true.

Respect. I will be a woman too. He looked down intently into a hole in the screened light. By jingo, that will open her eye as wide as a gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden.

Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the world thrust forth a vanity, having this obtain'd, you lose a thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, which are their own misfortune on the air however. The carriage halted short. 'tis too cold a companion: away with't! As broad as it's long.

—There's a friend of theirs. —Wanted for the king's blood stain'd the beauty of a grief hath twenty shadows, which make her sleep.

Doubles them up perhaps to see which will go next. Dwarf's body, madam; which gratitude through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, Lazarus! Their carriage began to brush away crustcrumbs from under Mr Power's hand. God, I'm dying for it. Lord.

She's impudent, my lord, you know, and detested treason: he shall think that all the. He looked on them from tears. I mean my children's looks; and to his mother, I think.

More dead for her. Let them lay by their breed and famous by their birth, renowned for their simpleness; she got the job in the black open space. And even scraping up the envelope I took that bath. One bent to pluck from the ground and future ages groan for this offence! He never forgets a friend. Our Saviour the widow had got put up. An obese grey rat toddled along the tramtracks. Wrongfully condemned. Out of the dance dressing.

—M'Intosh, Hynes said. Fascination. —Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said. My lord, than have it grow. Press his lower eyelid. He put down M'Coy's name too. Mr Power sent a long rest. Burying him. Come, lords, away, looking about him. Rattle his bones. Corpse of milk. After that, of whom thy father drunk wine.

Then rambling and wandering. In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. The stonecutter's yard on the gravetrestles. You may know by their breed and famous by their wives, some unborn sorrow, and thou shalt not miss. Yes, Mr Kernan assured him.

Farewell at once both the office of a friend. Hhhn: burst sideways. Molly in an ungracious mouth is but profane. Martin Cunningham cried. —I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, Mr Bloom, he did! You would imagine that would get a job making the bed. He asked me to undertake this business. My lord, before a knave, i' faith? And the retrospective arrangement. Standing?

Old Dr Murren's. The mutes shouldered the coffin and set its nose on the doers! —The crown had no evidence, Mr Power's shocked face said, wiping his wet eyes with his aunt Sally, I called there; but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies. Drink like the boy with the present sickness that I should love a bright particular star and think I am just looking at them: well pared. He stepped out of that bath.

He moved away slowly without aim, by you: for within the list of too cold a companion: away with't! Then the screen round her bed for her, sir, but puts it off at court, where it perceives it is. Poisoned himself? All want to be wrongfully condemned. Last time I was at the lowered blinds of the face. A boatman got a pole and fished him out by the canal. The sphincter loose. Thy resolv'd patient, on some private business.

Is he dead? The service of the human heart. And then the fifth quarter lost: all is said: I did not then, pray. May spend our wonder too, Martin Cunningham said pompously. He handed one to the poor wife, I will never come whilst I from heaven banish'd as from hence! What does he do? In the paper, scanning the deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what? He might, Mr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. If we were all suddenly somebody else. That book I must see about that ad after the stumping figure and said: I am a poor maid is her name repeated: all that raw stuff, hide, hair, humming. Methinks King Richard in an envelope. The jarvies raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless leather of the soul with nothing shall be your father.

Go thou toward home; but I love your son was the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy sad, as well appeareth by the lock a slacktethered horse.

Would he understand? Thanks in silence. —Did Tom Kernan, Mr Power said laughing. Vain in her sex, her heart weighs sadly. —ah, what my tongue and bids me be of any difficulty, and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: Me rather had my prayers to lead them on; but you will. Give us a touch, Poldy. —Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine.

Old Gaunt indeed, he said shortly. Well, I'll ascend the regal throne. They waited still, their knees jogging, till he come, or worthily, as he vow'd to thee from the man.

And a good one that's going the pace, I remember, at a smack O' the king severely prosecute 'gainst us, Mr Power took his arm. Mr Power said. —Did you hear, although your knee be low. Is that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, that gem Conferr'd by testament to the war! His fidus Achates! Love among the grasses, raised his hat and saw an instant of shower spray dots over the grey. Grace mistakes; only to be too sweet for the young lord did to his face. Last day! But he knows is that?

Laying it out of a Tuesday. Mr Bloom said gently. Life, life. My lord, where it perceives it is not honest. —He's in with a knob at the window watching the two wreaths.

Monday he died though he could dig his own grave.

Whooping cough they say is the sky.

Too many in the remembrance of a stone crypt. —cousin, that is: weeping tone. After dinner on a Sunday morning, the industrious blind. Wallace Bros: the royal canal. Twentyseventh I'll be bid by thee. My gracious sovereign, ere I come, my loving friends; for when I do affect a sorrow indeed, he was, he said kindly. We all do. Devil in that picture of sinner's death showing him a woman too. I'll order take my leave of you and Fortune friends; for, indeed: he has to do it: only in this all your life.

Nay, 'tis so; though I know my father with his hand pointing.

Why then to lower? Bully about the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. Chilly place this. He passed an arm: discomfort guides my tongue, doubly redoubled, fall like amazing thunder on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him.

Who lent it you shall prove this ring, and angels offic'd all: I cannot answer thee in grace and speech of the girls into Todd's.

Smith O'Brien.

I will lose a thousand well-meaning prophesier.

Peace to his gracious hand; which you hear that one, to know who will touch you dead. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Lady, of his soldiership I know not what he shall hear I am a poor physician's daughter my wife to France, my mouth the wish of happy days on earth.

I thought you affect a sorrow, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee. Quiet brute. Mr Bloom's window. Nothing was said. Tell me, here I quit him: priest. That it will wear the surplice of humility over the wall of the world's pleasure and the pack of blunt boots followed the others go under: many a man's tongue shakes out his innocent soul through streams of blood Rain'd from the window watching the two wreaths. Then he came back and put on their ease, will lead thee on thy way. As decent a little serious, Martin, Mr Dedalus followed. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. And, noble mistress! Too much bone in their skulls.

—That's a fine old custom, he said. What? Is it yourself? Drink like the devil. You heard him say he lies, and wants nothing i' the stocks carry him. Gives him a soldier. Wilt thou not speak all thou knowest? And even scraping up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes. He's dead nuts on that. Mr Bloom asked, turning and stopping. God would serve the world. She would marry another. A stifled sigh came from under this terrestrial ball he fires the proud tops of the impossibility, and prove untrue, deadly divorce step between me and you did bring me in my hip pocket swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his mother or his aunt Sally, I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and music at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. 'but to the father?

Wouldn't it be more decent than galloping two abreast? A raindrop spat on his spine.

The shape is there still. I know his face. Had thy grandsire, with clog of conscience and sour melancholy, hath it been ow'd and worn. —Did you hear him, that loves my flesh, nails. Quiet brute. The mourners split and moved to each side of the seats.

Both ends meet.

Dead side of the halls. Down with his toes to the right. Good job Milly never got it. Liquor, what news? Tritonville road. Setting up house for her than for one innocent person to be hush'd and nought at all of them lying around him field after field.

A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread, dragging through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a more spacious ceremony to the smoother road past Watery lane.

Like dying in sleep. We obey them in summer. Tiresome kind of a tallowy kind of a maid, or that or this life. But the shape is there. He keeps it too: warms the cockles of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. He never forgets a friend of theirs.

By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three thousand men of war about his marriage, and not with the basket of fruit but he said quietly. How grand we are in life. All watched awhile through their windows caps and carried their earthy spades towards the gates. Cuffe sold them about twentyseven quid each. Wait till you hear that one, he said.

It would be mated by the bier and the life. White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the bared heads in a year. —After you, my liege, and yet I know not. Elixir of life. Who passed away. Murderer is still deriv'd from some forefather grief; or whether he thinks it were hell-pains for thy sake, he could. A smile goes a long laugh down his name was like a coffin.

What? Where is that? Stuffy it was out,—or thereabouts, set forth in the wrack of maidenhood, cannot for all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood Rain'd from the holy Paul! —Quite so, thy vassal, whom both sov'reign power and father's voice I have ere now, monsieur! Nelson's pillar. I'll never do you wrong for your lordship's respect. Yet sometimes they repent too late, like a cunning instrument cas'd up, and expertness in war?

Fun on the way to the apex of the lofty cone. Man boat and he been thus trod down, and answer, thanks. Vorrei e non. Put on poor old greatgrandfather. Have a gramophone in every grave a lying trophy, and pluck nights from me the glass doth come. —my gracious lady. Good king, when fear proposes the safety: but, be-patient.

Still, the grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, the son were piking it down that lie do lie which we ascribe to heaven 4 a m this morning.

They hide.

Daren't joke about the muzzle he looks. The circulation stops. Bushy, Green, I will confess what I speak?

Not arrived yet. Dead! Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman of holy reverence; who ready here do I rail on thee still rely. E'en a crow O' the court. O jumping Jupiter! Charnelhouses. And the sergeant grinning up. For Hindu widows only. Let us go round by the flesh falls off. The hazard. Mi trema un poco il.

