#of course he's a horse girl (very derogatory)

[kwillow]

Ambroys basking in his cache of gifts and sweet words from secret admirers. Gotta be careful, though. If his ego is inflated any more, he'll pop.

(I wanted to doodle something to accompany a post answering some messages regarding this candy-colored cad but got a bit carried away. :P Well regardless, asks under the cut!)

Why thank you! He would drunkenly insult people, though he tends to be more passive-aggressive and backhanded rather than outright insulting - well, most of the time, anyway. He thinks he's a lot more subtle in his derogatory comments than he actually is.

Aaaw, this is too sweet!

Older Ambroys is much more reserved about seeking and accepting physical affection than his younger self, for myriad reasons (that one day I will expound upon in more detail, fate willing). He still enjoys it, though.

He's still proud of the stars on his cheeks and the gold in his hair and all that, but the signs of age are something he is not at peace with. For some, like the wrinkles, they're a sign that his time on this earth is finite - and death terrifies him. For others, like his paunch, it's more just embarrassing to him in a more mundane and vain "I was voted Prom King in high school and I was on the Varsity track team now look at me I'm an old man boo hoo hoo" type of way (though he's actually more physically adept in his older age than he was when he was younger for Magical Heritage Bullshit reasons, the sentiment remains).

As for your question, it's totally fine with me for Ambroys to be portrayed as non-heterosexual in fanfic or fanart or one's secret imaginings. Even though all of his "canon" love interests are women, I wouldn't rule out of the possibility of him developing affections for someone who isn't a woman. Chase your bliss!

Haha well both furry and aasimar Ambroys would bask in the attention, though poor aasimar Ambroys' jealousy is not going to be helped!

No shame on being a furry though. I didn't consider myself one either but I feel like it's harder to make the argument that I'm not given the sheer number of ponies I've drawn by now...

He would accept this, so long as you don't mess up his hair.

He would say: "good!" I would say "don't waste your life on him!"

Oh he would be pleased to be so distracting, I'm sure.

And sometimes we can't help but to have a type... I know I seem to have a thing for rich effete douchebags with buck teeth and big pointy noses... not quite sure what's up with that.

Yessss... yesssssssss... or perhaps I should say "I'm sorry."

I didn't mean to make him this way... I guess I underestimated the power of a brushable mane.

Ambroys DOES like being worshipped (way too much and way too literally, as you might be able to tell) but he wants to have his imperfections hidden if he can!

He's just horribly, horribly vain and unwilling to let go of his youth... even though he got to enjoy being youthful for three times as long as a mortal would.

YES that song is on his playlist (which I have for all my main characters because I'm a dork). It's just too perfect. One of the many ideas on my miles-long to do list has to do with depicting a scene from that song. The trouble is that it has to do with dancing, and boy am I not very good at drawing dancing poses. xD Oh well, gotta try for the boy!

Heh well I think we could agree that a normal horse probably couldn't pull off the breeches he wears quite so well... I'm flattered that you think of him when you see horsies in the flesh! Huzzah, I've ruined one of the Earth's beautiful creatures for you! >:)

Oh wow, my guy is stepping out of my brain and into other people's subconsciouses... I need to put a leash on him. :P But this was a fun read!

It's very in character Ambroys to try to undercut a rival's self-esteem by framing it as something OTHER people say, but oh no, he'd NEVER say something like that, of course. Mean girl behavior. He does have friends that don't actually like him - and he doesn't like them either. But one needs to have friends for appearance's sake - just one more accessory, really!

OKAY, I think that's everything! Or at least enough for this post, ahah.

Thanks to everyone for your kind words on my not-so-kind character.

Unlike him, I'm really humbled and grateful by the positive reception he's received. I deeply appreciate your kind messages... even when it takes me eons to reply to them, gah.

[ainoum]

Another cute little story concept im too lazy to write :p

This is just a setup, the idea that sparked this will come in another post, probably lol

Here goes nothing:

Family K has had a LONNG standing feud with family S. This is set in a traditional-leaning society, where women rights and freedom are kinda vague concepts. Horses, property, guns, and Men (non-derogatory)

Fl was born into family K for the sake of saving her older brother who has some kind of organ failure case. He needed an organ transplant, and no one in the huge family they have wanted to donate, because it would kill them, so the parents opted to give birth to another child and hopefully they're compatible and it'll all work out. The child is a girl. They name her Sophia. When Sophia turns 2, she is diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. She can no longer donate.

The parents blame her, because of course, they're old and stupid. Also very spiteful. They have no word in the big family because they have no male heir and weak personalities.

They nearly kill her at age 6 bc her brother dies. They're stopped by the grandma who thought fl was a pretty kid and will probably marry well. One child, tho girl, is better than no child. Obviously.

Fl runs away from home at age ten. She then meets a boy whom no one wanted to play with because he's chubby and awkward, also was kind of creepy because he was a little too obsessed with animals. I'm talking this boi would climb a tree to watch the birds, and observe ants do their thing for hours on end. His family had no other kids his age, he was the oldest.

He ends up letting her into his house since they meet and pay together, she's also a big nerd, and she explains her situation, and since he lives in the same neighbourhood, he invites her to spend the night at his house-somewhere safe, without anyone's knowledge. He lets her into his little house where he collected his research on these animals, which was an abandoned dog house that he colonized from his other cousins.

The boy's family is Family S. And his name is Lorenzo.

After a few days, Sophia returns home, and learns that no one looked for her all that time. Her mother looks at her with contempt and she gets punished for the little ranaway.

Because no one cared, she was able to leave the house when she wanted during the day and make up dumb excuses and no one would care if they were even believable. She was the unnoticeable kid among her dozens of cousins. So it didn't matter that she would be out for hours, walking around or doing research like little adventurers with Lorenzo.

They grow up, and she's pretty, so she starts standing out as she grows older. Her family is no longer okay with her having freedom. What if she does something that lessens her value as a woman, like befriending a boy without anyone to surveil, god forbid.

By this point, they're 16 and Lorenzo is smitten with her. But he doesn't think she likes him back, and doesn't want to scare her off because she barely likes anyone and he knows that, she's a mild psychopath in a way. She lacks compassion, especially for her family, and would say scary things in a non ironic way at times. Anyway, what if his feelings make her uncomfortable and she runs away?

She once told him 'I'm only staying in this small sad village because of you.' After all, if she up and left the city one day no one would care, so he was her only reason.

This was Sophia's way of confessing. She barely knows what love is, anyway. So when she did that, and got the response of 'blushes incessantly and deflects' from Lorenzo, she feels rejected.

She initially thinks he stopped wanting to see her, because the next time he stops showing up, for a couple of days. (because his family fell into a scandal about some member messing up and harming their reputation, everyone was to stay put until they did damage control). So she stopped going to their meeting spot, but then Lorenzo with all of his crazy broke into her house and left her a note only she could get asking if she was okay.

While on his way out of her room (she wasn't there that day), one of her cousins saw him.

Lorenzo tried to reason with him, using wit first.

But the kid was too dumb and nearly blew his cover somehow.

So Lorenzo did the only logical thing to keep him quiet, and pushed him down the stairs, but not stair to stair. Edge of stairs to the ground.

That cousin has never talked again.

Sophia showed up at the meeting spot though, all giddy. So giddy that she didn't lose her best friend that she forgot to ask about how he got the note into her room, and also didn't answer him when he asked why she didn't show up for several weeks.

Give her grace. She's young and has never known love. And everyone can be dumb dramatic at times.

Lorenzo has a very strict family. His grandfather, who loves him most of all his grandchildren, is the strictest of all. His grandfather is the silent tyrant. His mother is the loud dictator. Every morning, they have a mandatory collective breakfast before the men go to work, and during it the mother always has to nitpick at someone, or some maid or anything and make them all uncomfortable or annoyed. Lorenzo is the one to eat quietly and leave. He's kind of unapproachable to his family, even though he's exceedingly polite and good at things he does.

Lorenzo's parents finds out about his meetings, because THEY care what their favorite, first grandson, the apple of their grandfather's eye is doing.

And when they do, they try to separate them without causing trouble. Since it's just his parents that know. The cowards of the family who are scared of angering the grandpa and have the impeccable shief that is their perfect son wouldn't want to lose that power.

They warn him and try to convince their 18 year old son to stop seeing this 'gorl'. He tells them he'll just up and leave and they can find a way not to get kicked out of the house with their drug addictions and bad personalities if they so much as try to continue talking about this.

I forgot to mention he's lost the weight (forcefully). He's pretty good looking.

Anyway, his parents cover for him out of fear and as a last resort they tell his his sassy and scary/authoritarian uncle. He tells Lorenzo off and the boy ignores him. Because that's what he does with his dysfunctional ass family. He ignores what he doesn't like, opting for that instead of constantly having to disrespect them.

Sassy uncle says he'll tell the girl's family. Lorenzo says he'll unplug his cousin and let him die without his knowledge if he does it. And this wouldn't be the first time Lorenzo killed one of his cousins so he believes him and shuts up.

Fast forward Lorenzo is 25 and Sophia is 23. They're still the best of friends and the city is now bigger and there's better places to go!

Sophia wasn't allowed to go to college, but she was allowed to go learn to cook and be good at ladylike things in her aunt's house near the college Lorenzo would go to.

The two hung out quite often.

Story logic means Lorenzo is now ever handsome and fit, anyway the look is doing its thing.

One late afternoon, he was walking Sophia home from shopping down the street, aka, going to see him after he got done with his celebration since he got his master's degree and would be leaving to go back home and help take care of business.

They were walking down one of those steep and narrow alleys, think italy or turkey aesthetic. She gifts him a pocket watch, vintage but something he loves. But it falls and rolls down the ground and stops somewhere far.

After a bit of banter, he sighs a 'you always make me pick up your shit' and she gets offended he called it 'shit' and they keep talking while he walks ahead to pick up the watch

During that, someone walks up to her from behind and tries to shoot Sophia.

Lorenzo, while getting back up from picking up the watch, sees what's going on, and in that split moment, he takes out a gun from under his cardigan and shoots the stranger dead.

Sophia screams, many people start looking out from the window. Dead man on the ground next to woman, and Lorenzo in front of them holding the gun.

Sophia, soon as the shock is over, goes up to him and hugs him, not even looking behind at what happened. She kind of instinctively had to.

Lorenzo is taken into custody.

And turns out word had just reached his grandpa, the head of family S, about Sophia. And he was the one to send the hitman.

He was also the one who gifted his grandson the gun he used to shoot the stranger. Not knowing this would be what it's used for.

Sophia goes home to her aunt, worried sick about Lorenzo, but there was nothing she could do, he told her to leave before the cops came.

Her aunt hugs her as soon as she enters the house.

"They're asking for your hand in marriage!" She tells Sophia. "Your mother just called. Family M's second son is coming to your house to ask for your hand from your father! Your mother was crying on the phone! You've won, honey! You've won the luck lottery after all!"

I didn't forget the diabetes plotline. You forgot it.

[buckyownsmylife]

Say it, just say it - Harry Styles smut

The one where you and Harry hate each other.

Warnings: hate sex, use of the words bitch and whore.

Word count: 3k<

A/N: this is for an anon request that wanted hate sex with Harry Styles. This was the best I could do - apparently the idea of having sex with someone you hate isn’t something my brain can process, so here’s some really rough sex that forces two idiots to deal with their feelings. Also this somehow goes from second person to third person p.o.v. but when I tried to fix it, I didn’t like it. So 🤷‍♀️

Harry hated her.

There was no easy way to say it, no cliche that could hide the absolute honest, factual emotion that he felt towards the woman with whom he was supposed to work for the next four months. 

It had been this way for as long as he could remember. The first time you were introduced to each other, during one of those extremely boring parties the record company insisted on throwing, he’d been praying for a distraction, any type of distraction, and when you appeared, looking just as bored and so much like an angel it hurt to look at you for too long, he thought that was it.

Maybe you were it. Maybe you were the person who would finally make this entire thing make sense, remind him why he even became famous in the first place. Harry had been growing more and more disappointed about his environment with each passing day and he needed something to make him stay, to remind him why he got into this industry in the first place. 

Your face, your gentle way of being, the way you had so suddenly risen to fame and not allowed yourself to get pushed into the wrong kinds of behavior were some of the reasons why he had grown fascinated with you. Now that he had the chance to finally meet his newest idol, maybe you’d be the one to give him a reason to keep going.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. For starters, you barely gave him the time of day, smiling politely after being introduced but remaining mostly silent even though he kept trying to make conversation with you. You looked uncomfortable, and it made him uncomfortable. And when you finally snapped and told him to, “Stop trying, it’s never going to happen,” and immediately left, he decided right then and there - he hated you.

He hated you. He hated the way you made him feel, back then and every time you met since - like he’d done something fundamentally wrong just by being the way he was. He hated that he believed even for a split second that you could help him, that you could take him away from this path of nonsense he’d started walking, only to be left lost and alone. He hated how sweet your perfume was, like an intoxicating cloud trying to make sure he’d never be able to forget you. And most of all, he hated that no matter how hard he tried, he still grew hard as a rock just at the sight of you.

It all became that much harder to deal with when your record label decided you’d be having a joint tour for the next year. Of course, you tried to fight it - Harry wouldn’t be too surprised if he learned you screamed and threw a fit, although he never ever heard of you behaving in such a way… He just had to believe that you did. It was pointless, anyway. The decision had been made with your fans’ best interest - and your managers deep pockets - in mind. And if there was one thing he had to admit, it was that you truly were a professional, even when it came to doing things you didn’t want to do.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel the urge to tighten his hand around your throat every time you opened your fucking mouth to shoot one of your derogatory comments at him.

“Oh, you’re not going out to party?” You asked, barely glancing up at him from your spot on the couch when he entered the tour bus in search of his phone. Truth was, his plan most definitely had been to go out and get drunk, mostly to try to get some sleep that wasn’t filled with dreams of a very naked you riding him until he was whimpering, but now that you said that, he wanted to go directly to bed if only to prove you wrong.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?” He asked, reaching out for a bottle of vodka and quickly deciding to forgo glasses and drink directly from it. “Are you so sexually frustrated up on that high horse of yours you can’t let other people get their rocks off in peace?”

That won your attention, your gaze slipping from the television to meet his in clear annoyance. God, why do you still look so fucking cute when you have your eyes narrowed like that? “Excuse me?”

Harry could have dropped it. He very well could. Roll his eyes and make a hasty escape, either to the bar or to bed, like he’d done thousand of times before. But he was tired, and he was moody, and frankly, he was a little sexually frustrated. It didn’t matter how many girls he found to occupy himself with after a show, the second he saw you again when he got back to the bus, his cock was back to a half-mast.

“You heard me.” He decided to throw caution to the wind. At the very least, he’d get to say some things that had been swirling around his head ever since you met, and maybe that would help ease some of the tension inside of him. “You’re such a fucking prude you can’t even go out to grab a drink with your bandmates. Or maybe you don’t go because you know no one would want you. That know-it-all attitude isn’t exactly attractive, but I think you know that already.”

When you darted out of the sofa, he already knew what was going to happen. But instead of doing anything to stop it, he found himself incredibly aroused at being slapped on the face by the woman before him.

“Oh, no, you won’t.” He captured your wrist before you could walk away from him, pulling you so forcefully back to where you stood that you ended up falling over his chest. And then, after a second of tense silence where you both just stood there, staring at each other, Harry finally found the courage - or the stupidity - to do what he’d been wanting for so long.

He leaned down and connected his lips to yours.

He didn’t know what to expect - frankly, it’s not like he was thinking straight. Even though he hadn’t really drank enough to be even near buzzed, you just had that effect on him - acting like an intensifier, making every color seem brighter and every sound louder, igniting his emotions so easily there really was no point in drinking anything whenever you were around.

But still, everything was possible, from him earning another slap - one he wouldn’t feel inclined to complain about, knowing he crossed a lot of boundaries by pulling you this close and possessing you lips like he’d had - to having you run away and never speak to him again. He was prepared for every outcome, except the one where you reciprocated his kiss with just as much hunger as he felt towards your body.

It was all teeth and tongue, he swiped his over the top of your mouth, you bit down on his bottom lip, making him whine and inadvertently rub his hardened cock on your stomach. But you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you only pressed your own body tighter against his, trapping him against the counter while he got lost in your taste and then��

Then you suddenly stepped away, breathing hard while looking at him with an accusatory expression, like this was all his fault, like he’d done something against your will. “Let me go, Harry,” you ordered, pulling the arm that he still clutched, while he stared back at you with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I’m not one of your common whores, I’m not gonna just sit back and be a good girl for you.”

His entire body still tingled from being that close to her, his mind taking too long to catch up to yet another turn of events. He just stared down at her smaller frame, still confused and surprised until yet again, it all turned into anger.

“Not one of my common whores, huh?” Harry could see just how lustful she actually was. He could see it in the way her eyes glinted, how she still hadn’t been able to breathe with her mouth closed since he lost the feeling of her against his lips, and how despite her forceful words, she still hadn’t made an actual effort to step away from him. 

She could pull away if she wanted to. He didn’t have enough control of his body to hold her that tight. And to make it even clearer, he just released her arm, fingers running down her body until her hands were falling limp by her side, surprise clear on her face.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

And when that was out in the open, he leaped on her, cradling her face between his hands - so big that they could encompass her entire head - and descended upon her again, mouths connecting and a delicious whimper escaping into the tense atmosphere between them, making her so surprised at herself it gave him just enough of the upper-hand that he managed to invert their positions and have *her pressed against the counter now.