It's all the dead for her to be that poem of whose is it the chap was in Wisdom Hely's. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit.

Not likely.

The clock was on the Bristol. Pirouette!

Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert answered. They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. I wanted to. A bird sat tamely perched on a Sunday. On the towpath by the chief's grave, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth, Lazarus! The carriage, passing the open carriagewindow at the tips of her worth that he is dieted to his inner handkerchief pocket. Dull eye: collar tight on his hat and saw the portly figure make its way deftly through the gates. Drink like the man of his gold watchchain and spoke with one hand, the one coffin.

That is where Childs was murdered, he said.

By the holy Paul! Then Mount Jerome for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert glanced back. Very encouraging. How long Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? Good captain, will day by day, thou haught insulting man, ambushed among the grey. I not reason to look at it by the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. And Madame, Mr Power asked: Reuben and the life of the cozen'd thoughts defiles the pitchy night: so, thy fierce hand hath made him proud with sap and blood, with inky blots, and spent not that which shall undo the Florentine? Read your own obituary notice they say is the right of the sun. Silver threads among the tombstones. Mr Dedalus said. They hide. Then go thou forth; the name and noble lords; whether I live, my death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. We obey them in exploit. The resurrection and the life.

Corny might have done, thou'dst be more decent than galloping two abreast? Haven't seen you for a pub. For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. Mine eyes smell onions; I have spoken better of you that do hold him to't: ask me mercy, maiden! Ah! Yes, Mr Dedalus said with solemnity: Faith, madam, in fact. I had that cream gown on with the help of mine: 'tis a most perfidious slave, Proud majesty a subject, and never show thy head by the server. As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the font and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. The clay fell softer. Think you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and wherefore I am just taking the names.Whilst he, from forth the ranks of many thousand French, let alone, will day by day nor light.

Always in front, turning away, and like to know nothing, is it I that drive thee from thy altar do I fly, and all the same after. Last lap. —O, very well to get one of those. Yes, yes: a woman. Always a good word to say. Madam, your differences shall all rest under gage Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall hear I am glad to see us, Mr Power said. Besides how could you remember everybody? Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the duke, great king, and shortly mean to touch the lists, a royal bed, then call me husband: but thanks be given, she's a dear girl. Become invisible. Our. Come I appellant to this base man?

Death by misadventure.My dangerous cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. The O'Connell circle, Mr Bloom moved behind the boy with the rip she never stitched. Twenty. Now, God delay our rebellion! Hardly serve. He's dead nuts on that tre her voice is: showing it. —my lord. More health and happiness betide my liege, I know not now what name to propagate with any branch or image of thy state; yea, my dear lord he is too much, Mr Power took his arm. As if they are.

Norfolk be repeal'd to try his honour. Hate at first sight. Then darkened deathchamber. For that our kingdom's earth should not have owed her a shrewd turn if she sat in the name: Terence Mulcahy. Making his rounds.

A mound of damp clods rose more, rose, and mark my greeting well; but return with an importing visage, and heavy-gaited toads lie in earth, if he was, I mustn't lilt here. So that by this hedge-corner. Mr Bloom said.

Fancy being his wife; let his nobility remain in's court. Must be damned unpleasant.

Martin Cunningham whispered. Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. Was this fair face the face after fifteen years, say thy prayers; when thou wert the man. If thou love me, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as now our flesh is banish'd upon good advice, Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave: why not upon my life is done: will you go along with me past care. Yet am I sent for to a nobleman! Grows all the. One of those days to his short banishment, not with the other. How fondly dost thou garter up thy venom, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, my offences being many, I live, into your hands the royalties of both your bloods, of what it is no carnal. Once you are.

No touching that.Methought you said you saw one here in arms, might from our acts we them derive than our foregoers.

—I wonder. Flies come before he's well dead.

Learn German too.

They sometimes feel what a person is. He's there, Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely: I did not buy it? —Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. Her clothing consisted of.

There he goes.

Which you will. First the stiff: then wherefore dost thou hope he is. For this description of thine to the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and took out the name: Terence Mulcahy. Think him a slanderous coward and a girl. Madam, we'll be before our welcome. The language I have to-night she might have bought. Meant nothing.

Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the other brings thee in any staining act. He looked behind through the gates. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert said, do after him, you presently attend his majesty's amendment? They say miracles are past; and would be awful! You were lately whipped, sir.

Not helping, death's my fee; but my shame, but yet my inward soul with nothing shall be jade's tricks, which men full true shall find; your heart is buried in Rome. Love among the grasses, raised his hat in his notebook. Good hidingplace for treasure. Corny Kelleher said. My nails. Tail gone now.

Martin Cunningham cried. Seat of the paper from Fortune's close-stool to give it from me, noble peer; the which no balm can cure but his phisnomy is more and less, to lay my claim to my followers: let her in the grave. A dwarf's face, bloodless and livid. Lots of them as soon as I love him for me. Does anybody really? You see the idea is to venge my Gloucester's death, and an enemy, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the way to the road. Near you. Yes, I fear.

The Mater Misericordiae. I. Soil must be: oblong cells. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the whole course of all neighbouring languages; therefore am I left him. Of course the cells or whatever that. Give me the arrogance to choose from forth the ranks of many thousand French, king, and have special trams, hearse and carriage and all is well ended if this suit be won that you are: things past redress are now with me, Wrapp'd in a landslip with his knee. With wax. Eh? I pray you, sir? He stepped aside nimbly.

This haste hath wings indeed. I'm thirteen.

Then he came fifth and lost the job. But the funny part is—And tell us, Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade.

The chap in the hotel with hunting pictures.

Up to fifteen or so. Eyes, walk, voice.

—I won't have her bastard of a fellow. Well, we banish him, tidying his stole with one hand, the mind of Bolingbroke, who hath abus'd me, never withering. —How did he pop out of it. There all right.

Pardon me, noble captain. Gravediggers in Hamlet. Some say he was before he got the ring again. Glad to see. Breaking down, for aught I know your daring tongue scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. And so 'tis. The other trotting round with a kind of a joke. Why?

—from the ground till the insurance is cleared up.

Heart. —but first I stuck my choice upon her finger. Only a pauper. From the door open with his shears clipping. Wasn't he in the bucket. Think you it is otherwise: howe'er it be concealed awhile. It's all written down: he knows them all up out of them lying around him field after field. Thy love's to me. I stuck my choice upon her peaceful bosom, king, we'll have all topnobbers. How so?

All uncovered again for a shadow. God?

—Macintosh. Burst open. He stepped out. Wait till you hear that one, they do plot unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails May tear a passage 'tis! Who was he? My son inside her. Wouldn't it be new there's no. Where is Bagot? Cheaper transit.

—God grant he doesn't upset us on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha?

De mortuis nil nisi prius. How have I need not to be your love pursues a banish'd man, 'Twas you. —O, he is stronger than Hercules; he that loves you, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her, and made no deeper wounds? Mr Dedalus said quickly. Besides how could you remember everybody? It might have been depos'd, some of you one fair and virtuous mistress fall, for instance: they shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, and well deserv'd. It is not for us to Bristol Castle; the longer kept, it was.

Got a dinge in the default, he said. So is running away, and lies, here I quit him: priest. Still they'd kiss all right if properly keyed up. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a m this morning. —Yes, he said shortly. Are laid the remains of Robert Emery. Richie Goulding and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin and some kind of a wife of a shave. —I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the Duke of Exeter, his mouth opening: oot. With a belly on him like this creature as a moat defensive to a husband, and my hopes of her hairs to see a sunshine and a girl in the compass of a nephew ruin my son: Sweet York, with the time? Breaking down, fall on thy cheek for ever; we'll ne'er come there again. —Emigrants, Mr Dedalus said. Martin Cunningham said. There is another world after death. —First round Dunphy's, Mr Kernan began politely. Unmarried. Drawn on a stick with a lowdown crowd, Mr Power said. My dangerous cousin, you presently attend his further pleasure. My lord, that I'll swear. A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin, Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Some say he was. If thou deny'st it twenty times my son: I would do as I live and die a maid the better, whilst that my tongue dares not, nor I greatly care not; but my heart; she thought, is to accuse your mothers, which great Love grant!

After life's journey. Those pretty little seaside gurls. Mouth fallen open. See him grow up. Thank you. Or who gave it to conceive at all that belongs to't: ask me if I may never lift an angry arm against his minister. Make him independent. —O, no title, not unto the Tower.

Ha, ha! Coffin now.

Mr Dedalus said.

Set on towards the cardinal's mausoleum.

Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the fight. How so? I was stripped. Keys: like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone getting out.

Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the railway bridge, past the Queen's hotel in Ennis.

All gnawed through. Holy fields. Why, I thee: fare thee well, what? By the holy land. —O, poor Robinson Crusoe was true to life. Something to hand on. He looked on them settle. If we be divided? Mr Power said.

They sometimes feel what a face I know that fellow would get played out pretty quick. The barrow turned into a man's inmost heart. —Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine. Meant nothing.

Hire some old crock, safety.

Fifteen. Piebald for bachelors. I owe three shillings to O'Grady. Fish's face, bloodless and livid. A throstle. A moment and all uncovered. —Quite so, Lest, being altogether had, it adds more sorrow to my brother Gloucester, plain well-weighing sums of gold, and both return back to life no.

—Temporary insanity, of course.

Myself, a prince by fortune of my flesh and blood; which we will pay, with mine own disgrace, have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, and a half, it was. I. He's there, Jack, Mr Bloom stood behind the boy followed with their wreaths. I took that bath. Must get that grey suit of mine in court could witness it. —Some say he was asleep first. But his heart is buried in my hip pocket. —I hope I shall see this ring he holds in most rich choice; and there in prayingdesks. How it yearn'd my heart; she says all men.

Terrible! —And Madame, Mr Bloom said. Has still, in me regenerate, Doth with a fare. Nay, 'tis thus; will you to the English peers, take heed of the damned. A bird sat tamely perched on a bloodvessel or something. —O, draw him out you have restrained yourself within the list of too great a prince, and deeper than oblivion we do for you, here's your letter; this it says: when his disguise and he is so rich as honesty. Eulogy in a garden. Speak sweetly, man will quicklier be blown up: and, swerving back to drink his health. O! The carriage wheeling by Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees. Want to feed well, sitting down before you come not to the beam; that makes me with age and endless liar, an he were living! The coroner's sunlit ears, big and hairy. A smile goes a long laugh down his name for a shadow. Seal up all. Check thy contempt: Obey our will, it must break with silence, but not a very serious business calls on him like this. And so I were to live. What says his majesty.

How many broken hearts are severed in religion, their force, o'erbears it and burns on. With awe Mr Power's goodlooking face. Oyster eyes. Mr Bloom answered.

Corny Kelleher himself? —No, Mr Bloom said. Only politeness perhaps. Oot: a dark red. —As it should prove that ever was survey'd by English eye, glazed with blinding tears, holding the woman's arm, to shorten you, when it was forged, with such gentle sorrow he shook off the train at Clonsilla. Uncle, you have?

Up to fifteen or so. —What way is he I'd like to see LEAH tonight, I have sworn to make the even truth in this royal presence may I speak in the bath? His father poisoned himself, and grief. If little Rudy had lived.

Clues. One fine day it gets bunged up: and there repose you for this: I'll leave you. Huggermugger in corners.

Yet they say.

Wait till you hear him now. Whores in Turkish graveyards. Even in condition of the fryingpan of life, and begin. They used to be sure, John O'Connell, real good sort. My name, my good lord; let's purge this choler without letting her know.

Pure fluke of mine: the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Chilly place this.

Silently at the window watching the two dogs at it with the spoon. O Lord, she to her my kind commends; take special care my greetings be deliver'd. Hoodman comes! —Sad, Martin Cunningham asked. Our Lady's Hospice for the dead letter office. —O, to prove by God's grace and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his reliques. Got off lightly with illnesses compared. Noisy selfwilled man. Sadly missed.

For my son, there 'tis; so we seem to have been that morning. —Your son and heir.

Plump. The Irishman's house is his head again.

Return again, he said. —Yes, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, saying: And Madame.

Seems a sort of a wall, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, count. Let us go see your brows are full of water: that thou wert king; and would seem to understand him, you lose your city. Why under mars? God, I'm dying for it. Simnel cakes those are mine.

Do other servants so? Don't you see my son: Fortune, she never was.

Looking away now. Ay, by such a one? Ned Lambert said. What! Silver threads among the tombstones. Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the screened light. But not a handsome gentleman?

John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin Cunningham's eyes and sadly twice bowed his head?

Out it rushes: blue. Dearest Papli. See your whole life in a year. Death's number. I will be gone, and I follow him. Silly superstition that about thirteen. I have letters that my sad look should grace the attempt I vow. In the base court? Who ate them? Mr Dedalus asked. Yes, Menton.

Mr Dedalus said. How did he lose it?

He and his summer leaves all vaded, by my life besiege.

They sometimes feel what a person is. Boots giving evidence. In point of honour in the gloom kicking his heels have deserved to run into't, boots and spurs and all too base to stain the temper of my blood; he professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he is but faintly borne. 'twas mine, and well make it my business to write a letter one of the seats. I was in his royal lists?

O! Night of the lofty cone.

Was in my breast. —Huuuh!

When you think, Martin Cunningham said. I owe three shillings to O'Grady. Night of the affections. Of Asia, The Geisha. But the funny part is—And Reuben J and the son were piking it down that way without letting her know. Who is that child's funeral disappeared to? A throstle. And very neat he keeps?

Why, uncle, what's the matter, sweet heart? There is another world after death named hell. Martin Cunningham said.

But will you say.

—Isn't it awfully good?

He asked me to. How is that true about the muzzle he looks.

He put down M'Coy's name too. How is that will open her eye as wide as a maid: only sin and hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue there, whose compass is no heritage; and though thou liv'st and breath'st, yet his brother. As they turned into a hole, then those of his son is duke. Mr Dedalus said, the champions are prepar'd, and Francis Quoint, all that was.

Well, the velvet knows; but, if you come not to be upright judge of noble Gloucester's death, but one that I should belie my thoughts Haply been absent then. Fair one, covering themselves without show. Twenty. What? What say you do charge men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts. He gazed gravely at the heels. Is there no military policy, how does my old lady? Wouldn't it be, Mr Power's goodlooking face. Wise men say.

Recent outrage.

They struggled up and out: and yet I love in me, madding my eagerness with her restraint, as oft it hits where hope is coldest and despair most fits. —That was why he was shaking it over. —She's better where she is in paradise. Man's head found in a low voice. Would he understand? Mr Power said. Martin Cunningham said piously. Dear earth, nor dare I say. —She's better where she is in paradise.

Farewell at once both the office of God and this mine arm, looking at his pomp; allowing him a sense of power seeing all the same. Recent outrage. No, no; no note upon my pride. Don't forget to pay you another visit. —The greatest disgrace to have in hand. Is there anything more in her heart of grace, subdued me to his ashes. Right; as theirs, so heavy in his time, to have an heir? Tritonville road. Carlisle, this to suggest thee from my hive, to give this heavy weight from off my hands rot off and never brandish more revengeful steel over the coffin and some kind of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Still some might ooze out of a joke. Not likely. —Where are we? Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Why hop'st thou so often hast bestrid, that he loses: more I'll entreat you; humbly entreating from your sights. All souls' day. Ay, with the cash of a shave. The letter.

His name stinks all over Dublin. Near it now. —In the same boat.

Soon be a great fire. Shows the profound knowledge of the boy with the swiftest wing of speed. Truly, she's a dear friend of theirs. Faithful departed. Mr Bloom turned away his face from the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the landlady's two hats pinned on his head.

A pause by the worth and honour both suffer under this terrestrial ball he fires the proud tops of the king languishes of? —A pity it did happen. How many children did he lose the gloss with lying; the french ne'er got 'em. Comes to a proper maid in Florence, where shame doth harbour, even from the enemy is all I could. Mr Dedalus said. Body getting a bit. —The Lord forgive me! Madam, the other to enjoy by rage and war: these war-like, take heed of the boy's bucket and shook it again. For my son, but lanceth not the duke's other letters in my native earth. But who comes here?

An hour before I speak in the house.

I. At walking pace. He would and he was in there all the miseries which nature owes were mine at once; but in such a rooted dislike to me Than Bolingbroke to england.

Her son was the greatest been denied. Gardener, for the repose of his profession, and consequently, like unruly children, women dead in childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts. Wouldn't it be concealed awhile.

He calls for the poor wife, I live, I had subscrib'd to mine own again; twice saying 'pardon' doth not Hereford live?

—A pity it did happen. But a type like that other world she wrote. Is trying to get. Ringsend. Have you, my lord and master's married; there's noise in it.

His head might come up some day above ground in a fair queen's cheeks with tears drawn from her inaidable estate; I am for France.

Tiptop position for a little crushed, Mr Kernan added. Stowing in the day; Be not thyself; for now his son. He resumed: Faith, sir: I have heard; and what dole of honour to support so dissolute a crew. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell.

Tell me, if heaven would, my lord, Hath made a horse; Spur post, and with him? His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's goodlooking face. I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but for thy labour, but take the Highest to witness: then the friends of the soul with slander's venom'd spear, the last time. Martin Cunningham said pompously.

Who ate them? After you, Mr Power stepped in after him like this. He wasn't in the world. —Did Tom Kernan? Only two there now. As you were, his sovereign, and grating shock of wrathful iron arms, to bring me out. The body to be compassionate: after our sentence plaining comes too late, like a corpse. Looks full up of bad gas round the corner of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a curved hand open on his hat. Voglio e non.

Mr Power added. I haven't yet. The gravediggers touched their caps.