He kissed her like he wanted to leave bruises on her lips, etch this memory in her mind just like he knew he’d never be able to forget about it. He’d be damned if he didn’t show her the best lay of her life. Maybe then she wouldn’t go back to being such a fucking bitch to him.

“Look at this, you say you’re not a whore, but where’s your underwear?” Her breath hitched when Harry’s hand made its way between her legs, finding her not only bare, but wet and ready for him. “My girlfriends all wore panties, like proper ladies do, pet. Where’s yours?”

The poor thing didn’t seem to be able to speak, mostly because she had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t say something that would stop him from toying with her clit, making her pussy clench in the most delicious of ways.

“God, you’re such a fucking temptation.” The way his warm breath hit her face, before he kissed her cheek while he kept playing with her, only added to the warmth she felt exponentially grow inside her body. “You turned me on all this entire time… If I’d known you just walked around without underwear, I would have bent you over a desk and had my way with you long ago.”

At last abandoning her clit, Harry pushed two of his long fingers inside of her, immediately replicating the pace with which he’d rubbed her pussy, no sign of slow and sweet anywhere in his mind.

“But you just have to walk around being a distraction… You know, the least you could do was to play nice. Or do you just like being a bitch all the fucking time?” He nipped on her jaw as she held onto the counter behind her, eyes raised to the ceiling, begging for God to grant her a release. Unfortunately, the only one who could give her that was Harry, and he was not feeling merciful.

“At least your pussy is sweet,” he mocked when he pulled his fingers away from her pussy, right when she was about to reach her high, and wrapped his pretty pink lips around them. “Something about you had to be.”

But she was too breathless, too lost to the desire to care about his taunts. All she could do was watch with bated breath as Harry hummed with the taste of her, eyes fluttering open to meet hers before he smirked.

“Come.” He took her to the couch, not stripping her of her clothes, but fully ripping them from her trembling body. He bent her over the soft cushions, standing back only for enough time to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down, but it was enough for her to find her voice again.

“Someone can come in…” She pointed out, looking behind her to find him staring at the apex of her thighs, completely ignoring her eyes. He looked almost hypnotized by what he saw. She could only flush in embarrassment as she imagined. She *knew how wet she was, she could feel it. It dripped from her, slowly running down her thighs and making her feel weaker than she already was.

“I don’t care.” Harry’s voice broke her from her thoughts, seeing him still attentively looking at her offering. “Let them watch, if they want. Let them see how good you take it.” And that was all the warning she got before he pushed himself inside of you, stretching her like no one else had ever done before.

He didn’t give her any time to adjust, either. Immediately settling on a bruising pace, he fucked her hard, like he had decided to eliminate every single ounce of frustration he’d ever had with her right then, with the help of her body.

“Get your hands off your cunt.” He slapped her hand away, the one she’d been using to rub her little clit in the urge to reach that high again, too scared he’d take it from her once more. “It’s mine now.”

And so his thumb settled right where she’d been, swiping her nub with surprising dexterity for someone who was keeping such a steady and forceful pace as he bruised her cervix. His sneer was the only thing that warned her of the persistence of his temper.

“Don’t like following orders unless it’s for me to touch your sweet pussy, huh?” She was too immersed in the pleasure, the sounds of their rough sex making her head swirl inside the empty bus. She’d never been fucked this hard in her life, and it sated some deep desire she’d never even acknowledged she had until that very moment.

“I fucking knew you weren’t some precious little innocent thing,” Harry continued, still keeping up his pace. “You’re a slut, you like being fucked like a whore, isn’t that so?” He pulled her so her back would be attached to his front, and she gasped with the change of position.

“Answer me.” All she could do was nod, but that was enough for her torturer, who suddenly seemed much too interested in her jaw, on the skin of her neck, whatever part he could reach with his soft, pillowy lips.

“Admit it,” he whispered, so differently from how he’d been speaking up until then that she almost missed it. “Admit that you’ve wanted this just as much as I did.” The implications of what he meant had her tightening around him, and his groan was as delicious to hear as the first notes of his solos.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t open her mouth to say it, because it was just too much. It would make this moment more real, more burdensome than she could bear. This was supposed to be only sex. She couldn’t deal with any emotions.

“N-no,” she tried to assert, but it sounded weak and unconvincing even to her own ears. And the whine that escaped her lips when Harry pulled out of her only served to solidify that image of her.

“Yes. Say it,” he urged, having turned her around before thrusting his member back inside of her all at once. “We both know it’s the truth. You just have to say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

His thumbs brushed on her cheekbones while his cock dragged in and out of her channel and the sensations were too much for her, especially when he was looking at her like *that. “I-I can’t,” she resisted. “I can’t get closer to you.”

Harry didn’t like that. No more soft caresses, his hands left her face to grip the cushions underneath her, so he could speed up his movements once more, pounding her against the couch.

“Oh, so you prefer to touch yourself while thinking of me, and leaving me frustrated, is that it?” The way he was talking to her had her tightening around him once more, and she knew it wouldn’t belong until she cummed all over him. “Too fucking bad, the only way I can stand to be close to you now is if I’m buried in this little cunt.”

Her vision blurred and she buried her nails in his biceps, her mouth falling open right when Harry ordered her to, “Cum, fucking cum.” Her pussy clenching around him brought him to his own orgasm, and he threw his head back as he too reached his high.

They relished in the aftermath for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence that had fallen between them for the first time. But when Y/N tried to push him away so she could clean herself up, Harry lifted his head to look her in the eye and said, in the most serious voice she had ever heard him use, “You’re not going to sleep without me. I wasn’t joking.”

And she was surprisingly okay with that.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Hi! So first of all I want to clarify that I'm not in any way saying jc isn't a homophobe, because I mean, it's pretty obvious. However back when I read the mxtx interview I read her answer as 'wwx acted all of a sudden very different with lwj, to the point where it was jarring for jc who had not seen him act that way before.' I do not think jc understood at all wwx's affections towards lwj, and this did not think it was disgusting because he saw it as flirting. (1/2)

I find it weird that people use it as a 'proof' that jc is homophobic when it's not straightforwardly telling us it's homophobia, and also since you know, the novel is right there and tells us far more clearly that jc is, in fact, a homophobe. (2/2)

So, here, I agree the interview isn't a stated full explanation in itself and not to be used as evidence alone.

I think that at the time it was not fully homophobia on his part when he had first noticed Wei Wuxian's attention for Lan Wangji in Cloud Recesses. Jiang Cheng had never understood Wei Wuxian's penchant for wanting to be around Lan Wangji and I think that his surprise of Wei Wuxian flirting with a man (He himself talks about how he never thought it odd with Wei Wuxian flirting with women all the time) Lan Wangji was always the strange outlier for flirting. It steadily devolves into more overt homophobia as they get older.

Cloud Recesses when they're 15,

Wei WuXian replied, “Yeah, I also thought that he should be praised for having the courage to come see me. He was probably told by his uncle to come check if I was kneeling properly.”

Jiang Cheng instinctively felt a foreboding sensation, “Were you kneeling properly?”

Wei WuXian, “I was kneeling properly. After he was some distance away, I found a stick and started to dig in the dirt. The pile beside your foot. There’s an ant hole there that I went through tons of trouble to find. When he turned his head, he saw that my shoulders were shaking, and he definitely thought that I was crying. He even came back to ask me. You really should have seen his expression as he saw the ant hole.”

“…” Jiang Cheng spoke, “You should get lost and go back to Yunmeng as soon as possible! I don’t think that he wants to see you ever again.”

The part that sticks out here is the fact that Jiang Cheng feels any sense of foreboding at all for a silly situation that Lan Wangji had walked away from seeing Wei Wuxian was actually okay. It's the first seed of him continuing the line of thought that "He hates you". He is already feeling strange about Wei Wuxian's flirting and chooses to sort of project this hate into Lan Wangji for Wei Wuxian.

Lotus Pier summer after Cloud Recesses lessons:

I just thought of someone.”

Jiang Cheng, “Who?”

Wei WuXian, “Lan Zhan.”

Jiang Cheng, “Why would you think of him for no reason? Reminiscing what it felt like to copy sect rules?”

Wei WuXian spat out a seed, “It’s fun to think of him. You don’t even know—he’s just too amusing. I told him, ‘Your sect’s food is disgusting. I’d rather eat stir-fried watermelon peel than eat your food. If you have time, come have fun with us at Lotus Pier…'”

Before he even finished, Jiang Cheng slapped his watermelon off, “Are you mad? Inviting him to Lotus Pier—are you trying to torture yourself?”

Wei WuXian, “Why are you so upset? My watermelon almost flew away! I was just being polite. Of course he wouldn’t come. Have you ever heard of him go anywhere by himself to have fun?”

Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

Wei WuXian, “I never knew you hated him so much?”

Jiang YanLi sat down between the two, “Who are you talking about? A friend you made in Gusu?”

Wei WuXian responded happily, “Yeah!”

Jiang Cheng, “What a shameless ‘friend’ you are. Go ask Lan WangJi and see if he wants you as one.”

Wei WuXian, “Fuck off. If he doesn’t want me, I’ll bother him to the point that he does.” He turned to Jiang YanLi, “Shijie, do you know Lan WangJi?”

Jiang YanLi, “I do. He’s that Lan-er-gongzi whom everyone describes as handsome and talented, isn’t he? Is he really that handsome?”

Wei WuXian, “He is!”

Jiang YanLi, “Compared to you?”

Wei WuXian thought about it for a moment, “Maybe just a bit more handsome than me.”

He formed a tiny bit of space between two fingers. Taking the plate away, Jiang YanLi smiled, “He must be truly very handsome, then. It’s a good thing you made a new friend. In the future, you two can visit each other in your free time.”

Hearing this, Jiang Cheng spat out his watermelon. Wei WuXian waved his hands, “Forget it, forget it. All that’s at his place is bad food and a whole lot of rules. I’m not going again.”

Jiang YanLi, “Then you can bring him here. This is a good opportunity. Why not invite your friend to come stay at Lotus Pier for sometime?”

Jiang Cheng, “Don’t listen to his nonsense, Jie. He’s super annoying in Gusu. Lan WangJi would never want to come home with him.”

Wei WuXian, “What do you mean!? He would.”

Jiang Cheng, “Wake up. Lan WangJi told you to get lost, didn’t you hear? You still remember that?”

Wei WuXian, “What do you know!? Even though he told me to get lost on the surface, I know for sure that he secretly wants to come play with me in Yunmeng—in fact, he would love to.”

Wei Wuxian is still in the belief that Lan Wangji does like him. Jiang Cheng of course isn't amused by Jiang Yanli's indulgence in Wei Wuxian's daydreams. Wei Wuxian continues to, well, essentially pine innocently about Lan Wangji, his fellow disciples even encourage it leading to... Jiang Cheng sulking even further over the fact that Wei Wuxian is in fact pining over another boy. He puts two and two together as Wei Wuxian is flirting with the girls on shore later on and he talks of the things he will do with Lan Wangji as he visits. He talked of training with Lan Wangji in the same way he invited the girls to watch him train.

Phoenix Mountain Hunt

Lan WangJi suddenly raised his hand, stopping a flower tossed over from behind him.

He looked back. Over at the side of the YunmengJiang Sect’s riding formation, which hadn’t departed yet, Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue impatiently, seated at the front. However, the person beside him sat on a horse with black, gleaming hair. His elbow was at the head of the horse as he looked to the side as though nothing happened, talking and laughing with two slender-bodied maidens.

Lan XiChen saw that Lan WangJi had drawn the reins and ceased to move forward, “WangJi, what happened?”

Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying.”

Wei WuXian finally turned around, face full of surprise, “What? HanGuang-Jun, did you call me? What’s up?”

Holding the flower, Lan WangJi seemed to be quite cold. His tone seemed cold as well, “Was it you?”

Wei WuXian immediately denied it, “No, it wasn’t.”

The maidens beside him spoke at once, “Don’t believe him. It was him!”

Wei WuXian, “How could you treat a good person like this? I’m getting angry!”

Giggling, the maidens pulled their reins and went to the formations of their own sects. Lan WangJi lowered the hand that he held the flower with and shook his head. Jiang Cheng spoke, “ZeWu-Jun, HanGuang-Jun, apologies. Don’t pay attention to him.”

Lan XiChen smiled, “That is fine. I will thank Young Master Wei’s kindness behind the flower in place of WangJi.”

When they slowly rode into the distance, carrying with them the clouds of petals and fragrance, Jiang Cheng glanced at the colourful sea of handkerchiefs waving on the watching towers before turning to Wei WuXian, “Why are you throwing out flowers along with the girls?”

Wei WuXian, “I think he looks nice. Can’t I throw a few as well?”

Jiang Cheng pointed his nose into the air, “How old are you? Who do you think you are, still playing tricks like that?”

Interestingly enough, this flower scene is similar to what had once occurred during the summer of Lotus Pier. This is after it had been established that Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji now dislikes him morally. Yet he still reaches out to tease and flirt with him, leading Jiang Cheng to continue asking why well into their early 20's is Wei Wuxian still doing this. It was excusable when they were younger but now this is inexcusable and troublesome for someone who is supposed to be his righthand acting on whims still and flirting with a man of reputation. Jiang Cheng actively had encouraged the rift between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji after the return from the Burial Mounds. He agreed very readily that Lan Wangji wanted to imprison Wei Wuxian instead of extending any help in regards to Wei Wuxian's volatile disposition that went on for years after this altercation, convincing himself and Wei Wuxian of Lan Wangji's supposed hate.

Wei WuXian was in such a state of distress that he couldn’t remember whether or not he called someone’s name at all. He only managed to pull himself together after Jiang Cheng commanded the dog to back away. After a moment of hesitation, he abruptly turned his head away. On the other side, Jiang Cheng left his seat. There was a whip attached beside his waist. With one hand on it, he bent down to look at Wei WuXian’s face. After a pause, he straightened up and asked, “Speaking of it, since when have you been so close to Lan WangJi?”

Wei WuXian immediately understood whose name he had unconsciously called out.

Jiang Cheng smiled menacingly, “It really is quite curious how far he went to protect you, back on Dafan Mountain.”

A moment later, he corrected himself, “No. You weren’t necessarily the one whom Lan WangJi was protecting. After all, the GusuLan Sect couldn’t have forgotten what you did with that loyal dog of yours. How could someone so celebrated for his righteousness tolerate the likes of you? Maybe he’s familiar with this body that you stole instead.”

His words were cruel and sinister. Every sentence seemed well-meaning on the surface, but was actually derogatory. Wei WuXian couldn’t bear hearing it any longer, “Watch your language.”

Thirteen years later his taunts have become more refined as he is well off into hating Lan Wangji himself now that Wei Wuxian had been dead. He taunts that Lan Wangji is more promiscuous than presented as well as using Wei Wuxian's old goodwill for Lan Wangji for him to go on the defense. Jiang Cheng however thinks using the fact these men are gay is only a tool, he does not believe they are as his disgust of Mo Xuanyu being gay does disgust him. His suspicions have turned into bigotry instead finally in the years that Wei Wuxian was gone.

When Jiang Cheng accused him, Wei WuXian couldn’t defend himself at all, but he just couldn’t bear it when those words were being directed at Lan WangJi.

Wei WuXian reprimanded, “Jiang Cheng, just listen to yourself. What are you saying? Is it appropriate? Don’t forget who you are. After all, you’re the leader of a sect. Insulting a renowned cultivator in front of Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu’s spirits—where is your discipline?”

His original intention was to remind Jiang Cheng to at least hold some respect for Lan WangJi. However, Jiang Cheng was always sensitive. From those words, he managed to make out the notion that he wasn’t fit to be a sect leader. Immediately, darkness crawled up his face, bearing an eerie similarity to how Madam Yu looked when she was angry. His voice was harsh, “Who is the one insulting my parents in front of their spirits?! Could you two please understand whose sect you’re in? I don’t care if you act so shamelessly outside, but don’t you dare fool around inside our ancestral hall, before my parents’ spirits! After all, they were the ones who brought you up—even I feel ashamed for you!”

Wei WuXian never expected such a huge blow to crash down on him. He was both shocked and furious, blurting, “Shut up!”

Jiang Cheng pointed outside, “Mess around outside however you want, whether under a tree or on a boat, hugging or otherwise! Get out of my sect, get away from anywhere my eyes can see!”

Hearing him mention ‘under a tree’, Wei WuXian felt his heart skip a beat—could Jiang Cheng have seen the moment where he crashed into Lan WangJi’s arms?

His guess was not wrong. Jiang Cheng did indeed go out to find Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi. He chased after them in the direction that the street vendors pointed at. A voice in his heart seemed to tell him which places Wei WuXian would definitely go. He caught up to them in just a while. Yet, he just so happened to see Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi enveloped in a tight embrace under a tree, unwilling to let go of each other even after so long.

Goosebumps immediately ran down Jiang Cheng’s body.

Although he’d made guesses at the relationship between Mo XuanYu and Lan WangJi before, they were only attacks trying to offend Wei WuXian, not that he really suspected anything. He’d never thought that Wei WuXian would have ambiguous ties with a man, because after all, when they grew up together, Wei WuXian had never expressed any such interest. He’d always loved good-looking girls with a passion. On the other hand, it was even more impossible for Lan WangJi. He was famous for his asceticism, seemingly interested in neither men nor women.

But hugging like that seemed intense no matter what. At least, they didn’t seem like normal friends or brothers. He immediately recalled that Wei WuXian had always stuck to Lan WangJi ever since he came back. Lan WangJi’s attitude towards him was also different from what it was before he was reborn. At once, he was almost certain that the two really were in that kind of relationship. He couldn’t turn around and leave, yet he didn’t want to say a single word to the two, so he continued to hide himself as he followed them. Every single look and movement that passed between them seemed different in his eyes. For a while, the shock, absurdity, and slight disgust that he felt combined to overpower his hatred. It was only after Wei WuXian brought Lan WangJi into the ancestral hall that the long-suppressed hatred was awakened again, devouring his courtesy and rationality.

Wei WuXian was holding something back, “Jiang WanYin, you… apologize right now.”

Jiang Cheng mocked, “Apologize? For what? For exposing your thing for each other?”

Wei WuXian raged, “HanGuang-Jun is only my friend—what do you think we are?! I warn you. Apologize right now—don’t make me beat you!”

Hearing this, Lan WangJi’s expression froze for an instant. Jiang Cheng laughed, “Well, then I’ve never seen “friends” like that before? You warn me? Warn me against what? If you two had the slightest trace of integrity left, you wouldn’t have come here and…”

Seeing the change in Lan WangJi’s expression, Wei WuXian thought he must have felt insulted by Jiang Cheng’s words. He was so angry that his entire body was shaking. He didn’t dare think about what Lan WangJi would think after being shamed like this.

Obviously in the penultimate scene Jiang Cheng himself is being "the unreliable narrator" that fans love to accuse Wei Wuxian of. He says he never expected this of the two, but all the years of his behavior shows that he had always gone out of his way to keep the two away from each other and had always been mildly homophobic when the two did express interest in the other however innocent it had been in their youth.

All of this is to say, when it comes to how MXTX worded that interview answer, I think it was meant as a careful nudge for those who had still tried to insist that Jiang Cheng didn't mean to be homophobic, actually wasn't homophobic and was just angry at any other actions of Wei Wuxian and lashing out about that etc, it was her telling people to simply pay attention to the underlying shadowing of Jiang Cheng and how he exasperated his own pre-existing biases that morphed into an uglier hate.

[creacherkeeper]

happy sleepover saturday!! who's your fav character in arthurian legend? what's your favorite movie that makes no goddamn sense?

oh this one is Targeted

okay so first my fave and then my fave obscure/underappreciated character

fave is of course my boy gawain. i want to put him in a jar and shake him up until he cries. like. my man is so interesting. all the people close to him agree that he's super noble and kind and goodhearted and just. but also he has a sense of humor!! and even more interesting than that is he's willing to throw himself under the bus for the betterment of others

in sir gawain and the green knight, when the green knight comes to challenge someone in a duel to the death, gawain makes a big show about how he's Clearly the most suited one there and how it would be silly to challenge anyone else and no one could really take on the green knight except for him. he makes himself look like a completely pompous asshole. but also that spares literally everyone else from having to rise to the challenge of facing a very terrifying and clearly magical foe. everyone gets off scott free by saying "ugh big headed gawain showing off again, lets all watch him get his ass kicked" while they can secretly be relieved none of them had to step in, or WORSE say no to the challenge and make king arthur and his court look weak. by making himself look like a dick (something everyone there knows he isnt) he lets everyone save face while also protecting them from almost certain death and he does it SO well that the green knight is none the wiser. like. big brain moves only from my boy gawain

in a COMPLETELY different tone he's such a fucking horse girl and in one of the stories (i cant remember which one. yvain maybe???) gringolet his horse gets stolen and the man just like lies on the ground crying about it. he loves his horse so much!!!! and its so funny!!!! he's so strong and brave and his horse gets stolen and its full toddler hours from noble knight gawain. the other knights are like my man you gotta pull yourself together and gawain is like *snot and tears* MY BEST FRIEND GRINGOLET

now my favorite obscure/underappreciated character from the arthurian canon is moriaen. i dont blame people for not knowing him because his story is very rare and hard to find but more people should!! he's the only knight of the round table who's canonically black and he's really fascinating

its very clear in the text that, while there's some stuff thats obviously MMMM,,, today, it was the author at the times attempt to be really progressive and accepting. moriaen has very dark skin and a lot of the characters in the story have never met a black man before and are originally very scared of him. however in his story moriaen comes to be known as the MOST christian and noble of all the knights of the round table (in a time where christian = good and moral) and the people who were originally afraid of him are so impressed by his good heartedness, morality, and strength, that they come to value and praise him. also his father, who is a white knight of the round table, actually ends up going back to [unspecified country in northern africa] to pursue justice for his mother's kingdom. like its very elementary social justice kind of stuff today but for the medieval period this was RADICAL and its really really cool to me

on the topic, for the movie question, everyone should watch king arthur legend of the sword (2017) because like. is it good. no. does the story make any sense. no. is it historically accurate or faithful to the canon. god not even a little. does it fuck severely for no goddamn reason and go so fucking hard at every opportunity? GOD. YES. its genuinely a piece of ART and i mean that in the most derogatory and highly affectionate way possible. it makes no goddamn sense but its SUCH a good time everyone should watch it

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Never Mess With a School Teacher

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Sheriff Din Djarin x Female Teacher Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: M 

Warnings: Violence, oh my god, the violence. Also swearing, derogatory language. Threat of violence towards kids, but no actual violence, all violence is actually centred on the adults. 

Summary: He curses himself for getting so complacent, soft, it shouldn’t be this hard to chase down a thief. The thief should never even have made it to the steps of the schoolhouse, let alone inside. Luckily for your kids, an angry school teacher is worse than a pissed off sheriff. 

Notes: Someone said they wanted angst...well, I have delivered angst and fluff, hurt and comfort in one piece. 

Archiveofourown

Generally speaking Din’s job as sheriff had been pretty quiet and tame. An easy job. Navarro did not get a lot of crime and generally speaking the only people in his cells were the few regulars at the saloon who always got a little bit too indulgent with their alcohol and then started fighting over whichever girl they’d both decided they wanted that night. He hadn’t dealt with a murder, rape or assault his whole time here. He hadn’t dealt with major crime, not even horse theft. His life had become relatively...domestic and safe, compared to his previous. He’d gone from hunting down some of the most dangerous criminals around to simply wrangling a couple of drunks on a night and the occasional robber who tried his hand at a petty crime. 

He liked to think he was a competent sheriff, that part of the reason for the quiet was that he was just that good, the truth was in a small mining town nothing much happened. So he’d never had to worry, not about Grogu or about you or about the little ones you taught or any member of town. You were as safe as you could be. Navarro was probably one of the safest places around, it made his job as sheriff a damn sight easier that’s for sure. 

“Osik! Kolar! Get over here!” Which is why he’s feeling a little more winded than he used to when he runs through the centre of town after a lousy thief waving a gun in one hand and a bag of stolen credits from the mayor’s office in the other. He can feel a stitch pulling in his side and his knees don’t feel like they used to. 

He hasn’t had to run like this in a couple months, not since moving into town and perhaps he should have been going on daily runs because he’s feeling his age all of sudden. It shouldn’t be this hard to catch up to the guy, he’s not even that fast and he runs like a donkey’s shebs, all arms flailing about and no sense of his own centre of gravity. If he could just reach him then he’d be easy to tackle to the ground. Din was at least twice his size and even with that damn cattleman revolver being waved about he’d be easy to take on. But, of course Din’s getting old and of course he’s been complacent, not been working himself as hard as he should have been. Of course he feels like he’s about to bust a lung just from running for 5 minutes. He feels older than his years all of a sudden and can’t understand how he used to chance criminals down all the time with success.

He pushes his legs even harder when he realises the direction the thief is going in, “Haar’chak!” He hasn’t sworn this much in months, but he recognises the path towards the school and it’s the middle of the day. School is in session and he wants to just grab the guy before he causes more trouble. He has images of you standing at the front of class, radiant and warm, turning to fear as the man storms in. The thought makes him try harder.

“Get you’re fucking no good ass back here! Boy, don’t make me shoot you!” He’s reaching for his gun at about the same time as the schoolhouse comes into view and Din can feel all the blood draining from his face, fear gripping his heart tighter than any lasso at the thought that you’re in there, the little ones are in there and this di’kut is about to go storming in with a goddamn gun.

“I said don’t make me shoot you!” He’s got the gun out now, his trusty pistol, not his preferred rifle, but he’d left that in the sheriff’s office in a rush after hearing yelling and a commotion he wasn’t used to. He’s never leaving it behind again he decides, this has been a wake-up call, he’s gotten lazy, complacent, too soft. This town has damn near domesticated him. He needs to keep himself in shape and his wits about him if he wants to be a decent sheriff. Maybe he’ll telegram Cara, get her to come back him up as deputy or Paz, whichever wants the quiet town life more. 

He hesitates because of his recent domestication, his increased softness of heart...because if he shoots he’ll put a bullet in your schoolhouse and he knows it could go straight through, could hit one of you inside. But, mostly because he knows how much you care about that damn schoolhouse and he can’t bring it in him to damage it knowing you’d be devastated. Paz would laugh at him if he saw him now, tell him he needed to pull his trousers up and get on with the job. He’s never been very good at that. He curses kicking a rock nearby as the thief runs straight through the schoolhouse door with you inside. 

He’s panicking, he can feel it well in his chest, clutching at his throat and he’s not sure what to do. If he storms in it’ll be a mess, little kids and you, all at risk, but if he stays outside he can’t do a damned thing. He can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling in there, probably panicking, the kids are probably scared, that’s soon confirmed by the terrified little screams he can hear. There’s a panic inside and it just swells his own until he feels like he’s choking. 

“Come out! Leave them the hell alone, boy! Do not test me!” They’re empty words because he can’t do a damned thing, but if that thief lays a hand on any of you he isn’t going to bring him in warm, he’ll be in a jail cell, cold, waiting for the coroner to come and collect him. That he’s certain of, a single hair out of place, a single bruise or mark and that man won’t be breathing for much longer. 

                                                   --------------------

“It’s a well known fact that we’re all acted upon by a force we call gravity! Now gravity-” The door to the school slams open with a supreme force that shocks you so hard that you jump from your place at the front of the class, chalk falling from your hand in a perfect demonstration of the force you’d been discussing. The children react in an instant, jumping from their feet then all clamour towards you like a stampede of panicked animals and it is all you can do in that moment to grab the yardstick you use in mathematics and occasionally in science and hide it behind you. 

He’s wild looking, the man who storms into your school. Bulging big eyes roaming over the lot of you with a snarl, almost foaming at the mouth with aggressive energy, gun clenched tightly in one hand. He’s red in the face, huffing and puffing from running from god knows where. You can hear Din outside, he’s cursing and blinding, you can hear the panic, you can taste your own on the back of your tongue like a sour candy, like cough candy, the ones your father used to love and you used to hate so desperately. 

“Now, sir, I-”

“Shut up!” It’s in this moment you realise that you cannot deescalate this situation, this man is like a wild dog, he is ready to bite at the slightest sound or provocation and the children are your main concern.

Panic gives way to anger, that bitter resolve, that feeling of indignation at this man’s brazen act. That he felt he could come into your domain, your space, that he could threaten you and your children. That he could point a gun in their direction. It’s the gun that angers you the most, it’s not pointed at you, like any sane person would do, it’s not pointed at the one adult in the room, but at Jerome who is shaking so hard you can hear his teeth clattering together. He’s barely a boy of fourteen, not a threat in the slightest. 

You wait, wait as he takes steps closer and closer, drown out the sound of Din’s panic outside, drown out the sounds of your own children, the adrenaline making you feel like your skin is buzzing, like you’ve touched an electric circuit, but there’s no electricity in the schoolhouse at all. You’re shaking, that’s just how much energy is buzzing within you, you’re shaking like a leaf on a windy November day and you can’t physically contain it, stop it. 

When he’s mere feet from you, you lift your chin defiant and angry, mouth opening in a tirade of angry words, as you rush forward in what you’re sure would be a stupid act if you weren’t so desperate for him to ignore the children and focus on you. 

“How dare you come into my school and threaten my children!” It’s almost a scream, you’re so angry, so scared, that you don’t even think when you pull the yardstick from behind your back and swing with both hands for the hand holding the gun. It connects and for a moment he fumbles, you’re sure the gun will fall from his hands, but he catches it at the last second.

His hand comes up, “You bitch!” and clocks you across the face with the butt of his gun. One hit, hard enough for your ears to start ringing. You can feel blood drip from your lip which stings as it splits itself open, your teeth clatter together and by some miracle you stay on your feet, swaying back and forth. The children have begun to cry behind you and you can hear the sounds of roaring anger from outside. Din’s voice, clamouring louder than you’ve ever heard it. 

“You lay a hand on her and you’ll wish you never came to this town!” It’s too late for that you think, he’s already laid that hand and if Din doesn’t get to him first you’re determined to deal your own blows. 

The yardstick is ripped from your palms and you’re sure for a moment that he’ll simply throw it away, out of reach but he doesn’t. Whatever anger he is feeling boils over and the slab of wood hits you in the stomach, the ribs, the back. A hit to the face has your nose bleeding, your jaw feels like it might be broken and your only thought is ‘stay up, stay standing’. Your only relief is that the attention is on you now and not the children. 

“Nar’sheb!” You spit it out, the pronunciation is awful, but the one insult that Din had taught you tumbles from your lips, hoping to keep his attention on you, hoping the provocation gives Din some time to think, to plan. Even, if you feel like he might actually kill you, like he’s capable of it. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

“I said shove it, you filthy nerfherder!” It’s enough of a push for him to grab you by the front of your blouse and pull you forward, one arm coming underneath your neck, hand gripping your jaw painfully tight, especially with how broken it already feels, no doubt his fingers are going to leave bruises, while the gun is pressed to your temple. 

The fear comes back in full force this time as you hear the children crying louder at seeing you being abused, seeing a gun to your head. But you know you have to be strong because they are your children and you have to protect them, that’s your job, it’s your duty. So you’re almost relieved when he spits at you.

“Let’s go see that sheriff of yours, huh? He seems mighty concerned for you.” It relieves you because you’re beginning to move inch by inch towards the door and you know the older kids will take the younger ones out the back door, usher them quietly out of the schoolhouse and to somewhere safe. You can breathe easy because even if you die today those children are going to be safe, you’ll have done your job. The most important one. Keeping them safe. 

He sees you first, you’re blinded by the light blinking at the midday sun, but, Din? He can see you clear and bright and he has never been so angry in all his life. Your lip is busted open, blood running down your chin, staining your white blouse, there are bruises over your jaw, your nose is leaking more red and he can see by the way you carry yourself that your ribs hurt. The thief’s dirty hands are on you, one clutching your jaw so tight that he can see the indentations his fingers make even from a distance away, the other holding that damn cattleman revolver to your head. It makes him want to beat the guy black and blue, forgoing guns, just give him his bare hands and he’ll ring the guy's neck. Just let him go absolutely feral on the man, let him tear him apart. Din clenches his hand tighter around his gun, the other tightening into a fist, he widens his stance. If it is to be a fight then that’s fine, so long as you’re not in the middle of it. 

He looks scared. That’s the first thing you think when you see Din. He looks scared and angry, his gun is pointed but you know he won’t trust himself to shoot it, his brow furrowed, wet eyes, and teeth biting into his lip hard enough to bleed. He looks raging and scared and wild. This is a side of Din you have never seen, you are so used to the calm, the quiet, gentle Din. But, this Din doesn’t scare you, it fuels your fire again, that this man would make Din feel like that, that he would make this kind man scared and angry. You can feel that rage welling up, shaking you physically. He thinks you’re scared, you can tell by the laugh and little comment ‘oh don’t be scared now’, that he whispers into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making you shy away in disgust. It crawls over your skin in a most unpleasant way. 

“Now, Sheriff, i’m going to make you an offer that I wouldn’t refuse, not if you want this pretty little thing to come out in one piece that is.” That name angers you even more, how dare he condescend you, how dare he call you that, it’s worse than being called a bitch or a cunt or any other number of derogatory names. 

You don’t even give him the chance to make his offer. You slam the pointed heel of your boot into his foot, hard as you can, before bringing an elbow back into his stomach and using what little you know about the centre of gravity to off balance him and shift him over your head and in front of you. The gun goes flying and your hands reach for the heavy metal pail you keep in front of the school house for collecting water, thanking God that you’d decided a cast iron one would do better than tin as you heft it over your head and across his face with a ringing smash and a crunch of bones. 

You stand over him, chest heaving, “You come near my children again and I will kill you, do you hear me! I’ll show you what a pretty little thing like me can do, sir!” For good measure your swing the pail down again, the man groans and far from being disgusted with your show of violence, you feel better than you have all week at knowing the threat has been dealt with.

You look up breathing heavy, blood dripping from your lip to see the children had made it outside, watching you with wide eyes, almost as wide as Din’s, but not quite. The gun is slack in his hand and he is watching you with a heat you’ve never seen before, it makes you swallow hard.