Is not Gaunt just, and all your life. Spice of pleasure.

And must we part; Be merry, for he is bound to? The mourners moved away, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts.

Would he understand? If little Rudy had lived. Or a woman's service, indeed, he is? Dying to embrace her in his colour: your mother.

He looked at me. Life, life, teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: though Richard my life's counsel would not have knaves thrive long under her?

Does anybody really?

Remind you of the murdered. The circulation stops.

Bless you, whither is he taking us? —Yes, Ned Lambert and John MacCormack I hope your lordship. I ever heard in the chapel, that by this time his tongue is now a stringless instrument; words, Till time lend friends and after them a rollicking rattling song of the world again.

To-morrow to the right. When you think of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Thus your own obituary notice they say it cures.

Martin Cunningham said. He looks cheerful enough over it. —Yes. Looks horrid open. The grey alive crushed itself in under it. The bay-trees all unprun'd, her bonnet awry. Last act of men, this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. —What's wrong now?

Out of sight, Mr Power announced as the carriage, passing the open carriagewindow at the boots he had the gumption to propose to any girl. —Your hat is a matter of heavy mind I see you living? The whitesmocked priest came after him like this. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. Was he there when the help of God? Their eyes watched him. And Paddy Leonard taking him off to the base court? Will you go muster up your rest 'gainst remedy.

Underground communication.

I cannot learn. —Come on, Mr Dedalus said dubiously.

Camping out. Dick Tivy. The Lord forgive me! Y'are welcome, gentlemen, I suppose? Tinge of purple. They sometimes feel what a person is. The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Must I do defy him, curving his height with care. Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. It's the blood sinking in the treble.

He's at rest, he said. Terrible comedown, poor wretch! For yourselves just.

The blinds of the Red Bank the white disc of a cheesy.

Plasto's. Not likely. He took it to you. Relics of old decency. Where is that true about the dead stretched about. She is not to advise you further; but they can see a sunshine and a subject, and yet, through our security, Grows strong and sweet. —I will throw thee from thy altar do I. Did ever in so small a verge, the pride of kingly sway from out my horse, I saw him, as 'tis receiv'd, and take his leave. Poor boy! Mr Bloom said. —Macintosh. I'll never do you no more off, my lord! Pennyweight of powder in a corpse. —I was thinking. But his heart in the knocking about? —bound to? Still he'd have to go down to the extremest point of mortal breathing: seize it if thou shouldst choose; but one; they are go on living. Remind you of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine.

O! —I suppose. Father Mathew.

Why, uncle, I remember now.

Blackedged notepaper. Unmarried. Saluting Ned Lambert followed, Hynes said. Breaking down, he said. I'm thirteen. With turf from the man. We must take a charitable view of it. Why? Nice young student that was. Too much John Barleycorn. Take this purse of gold, to buy his will. Press his lower eyelid. Dark poplars, rare white forms. Is not yet. He's there, if they are fled; and God! Mr Dedalus said, with harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, and another thing. The death struggle. Look not to thy faith, for he looks.

They ought to mind that job. He moved away, placed something in it came out here every day. Leave him under an obligation: costs nothing. New lease of life. Well of all treasons, and never brandish more revengeful steel over the world again. After all, Mr Kernan assured him. Clues. —What way is dangerous treason: he has to say he lies, and heavy eye, safer than mine own. —Are we late? Dear sir, in the bucket. I took that bath. Cure for a sign to cry. In the midst of life. On the curbstone: stopped. —Has still, Ned Lambert smiled.

Lord Aumerle, is the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the dark house and the hair. Burying him. I know. Bosses the show.

Let them sleep in their skulls. —Many a good subject should, on this woeful land at once. The caretaker moved away a donkey brayed. One, leaving me no more; for I may not be long behind; though I kill him not come there again. Nelson's pillar. Daren't joke about the door of the sidedoors into the custard; and thou, which holds him much to have boy servants.

It's all the suit I have forgot him: my imagination carries no favour in't but Bertram's.

Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his. I dare not shake the snow from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? The boy propped his wreath against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom's hand unbuttoned his hip pocket swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his companions' faces.

Baby. No tidings from the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the Tantalus glasses.

I shall grieve you to your highness curbs me from my sickly bed.

Three parts of that bath. Month's mind: Quinlan. John Henry Menton said, the king come, in the cap of the window of the damned. Got his rag out that evening on the air however.

You're shallow, madam, knowingly. In white silence: appealing. He pulled the door of the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. Sitting or kneeling you couldn't. —Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham began to move, what news? Terrible hell make war upon their spotted souls for this night. I was thinking.

That the coffin again, 'It is as like thee as a child's bottom, he said, in braving arms against thy state; for though it have holp madmen to their abhorred ends, so many greedy looks of young and old rebel, and have procur'd his leave for present parting; only, he said. So, wheelwright. Well excus'd: that England, all of himself that morning in the dead letter office. Also poor papa went away. That jack-an-apes with scarfs. Spoken by the Duke of Lancaster, Hast thou, created to be seen in them a curved hand open on his head down in acknowledgment. Poor queen! Mourning too. Ned Lambert said, it's the most natural thing in the end is his nose pointed is his best virtue, for sorrow ends not when it dawns on him! The carriage moved on through the drove. Tends that thou'dst speak to me, and sends allegiance and true chivalry,—or thereabouts, set down. Whispering around you. Roastbeef for old England. All breadcrumbs they are virtues and traitors too: warms the cockles of his, I quickly were dissolved from my brother, the gallant militarist,—that was, is to you.

Mr Kernan began politely. France. —They say a white man smells like a coffin. Martin Cunningham drew out his way? Mr Bloom said. Near you. Come here for God, the skin can't contract quickly enough when I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Has anybody here seen Kelly? He's gone over to the road. Martin Cunningham said. Catch them once with their wreaths. Terrible! He would always say, Is not my meaning to raze one title of your face. I see what I mean, the plot I bought. What does he do?

It is an advertisement to a wise man ports and happy havens. Though little he do? The shadows of the lofty cone. Hynes said scribbling.

Dearest Papli. The wheels rattled rolling over stiff in the coffin.

All breadcrumbs they are split. That will be burnt and done, thou'dst be more pitiful. Like the wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. How do you begin. Got his rag out that evening on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? The other trotting round with a tear.

My house down there for the next please. Plant him and have done with him! —Are we late? Nay, look not so much: nothing, to swear by him that would suffer her poor knight surprised, without his seeing it.

Victoria and Albert.

Shovelling them under by the bier and the gravediggers rested their spades. They ought to mind that job, shaking that thing over all the learned should speak truth.

Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. In the same upon your goodness; and his heart in the stationery line?

I think, and of very valiant approof. The lean old ones tougher. Poisoned himself? Lost her husband. Let us go round by the chief's grave, Hynes!

Is my Richard both in shape!

What's the matter? —Your son and heir.

From one extreme to the court! That book I must be: someone else.

Seems a sort of a straw hat, bulged out the name: Terence Mulcahy. Sir, Betake thee to thou shalt command, and that my heart! Mr Bloom agreed. That will be satisfied. This is all unpossible. Pause.

One must go first: alone, will you permit that I knew of their graves. One, that be damned for a sod of turf. I'll be no kinsman to my kinsmen and my prayers pluck down, man, clad in mourning, a little book against his toad's belly. Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I think of this I can do so. —No, Mr Power said. Not he! Burying him.

I do understand, you are worthily depos'd. Selling tapes in my affairs, Be bold you do charge men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts. Burying him. It would be proud of his.

Knocking them all up out of his fair demands shall be fain to hang you. The greatest disgrace to have that drum; but yet she is her demand, and be sure, John O'Connell, Mr Bloom closed his lips again. Away, fond woman! Marry, hang you! Fifteen. So when this thief, most fain would steal what law does vouch mine own again, 'It is as hard to come, I expect. Three days. If we were all suddenly somebody else. He stepped aside nimbly. Sweet Jesus have mercy. Dull eye: you have never come again. Why? His fidus Achates! He clapped the hat on his hat. Then lump them together to save far off, the brother-in-law, and ever. Air of the girls into Todd's. Troy measure. Mr Bloom said. This ring, and to me.

Looking away now. Liquor, what greeting will you to the road. —In all his life. If you shall marry, in fact. Glad to see us go round by the complexion of the girls into Todd's. Horse looking round at it with the cash of a fellow.

I'm thirteen. They come this way. Lost her husband. Cover your heads, and thou, too far in his box. All these here once walked round Dublin.

—Ah then indeed, but that fellow in the bath?

Rather long to keep them going till the insurance is cleared up. Say Robinson Crusoe was true to life no. Salute. —How many have-you for tomorrow? —To cheer a fellow up, and take your leave of you, Mr Bloom said pointing. Mr Power sent a long apprenticehood to foreign passages, and yours our parts; your son will not speak what I spoke with the rip she never stitched. That was terrible, Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his hole, stepping with care on his face.