Din’s sure he’s in love. That’s what he thinks it feels like as he watches you, your chest heaving in anger, your features twisted from their usual soft and delicate countenance. This is love, this feeling like you’ve reached into his chest and grabbed his heart in your bare hand. You are the picture of a mother bear protecting her cubs and that part of him that is deeply Mandalorian cries out for you, cries out to grab you and hold you close. You are in that moment more Mandalorian than he is, mandokarla in every sense of the word. You have the spirit of a true mandalorian, the spirit of a mother, strong, brave, prepared to do what needs to be done. Undefeated. The man beneath your feet groans and it spurs him to action. 

Pulling handcuffs from the back of his belt, Din closes the gap between himself and the thief. He’s rough as he rolls the man onto his front, pulling his arms far behind his back and locking them together. He knows he’s rougher than he needs to be, but the man’s lucky. Lucky that he can’t bring himself to hurt him more with you stood there. 

“You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your head right now, osi’kovid. I should kill you for what you’ve done.” He means it too, he wants to just do it, but he knows it’s not right. Not when the man is incapacitated, unable to defend himself. Not when the little ones are watching on, many of their parents having made their way through town at the sound of the disturbance, clutching at the little ones with relief and shock. 

“Then why don’t you, big bad sheriff?” Din hauls him to his feet roughly, presses his mouth close to the thief’s ear not wanting the others to hear him.

“The only thing keeping you alive right now is the woman standing in front of you. If she wasn’t here I'd tear you limb from limb. You’re lucky she’s there.” He means it too. He won’t hurt him, not like this, because he knows you wouldn’t approve, because he knows no matter how angry you are you’d never be okay with him hurting an unarmed, handcuffed man. But, god if he isn’t close to snapping. All that panic has turned into anger, anger which he focuses on the man as he roughly drags him towards the cells. 

You think you weren’t supposed to hear it, the threat, but you did and it is both scary to see him like this and a mite attractive.  Your gentle sheriff is showing a harsher side than you’ve ever seen and it should shake you to your core, make you distance yourself, but it doesn’t. Did you not just show the exact same side of you? Did you not just consider beating the man to a pulp yourself? All because you loved your children, wanted them safe. You think this anger from Din is a reflection on how much he cares for you and the children, how scared he had been and it warms something inside of you. Your chest aches with a longing that you don’t understand as you watch him roughly walk the man away. 

“Are you alright, Miss!” It’s Mr Hewitt, concerned for your welfare, but you just wave him off and make your way to the children, hand clutching at your ribs. 

“I’m perfectly alright, Mr Hewitt, don’t you worry about me!” The children, for the most part are with their parents, all of whom have congregated after commotion drew their attention and word spread quickly through town. They’re crying into their mother’s skirts and their father’s trouser legs and it breaks your heart. They should never have had to witness or experience that, it should never have happened. 

“Children!” Their heads snap up instantly, ever attentive to your teacher's voice; they watch you with focused eyes even while they hiccup and sniffle. “I think we’ve earned the rest of the day off, don’t you? Go home, rest, play and I shall see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” 

Truth is you need to sit down. You can’t even begin to think about teaching right now. So sending them home seems your only option. 

Parents smile at you, wish you well, tell you to look after yourself as they escort their children home. The only little one left is Grogu who runs towards you with panicked eyes, and despite the pain you kneel on the ground in front of him. The little one wraps his arms tight around your neck before pulling back, little hands patting over your cheeks and hair, as if imitating an adult checking your injuries. It brings tears to your eye because in that moment you’re reminded of what could have happened, what could have been lost. It’s not fear for your own life that has tears falling, but fear for him, for all the little ones and their youthful innocence. 

“Cabur...cabur” It’s said to you, little hands framing your face, big brown eyes serious as he looks up at you. It isn’t a word you know, mando’a you are sure, and it’s not a word you’ve ever heard leave his lips before. A quiet child he had only recently begun to start talking and often in one or two words only. 

That’s how Din finds the two of you. You’re kneeling in the dirt, skirt stained probably beyond repair, blouse bloody, face bruised and cut. Grogu is in your lap, your arms wrapped around his little chubby body, his hands cupping your face as he says it over and over again. ‘Cabur’. Guardian. Protector. It warms him from the inside out, that his ad, his son sees you as such, that his son cares about you so much and that you care about him just the same. He has no doubt that you were prepared to die for those children and it scares him and warms him in equal measure. 

You hear his footfalls, dirt and gravel crunching under well worn boots, spurs clinking lightly as he comes to crouch next to you. Warm fingers reach out to gently graze your jaw, taking in the dark mottled bruising and deep swelling.

“What does it mean?” Wide eyes turn on him and he can’t help but smile softly at you, moustache twisting upwards at your curious nature, always so eager to learn, always wanting to engage more with the world around you. 

“Protector, guardian, cabur’ika.” You wince slightly when he presses around your nose, checking to feel if it is broken. It’s not, but it will swell and bruise along with most of your face. The blood has stood spilling from it and that reassures him that it isn't too serious. It still hurts to see you like this, to see you hurt in any way. 

“Ika?”

“Little.” He can already see your brows furrowing, lips setting into an offended scowl as you glare up at him. At the diminutive suffix, not fully understanding the nuances of mando’a yet.

“Little!”

He laughs at your offence, not because it’s funny because it does not mean what you think it means, “It’s a...a familiar term. It’s not because you’re little.” He hopes he makes sense. He doesn't call you a little protector to make fun of you or tease you, but because it shows familiarity, closeness. You are becoming part of his clan without realising it and the familiarity feels good to show. Just as when he calls Grogu, Gro’ika. 

“Oh.” The annoyance metals from your features as quickly as it came and he continues his prodding of your skin, carefully assessing your injuries. Your jaw isn’t broken, he tells you, but it is badly bruised and he tells you to talk less in class, although he gives you a look that says he understands that is unlikely to happen. A gentle finger pulls your lower lip from between your teeth, you hiss, but he’s gentle as can be when looking at the split lip. Badly split and still bleeding red over your chin and blouse. 

Din rises to his feet, offering you a hand, “Let’s get you clean up, cabur’ika”. He helps you stand, Grogu letting go and sliding from your lap to instead hold your skirt hem as the three of you walk. 

Din wraps a strong arm around your waist to help you walk, your pace is slow, careful and it takes longer than it really should to get across town to your small house. It’s not much, just 2 rooms; the main living area with your kitchen, wash basin, tub and a bedroom separated from the rest. But it is home. Cosy, he thinks, like you. It screams home, lived in, a place to live, not just rest your head. 

He eases you onto your settee, propping up pillows behind your back as he urges you to lay down. He even plumps a few in his hands like a mother hen, clucking around you as he unlaces your boots and gently pulls them off to make you more comfortable, grabbing a throw and tucking it around you. He’s filling a washbowl with water from your tap, the one luxury you have, being a plumbed-in kitchen sink. 

“Din...you don’t have to do this.” He should be dealing with paperwork, probably writing a telegraph for someone from a local prison to come and collect the man currently in the jailhouse. He shouldn’t be here with you, he has better things to do. 

“Yes. I do. Someone needs to look after you, cabur’ika.” You watch him grab salt from the side mixing it in with the water, just enough to help keep your wounds clean. Watch him decide which cloth on your countertop is the best to use. He feels the fabrics, which is too abrasive, which is softest, gentlest, before deciding on one and dropping it into the washbowl. 

Grogu is sat by your fireplace watching as his buir shifts you slightly so he can sit on the edge of the settee, washbowl placed on the ground. His fingers are gentle as they rest underneath your chin and urge you to look up at him, calloused but soft on your skin, careful of any pressure that might hurt you. 

The salt water stings, but the cloth is soft and he hushes you quietly at every hiss or groan of discomfort you make. Carefully cleaning your wounds, wiping the dirt, sweat and blood from your skin. 

“It’s okay, Cyar’ika. I’m sorry….i’m sorry.” It’s more than just a sorry for the temporary pain of cleaning your wounds, it’s more than just sorry that I am causing your wounds to sting. There is a deep pain in his voice that strikes you to your core and you shift, hands wrapping around his wrist as you sit yourself up despite the pain in your ribs. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Din. Listen to me,” you tug on the wrist, pull it towards you and hold him to your chest, urge him to look you in the eye. You can feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”

“You wouldn’t be like this if I was better at my job...I got complacent, lazy, I should have been able to catch him before he even got near the schoolhouse! You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position, you and the little ones…” It’s the break in his voice, the tears welling in deep brown eyes that has you wrapping your arms around his head and pulling him to rest his cheek on your chest. Rubbing circles in the back of his neck, twisting dark curls between your fingers. 

“You did everything you could. You are not at fault and I will not have you blame yourself for something you had no control over. You are a good sheriff, Din. You are so good. Please don’t blame yourself for this, darling.” You scratch careful circles into his scalp with your nails, rub soothing lines over his neck and under his jaw, whisper gentle reminders that he is the best thing to happen to this town. That he provided you with a school. That he has made this town safe. That he is not at fault for this. But, you know, deep inside you that he will carry this moment with him, that he will not forget what happened and what could have happened. This guilt will weigh heavily on him, and will follow him.

“You could have been killed. The little ones could have been hurt.” He has always been a man of emotions, quiet emotions, but emotions nonetheless. You’d known from the start that he had a protective streak, that that extended especially towards children. That the mandalorian in him, his upbringing, urged him to keep them safe as much as your own duties did.

“But they weren’t. Keeping them safe is my job, Din. Don’t add it to your worries.” But, they weren’t his responsibility. When they were in your schoolhouse they were yours. The last thing you wanted was him to take that responsibility onto his shoulders when he already had so much, that guilt. It was your responsibility to protect them and while scared and shocked, none of them had a hair out of place or a scratch on them. They were okay. 

“You could have died, cabur’ika. You could have died.” 

“I know. I know,” It hits you. Like being trampled under horse hooves and the wheels of a carriage, like the yardstick to your ribs, full force and winding as you finally understand. You could have died. You could have died. 

It is your turn to cry as your breathing becomes uneven and your mind tries to make sense of the fact you nearly died today, just doing your job, just in your schoolhouse. That there is so much you have not achieved, so little you’ve seen or done and you could have lost the chance to ever do. “Din…” You’re clutching at him, fingers digging in his back as he pulls you tighter to him. 

There is a moment where he worries that you cannot breathe, that the force of your tears will choke you in his arms and so he holds you tighter, barricades you in his arms. Walls shielding you from the world. He brings a hand to the base of your neck cupping it to tilt your head up as he presses his forehead to your own. A comforting gesture, a keldabe kiss, he wants you to feel safe again. Wants to impress upon you your importance in his life even if he is not ready to say it yet.

He can feel your breath evening out with the gesture, your lungs relaxing as his presence comforts you. It pleases him to know he can calm you. He is the only thing present in that moment, not what happened, not the wild eyes of your assailant, not the fear, not the kids, not the room around you. Just him. His warm forehead pressed into yours, gentle, but firm enough to ground you. Large hand cupping the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped entirely around you to keep you close. 

It is a little movement behind your back and two small arms wrapping around your back, unable to truly wrap around you fully that bring you back into the present. 

It’s a little voice saying ‘Cabur’ into the fabric of your blouse, little hands gripping at you, trying to soothe you that makes your heart ache in an entirely different way. You pull back from Din, enough so that you can reach around you and pull Grogu into your lap, between the two of you, shielded by you both. It should scare you, how it feels like you have your entire world on your settee, how it feels like family. It should scare you what you would do for Din, for Grogu. What you would do to keep them safe, happy, healthy. Instead it warms you, to know that you’ve found somewhere to belong that isn’t just a schoolhouse and a classroom. 

“It’s okay, Ad’ika. I’m okay. I promise.” You run a hand through his dark curls, boop him on the nose to make him smile and feel a true smile creeping on your face even if it hurts. You’re not lying either. You’re okay. You will be okay. With this little child who cares for you deeply, with his father who is always there to look after you, you know you are okay and will be okay. 

“Ori'haat,” Din says to you, lifting your eyes back to him and the soft little smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “I swear. You said you wanted to learn more.”

“Or-e-haht?” You are back to your little game. The one where he tells you a new word and you try to pronounce it, but the unfamiliar words twist wrong in your mouth, coming out butchered to his amusement. He enjoys it, you know he does. It is easy to see because his eyes always twinkle with humour and his face softens, some of the harsh lines fading away. 

“Oh-ree-haht.”

“Oh-e-haht?” You always concentrate hard and it is this fact that makes your mispronunciations cute, copikla, rather than frustrating. He does not mind you making mistakes because you try earnestly to correct them and always practice the words till you have it right. He enjoys teaching you because he enjoys hearing his language from another person, enjoys the familiarity, the homeliness of it. 

“Oh-ree-haht!” This time it’s Grogu who announciates it, loud and clear with a little grin on his sweet little face as he looks between you and his buir as if waiting for praise. 

“Very good, Gro’ika,” Din ruffles the boy’s curls before turning his eyes back to you. The boy preens under the praise, little grin growing in size as he sits between the two you. How he always manages to get it right on the first try you don’t know, you’re a little envious of the boy's knack for seemingly everything. He is a quick learner in school and out of it. 

“Oh-ree-haht?”

“Jate, good.” You smile proud of your efforts and shift a little in your seat, ribs pulling and causing you to let out a pained breath. It's going to be sometime you think before you are fully back to how you were, without pain or bruises. You have yet to look in a mirror but are sure that you look terrible.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You extend the invitation, knowing you don’t want either of them to go just yet, even though Din probably has things he needs to do and it is selfish to ask him to stay when he has his duties to get on with. 

“You’re not making dinner, cyar’ika. I’ll make it.” He untangles himself from you, grabbing the washbowl to empty in your garden. The view of you with his son cuddled up to you makes his heart warm, even with the mottled bruising and cuts across your features. 

“Din…”

“I will not argue about this with you, i’m taking care of you and you will rest, cabur’ika.” His tone brooks no argument, demanding for the first time, truly, that you listen and do not fight him on this. You should be resting, not standing cooking dinner. You are in too much pain and he would sooner tie you to your bed then let you hurt yourself in an effort to be the hostess. 

With a heavy sigh, you conceded defeat. “Okay, but I’m not happy about it, Din Djarin.”

“I know.” He says with a smile.

                                                  --------------------

Mando’a Translations:

Nar'sheb - contemptuous comment, like saying shove it.

K'olar! - get over here!

Cabur - guardian, protector 

Cabur’ika - lit. little guardian/protector, but the ika shows familiarity, making this more of a pet name, friendly term. 

Haar’chak - damn it

Shebs - butt, ass.

Di’kut - idiot.

Mandokarla - having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue

Osi’kovid - shithead

Ori'haat - I swear

Cyar’ika - sweetheart, darling

Jate - good

Copikla - charming, cute, typically not used for women, but for animals and children. But honestly, I think the reader wouldn’t be offended like a typical mandalorian might by being called copikla. 

Ad’ika - Little one.

[revengerevisited]

So I’ve been kinda dancing around my original story idea for a little while, and I got this idea in my head of ‘what if I release chapter 1 and then get feedback without telling anyone what the story is about first so it’s more of a surprise?’ But honestly? I’m realizing since I already released a preview-of-a-preview for chapter 1, and it might be a little while until I finish chapter 1, plus I honestly kinda feel like I’d rather work on sketches of my character designs than write at the moment, I might as well go ahead and tell you guys. X’3

So! I watched a couple anime recently both centered around the premise of... monster girls! These being Monster Musume and Monster Girl Doctor, but then I noticed there’s also Interviews with Monster Girls, A Centaur’s Life, and the infamous Interspecies Reviewers, and I asked myself... Monster girls are pretty popular right now, yeah? But where’s all the monster boys?! And that’s how I got the idea! I re-watched some of my favorite anime based on Otome Games, Kamigami no Asobi and Uta no Prince Sama for inspiration as well, and a few ones I hadn’t seen before like Dance with Devils and Magic-kyun Renaissance for inspiration as well.

So now I’ve got my premise that I shared earlier: This is the story of Millie, a young woman down on her luck who happens to live in a world where monsters aren’t just real, but commonplace. She started working as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school whose students are a group of very attractive monster boys. The twist is that these aren’t just any monster boys; they belong to various rare and exotic species with deadly reputations...

Note that character and place names are technically place-holders for now and may change if I come up with better ones. Now, I don’t wanna spoil anything story-wise, but I think I can introduce my setting and some of the characters that you’re gonna meet. The story is set in a modern setting, though it’s vague if it’s actually Earth or just some generic world similar to it, as I try to avoid referencing real-world places or events. This is a world where humans and monsters live together after a Great Interspecies War happened in the past, but tensions have mostly relaxed by the time the story takes place. The war could be thought of as the equivalent of our own World War One, one in which there was a truce decided after many years of stalemate fighting.

The city everything takes place in is tentatively named Dullahan, and was built directly after the war to commemorate peace between human and monster kind. It’s considered an artistic cultural center, and it’s got a lot of interesting entertainment places to go to, arcades, theaters, aquariums, etc, that the characters can have a lot of different shenanigans in. The other main setting is the Beaufort Academy of the Arts, which was actually a mansion that was converted into a small private school. This is where all the characters live, and our main character Millie works as a maid there.

Before I go into the characters, I should start with the various monster species. There are 12 species, divided into 2 groups: common monsters and exotic monsters. The common monsters are centaurs, harpies, lamias (snake people), kobolds (dog people), ogres, and merrows (mermaids). These species are all pretty standard, and will be mostly background characters and npcs. The main characters, and love interests for Millie, will be of the exotic variety: arachnes (spider people), sirens (deep-sea mermaids), mandrakes (plant people), dragons, manticores (with a liontaur body-type), and scyllas (octopus people).

So what differentiates a common monster from an exotic one? Well, while the Interspecies War was between humans and monsters in general, some monsters were already at least partially integrated into human society, and the rest followed soon after the war ended. These monsters were almost as common as humans, and either herbivorous or omnivorous, with the exception of the carnivorous lamias who prefer to eat eggs over anything else. On the other hand, the so-called ‘exotic’ species were not only much more rare, but they had a very different food preference... one which earned them the now derogatory nickname... man-eaters.

Naturally, most ‘man-eaters’ weren’t exactly welcomed into human --nor common monster-- society with open arms, not that most of them wanted to. For the most part, species as powerful and dangerous as them didn’t want to play nice with those they had once --and in some cases still do-- regard as prey, and so hid away into the furthest reaches of the world. Which of course makes them perfect material for all our leading men and Millie’s various love-interests!! Oh yes, while all of these monster boys are perfectly civilized --well, for the most part-- they still belong to species that many both human and monster alike continue to fear to this day. While they aren’t exactly fish out of water (well, except for the siren) there’s still plenty of awkward misunderstandings and interesting scenarios that can be played out.

So! Let’s have a quick run-down of the characters, keep in mind that none of these names are final and could change later on. First there’s Millie, a hardworking young woman who’s had a recent streak of bad luck. Through a misunderstanding she gets hired as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school. She’s very sweet and tries her best to help others, but she’s not as innocent as she appears; she’ll understand your innuendos just fine, even if she doesn’t really say any herself! Next is Richard and Lara Beaufort, a husband and wife who run the school. Richard is rather laid-back, yet he’s also a master of all kinds of art, painting, sculpture, photography, dancing, singing, you name it! Lara is his arachne wife, a rather boisterous woman who owns a high-class fashion company. The secret to her clothing’s success?? Arachne silk, of course! The school was her idea, a way to help better integrate exotic species into society. Will her mission succeed? Only time can tell.

Richard and Lara have a son named Simon, our first love interest and a human-arachne hybrid who takes almost entirely after his mother in the looks-department (hybrids tend to look like one species or the other, rather than a mix of both). He’s a bit withdrawn due to dealing with bullying as a kid; most people --human and monster alike-- are afraid of his spider-like appearance, so he doesn’t get out much-- to the point his parents worry about him being a shut-in for life! He’s also a gamer boy, and has a secret soft side for gothic poetry, although he doesn’t want to join his parents’ art classes. He actually disapproves of his mother’s exotic species integration plan, as from what he’s experienced he feels it’s a waste of time.

Simon’s best friend and Millie’s second love interest is Louis, a mandrake who lives in the woods behind the manor. Louis is extremely shy and more than a bit lonely, even more so than Simon, and he doesn’t speak very often out of fear that the sound of his voice will hurt others around him. Mandrake screams can induce insanity or even kill those that hear them, hence his fear. Being part plant, Louis has mild shape-shifting abilities and is able to transform between child and young adult forms at will, although he’s actually the oldest of the group. He also isn’t a student at the art school, although he has an interest in floristry.

Now for our actual students! Forrest is a manticore, which in this world means he has a body similar to that of a centaur, but with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, and a scorpion-like tail tipped with a deadly venomous stinger. Despite his species’s name literally meaning ‘man-eater’, Forrest is extremely friendly and cheerful, and is very sporty too. His passion is photography, and he also loves eating food-- any sort of meat dish is fine by him! He’s also a fan of fantasy tabletop roleplaying games, and will often make references comparing them to everyday life; he always plays the knight who saves the princess!

Anthony is a childhood ‘friend’ of Forrest’s, though he’s loathe to admit it. Highly intelligent and highly snobbish, Anthony fancies himself an intellectual-- and he’s not exactly wrong. Being a dragon, he likes to hoard things-- in his case, knowledge. Anthony loves to read, and is most often found in the library. His skill is in drawing and painting, and all his paintings’ invariably morose subject matter worry Millie. Still, this haughty dragon could definitely learn to loosen up a little, and be a little more kind; perhaps his stay at the academy --and his interactions with Millie-- will open his mind to appreciating the feelings of others. He does, at the very least, greatly respect Master Beaufort as a master of the arts.

The other two students are denizens of the sea, and have been friends for a very long time. Emil is a scylla, and like all scyllas he’s a little eccentric, and just can’t seem to keep his tentacles to himself! While Forrest is obsessed with eating, Emil’s true calling is cooking, and he loves making all kinds of dishes, especially anything seafood and/or foreign. Emil also is highly appreciative of women’s fashion, and absolutely adores everything to come from Madam Beaufort’s clothing brand-- so much so that he actually wears them himself! His pretty-boy looks and penchant for wearing women’s clothing actually has Millie mistake him for a girl at first, though he’s very much unafraid to show her his romantic side, or at least what he interprets as romantic... 

Keeping Emil’s pervy antics in check is our sixth and final monster boy, Oswald! As a siren, Oswald spent most of his life in the sea, and still has a lot to learn about humanity. He’s a pretty cool guy but gets a bit embarrassed about his species’s troublesome past as the cause of many shipwrecks at sea, and would prefer to not discuss it. His passion is rock music, and his main instrument is the guitar. He also loves to sing, but refrains from doing so due to the hypnotic effect it has on other species. His lack of legs, tentacles, or a snake-like tail means that like other merrows and sirens he requires a wheelchair to move around on land, and often feels frustrated that he can’t show off how adept he is at traversing water. He’s also easy to embarrass and obsessed with not allowing anything to ‘ruin’ his manly image, including allowing Millie (a girl!) to help carry him around.

So there you have it, all my monster boys! I left out a few things, as those would be major spoilers, but those are my ideas for the characters for now! I’ll try to draw and post some sketches of their designs later. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, but this won’t be the last time I talk about monster boys. Any questions or comments would be very much appreciated! Nsfw questions are allowed (all the boys wear pants for a reason, after all), though I’m currently not sure if this series will be 16+ or 18+, if you catch my meaning. Lemme know how interested you are in this story, or if you’re not interested please let me know that too! 

[stonecoldsilly]

Domestic Bliss

Chapter One - The Bonds Of Matrimony

(( TW: lots of swearing, lots of derogatory but joking uses of the word 'fat' ))

Geralt is sitting at the bar about three bottles down when Jaskier walks in behind him, and as soon as he smells that familiar lemon-polish and honeysuckle scent, he looks about wildly and genuinely considers jumping the bar to escape. He really does just want to drink alone and be miserable for a bit, but Jaskier will insist on cheering him up, and what’s worse is that it will probably work too.

Jaskier spots him and makes his way over, but he doesn’t look his usual bouncy self.

‘One more for me and my pal here,’ he says to the innkeeper, and pats his shoulder in greeting before sinking down onto the stool next to him.

‘Fuck off Jaskier.’ Geralt says, and Jaskier just stares him down.

The innkeeper returns with a fresh bottle, and Jaskier says waspishly ‘Actually, just my drink, if you don’t mind, see, I thought this was my good friend Geralt, but I’ve mistaken him for whoever the fuck this miserable twat is. I’d cut him off if I were you, those Witchers get a bit bitey when they’ve had a few.’

The innkeeper looks between them, nervously.

Geralt sighs. ‘Fuck off, please?’

‘What crawled up your arse and died? I only left last week.’

Geralt looks into the bottom of his empty glass and contemplates his place in the universe solemnly. Jaskier relents eventually and beckons the innkeeper back for a refill. When the innkeeper fucks off again, Geralt downs his glass, and Jaskier leans closer.

‘Come on Geralt, talk to me.’

‘I went to see Yen for a few days, but she kicked me out this morning. Said she was done with me.’

‘Oh, fuck buddy, that’s rough.’ He snags the bottle and refills their glasses. They look at the drinks. They drink the drinks.

After a suspiciously long silence Geralt looks at Jaskier, who is slumped on his stool, not even attempting to catch the gaze of any of the pretty girls eyeing him.

‘What about you?’ He tries.

‘The Countess said about the same thing to me, what, about half an hour ago?’

‘Fuck.’ Says Geralt, as sympathetically as he can manage.

They look at the drinks. They drink the drinks.

Geralt is sunk deep into appreciating the little corner of sullen silence they are radiating when Jaskier slams his palms on the bar and hisses ‘Fuck this.’

‘Jaskier-‘ Geralt tries, valiantly, to cut him off before he reaches full steam.

‘No seriously, fuck this! We are two of the most attractive men on this thrice-accursed Continent, those fucking bitches…we didn’t need them anyway! I mean look at you, you’re decent enough when you’ve had a bath, you’re great in the sack, you’ve got all your own teeth, what’s not to like?’

‘Thanks.’ Says Geralt, drily.

‘Throw Roach in to sweeten the deal and I’d marry you in a heartbeat, I don’t know what’s wrong with that witch.’

‘We always end up fighting.’ Geralt says, glumly.

‘Yes, and we always end up fighting as well, but I wouldn’t be stupid enough to kick you out of bed.’

Horrifyingly, his eyes feel a little damp at the reassurance.

‘Thanks Jaskier, you’re a good friend.’ He manages. ‘You’re pretty great too, as well.’

‘I’m the best fucking bard Oxenfurt has ever seen!’

‘Too right,’ says Geralt, warming to the subject. ‘And you have your teeth as well.’

‘Don’t have a horse though.’ Jaskier looks rather dejected at the thought, and Geralt slaps his own palms on the bar.

‘Hey, you’ve got your lute, haven’t you?’

‘Marissa said she’d rather listen to a badger being waxed than any more of my songs.’

Geralt is struck with a deep and intense surge of fellow-feeling for the Countess but hides his laughter in his glass before Jaskier catches it. The bard swings his leg morosely, kicking at Geralt’s already scuffed boots under the bar.

He offers up his own lover’s parting words. ‘Yen said she’d portal me straight into the sea if I showed up again.’

‘Gods, what a world.’ Jaskier looks even more upset at this, and horrifyingly, tears start brimming in his eyes. ‘It’s just not fair Geralt, you poor sod, I really thought you and Yen would work out.’

‘Hey, Jaskier…er…don’t cry.’ He pats his shoulder but that only makes things worse.

‘You both liked black so much!’ Jaskier wails, downright weeping now.

He’s seen Jaskier on the outs with his Countess before, and it usually manifests in the poet vacillating wildly between outright misery and righteous fury. Come to think of it, Jaskier’s seen him through a few of him and Yen’s more turbulent patches as well, but they’ve never managed to sync up before.

‘Hang on a minute. They don’t know each other, do they?’

‘What, Yennefer and Marissa? I dread to think. They both like to stick their noses everywhere they can, that’s for sure.’

Geralt lets that rather terrifying thought slide, and flags down the innkeeper again, rummaging for Jaskier’s coin purse at his hip. Jaskier lets him, well used to sharing everything they own save their shoes, if only because Jaskier has remarkably dainty feet.

Jaskier perks up when the drinks arrive, and Geralt lets him, reasoning that if at least one of them is miserable at a time then the evening won’t be too bad. He sighs, but Jaskier is relentless.

‘You know what we should do?’

‘What?’

‘We should go dancing.’

‘What.’ He says flatly.

‘Dancing! You and me, painting the town red. C’mon, like the good old days.’

‘When have we ever danced?’

‘Exactly. You never take me dancing. I love dancing. I used…I used to dance with Marissa.’

Tears threaten to spill again, and Geralt hastily agrees before Jaskier starts bawling properly.

He downs his drink, and completely fails to notice Jaskier’s grin as they leave.

Three taverns, four inns, and what appears to be a secret speak-easy later, Geralt is treading beyond pissed and tipping straight into the drunkest he’s ever been. Jaskier dangles off his arm, very thoroughly danced with, covered in remnants of makeup and looking flushed and debauched. Jaskier passes the pipe back to the kind prostitute he found, and they are commiserating about lost love and smoking their way through what looks like an entire bag of pipeweed while Geralt watches the room spin and hiccups into his enormous cocktail of spirits.

‘And then, I said, of course I’d marry him, the daft sod.’ He tunes back in to hear Jaskier yelling in his new friend’s ear while she nods fervently, although how an ordinary human can hear anything over the thumping music and shouting going on, he has no idea.

‘Why don’t you?’ She screams back, and Jaskier grins wickedly and kisses her hands fervently.

‘Good idea!’ He bellows back, and turns back to Geralt.

‘Geralt!’

‘I can hear you, you don’t need to shout!’

‘Gerallllllt.’ Jaskier sways towards him. ‘Listen, listen, listen, yeah? Fuck. Those. Bitches. We don’t need them, not even…not even a little tiny bit. Me and you, the lads, yeah? Fuck them, right? We should get married!’

Enough alcohol has reached his brain that the idea sounds absolutely hilarious.

They stagger back through the cobbled streets to the inn, hours later, arms round each other’s shoulders and making very little progress.

‘I’ve still got a pair of her knickers.’

‘You sad cunt.’ Says Geralt.

‘All I’ve got left in the world. Pair of her knickers. Not even good ones.’

‘Stop fucking whining. D-don’t need her anyway, you’ve got me. And Roach.’

‘Because we’re married!’ Jaskier shouts, and then turns on him. That familiar gleam lights up in Jaskier’s eyes.

‘Geralt, I’ll give you ten crowns. Right here. Right now.’

‘Go on.’

‘If you put them up there.’ And he points to the flagpole next to them, proudly displaying the flag of the Free City of Novigrad.

‘Fuck off.’

‘Nah go on. Ten crowns. Get yourself a new pair of...fucking...massive shoes. Or can the big old Witcher not make it to the top?’

‘Go on then.’

Jaskier presents the Countess’s stolen knickers ceremonially, and Geralt bats his hands away when he tries stuffing them in his mouth.

‘Well you’ll need your hands won’t you, you daft cunt?’

‘They’d better be fucking clean.’

‘Not at liberty to say, mate.’

Geralt lists to the side and stares up at the flagpole blearily. Jaskier takes advantage of his silence and sticks them on his head.

‘Go on then!’

Geralt hiccups, and then makes his way up the pole, creaking under his weight. Jaskier is doubled over with laughter on the ground, tears in his eyes and trying to keep quiet so the patrolling guards don’t hear.

He pulls the knickers off his head and waves them triumphantly in the air before hanging them off the top of the pole and letting himself slide back down to the ground jerkily.

Jaskier wheezes, and Geralt has to bend over and put his hands on his knees to muffle his own laughter. He goes for Jaskier’s coin purse, and Jaskier jabs him in the gut and cackles.

‘Alright, go on then,’ Jaskier says, ‘double or nothing.’

‘There is no way your fat arse is getting up and down that pole.’ Geralt says, judging the height again.

‘Your dad said that last night.’ Jaskier elbows him again in exactly the same spot.

‘Fuck off,’ he says, and slaps his hands away. ‘Go on then. Bet you can’t.’

Jaskier grins wickedly, and proceeds to shimmy up the pole, heaving for breath but making it to the top. ‘I’m King of Novigrad!’ He crows, voice echoing through the empty square.

The flagpole creaks ominously, and snaps.

Jaskier squeals as he drops, and Geralt has a moment to panic before he lifts his arms and catches him. Jaskier shakes with glee and kicks his feet happily, wrapping his arms round Geralt’s neck and pressing a sloppy wet kiss to his cheek.

‘My hero!’

‘Oi!’ Four guards enter the square from the other side, drawn by all the noise. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Geralt bolts, Jaskier still in his arms, creasing with laughter and making rude gestures at the guards over his shoulder as they make their escape.

They reach the inn, and Jaskier demands to be carried over the threshold, properly. Geralt smiles and kicks the door open with his foot. He wobbles as he walks, and Jaskier howls vengeance when he bangs his head on the wall.

‘Oh fuck off you fat cunt. Next time you can be the one carrying me.’

He tosses Jaskier on the bed, and then passes out next to him, still in all his armour.

Jaskier wakes up the next day too hungover to breathe. He whines, and keeps his eyes as tightly closed as possible while he reaches for a pillow to smother himself with. Geralt kicks him, and he decides to smother Geralt instead. Ten seconds of feeble flopping later, Jaskier gives in and just swears at him vehemently.

‘What?’

‘Wake up you idiot.’

‘What?’ Jaskier says, louder.

‘We got fucking married.’

‘Fuck off did we.’

‘Well it wasn’t my idea!’

Jaskier opens his eyes at that and tries to work out which Geralt he should be shouting at.

‘You’re chatting shite again.’

‘We got married.’ Says Geralt, and this time he sounds like he can’t believe it himself.

Faint bells ring in the back of his head, and he sits up, horrified.

‘We got fucking married?’

Geralt just nods, and stares back at him, eyes wide and panicked.

‘You limpdick fucking wanker!’ Jaskier shouts and throws a pillow at him. ‘What the hell did you want to marry me for?’

‘Oh well, I’ve secretly always wanted to be a fucking Countess, and then you went and proposed to me so nicely!’ He says, getting wound up.

Jaskier laughs despite himself, and then raises an accusing finger.

‘I knew it! I knew you were after my money.’

‘You gigantic fucking tosspot! You were the one who was all,’ Geralt raises his voice several octaves, ‘oh Geralt let’s be together forever, we don’t need women, we have each other.’