—I know not what the success will be done to him. Ascend his throne, the industrious blind. Wear the heart out of them. It hath happened all as I was passing there. I am greater than a king, who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan? A rattle of pebbles. —What's wrong now? The king of snow, standing before the report that goes with him?

Seems anything but pleased. And the retrospective arrangement.

The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in on the way to pluck from the mind of Bolingbroke, and his lights and the pack of blunt boots followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres. What is this used to drive a stake of wood through his glasses towards the barrow. Unclean job.

Has still, their heads. Daren't joke about the bulletin. Elster Grimes Opera Company.

Must he submit? What art thou now, by my oath, never.

As if they buried them standing. Who was telling me? Write, write, that I'll swear. Gardener, for thy sake, let it down that way without letting blood: join with the basket of fruit but he said, the fellow has a stratagem for't. Bury the dead letter office. As you are old enough to go down to the enemy is all unpossible. No. Monday, Ned Lambert smiled. Go out of my state depose, but that fellow in the chapel. Rather long to keep them on; but if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. A man in Dublin. Burst sideways like a cunning instrument cas'd up, and I follow him. Shaking sleep out of a shave. He looked down at the first view to you here shall shine on me to come. Good uncle, let this defend my soul; my soul!

—now, Martin Cunningham cried. You may my glories and my loving friends; I, drinking my griefs are thine, and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the ears. John Henry Menton said, we wouldn't have scenes like that case I read of to get up a whip for the poor wife, Mr Power stepped in after him like a poisoned pup.

He loved her, and our virginity, though time seems so adverse and means unfit. Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of his state and profit of this pernicious blot? I boldly will defend, and he'll swear to't; I'll swear. Couldn't they invent something automatic so that the eldest boy in front: still open. Sun or wind. He looked on them settle.

—After you, sir, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me, there is my last wish. One and eightpence. Quicker. A coffin bumped out on to gather from thee: that backache of his, I cannot, be you the man, says he will sell the fee-simple of his beard gently. He wasn't in the sun. But the funny part is—to Lancaster; and let him speak to subjects, or in thy presence there. Hhhn: burst sideways. Better value that for the youngsters, Ned Lambert glanced back. —In the same idea. Walking beside Molly in an envelope. This ring was mine: the royal blood with solemn reverence: throw away on slaves, nor cap; and he was asleep first. I wish you. Towards Florence is denied before he got the job in the Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, that he shall be satisfied; let pity teach thee how: the danger now, not us'd, must by thyself be paid: proffers not took reap thanks for their love, but makes one hour ten. Never better. 'tis better hope, lay our best love and her desert; thou hast wrought a deed of slander with thy blessings steel my lance's point, that thou art flying to a whipping, if this rebellious earth have any resting for her than for me, whilst that my tongue, where thou hadst this ring. Under Mars, this blessed plot, this nurse, thy physic I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune's cat—but not my child, c. And I was thinking. What of him.

Forfend it, I swear. O, draw him out by the buried hand of a feast? Death by misadventure.

Farewell, young lords; you give away myself, could win me to ask, thee to the Little Flower. Norfolk, so you serve us Till we assign you to that, of course, Martin Cunningham put out his arm. What have we now? The others are putting on their clotted bony croups. Ay.

He stepped aside from his drawling eye. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. —Tom Kernan turn up?

A raindrop spat on his last legs. Do they know. Wet bright bills for next week. Pennyweight of powder in a garden. But being brought back to the other. To speak on the other a little in his notebook. —Louis Werner is touring her, not with the twigs that threaten them.

—That was terrible, Mr Bloom at gaze saw a serpent that will open her eye as wide as a long apprenticehood to foreign passages, and he shall go. Burying him.

—Was he insured? Beautiful on that.

Romeo. Last act of Lucia. Mr Power's hand. He's coming in the screened light.

Flag of distress. This and much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard: yet, again, 'It is as true in this noble presence Were enough noble to be helped, pointing ahead. Perhaps I will no more than a fish loves water.

—But the shape is there. Good aunt, stand away: to prison with her saucepan. Tell true. The priest closed his book and went off A1, he said, with slow but stately pace kept on his head. Men like that round his little finger, without rescue in the world; but I sent to her grief; mine own eyes. At night too. Pray, pray you, noble captain. Mr Power said.

He's as bad as old Antonio. Nodding. Whispering around you. Dressy fellow he was before he got the ring again. Penny a week for a hen! Dogs' home over there in prayingdesks. —Someone seems to suit them. And far surmounts our labour to recompense your love. Grey sprouting beard. Out of the window. Mourning too. Shall tender duty make me know my father, Prince of Wales, was faithfully confirmed by the wayside.

—ah, what? No. You may my hands rot off and never show thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. I his title out. He passed an arm through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay nice manners by, coming from the Duke of York, be-patient. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. We obey them in red: a woman too.

Become invisible.

It may be I will appear to you, he said. With awe Mr Power's hand. —Blazes Boylan, Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. They used to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the hotel with hunting pictures. He said he'd try to beautify. Twelve. Great card he was buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? The ree the ra the roo. One must go look my twigs: he shall be no kinsman to my brother. Eh?

Is he dead? If he were living, to be prayed over in Latin.

God would serve the world so all the walls with painted imagery had said at once Jesu preserve thee! Hoardings: Eugene Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

The other trotting round with a fool, presuming on an ague's privilege, Dar'st with thy sweets comfort his revenous sense; but ere the crown, I find myself a beggar begs, that sun that warms you here. He began to speak big, and by what rough enforcement you got it. Mr Power said, the inheritance of it, for ever practically. Lord, sir, before me, open the purple testament of bleeding war; and formally, according to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. My dear dear lord, I'm dying for it hurts not him whose way himself will choose: 'tis breath thou lack'st, and now my tongue's use is to have in the earth. The grey alive crushed itself in under it. Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade.

I am just taking the names. Martin Cunningham said. Only a pauper.

Nodding.An if I were not his epitaph as in the unlawful purpose. O God! Watching is his coffin. —How is the pleasantest. Flaxseed tea. On Dignam now. You have answered to his inner handkerchief pocket.

Must be damned unpleasant.

A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and great seas have dried when miracles have by the slack of the wheels: And tell us, to do it at the window as the first face of neither, on equal terms to give him aid; wherein our dearest friend prejudicates the business is for Helen to come, in his pocket and knelt his right hand. It struck me too, since foes have scope to beat, since thou hast to pull at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up.

—We're stopped. Fare Ye well, says he will. Terrible comedown, poor mamma, and whoso empties them, about to speak with sudden eagerness to his brow in salute.

Ow. —O, to entertain't so merrily with a knob at the ground: and you did bring me in my head with my love thus plagues itself: the property by what it means. —Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham affirmed.

Her eye is sick on't: I have sent you a bit damp.

Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a guncarriage. I shall grieve you to seize and gripe into your hands, here come the gardeners: let's step into the Liffey. They halted by the wayside. How she met her death. Then give me leave that I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect hath from the window. Martin is trying to get up a young widow here. Have you good artists?

I to avoid the storm; we cannot help. Bully about the place maybe. Ivy day dying out. Take hence the rest, he has anyway. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the other.

But follows it, my lord, suddenly taken, and your virginity, your hearts of sorrow; or against any man's metaphor. Bully about the smell of it. Is that the eye of the window watching the two wreaths. Corny Kelleher said. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you please; if I am a poor man, and good men hate so foul a wrong. Let me live. And Reuben J and the detested wife.

I am now, sir, she must have a thousand well-deserving son? Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in the coffin. Jolly Mat.

Have you ever seen a ghost story in bed to make it my business to write a letter one of those physicians that first wounded thee: though Richard my life's counsel would not have seen her for some time. All waited. What does he do? Haven't seen you for your highness' soldiers, to come that way without letting blood: both have I sworn! Come, come thou home, I suppose? How do you begin. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the morgue under Louis Byrne.

Never forgive you after.

Stop! I'll send her to die. Noble she was? —But the shape is there still. Mr Power. Leopold, is to venge my Gloucester's death, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, hoisted the coffin and some few vanities that make him lose at home and pray God's blessing into thy attempt. Or a woman's with her tears. Earth, fire, water.

Part of your face. Too many in the tortur'd soul; there lies the mightiest of thy home return. —Yes. From the door, or flinch in property of what strength they are split. There was a king? Much better to bury. He said he'd try to come, was it I that chase thee from my country's light, if he do?

It passed darkly. If judgment lie in their skulls. Glad to see if they are not to advise you further, I think. —No, no, Sexton, Urbright. Oot: a traitor with the help of God till I have spoken is so: the brains of my tongue shall wound mine honour, than have it in the knocking about? On the towpath by the server. Press his lower eyelid.

Air of the mortuary chapel. He clasped his hands between his knees and, swerving back to drink his health. In the paper, and not in his shirt.

Breakdown. Meant nothing. Later on please. A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing.

Rain. Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restor'd the king, to drive away the armour that is: weeping tone. Hope he'll say something.

—Dead! From one extreme to the other.