‘In all fairness, these are still valid points and I stand by them. However,’ and Jaskier raises his eyebrows, ‘why the fuck did you say yes?’

‘No idea. Thought it’d be a laugh, probably.’

‘Geralt!’ Jaskier honestly has the nerve to sound outraged. ‘I’m the one with the mad ideas, and you’re supposed to be the voice of reason! How the hell are we going to get anything done if we’re both going round having mad ideas? We’ll be dead by dusk if you carry on like that, honestly.’

‘You want a divorce then?’

‘No way in hell, this is the funniest thing that’s happened to me in years. You?’

‘I hear it’s pretty expensive to get all the paperwork done.’

‘You soppy cunt.’ Jaskier flops back down on the bed and giggles. ‘We’re not having our fucking honeymoon in Novigrad though, I’ll tell you that now.’

‘What am I going to tell Yen?’ Geralt says mournfully.

‘Well, if you see her again, and that’s a big fucking if, I’d go with something along the lines of ‘Yennefer, the ardent passion I’ve hidden for my beloved Jaskier could be denied no longer, and now we are bound forever in holy matrimony.’ You can do it, I believe in you.’

Geralt sits on him.

‘Off off off, gods, not a good start to domestic bliss!’ He wheezes, and Geralt relents.

‘I’ll fucking burst you, you jumped up little bastard.’

‘Do it tomorrow. I feel like shit.’

‘Yeah and you look like it too.’

‘Fuck off,’ Jaskier says affably and rolls over to look at him, ‘and fetch me a bath would you, husband dearest?’

Geralt actually turns pink, and Jaskier has never been one not to pounce on any weakness he finds.

‘Won’t you make me the happiest man on the Continent and fetch your poor aching husband a bath?’ He pouts as prettily as he can, and Geralt blinks at him, and actually does it.

This is going to be brilliant, Jaskier can tell.

‘Cheer up, you miserable fucking scrote.’

Geralt is walking sullenly next to Roach, and for once Jaskier is riding, pointedly displaying his correct posture after years of horsemanship drilled into him as a child, and hoping husband privileges mean he gets to ride more often.

‘Shut up.’

‘C’mon, it’s not so bad as all that. You’re married to your pal, your buddy, your main boy Jaskier! We already fuck like rabbits, we already travel together, it’s not actually all that different from what we already do.’

Surprisingly this seems to work, and Geralt seems to relax a little.

Jaskier waits a minute, for Geralt's mood to lift properly, and then adds, ‘When you die, does that mean I get Roach?’

He slumps again.

Jaskier stops Roach dead in the middle of the road and groans in realisation.

‘Fuck.’

Geralt halts as well and looks at him, worried.

‘What?’

‘You know that night we don’t ever, ever, ever talk about? On pain of instant death? Where you said something really stupid because you thought it would be funny? And gosh, speaking of, thought you’d have learned that lesson by now.’

Geralt grunts at him disapprovingly.

‘Don’t get me wrong, it was fucking hilarious, but I just realised my parents are going to absolutely shit themselves with glee. For fuck’s sake.’

‘What.’ Says Geralt, caught out.

Jaskier looks up at the sky, praying for aid, and then decides restraint has never really been his thing anyway.

‘I’m going to be a shit step-mother, I hope you know that.’

Geralt whistles once, and Roach careens instantly into a gallop beneath him. Jaskier slides straight back out of the saddle and lands flat on his arse in the dirt.

Geralt finally laughs, and Jaskier grins up at him, too relieved to be pissed off.

They make camp that night next to a little stream, and Geralt hunts them a brace of pheasant. Jaskier smiles up at him coyly, and Geralt just stands there awkwardly and clears his throat, flapping his hands as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

Jaskier gives in and throws a pheasant at his face, and they settle down to plucking peacefully.

‘So this whole marriage thing,’ he begins, and Geralt groans, ‘I think we need some rules.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, obviously we’re still fucking other people as well.’ Geralt nods, looking vaguely relieved.

‘But I thought, now that I’m your husband and all, is there anyone off-limits?’

Geralt stares at him baffled.

He tries again. ‘Now that you’ve the sole claim to my heart, as it were, is there anyone you definitely do not want me to fuck? And the same goes for you.’

‘Yen.’ Geralt says instantly.

‘Deal, I don’t want frostbite on my dick. Although technically, she did touch my cock before yours, if we’re being pedantic.’

Geralt huffs and tries his best glower, but that has never worked on Jaskier.

‘Let’s make it fair, we each get five people, that the other absolutely cannot fuck, on pain of death.’

‘Why do I only get five? You fuck so many people I can’t possibly pick just five out of the entire goddamn Continent!’

‘Fair’s fair. Five, or else we’d be here all day.’ Jaskier thinks for a moment, eyes darting about sneakily. ‘So mine would be, you cannot fuck the Countess de Stael, or Valdo Marx, or either of my parents, or Queen Calanthe.’

‘Calanthe?’ says Geralt, voice cracking in surprise.

‘Yeah I’m doing you a favour here mate, if that whole suspiciously prickly incident hadn’t happened she would have had you right there on that table.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Just saving you from vaguely incestuous hate-sex at this point, buddy. And I want the chance, should the opportunity ever come my way. You know I like it when they walk in covered in blood.’

Geralt winks at him, and now it’s Jaskier’s turn to go pink.

‘So mine would be Yennefer, obviously.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Er…Triss Merrigold?’

‘Isn’t she the Temerian mage? Why?’

‘She’s nice and I don’t want her pissed off at me.’

Jaskier laughs and nods in agreement.

Geralt sits bolt upright and says ‘Jaskier, you cannot fuck my brothers.’

‘That’s a shame, Eskel’s quite fit. And I always thought Lambert was sweet on me.’

‘No.’ Geralt says, carefully and explicitly stern.

‘Fine,’ Jaskier huffs, ‘You’ve got one left, choose wisely...’

‘Coen, then.’ Jaskier eyes him carefully. ‘He’s a Griffin, winters with us sometimes.’

‘Okay. Final answer?’

Geralt nods, looking pleased with himself, and they shake on it.

‘The pact is sealed. No take-backs. I will not fuck Yennefer, Triss Merrigold, Eskel, Lambert or Coen.’

And Geralt huffs and says ‘And I will not fuck your Countess, Valdo Marx, your parents or Queen Calanthe.’

They settle down to eat their dinner and then enjoy a lazy shag by the firelight.

Jaskier waits until Geralt is closing his eyes to sleep and leans up on his elbow to watch his face.

‘Just out of interest, how old is Vesemir?’

Geralt’s eyes slam back open and he grabs for Jaskier, who just cackles helplessly, even as Geralt picks him up and dunks him in the river.

He snorts and splutters, and then sings ‘I’m going to fuck your dad,’ and Geralt holds his head under, ‘and then I’m going to divorce you,’ another dunking, ‘and marry him,’ another much longer dunk, ‘and I’m going to send you to bed without any dinner!’

Geralt gets him in a headlock and he splashes in retaliation, and they end up wrestling in the stream until Jaskier is crying with laughter and they are both thoroughly soaked.

They reach the next big town by the end of the week, and Jaskier is pleasantly surprised by how well married life is turning out. Geralt hasn’t gotten used to being called husband yet, and Jaskier has been milking it for all he’s worth, fluttering his eyelashes mercilessly and getting extra breaks and more rides on Roach whenever he asks for them.

As soon as word of their arrival in town spreads, Jaskier is requested to perform at the Mayor’s house for his daughter’s nameday. He drags Geralt along to the tailors, and delights in dressing them up in as much finery as Geralt will allow.

He swaggers, triumphant, from the dressing room in his beautiful new ruffled doublet, and preens for Geralt to admire.

‘You look like someone vomited on a pastry and then gave it legs.’

He snaps his head round to where Geralt stands, looking very uncomfortable in a tight brown tunic.

‘You look like somebody shaved a bear and then told it a shit joke.’

‘That actually sounds about right.’ They grin at each other as the seamstress stands between them looking shocked.

Jaskier performs as fantastically as he always does, maidens swooning and fainting all over the place, thrilling with the cheers and applause he receives after his encore. He makes his way back through the crowd to Geralt, who is standing awkwardly and gripping his ale for dear life as the Mayor’s daughter backs him into the corner.

‘Darling, are you alright?’ He says, and Geralt smirks at him.

The Mayor’s daughter turns on him, and squawks ‘Darling?’

‘Yes, my lady, this fine gentleman is my husband.’

Geralt tugs him closer, and kisses him, very showily. Jaskier sighs into the kiss and loses himself in it a little, restless energy from his performance sliding easily into languid heat.

They resurface, and the simpering bitch has fled for safer ground.

Jaskier drapes himself across his Witcher, and pointedly asks ‘What did you think of my performance?’

‘You sound like a weasel trying to have an orgy by itself.’

He stamps on Geralt’s boot, feigning outrage.

‘Oh, and you’re familiar with weasel orgies are you?’

Eyes all over the room are drawn to them then, as Geralt hoots with laughter and utterly fails to conceal his snorts.

Jaskier grins up at him. Really, the first time he introduced Geralt as his husband couldn’t have gone better if he’d tried.

Geralt fires a bomb at the nest of Nekkers, and Jaskier whoops from the safety of his tree. ‘Fucking shit shot you are! My fucking granny could hit better than that and she’s fucking dead!’

Geralt glances back at him, holding off three at once at the end of his sword, and shouts ‘Yeah and you can tell her I said ‘fuck off’ in a minute when you fucking see her again!’

Roach just snorts at them, and Jaskier belts out his latest composition at the top of his lungs while Geralt finishes them off.

Geralt squelches back to Jaskier’s tree and huffs up at him as he climbs down, grumbling impatiently.

‘Can’t believe that took so long, some fucking shite wolf you are.’

‘That last song sounded like someone playing catch with a hedgehog.’

Jaskier wheels round indignantly and goes for the low blow.

‘And you are getting too fat for those trousers.’

Geralt gives chase, sword raised, and he flees into the woods, screaming over his shoulder, ‘Be careful running, don’t want to rip them!’

The Witcher catches him and smacks his arse with the flat of his blade, which quickly turns into an impromptu spanking and some light roleplay. Jaskier’s third outfit in a week ends up covered in viscera.

When they finish and catch their breaths, Jaskier looks down at the mess they’ve made of his clothes and says, ‘Hang on, are you doing this on purpose?'

Geralt just grins at him.

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[highfunctioningflailgirl]

My notes on Lethal White episode 3

As usual, my poorly sorted and not-really-filtered thoughts on “Lethal White”, episode 3. Continued under the cut because ALL THE SPOILERS!

We’re back with Robin and cling-wrapped Chiswell. Holliday plays Robin’s tenuously controlled panic very well. The subtle trembling, the tears she forces back. She’s so good. 👏🏼

A two-week jump. These always jar me. Did that happen in the book?🤨

Another mention of Strike talking with Wardle, and again we don’t get to see him. Dang. I really miss his leather-jacketed wry humour. 😔

Of course they’re meeting at “The White Horse”. Where else? *Rosmersholm vibes*

The reveal about the bones was a bit anti-climactic, wasn’t it? It had a better effect with the skull, in the book. And how do you “accidentally” shoot a horse, even when it’s a small one? How much more are we supposed to hate Freddie? (This episode is just full of terribly behaving men)

Who are the kids playing with the dog? Pringle and Pong? Were those their ridiculous nicknames?

And here comes the “Knives Out” scene. 🔪The Chiswell family is such a loving bunch. *coughs*

Did you see the playful tension between Raff and Robin? And that little disconcerted look Cormoran casts them? Bit jealous, Corm? 😏

Raff’s sarcastic little throw-in remarks are really making this scene more fun. Gotta give him that: he adds a bit of “black sheep” dash to the family!

“KEYS!” 😁 Cormoran is like the adult stepping between a bunch of fist-throwing kids.

Cormoran and Robin are staring at the Chiswell’s bickering as if waiting for one of them to actually start spitting and biting.

Raff: “I’m sure our charming hostess means to offer you tea at some point.” 🤣

Cormoran: “I’m thinking it might be suicide after all. He couldn’t face another family gathering.” 😂

*grunts* We’ve all been there, haven’t we? (And I don’t even want to start thinking about Cormoran’s family gatherings…)

Hah! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I guessed right from the leaked stills: it is the hospital Billy’s in! (Cookie points for me!)

That staff woman gives off very sensible and caring vibes. They picked the actress well.

And, god, Billy carved the horse into his own chest? 😟 Good god…

Vanessa! And she looks good! And - unlike in the first series - she smiles! And is really NICE! (Wow, what a beautiful woman.) 😍

That little lounge corner in Cormoran’s office is new, isn’t it? Very cozy. ☕️🍪

Goth Robin! She looks awesome! 😍 (Excuse me, but have we traveled back into the 80s? She looks like half the people in my school back then.) And look at Holliday playing her: she even moves differently! This season must have been a lot of fun for her as an actress.

I love the Wiccan shop. I had one of those salt lamps (and a lava lamp too), but don’t tell anybody… ☺️

Cormoran’s FACE when he sees goth Robin! 🥰The double take, the pleased surprise, that touch of awe… He is so proud of her! (What a contrast to Matt the Twat’s derogatory reactions to her disguises).

Cormoran: “You liking Raff then?” Are we a teensy bit jealous again, Corm? ☺️

When he asked Robin what she was doing this evening, I held my breath. WAS HE GOING TO ASK HER OUT? 🤗 He wasn’t. 😔 Everybody calm down. It’s not happening yet. Unfortunately. And probably never will. *very long sigh*

It’s so cute how he can’t stop looking at her! 🥰I love her confidence. And his twinkle-eyed, soft grin that doesn’t seem to want to fade. He truly admires her, for her competence AND for her looks. ASK HER OUT YOU FOOL! *headdesk*

Lorelei. With coffee. Apologizing for saying “I love you”. Ack. And then Corm says “I was gonna call you.” (You weren’t, admit it!). I didn’t know what to feel when seeing this scene for the first time: shocked that they were still together? Sympathy for Lorelei? Mad at Cormoran’s lackluster ‘yeah, alright, whatever’ attitude? Very mixed emotions.

Cormoran following Aamir along the South Bank. Watch me pointing excitedly at the screen because I’ve strolled down that same boardwalk way back when traveling was still a thing. *flails* *misses London*

Aamir’s place. Why is Cormoran talking about food again? Robin hasn’t fed him biscuits today yet, has she?

Cormoran’s always a bit unnerving when interrogating someone. He uses friendly words, but there is that tiny bit of menace about him, an intensity and pressure… SIB Corm. Tom does that so well. 😎

“You gonna butter me?” Smooth moves, ex-Sergeant Strike! 🥋 Oh, I love seeing him in action! 🤗

Robin hides the phone, and I am a nervous wreck worrying someone’s going to call and her phone isn’t in silent mode! (enneagram type 6 here, hello…) 😬

I was waiting for Matt to be an absolute prick when he sees goth Robin, but he’s actually not. And he’s had the Green Dress mended. I like how the show gives him a few shades and doesn’t paint him as outrageously hateful as the book does. (jftr, we all still hate you, Matt!)

But then, the way he rushes at her with his “That’s not true” - why does it somehow feel like a physical threat? And wow, Robin is COLD. Dude, your marriage is over. You just haven’t been notified yet.

So we’re ignoring Lorelei’s calls again, Cormoran? *eyebrow lift* Is that what we do as a gentleman? And then he calls off dinner and has no more than a lame “Sounds good, I’ll call you” when she mentions breakfast? If he’s not invested at the mention of food, something is clearly wrong…

Della Winn, and they picked a blind actress for the role. Good for them! ✔️

So, help me out here, native speakers: Della says she can hear the West Country in Cormoran’s vowels, but to me he doesn’t sound Cornish. Am I wrong? To my ears, Tom is speaking in some sort of self-made accent that I can’t place, but it doesn’t sound anything like the Cornish burr Robert Glenister gives him in the audiobooks. Opinions? 🤔

Rhiannon’s story touched me in the book, and it touches me deeply here. A revenge murder would’ve made perfect sense to me.

The party. We’ve apparently time-traveled again.

“What’s ‘Becca’ short for?” 🙄

Ah! The note was hidden in the maxipads box! I seem to recall that, in the book, Robin hid the Houses of Parliament bugging device in a tampon box. Cool parallel.

VANESSA! HURRY UP! 😨

The chase. Good thing this goth girl wears sensible shoes! Nice trick with the crouching and tripping. Take THAT, Jimmy! Robin’s learned from past experience, and I love the addition of the chase that wasn’t in the book. Robin’s no longer a helpless victim. She is a FIGHTER! And - BAM! Perfect timing, patrol car! 🚔

Cormoran: “How did you guess where she hid it?” (Because that’s where girls hide stuff, darling. ONE good thing all the menstruating is good for at least.)

Quick shout-out to Tom Burke’s freckles. They really should be credited as supporting actors. 🥰

Btw, the navy jumper is not a jumper but a cardigan! I bet Tom was pleased. (And my shippy brain can imagine him wrapping a freezing Robin in it 💙)

Enter Lorelei. Here be dragons.

“You know, if you want a hot meal and a shag with no human emotions involved, there are restaurants. And brothels.”

Oooohhhh... 😳

Need ointment for that burn, Corm?

And she’s entitled! Cormoran’s old school gallantry seems to have gone MIA when it comes to treating Lorelei with the respect she deserved. Especially since he had his chance at ending it decently and respectfully at their earlier little talk over coffee. I still don’t think he meant to hurt her. It was thoughtlessness. Which is no redeeming factor at all. He deserved this, even in front of Robin. #TeamLorelei

Well, at least he didn’t get smacked with an ashtray this time.

I LOLed when Robin simply went straight back to business without commenting. A real pro. 😎

Cormoran: “That was a bit awkward.” Was it, Corm? We barely noticed. *snorts*

And although Robin defends him a little bit, her suppressed smirk and her work-life balance remark tell us she’s enjoyed this a bit. And not just because Cormoran is single again.

Matthew calls: “Sorry, it’s a work thing.” (NO IT ISN’T AND YOU’RE A LYING, CHEATING [REDACTED] !!!) 🤬

Robin steps on Sarah Shaglock’s earring, and now starts a scene that makes me want to shower Holliday in BAFTAs. 🏆🏆🏆 Heart wrenching, painful, powerful. And Matthew finally shows his true colours. (And Kerr Logan deserves a nod for his acting too).

On a completely irrelevant side note: Matt stole that coat from Darius Tanz, only that Santi looked hot as hell in it whereas Matt just looks like an accountant who pretends to look hot. (Go and watch “Salvation” if you have no clue what I’m talking about)

Robin is so bravely holding it together, and - wow - her coldness towards Matt is pretty impressive, and at the same time she’s forcing herself not to cry and fights down a panic attack. It’s amazing how she puts every emotion and train of thought from the books onto the table and we can read it in her face and in her voice and body language. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼Best scene of the season, if you ask me. (Not that anyone ever asks me, but here it is.)

“I’m not gonna let you fail again!” 😡 Aaaand Matt tries to put her down again. To make her feel weak and in need of help. BUT IT’S NO LONGER WORKING. She’s got this. Oh, she’s got this!

They left out Robin saying that he “doesn’t even have a knife”, and I’m actually glad they did. This didn’t need to be about physical assault again. Matt wouldn’t go that far, and it wasn’t necessary to go there. They clearly showed how manipulative he is and how strong Robin has to be to walk away from him, and that is enough.

The minicab driver. I remember the actress as Mrs. Fitz from “Outlander”, and she’s the perfect motherly tough love type to crack that marriage joke. And to get our girl out of there with no further fuss.

Whoa. I had high expectations. And they were met 10/10.

What did you guys think?

[blehbleehhhh]

A Princess and a Barbarian Cheiftain ft. EreMika❣️

Hey, Braveheart anon! 💕 I see you! I hope you like it. I'm sorry it took forever to write .-. I pictured Mikasa as a warrior princess so I hope you don’t mind that lol. Please send in more requests! Also, an interesting fact from all the research I did for this one - the word "barbarian" did not have a negative meaning for everyone in the Roman Empire. It was actually used to refer to the people immigrating into their territory and not at all meant to be derogatory. I went back and forth with using historically accurate Barbarian Tribe names and writing in the Roman Empire but then I'd really have a restriction so ehhh, whatever. That's who I'm referring to when I say the "Empire'. Hope you enjoy because this damn thing took ages to fucking write! Shout out to my hubby for helping me with this! This is also a good time for me to introduce a new thing I’d like to try if people actually like it, add a drawing to my fics. Ever since I started writing this one I had a vision of Eren sitting in a chair like that with them both decked out in armor idk, I’m pretty rusty, it’s been a MINUTE since I’ve picked up my pencils, lol. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys. Yes, there’s smut, there’s angst, don’t think I have to actually put a warning in but someone complained .-.

It's a cold, frigid December morning and Princess Mikasa is on the back of her young horse with sights set on a local barbarian village because her father is finally responding to the violence done by their chieftain, a fierce and talented warrior. Emperor Ackerman wants to establish some sort of a peace treaty with him in the hopes of preventing such acts from ever occurring again, at least attacks that would be under his direction and blessing. The village is hidden behind a tall wall made from wood and what an impressive sight on the other side of the gate - a large, expansive crop field being tiled by farmers, crop animals being maintained for food and wool conveniently located near a tannery, where the hides are made into clothing then sold to villagers, and of course, a stables with a large grazing field for their horses. Mikasa was surprised to see a black smithery where one smith was currently molding a dagger out of scalding hot iron, his shop displaying many goods ranging from weapons to lock keys to horseshoes, all of the items she's seen the smiths make around her hometown. Villagers were minding their own business for the most part and working their trades, some grooming animals, some sweeping the dust out of their shops while children were running around a large tree in the center of town surrounded with dead leaves, giggling as they played tag and tossed such vegetation in the air. The princess gave her trusty steed's meaty neck a rewarding pat down by his shoulders, making his fluffy, dark ears perk up with interest, standing perfectly still as she carefully dismounted to put her stirrups back up into the saddle. Someone she recognized as being one of her father's previous subjects approached and copied Mikasa's smile when he was handed the reins. "Your Elegancy." The elderly man moved to bow respectfully and was stopped with a gentle, kind hand on the shoulder, looking up to meet her eyes with a confused expression.

"Please, that really isn't necessary, but thank you for being so respectful. Just take care of my horse for me, sir, that's all I ask."

"Of course! Some of the best hay in the area!" He turned with a smile to guide the twelve hundred pound animal into a temporary stall, where he carefully removed it's bridle and bit before locking him in behind a short, wooden stall door, allowing the horse to graze on some of their hay. Just like her Uncle Levi has taught her over the years he's been mentoring his young niece, she took in a deep breath to center herself with the advice he'd given her before she left this morning; You cannot make good decisions without a clear mind. Something that he's always insisted and Mikasa has definitely found that to be the case. And so one last time she thought through the steps Levi has constantly hounded into her head, since her parents were always too busy to raise their own child and teach these lessons themselves - the most important being to not let emotions get in the way of negotiations. The largest hut is the one she assumes to be reserved for the chieftain and it's guarded by two barbarian brutes that are definitely not intimidating at least to her, which is why she simply nodded as she opened the old, wooden door. It was difficult to maintain her trademark blank expression when she saw him - someone who doesn't even come close to resembling the stereotype that follows barbarian chieftains. There he sat upon a wooden throne boosted up on three stone slab steps and clearly missing the anticipated grisly bear of a beard in favor of a cleanly shaven, surprisingly handsome face that's framed with pushed back shoulder length, chocolate brown hair, his skin sun kissed from always being outside, and eyes so green that she swore her heart skipped a beat. What was just as surprising to her is that he appears to be about her young age of twenty four, something she didn't expect to be possible given such an impressive reputation. "Eren Jaeger?" Mikasa could feel herself blush when he responded with what she loathes to admit is quite a sexy smirk, her cheeks red already from being in the cold, and she watched his eyes as they clearly sized her up. The young man sat taller in his seat and was genuinely unsure if his eyes were in fact deceiving him because surely one of the princesses wouldn't be a warrior, but based on the armor she's wearing, it's obvious that this ravishing creature fights for the empire.

"Ah, your Elegancy. What can I do for you?"

"This destruction has gone on for long enough and it has to stop, so I've been sent here to negotiate peace."

"Why would the empire give a damn about what we do?"

"We assume that you're the one responsible for that local town being decimated? You know," Mikasa sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "The fifth one this year?" He simply gave her a slow nod and pulled his hair back into a small, low ponytail at the nape of his neck, now flashing an amused grin that she's counting things out for added effect. "Okay, we'll continue. How about all of those castles that have been destroyed? The crop fields bunt? The countless Lords and knights you've killed? I realize someone else could have done this, but you're our most problematic tribe." Eren smiled and nodded his head, leaning his cheek on his fist because she’s simply alluring.

"Oh no, that was most definitely me."

"Why? You have killed so many people! Why?"

"I've been doing it for years now. Why would you get involved now?"

"Because you're out of control! What is the meaning of this?"

"You aristocrats and your stupid government have some laws that tend to be harmful to my people and I simply cannot have that. I refuse to tolerate injustices of any kind when there's something that can be done about it!" Eren leaned forward in his throne as his fists slammed into the wooden arm rests and was surprised when she didn't cower, it seems he won't be getting his way with this one. "Besides, I tend to attack other tribes that fuck me over and I could care less what your father thinks of me."

She simply rolled her eyes.

"What could those people have possibly done to warrant such extreme violence?"

"The most recent village happened after I had attempted to establish a peace treaty with their leader, so I sent one of my best men over. Only his head returned three days later hanging off the horse's saddle."

"I'm sorry about your loss," And then her expression fell sympathetic when she pictured a sight so horrific. "I really can't imagine." His face softened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah, well, I know you're not here to give your condolences. You want peace with me?"

"That, and I would love to actually give the families of Lords and knights some kind of closure instead of just staring at them blankly -" She paused to take a deep breath when she remembered that day in battle, where a very dear friend was ruthlessly murdered. Nobody could have done anything to stop the blitz attack, because the one who killed him rode past on their horse so quickly that there wasn't any time to respond. And suddenly her face grew as fierce as before. "One of my Uncle's best legionnaires was killed in battle last year with your men. I was there when he was decapitated, Eren, and the killer looked an awful lot like you." In a second his eyes screamed irritation and he sat forward in his throne almost growling.

"Yeah, I know exactly who you're talking about. That asshole was responsible for wiping out half of my men with your Uncle's assistance! Those people had families!"

"He left behind a wife and two little boys!"

"And should you aristocrats decide not to feed these people when they inevitably become poor," Eren smirked as he cracked his knuckles because he knows that his words have made her angry and he finds it extremely amusing. "I'm happy to take them in as I so often do when they wander away from the city. Those two morons back there were originally a part of your father's empire." The girl knit her brows together and growled under her breath because she's all too aware of the empire’s failings when it comes to caring for its people who aren't wealthy. She snarled under her breath and allowed her hands to curl into fists at her sides.

"Why, you gargantuan piece of -!" Mikasa paused and took a deep breath to collect herself. "I'll have you know that he was a very good man and someone you probably could have taken some pointers from!" Those words immediately changed the room's atmosphere and both of them felt it as they tried to intimidate the other with their increasingly heated exchange.

"So what," He rose from his throne tall and definitely commanded the room with such an intimidating presence, smelling of ale and nature. "Because I'm brutal with my enemies, I can't be a gentleman?" The fur pelt around his neck swayed as he slowly walked down the slab steps, their eyes watching each other with mutually fierce expressions. Now, this woman is stunning. Until the princess waltzed in, Eren has never really felt tempted enough to bother with something as distracting as being in some kind of relationship, but she's definitely worth the effort. There truly isn't anything he finds sexier than a woman this passionate, actually cares, and actively pursues justice, hell, the fact that she's so attractive is nothing more than icing on the cake. Her eyes are a beautiful gray-blue and they go so well with long, silky black hair that frames such a slim and angelic face, matching perfectly with her fair skin. Yes, Mikasa certainly is every bit as breathtaking as he's so often heard her described from others that had the privilege of being graced with her presence. But he can tell from her body language that his usual intimidation tactics haven't managed to get things straightened so far and with a glance behind her, he nodded at the two men standing guard at the building's entrance. "You two. Out. Now." His eyes flickered down to hers once more as he reached for a water canteen and brought it to his lips, finishing whatever was left in a large gulp before setting the empty container down on the table. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed deeply.

"You certainly don't behave like a gentleman."

"Aw, that isn't a very nice way to negotiate, princess."

"I hate being called that. And I'm only behaving this way because you're being an ass. How dare you speak to me that way!"

"Respect is earned, princess," Eren smirked as he slipped his hands into his fur lined pockets, eyes giving her a second once over. "And I have no respect for the empire. You have a failing economy, the taxes are much too high, and you're so lazy that you literally use barbarian tribes to guard your fucking borders! Just what kind of an army is your Uncle running?"

"Well, it's better than a bunch of assholes who rape women, murder innocent people and destroy lands!"

"This tribe doesn't rape women. I've actually had quite a few of my own men executed for doing that. And I don't have people executed unless I think it's called for." Because he was just as passionate about this response, Mikasa reasoned that she's being told the truth when he insists such behaviors aren't tolerated here. "But I won't deny destroying lands, crops, killing Lords and knights, because I did all of that to protect my people. We're fighting for our lives just like everyone else." She briefly looked away with a sigh and pushed her fingers through her hair when she met his eyes once more with a considerably softened expression.

"I appreciate that, Eren, I really do, but if you don't it knock off the brutality, I'll be forced to have you and your men executed."

"Oooh," The young man smirked as he took a few steps closer to her and was surprised when she didn't back away, only flashed a genuine smile he finds to be extremely beautiful, pressing her fists into her sides. How cute. "Is that a threat?"

"No, actually, it's a promise," Mikasa smiled and bit her lower lip as they intently studied each other's eyes, an amused grin teasing his lips because he's never felt so attracted to someone before and boy does he want her. "I already have permission to have you all killed. Hell, I'll decapitate you myself."

"A princess that yields a sword? You are as impressive as I've heard."

"I have a collection." She flashed a devilish grin and cocked an eyebrow, very aware that his eyes are drawn to her lips and she was extremely flattered. Little did she know that smirk he wears is because he's ashamed to have already wondered briefly if she's this playful in bed.

"What's in it for me if I cooperate?"

"You mean besides living?"

"I think you know exactly what I meant." Eren brought a hand to his mouth, itching the corner with his finger as he briefly looked away because he's extremely amused, especially now that she has taken a few steps closer with her eyes still glued on his. They flickered down to his lips, her rational mind quickly being over powered since she's giving some serious consideration to defying Levi's instruction and giving in to this undeniable, magnetic spark between them that neither are really willing to resist. Love at first sight indeed.

"You won't be invaded and we won't destroy your crops."

"While that is appreciated, I'm afraid it's just not enough."

"Any tribes that you struggle with?"

"Yeah," He crossed his arms over his chest as they got closer and smiled at just how much he's truly enjoying this fire she has. "There are a few. Unfortunately, we aren't quite strong enough to deal with them on our own now thanks to your Uncle, since they're many in number and much larger than the ones I've already taken care of." The young woman bit her lower lip as she studied his face, so chiseled and handsome. Even the man she's been engaged to since she was four doesn't look at her like this.

"We can help you fight them."

"You also have a few of my people in custody that I'd really like back."

"Okay," Mikasa smiled as she pushed her fingers through her hair, the strands slowly falling before her eyes. "I can get them out of jail and talk with my father about maybe getting their charges dropped." He just slowly nodded his head in agreement and smirked as he closed the small gap that remained between them, an action that made her cheeks a little rosy.

"Now, that is an interesting offer."

"Well, wait a second, you need to hold up your end," She hesitantly placed a hand on his chest and was relieved when he simply smiled instead of backing away. "All we want is your cooperation if we have to fight other tribes. We may have a large military, but there's only so much border and territory we can cover on our own. The empire has grown quickly and continues to do so." Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, waiting patiently for what she hopes will be good news. So much for not letting my emotions get involved..

"Fine." Eren smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed his hands on her hips, leaning in slowly to kiss the lips he's admittedly been eying since she walked in. But the door suddenly opened, and they rushed to pull away as one of his men stuck his head in the room to deliver a message having unknowingly interrupted their first kiss. "What is it?" He hissed out of frustration because he was finally about to kiss her after bickering back and forth with palpable sexual tension for almost an hour. Mikasa bites her lip, clasping her hands together behind her back as she impatiently watches him speak with one of his men.

"Sir, our scouts have returned. They determined that the new nearby tribe isn't a threat."

"Yeah, okay, thank you." Eren was already moving to grab her by the waist as soon as the door closed with a mutually playful smirk. "So, like, do you always negotiate peace treaties with yourself? Or am I just lucky enough to be the first one?"

"Luck had nothing to with what's about to happen," Mikasa smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer until their lips were almost touching. "I want you so badly.." She whispered, letting out the softest moan when he finally kissed her, a moment so magnetic, so magical that it truly seemed as if they were the only two people in the world and nothing else mattered but them. The encounter left them both feeling dizzy and that lingered long after he pulled away, her nose slowly rubbing alongside his.

"Maybe we should find somewhere more private?" He breathed to her smile and smirked when she backed away enough for him to see her biting her lip, and he was more than happy to drag her by the hand out the back door so his people don't see them leaving together for the chieftain's private living quarters. Their hearts were already racing once they got on the other side of the door and the tension had reached a new high as she started removing her armor to reveal basic cold weather clothing; several tunics, wool leggings and socks with her tall leather boots. Mikasa chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist with a smirk and pulled her into his solid form, sliding her hands along his fur cape to lift it over his head, tossing it on the floor. She crashed her lips against his and jumped up to capture his waist with her legs as they slowly wandered to his bed together, exchanging frantic kisses and carefully laying her on her back. Large hands slide beneath multiple, wool tunics and she was disappointed when their lips had momentarily parted so he could tug them over her head, revealing an insanely slim and beautifully toned body that he was already very drawn to.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

"Thank you.." She blushed as he grabbed onto one of her legs, smiling and watching her eyes while he pulls off her boots, then leggings and socks. Mikasa sat up on the edge of the bed as she reached for his layers of warm tunics and slid them up his body with her hands, which encouraged him to remove them and toss the bundle aside. Her cheeks immediately grew red at the best set of abs she's ever seen as he reached behind her back to loosen her corset until she was able to remove it still in shock - slim, slender, absolutely ripped. "Wow, and you say my body is incredible?"