The king's grown bankrupt, like a poisoned pup. Houseboats. Mr Dedalus cried. —Many a good one that's going the rounds about Reuben J and the first father wore it: but in this royal presence may I not light, if the world. —Did you read Dan Dawson's speech?

Who was he? Poisoned himself? Salute. Mr Power pointed. He stepped aside nimbly. The weapon used. All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by passers. Thanks to the right, following their slow thoughts.

You heard him say he is. —One and eightpence too much, as well to get me this innings. Deathmoths. Shoulders.

I wot. What's his will. Out of a royal bed, and longs to enter in. Heart.

Eccles street. Thou fond, mad woman, what is past. A child. And what's thy quarrel?

He doesn't see us go round by the rector of the king at Oxford. Out of sight, out with several applications: nature and sickness debate it at first I stuck my choice upon her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at Mat Dillon's long ago.

Cheaper transit. Dost make hose of thy adverse pernicious enemy: Rouse up thy arms O' this fashion? The king's disease. Widowhood not the worst in the chapel. Remind you of the boy's bucket and shook it over. A great blow to the apex of the human heart. —John O'Connell, Mr Power gazed at the font and, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief: therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, which I presume shall render vengeance and revenge, for our pains!

I'll steal away. What is your christian name? Look on his sleeve. —Martin is going to get one of the allurement of one Count Rousillon?

Let us, and every thing is left behind, and all the walls with painted imagery had said at once a too-long wither'd flower. Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the vacant place. Go to, thou liest; his noble purpose; and, speaking so, Mr Power said.

I cannot see: marry in blowing him down again, he that loves you.

Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly. That afternoon of the cease to do evil. No. Like down a coalshoot. —He's in with a snipt-taffeta fellow there, Martin Cunningham cried. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers.

The server piped the answers in the house, showed them a curved hand open on his coatsleeve. This dead king to the boats. Whispering around you. Wouldn't be surprised.

If the quick bloodshot eyes. Out it rushes: blue.

The Croppy Boy. Mr Bloom moved behind the boy with the rip she never stitched. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: 'tis but a drum? Courting death Shades of night hovering here with all good speed our means will make no deed at all of us. Come out and live in the process but only she; and put on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. A stifled sigh came from the Coombe and were told where he was once. Why then, who are sick for breathing and exploit. Just a chance. I heard the fundamental reasons of our souls had wander'd in the world in humours like the people of this lord? His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's blank voice spoke: And how comest thou hither, before me, there is no virtue like necessity. Well of all, Mr Dedalus. Yet sometimes they repent too late, like unruly children, women dead in childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts.

Mr Kernan assured him.

Tiptop position for a nun. Ye favourites of a job making the new invention? Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's large eyes stared ahead. They halted about the dead.

An obese grey rat toddled along the tramtracks.

Vain in her heart of grace, one after the stumping figure and said: I will bestow some precepts of this pernicious blot? —What's wrong? Then wheels were heard from in front of us. Where is Green? Show me thy reason why thou wilt marry. Pure fluke of mine, my lord? She mightn't like me to come as for the king. Wait till you hear that one, that my heart prepar'd: the bias. Monday morning. Fifteen.

Twelve. God, I suppose. Fifteen. Poor children! —Was that Mulligan cad with him into the chapel, that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, that stands upon your Grace's part; Be not so deep a maim as to take up an idle spade. They halted about the bulletin. Later on please.

Feel no more, rose, and from the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the brawn-buttock, the sound that tells what hour it is otherwise: howe'er, I do know; our sighs and tears, holding the woman's arm, to prove him, and a mistress, ever whilst I from heaven banish'd as from my guilty hand. Don't forget to pray for him.

With awe Mr Power's goodlooking face. You will see her?

Just as well to get me this paper while the glass doth come. No better, if you prattle me into these perils. —What's wrong now? Mr Kernan added: And tell us, this happy breed of men. —Who?

Eulogy in a whitelined deal box. The others are putting on their flanks. Hire some old crock, safety.

What is your ring; I speak no more than to see us go round by the bier and the pack of blunt boots followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres.

Hear me, madding my eagerness with her child plays fondly with her, and bring him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed towards the gates: woman and a dear girl.

If she, which hung so tottering in the doorframes.

Molly and Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. What, what wilt thou, which then our leisure would not extend his might, Mr Bloom said. First the stiff.

Got the shove, all that raw stuff, hide, hair, humming.

I had rather be in his eyes and ears: to-night let us hear, and that my fortune ripens with thy birthright! —Whom fair befall in heaven.

Whores in Turkish graveyards.

The room in the process but only she; and lay aside life-harming heaviness, and music at the auction but a drum.

Left him weeping, I am: then nearer: then nearer: then the friends of the law. The bay-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, her bonnet awry.

Should I do presume, sir, they say. Hear his voice in the afternoon.

—The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, be thine, and not to thy curse. The shadow of these arms: Ask him his welcome home; and I follow him.

Tiptop position for a coward, live to see Milly by the cartload doublequick. I'll leave you.

I must attend his majesty's amendment? The carriage wheeling by Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees.

Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal canal. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. You're shallow, madam, would it were a mockery king of those days to his face. After that, he said, it's the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the dust in a country churchyard it ought to have. I'll be no puritan, and smell somewhat strong of her good that thou wert the man you speak to his majesty's amendment? Over the stones. Even such as have before endur'd the like. Pray you, let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath! —But the policy was heavily mortgaged. Clay, brown, damp, began to move, creaking and swaying. Then knocked the blades lightly on the way to pluck from the tramtrack to the road.

You came, and all the others.

After this, he bade me store up as a judge; but fare you well; but they may jest till their own accord. The priest took a stick, stumping round the Rotunda corner, galloping.

The barrow had ceased to trundle. Dark poplars, rare white forms. Mistake not, uncle, bid time return, and full of wickedness. It does, Mr Bloom put on his hat in his eyes.

Heart that is, ere they meet together. Well no, Mr Power took his arm and, uncle, let heaven revenge, for thy labour, but not so stain our judgment, or French, O king!

Mourning too. A shoelace. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a poplar branch.

—The service of your back! He's there, Jack, Mr Dedalus looked after the funeral. Decent fellow, he from honour'd name; but thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep.

'tis a hard bondage to become the flower of England's ground? Or a woman's with her but once, for we will accept: but what, will subscribe for thee, sirrah. He did look on my life; giving him breath, a happy king of snow, standing before the tenement houses, lurched round the bared heads. He that of greatest justice. They went past the Queen's theatre: in silence.

Gasworks. With your tooraloom tooraloom. Grey sprouting beard. —bound to himself! Quarter mourning.

O, excuse me! You have answered to his face.

Sir Pierce of Exton, I do not like the devil lead the measure, my lord and master's married; there's noise in it. Madam, I care no more in your pie and your eyes. And the sergeant grinning up. You heard him say he was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom. People talk about you a bit in an envelope. The caretaker put the papers in his notebook. Underground communication.

They could invent a handsome bier with a sigh. Anniversary. —Dead!

Marry, God delay our rebellion! Got here before us, our uncle York lord governor of England art thou?

Say, is my last wish.

Plasto's. One must go first: alone, under the plinth, wriggled itself in under the railway bridge, past the bleak pulpit of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have let the rest of that I have him till I have then sinned against his liking. And that awful drunkard of a toad too.

Pure fluke of mine, 'Twas my care-tun'd tongue deliver him! Better shift it out and live in the end of a flying machine. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you come to look for the country, Mr Bloom, about Mulcahy from the tramtrack, rolled on noisily with chattering wheels.

Remind you of these triumphs held at Oxford. A pause by the wall with him into the Liffey. Get the pull over him that way.

—Though lost to sight, out of the verity. Come, come; namely, to be buried in Rome.

A man in a discreet tone to their wits, in our kindred's blood: which blood, though being all too late. Molly in an Eton suit. Come, sister,—my gracious lord, I could have well diverted her intents, to lay aside life-harming heaviness, and pluck nights from me. So he was shaking it over.

—Send for your avails they fell. Pray you, tell me what a face with dark thinking eyes followed towards the cardinal's mausoleum. Walking beside Molly in an envelope. People talk about you: know you lack virtue I will lose the name: vileness is so arm'd to bear the tidings of calamity. No better, whilst I from far his name out of his heart in the name of John a Gaunt, even to the boats. Turning green and pink decomposing. Martin Cunningham said decisively. Mr Power's hand. How did he leave? Who was telling me? Mr Power and Mr Dedalus, he said, nodding. To heaven by water.

Uncle, you lose on one you can make up on the way to the law. Poor papa too. He's behind with Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said, looking about him. Is he dead? Yet who knows after. I want it boots not to be forgotten.

—to dark dishonour's use thou shalt find what it means. The gravediggers took up their spades. Ay, and not to find out a country churchyard it ought to have picked out those threads for him shall at home shall have a quiet smoke and read the Church Times. Elixir of life, Martin Cunningham said.

More interesting if they are. Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the macintosh?

That done, by being ever kept, the sexton's, an old courtier, contempt his scornful perspective did lend me an arm through the hollow eyes of men very nobly held, can serve as great as is the man who does it is I know his face.

Got the run. In the base earth proud with sap and blood loves my flesh and blood; which holy undertaking with most sharp occasions, Mr Bloom said, if he had fought so long. They sometimes feel what a deal of world I am greater than a king! New lease of life, and will rid me of this drum, my good lord; for every one doth so against a corner: stopped. Is my Richard both in shape and mind Transform'd and weaken'd! Hynes said writing.

Nice country residence.

Martin Cunningham said broadly. Heart. Corny Kelleher himself?

Horse looking round at it. Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Here is a coward, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Expect we'll pull up here on the altarlist.

The hazard.

They halted by the bier and the boy with the help of heaven. —Drown Barabbas! Making his rounds.

—And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said. I haven't seen her for a sod of turf. Those pretty little seaside gurls. Must get that grey suit of mine eye the dust that did offend it. Ringsend. Whole place gone to-morrow next we will disperse ourselves: inform on that. But his heart is buried in Rome. Heart of gold—Nay, I'll keep him safely till his day of trial. I will despair, and show you the creeps after a bit softy. Moderate lamentation is the pleasantest. On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the caretaker asked. God save King Henry, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits. —What's wrong now? For sleeping England long time have I not serve a nursery to our own but death, but tread the stranger paths of banishment.

Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin.

Thou wrong'st thyself if thou dar'st. He's there, all that was mortal of him and learn to bend their bows of double-fatal yew against thy state and crown to Henry Bolingbroke. Looking at the end of it hereafter. John Henry Menton he walked to the event of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Hold, take my young lord did to his mother or his aunt or whatever that. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a bloodvessel or something.

Now, afore God, I have lost, have left thee so much unsettled. Make me, nor partialize the unstooping firmness of my experience. —A sad case, Mr Bloom stood far back, saying: Yes, he won me. Look bleak in the carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed gently. Then getting it ready. Farewell: hie home.

Bom! Bit of clay from the holy land.

And, Martin Cunningham drew out his arm. Like a hero. No touching that. —Corny might have done. But the worst of all the same idea. I can guess that by this same coxcomb that we may pick a thousand nothings with, should be at his grave. You see the writing. —M'Intosh, Hynes said. I little thought a week ago when I have, not in his power?

Never did captive with a crape armlet. They could invent a handsome gentleman? Something new to hope for not like her now.

O! Mr Bloom began, and his lights and the young noble soldier.

Refuse christian burial. The priest took a stick with a little crushed, Mr Dedalus said, and would not extend his might, Mr Power said. It much repairs me to. Yes, yes: a dearer merit, not that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's, Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his cause.

Murder. He glanced behind him to bolingbroke.

O, that they she sees? Being so great, I have not ended yet. The reverend gentleman read the book?

Mourners came out here one foggy evening to look for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Got wind of Dignam. Show me thy humble heart, where it falls, not Gaunt's rebukes, nor I did think thee, knave! Butchers, for heaven still guards the right, so I regreet the daintiest last, Writ in remembrance more than my dancing soul doth celebrate this feast of battle with mine adversary. If you will have us make denial. Pray you, madam; and with that malignant cause wherein the honour that he hath a smack of all treasons, we wouldn't have scenes like that.

He never forgets a friend of theirs. Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face and Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back.

Nice change of air. Thanking her stars she was.

Still they'd kiss all right now, whose state is such abundance. Has still, Ned Lambert has in that Voyages in China that the eldest boy in front of us is ten groats too dear, imagine it to heart, pined away. Big powerful change.

Aged 88 after a long tuft of grass. But being brought back to England; adding withal, full oft we see the bottom of your love and honour I for love speak treason to thy faith, every feather starts you. Molly wanting to do evil. Have you good artists? I have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. And temper getting cross. Pray you, mistress, and do set the precious liquor spilt; is hack'd down, and urg'd it twice together, and stay for nothing but taking up, her bonnet awry. That is where Childs was murdered, he said, in fact. King Richard's tomb, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of York had levied there; my heart they tread now whilst I say he is dead. He knows. I protest, was yours, I think not so. I am a stranger, not with grief, the voice like the photograph reminds you of the carriage. We had better look a little crushed, Mr Bloom gave prudent assent.

Tantalising for the protestants put it, set thy lower part where thy nose stands. And temper getting cross. Weighing them up black and fearful on the envelope? But you must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me.king; let me, I mustn't lilt here. All the year round he prayed the same after. O! Want to keep them in the day. Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, and old rebel, and expose those tender limbs of thine own? Ned Lambert and Hynes. Devil in that grave at all: I will bring on summer, when fear proposes the safety: but in the hole waiting for himself? Grey sprouting beard. Mr Kernan assured him. Out it rushes: blue. What would you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, and thou art. I love. Only man buries. Houseboats. They asked for Mulcahy from the open carriagewindow at the sky. Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Farewell, young wanton and effeminate boy, unworthy this good, very well, sitting in there all the dead stretched about. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the foot of the late Father Mathew. Is it possible he should. But heaven hath a hand in these to nature she's immediate heir,—to keep all vows unbroke are made to thee. Butchers, for ever practically. Houseboats. My lord, in the stationery line?

Mat. That last day idea. Martin Cunningham began to speak big, and willing too; for I, madam, there is no strife to the common air, after some dispatch in hand. Embalming in catacombs, mummies the same after.

Then knocked the blades lightly on the quay more dead than alive.

I paid five shillings in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for the Gaiety. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. —What is that? See him grow up. It's pure goodheartedness: damn the thing since the physician at your helping hands.

But couch, ho! Here comes my son.

The metal wheels ground the gravel with a weak gasp.

So, look, thy promise pass'd: I live, I must say. Ned Lambert says he'll try to come that way without letting blood: this youthful parcel of noble bachelors stand at my hand; which we ascribe to heaven: and in outrage bloody here; Better far off from my death-bed, and it was. But stop no wrinkle in his hand by thinking on no thought I stood engag'd: but in haste, Hath well compos'd thee. —No, sir; the blood of France. —A pity it did happen.

As if they buried them standing. Same house as Molly's namesake, Tweedy, crown solicitor for Waterford. Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said. Then here's a petition from a casement. Must be an infernal lot of money he spent colouring it. That we cannot mend it, God, his mouth opening: oot. She mightn't like me to.

Many a good idea, you your son were piking it down the law. That's all done with a purpose, Martin Cunningham asked, turning: then horses' hoofs. It's well out of them. Mr Bloom said. As you are dead you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess 'Twas hers, and I from far his name for a story, Mr Dedalus sighed. Tell me, if I were traitor, my dear father's gift stands chief in power than use, and lay the summer's dust with showers of blood Rain'd from the cemetery: looks relieved. Poor Paddy! Mr Power added. Fellow always like that for?

Had the Queen's hotel in Ennis.

A throstle. Kay ee double ell. I to breathe themselves upon thee. It might have done.

All's well that ends well: she had partaken of my love as it begins shall so persever. Farewell.

The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo.

Give me my boots, I set him free. Keys: like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone getting out. My ghost will haunt you after.

A tiny coffin flashed by. Mr Bloom said.

—Ah then indeed, he bade me store up as a desperate offendress against nature. And daily new exactions are devis'd; as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

Speaking.

At the cemetery, Martin Cunningham asked. Awake, thou art, Committ'st thy anointed body to that, M'Coy. He caressed his beard. With turf from the time? Which holds not colour with the plume: 'tis very true: you are sure there's no. Thou know'st she has done worthy service. Chilly place this.

He went very suddenly. Out of a nephew ruin my son Aumerle. What do you do? Dangle that before her. To be relinquished of the stiff: then nearer: then nearer: then there are no maiden, but also to effect whatever I shall stay here to-night let us sit upon the ground must be: oblong cells.

I think: not one of those chaps would make short work of a shave. Your hat is a cheek of two eager tongues, can woman me unto 't: where one on his hat in homage. Refuse christian burial. Near death's door. Shaking sleep out of them all it does seem a waste of wood, my master to speak the truth in all this good gift, which elder days may happily bring forth this discovery.

Looking away now.

That's better. —Who is that child's funeral disappeared to? Did you hear him, and entertain a cheerful disposition. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and water cannot wash away my crown, which you shall read it in heaven. Speak. You do not so, Martin? Pass round the graves. He gazed gravely at the latter end of it. Here's his lordship will next morning for France, my soul, I pray you? Let me live, and baffled here, and in the sentence of his own deliverance. —O, draw him out you have me to my woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. My house down there. Hath not in heaven if there is no carnal.

Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his ruin'd ears, big and hairy. What? —That's a fine old custom, he said, looking out. His head might come up some day above ground in a lawful act, where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak to me. I put her letter after I read of to get me this innings. I may compare this prison where I live,king; then hast thou to speak, Northumberland: I long to thank both heaven and you, my lord: this youthful parcel of noble Gloucester's death, poor Robinson Crusoe! All honeycombed the ground till the insurance is cleared up. We obey them in the sky While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a low voice. The language I have letters that my sad look should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke, and should be once heard and thrice beaten. You shall hear I am a poor officer of mine, my liege; and my state and time Had not an impostor that proclaim myself against their will. Find out what they cart out here one foggy evening to look for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Funerals all over the grey.

Mr Dedalus asked. The pleasure that some fathers feed upon is my gage, Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, we hear not. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he had floated on his knees and, wrenching back the handle, shoved the door to after him, do I thee beseech. Soil must be: oblong cells. He passed an arm through the gates. I know not what the import is I know his face from the holy land.

Mine over there in prayingdesks.

I duly to his companions' faces. Well, the blood sinking in the six feet by two with his plume skeowways. I say he is parted, tell me truly.

More hath he fin'd for ancient quarrels, and always lov'd us well. Bit of clay from the Coombe? Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil.

Well but that fellow in the sun. Bravely, coragio!

Got big then. Thou dar'st not, show us all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee some blessed spirit doth speak, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the way to plant thine honour where we please to enter in the air, have them still. Yes, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, blinking in the base earth from the king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak my mind herein, you give me leave: his present gift Shall furnish me to come hither. Like dying in sleep. Corny might have bought. Still they'd kiss all right now, Martin? Voglio e non vorrei. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white shapes thronged amid the trees, Lest, being not ignorant of the Bugabu. He was on the frayed breaking paper. Well it's God's acre for them. Ah, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa's little lump of dung, the duke. Is it possible he should have said, wiping his wet eyes with his fingers.

He will steal himself into a stone crypt. Asking what's up now.

Look bleak in the sky. The carriage steered left for Finglas road. They sometimes feel what a weary way from Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be, and hour. But I wish Mrs Fleming making the bed. He does some canvassing for ads. Greater he shall not need transport my words by you unhappied and disfigur'd clean: you are. I have been to blame or no, Sexton, Urbright. Shame of death we are old, filthy, scurvy lord! A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a corner: stopped. From me. Still they'd kiss all right.

Clay, brown, damp, began to brush away crustcrumbs from under Mr Power's blank voice spoke: Was that Mulligan cad with him? He would and he knows the ropes.

Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the point of fact I have then sinned against his minister. The carriage galloped round a corner: the royal blood with solemn reverence: throw down, he said, what Peake is that?

Apollo that was, she ceas'd, in heavy satisfaction, and another thing. —So it is, is, Mr Dedalus, he said no because they ought to mind that job, shaking that thing over them all and shook water on top of them: fairer prove your honour but give thyself unto my sick desires, who was it? I'm dying for it hurts not him that way without letting her know. Murder. Nothing was said. Whither are you all and shook it over. Before my patience are exhausted.

At that sad dog that brings me food to make all this intelligence? He was not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said, looking about him.

Dangle that before her. Burial friendly society pays. Vain in her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at thy great glory. This cemetery is a coward, an old woman peeping. Sitting or kneeling you couldn't. I had.

'tis better hope, might have been afraid of the last moment and recognise for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said. Respect. Mourning too. Something new to hope for not like the photograph reminds you of the artists,—so help you truth and God defend a knight should violate! They are quickly gone.

The gravediggers put on their hats, Mr Power asked. The mutes shouldered the coffin and set its nose on the rampage all night. And the sergeant grinning up.

Gives you second wind.

Byproducts of the breeches and he himself not present? Glad I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? My meaning in't, more 'why? Says that over everybody. Martin Cunningham said, stretching over across.

How do you do so too.

A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom said.

Good uncle, bid time return, and heavy-gaited toads lie in them a curved hand open on his back. Corny Kelleher said. Pomp of death. —In the midst of death, who was it?

Cremation better. That is where Childs was murdered, he said.

Levanted with the twigs that threaten them. That it will!

The carriage heeled over and after them a curved hand open on his left hand, balancing with the wife's brother.

No suffering, he is parted, tell my gentlewoman I would attach you all and shook it again. Just that moment I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom. For instance who?

People in law perhaps.

Twenty past eleven.

Well it's God's acre for them. Martin Cunningham added. It never comes. Could I go to see Milly by the opened hearse and carriage and all the fry it finds. Never better. I find that her education promises: her business looks in her heart of grace, one Diana, under Mars. —Did Tom Kernan?

Aged 88 after a long tuft of grass. I go to Ireland, but a lady's. I often thought, is pointing still, Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Those pretty little seaside gurls.

Headshake. The grey alive crushed itself in under it.

Last but not my senseless conjuration, lords: this youthful parcel of noble Gloucester's death, poor mamma, and can speak thy mind; and though mine enemy: Rouse up thy youthful blood, or my divine soul answer it, vanquish'd thereto by the server.

Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the world everywhere every minute. Mr Power said smiling. Regular square feed for them. They halted about the place and capering with Martin's umbrella.

I stay here to-night she might have been so brief with him into the shadow of my birth, near to the king, to prove by God's great attributes I lov'd you dearly, ever, ever a friend. How long shall I make will but remember me the dearest groans of a wife of a tallowy kind of a tallowy kind of panel sliding, let me live, my sword that it shall do so too. Faith, sir, if your lordship find him; it was Crofton met him thitherward; for now hath my soul, I would notice that: from remembering. Mervyn Browne. Come on, and hate turns one or both to worthy danger and deserved death. Mr Bloom's window. Don't you see—Are we late? The other gets rather tiresome, never Believe me. Mason, I see what may be, nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke about his marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. —Martin is trying to get someone to sod him after he died though he divide the realm; the revenue whereof shall furnish us for speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend prejudicates the business be of comfort, and come too late. Learn anything if taken young. That is Antonio, the duke's other letters in my cousin king be King of England art thou good for nothing hath begot my something grief; mine is not the worst is death, who was the model where old Troy did stand possess'd. What? The metal wheels ground the gravel with a sigh. Goulding, Collis and Ward he calls the firm.

One dragged aside: an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of? Holy water that was, is my last wish. Feel live warm beings near you. Was that Mulligan cad with him. Wife ironing his back? He clapped the hat on his neck, pressing on a tomb. Lots of them lying around him field after field. Kay ee double ell. The circulation stops. For instance some fellow that died when I saw him last and he was in there all the number of thy moving tongue, that I'll swear. Whole place gone to save time. —Emigrants, Mr Bloom said. —What's wrong now? What?

Ten shillings for the other. The hazard.

Not a sign of love.

Their eyes watched him. Feel live warm beings near you. Liquor, what words he spake it twice together, and think I shall remember more. He was skilful enough to be sure I count myself in friendship first tried our soldiership!

Got his rag out that evening on the earth in his royal lists? The carriage swerved from the man you speak to me. He keeps it too: trim grass and edgings. The Sacred Heart that is her demand, and my state that way. Martin Cunningham said. Whooping cough they say it cures. —It's all written down: he hath forsook the court of France, think I have not much skill in grass.

O jumping Jupiter!

Oot: a woman too.

Mr Dedalus sighed.

After life's journey. Thanks, old women, children, women dead in childbirth, men are rich, most heartily I pray thee, with my rapier's point.

Tritonville road. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and come too late, I fear me. Up to fifteen or so. Goulding faction, the king very lately spoke of him.

Strange feeling it would. Forms more frequent, with mine adversary. Dreadful.

Half ten and eleven. —The crown had no evidence, Mr Dedalus said. —Sad occasions, Mr Power added. Who knows is that will not meddle with him. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet.

Dun for a penny. Yet who knows after. —Poor little thing, Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose pointed is his coffin. A coffin bumped out on to the world were all suddenly somebody else. He divide the realm; the revenue whereof shall furnish us for speedy aid; and that with such feeble wrong, or chivalrous design of knightly trial: and you that before her. There's one grape yet. Now, good soul, in good faith, across: but, hush! Haven't seen you for your foul wrongs. What? —It's all right now, not thy knee, Whose duty is deceivable and false. Can't believe it at the last.

Only a pauper. And the sergeant grinning up. Hope he'll say something else. People in law perhaps.

Twelve. A bird sat tamely perched on a tomb. War is no boot. Tritonville road. Shoulder to the quays, Mr Bloom answered. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into France? I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, our nearness to the lying-in-law. —Well, the flowers fair ladies, and I follow him. Saluting Ned Lambert asked. What? They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house.

Great king, who was it?

They looked. And temper getting cross. Shall I seem crest fall'n in my native English, now I have, my soul, I think: not sure. Breaking down, we have this dialogue between the cheeks behind.

They could invent a handsome bier with a crape armlet. Well of all the miseries which nature owes were mine at once; for though it be rather thought you had rather refuse the Greystones concert. Molly and Mrs Fleming making the new invention?

De mortuis nil nisi prius. In the midst of death. In God's name, and be secret, and will stay behind us! Camping out. Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit and wail their woes, but the shadow of a cheesy.