"That's because it is. At the risk of sounding crass, I've been with quite a few women, and you're just top notch gorgeous. And a tough as hell. Which is even hotter."

"Were any of them good at giving head?" Mikasa grinned as she placed a gentle hand on his bulge and slowly slid it up to tuck her fingers behind his wool pants and sheepskin underpants. "Because I've been told I do.." He smirked as she dropped everything to his ankles and proceeded to gently curve her fingers around the thickness, her tongue lapping at the tiny amount of goo oozing from the sensitive tip. With a low groan he carefully gathered her hair away from her face and watched as she opened her mouth, leaning in slowly to control how quickly she swallows his long length, nuzzling her nose at the base in soft brown hair.

"Fuck, you are good..." Eren chuckled with a simultaneous moan as she gently pulled back with her cheeks sucked in, just enough to add her hand back into the mix so she can stroke with gentle twists of his shaft. She suddenly picked up her pace as she stroked and sucked him in tandem, making his hips jerk with his slightly louder groans and moans. But she was prepared and swallowed his length eagerly once more, content with him slowly pumping into her mouth. "You are literally the perfect girl, holy shit -" He paused when she moaned softly around him and slowly released his length from her mouth with an audible pop, biting her lower lip as she lay back on his bed so he can climb on top. "I realize now what I said just came across that you're only the perfect girl because you give amazing head, but I didn't mean for it to." She giggled just loud enough for him to hear as he began to tug down on her underpants, his eyes watching hers for any sign of hesitation only to find nothing but pure lust.

"You were fine, but thank you anyway.."

"Of course," Eren smirked as he leaned in to kiss her and tossed her underpants aside, their lips only parting so his can wander agonizingly slow down her body. "Now, where were we?" She grinned, blushing furiously as her hips are hoisted up over his shoulders so he can drag his tongue along her glistening slit and she grasped onto both of her breasts, watched him munch away at her sweet spot from above while her body dangles off of his.

"Erenn...." She squeezed her breasts as he stretched his arm down to touch one of her breasts, surrendering control over how hard he squeezes to her. His lips sealed around her clit, suckling in just the right way that caused an almost immediate climax and inspired him to playfully pop his hand on her ass, making Mikasa giggled as squeals with delight, struggling endlessly not to grind against his mouth because he's holding her so tight. "Ohh! Please, please!" She pleaded through her helpless moans and blushed a shade darker when he opened his eyes to hers, slowly pulling his lips off to plant a kiss over the pink skin. He smiled as he carefully lay her down on the bed and leaned in to kiss her, his hand wandering down so he position himself at her entrance. They both moaned into their increasingly passionate smooch as he carefully slipped deep inside the heat, lingering here to let her body get used to him being in there. Suddenly, he was thrusting into her so quickly, that it forced her to tear her lips away, watching his eyes as he absolutely railed her. "Eren! Eren! Eren!" With a most pleasurable cry she clawed at his back, letting out the occasional whimper amidst her helpless moans. And the sight of her clearly feeling satisfied made him smirk, something that she's certain will always make her heart skip a beat. "What?"

"Nothing, you're just ridiculously sexy," He paused when her eyes rolled back in pure bliss and she came hard, slowing his thrusts significantly since he's not quite ready to finish yet. "Seriously, I knew I had to have you as soon as you walked in." Those beautiful eyes opened to his and he offered a heartwarming grin as he leaned in to kiss her once more, thrusting into her deep and slow. She sighed into his mouth, reciprocating his thrusts as she pulled her lips away with a moan and giggled softly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to touch the prominent dimples she's already loves.

"You look nothing like what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"You're ridiculously hot.." She grinned as he suddenly took off and slammed into her, his smirk making her belly burn with desire as he stops again, sliding his hands beneath her back to encourage her to roll onto her stomach and she did so slowly, giggling small giggles as he gently pulls her up on all fours by the hips.

"I am?" Eren whispered in her ear as she eagerly spreads her legs for him, his cock still nestled deeply inside. "I'm ridiculously hot?"

"The only other cheif I've met wasn't even close to being attractive. But you are just..." Mikasa grinned when she felt his hands warm hands curve around her slender hips, his kisses slow on her spine and a smirk evident against her skin. "...the complete opposite."

"Last thing I expected when I woke up this morning was a sexy warrior princess to shiw up.” His husky voice whispered to her as he kissed up her back, making the entirety of her fair skin blush a light shade of pink. She moaned at the sound if his voice and pushed herself back against him, making her moan in such a way that he couldn't help but do the same.

"I should have guessed someone as stubborn as you would be a tease.." She purred immediate, pleasurable sounds when he took off and thrusted into her so quickly that neither  could think a coherent thought. She slowly slid her arms out until she could rest the side of her face on a pillow, clawing at the sheets and moaning loud whimpers. "Eren! Eren! Eren!"

"Mikasa.." He whispers breathlessly in her ear as she moaned through her climax, slowly pulling her hips back into his and pushing them forward. "I'll help protect your borders if you let me see you again. I assume you're like most princesses and are already engaged or married to another man, but to be honest, I really don't fucking care."

"I don't either, my fiancé is already cheating on me anyway. He even has a kid with her. Wait, you know I'm engaged to someone else, yet you still want to see me again?"

"I'm sorry," Eren's voice was genuine, soft and husky in her ear. "He sounds like an ass. Why are you so surprised that I want to see you again?"

"I didn't think you felt anything between - ah! aha! ah!" She squealed with delight when he suddenly took off and absolutely drilled into her and she loved it. "Oohhh!" Her hips started to tremble and she whimpered pleasurably, white knuckling the sheets as she bounces her hips back against his.

"I can't get enough of you already! Fuck! You're like a drug!" He moaned with her as he dug his fingers into her hips and guided her faster, sending his lover into an equally euphoric state. "I'm gonna cum!" In one swift movement he quickly pulled out at the perfect time and exploded all over her back with countless groans, hisses, and low moans. Eren held onto her tightly as they collapsed together on their sides and made her the little spoon, both hearts thumping hard against their rib cages. She sighed happily and yawned as she reached her hand up to push her damp hair back, already feeling sleepy from the most incredible sex she's ever had. “Damn, you’re incredible.”

"Mmm," Mikasa hummed with a smile and stretched back against him as he kissed any skin he could readily reach. "We need to figure out how to sneak you into my bedchamber.." His embrace is warm and welcoming as they settle beneath the blankets, basking in the heat coming from the fireplace that's giving the now dark room an orange glow. It's safe to assume that an unspoken agreement has been made between the two and that at least this tribe will no longer be of concern, all thanks to the negotiations between a barbarian chieftain and a princess.

[the-quiet-winds]

Clouds of Rain and Sun (part four)

hey kids, y’all know what’s up. it’s ya girl, julie, and ya other girl @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts, back with your part four.

i don’t have much to say except hold onto your hats and get ready for a ride and some sketchy people.

also i guess a language warning? there’s just one thing but it’s a bit derogatory so... yeah.

[part one] - [part two] - [part three]

[Part 4: Be Careful of Hurricanes]

over the next few weeks jane’s health grew better and better, and she was soon allowed to traverse the castle and grounds as normal. of course, katherine was her constant companion and their bond grew stronger. jane can’t take her mind off the idea of katherine calling her ‘mum’ again, and she’d give anything to hear her say it one more time, but she doesn’t want to push the girl. instead she doesn’t mention it, instead getting a small rush of joy every time she refers to katherine as edward’s sister; the first time katherine calls herself that in passing makes jane’s heart practically burst. she learns a lot about katherine over the weeks. katherine likes to read, but gets easily distracted by other things. she loves the palace hounds and begs to feed them scraps after dinner. she’s an excellent dancer and loves music. she’s also, jane finds out one chilly winter’s day, as they huddle under blankets in jane’s chamber, very good at chess. katherine had never played the game before, but after a small amount of instruction from jane she was winning almost every game. “checkmate,” katherine proudly announces as she moves her rook three squares away from her.

jane groans good-naturedly but smiles. “you win again, love,” she concedes. the brilliant grin on katherine’s face makes jane’s heart melt. then, jane remembers something else and her face darkens.

katherine, who over the weeks had become finely tuned to jane’s emotions, noticed this. “what is it?” she asks quietly.

jane looks to her and immediately knows she can’t lie. “the trial...it’s tomorrow.”

katherine sucks in a breath. she hadn’t thought about mannox’s man, sent to do god-knows-what, since the night it happened. “oh,” she says very quietly.

jane reaches out and rests her hand on katherine’s arm reassuringly. “he will be brought to justice. the guard saw everything and the court will convict him.” she pauses for a moment. “how about we go horse riding tomorrow? get out of the palace, you know?”

katherine shrugs slightly, not quite looking at jane. “sure. i don’t really mind.”

katherine is similarly shy through the remainder of the afternoon and through dinner. because of her new position, she is allowed to eat with jane and the king. she always sits right next to jane, letting her somewhat hide her from the king’s view.

“trial day tomorrow,” henry gruffs out between bites of lamb. “i assume you’ll both be there?”

katherine stiffens and jane jumps in. “i was actually planning to take katherine out and away tomorrow, my love.”

henry looks at her blankly. “the court expects her to testify before them.”

“my love,” jane says carefully. “surely they don’t need her testimony. they have the guard’s.”

“they expect reports from everyone involved,” henry takes another bite of his dinner. “that includes both of you.”

“it’s okay,” katherine says, staring down at her hardly-touched meal. although her voice is barely more than a whisper it surprises both jane and henry; katherine hasn’t said more than a word at dinner with henry before. “i’ll give my testimony.”

jane looks at her sympathetically, then gives her a look that katherine clearly understands as ‘we’ll talk about this later.’ the rest of dinner is a somewhat silent affair. henry eats his weight in meat, jane is poised and refined, katherine barely eats at all.

henry leaves not too long after, claiming work to finish, leaving katherine and jane alone.

jane turns to katherine, who’s still staring down at her plate. “you don’t have to do it, love.”

katherine shrugs. “it’ll get him convicted, right?” she tries to seem nonchalant but her small voice betrays her anxiousness. jane takes katherine’s hand gently.

“whatever you decide to do, sweetheart, i promise i’ll be with you.”

katherine is incredibly quiet the rest of the evening, barely saying two words to jane until they find themselves in bed, both failing to find sleep.

jane hears and feels she sheets move and opens an arm automatically, letting katherine curl up beside her.  

“i’m scared, jane,” she admits very quietly. “what if it’s not enough? what if they don’t lock him away?”

jane presses a soothing kiss to the top of her head. “he has a large case against him, love. if the court doesn’t lock him up they’re obviously mad.”

“but what if?” katherine insists, voice trembling slightly.

“no ifs, kat,” jane soothes. “he’s going to pay for what he did. if for any reason the court don’t convict him, then i’ll speak with my husband and we’ll find a way to make him pay. we’ll be safe, I promise.”

katherine couldn’t help but notice jane’s use of ‘we.’ “okay,” she agrees in a small voice.

jane kisses her forehead again. “that’s a good girl,” jane says. “i’ll protect you, kat. always.”

katherine still has an uneasy feeling in her stomach, but jane has an uncanny ability to make katherine feel safe and protected, and before long she can’t help but drift closer and closer to sleep, curled up against jane.

jane, however, lies awake for a little bit longer. she’s sure the man will be convicted, but she’s more worried about the effect being questioned at the trial will have on katherine. she hadn’t spoken about the incident since it happened, and jane herself didn’t even know the full details.

---

“the trial of blakely sheridan against the crown of england will now commence,” the leader of the court announced. “mister sheridan, would you please explain to the court what you believed took place the night of the 24th of October?”

“i was invited into the palace,” he starts casually. “i got a bit lost and knocked on a door for directions, then was accused of trying to molest the waitstaff.”

katherine’s body stiffens in her chair and jane glances over to her, reaching out and taking her hand. she gives it a comforting squeeze and katherine looks at her, attempting to smile but instead looking slightly nauseous.

“mister sheridan, according to witnesses, the door was locked when you were in the room with miss howard,” the court leader says, peering down his nose at blakely. “can you please explain in your own words why this was?”

he shrugs. “she locked it.”

when the entire court gasps, he speaks again, very cooly. “you see, only half of the accusation against me is true. yes, i almost had a sexual relation with miss howard.” the court dramatically gasps again, then sheridan continues. “but she insisted we do it. heard about me from a friend, she did. wanted to know if it was true.” he turns his head slightly to look at katherine. “little minx, she is.”

the court looks shocked and jane can hear a tiny choked whimper from katherine. the hand jane holds suddenly grips onto hers tightly. to jane’s relief, however, the leader of the court seems to have a sensible mind about the situation.

“so you got lost in the castle, and just so happened to wander into the bedroom of the personal attendant to the queen without being stopped by anybody. secondly, the chamber you entered just so happened to contain someone who wished to see you, completely accidentally.” he raises an eyebrow skeptically and jane lets out a quiet sigh of relief that at least one person was responding rationally.

“well, miss howard,” the court leader says, looking at her with surprisingly kind eyes. “would you like to tell the court your version of events?”

katherine feels jane squeeze her hand again, giving her the tiniest boost of confidence.

“i was preparing for bed,” she says in a shaky voice. “when he came in. he locked the door saying someone had let him in.” she swallows hard, trying to choke down her fear. jane’s thumb sweeps over her knuckles. “he said he knew...someone from my past. i started to scream for help and ja-...her majesty and the guards came in to stop him. he threatened to shoot me...” her voice breaks. “that’s all i remember.”

jane leans close to her. “i’m so proud of you, love,” she whispers.

the leader of the court sits back in his chair, contemplating the new information.

“she makes a very compelling case against you, mister sheridan,” he says. “what do you have to say for yourself?”

sheridan remains unconcerned. he shrugs again. “she’s lying. you know those types.” he shoots a subtle glare in katherine’s direction. “too scared to admit they wanted to have a little fun.” he looks back to the court leader. “your honor, you really can’t believe anything the little whore says.”

“well, we’ll hear from a witness before we make any decisions of that kind,” the court leader says rather testily. “mister percival wynn, may we hear your testimony?”

the guard who witnessed it stands up, officious and fearless.

“i was on patrol through the castle corridors when I heard a woman’s scream coming from miss howard’s chambers.”

“how would you describe this scream?” the court leaders asks. percival takes one moment to think before continuing confidently.

“it was definitely full of fear. it-” he pauses for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable. “it actually sent chills down my spine with how terrified it sounded.”

“thank you,” the court leader says. “please continue with what happened.”

“i knocked on the door but it was locked,” he goes on. “she kept screaming. then her majesty came over...” he tugs at his collar. “she looked so afraid, too. so we unlocked the door and saw mister sheridan holding a gun, pointing it towards miss howard’s chest, saying if we didn’t release him he would shoot.” percival takes a long breath. “the gun was nothing but decoration, but he knocked out miss howard and started trying to take her away. her majesty finally stopped him with a book, hitting him on the shoulders.”

“thank you, mister wynn.” the guard salutes and sits back down. jane is alternating between murderous glances down to the still very calm and casual sheridan and soft, gently looks to katherine, who is all but shaking.

“if i may, your honor,” sheridan drawls, “it’s quite interesting to note how nervous the entire prosecuting team looks, no? if they knew that i would be put away, that their story was true,” he enunciates the word sharply, “would they be looking so...scared?”

katherine whimpers at that, an absolute look of devastation on her face, and suddenly jane can’t control her anger any longer.

“if i may, your honour,” she says, voice as calm as she possibly can make it, “i would like to say something to mister sheridan.”

the court leader nods. “speak, your highness.”

“mister sheridan,” jane begins. “surely you cannot be accusing me, your queen, the wife of our god-appointed sovereign Henry Tudor, eighth of his name and son of the great Henry VII, of lying before this court? and surely you know that, if you were found to be accusing me falsely, that the punishment for doing so would be a traitor’s death; to be hanged, drawn and quartered? and surely you understand that this court know mister wynn to be an honest man of good character, who has the captain of the guard as backing? it seems to me, mister sheridan, that you thought you could take advantage of a young girl and get away with it, but this is a place of justice, and rest assured, mister sheridan, that justice will be served. one way or another.”

when jane first stood, katherine couldn’t help the well-known fear of being told she was the blame, that the adult in the situation no longer believed her or never actually did, just wanting to embarrass her.

she was absolutely terrified that jane was going to denounce her, send her away, put her back into the world of men like sheridan who only wanted to hurt her.

but then jane spoke, a passionate fire in her voice as she defends her own honor, the testimony of the guard, and promises that justice will be served, one way or another.

when she finally sits back down, katherine can barely contain herself. not wanting to make a spectacle, she grabs jane’s hand and holds it tightly.

only a few minutes later, they take a recess, and as soon as they are alone, katherine throws her arms around jane in the tightest hug. “thank you,” she whispers, voice barely audible.

“it’s okay, kat,” jane soothes, holding katherine tightly. “i wasn’t going to let him stand there and say those things about you. he thought he could get away with it, but i’m not going to let him. justice will be done.”

katherine can’t even reply; she’d so overwhelmed with emotion, pure relief that someone believes her and is standing by her, that she might see justice for the first time in her life. she just clings to jane and lets jane softly smooth out her hair.

they stay that way for a few moments longer before jane reluctantly pulls back. she cups katherine’s cheek with her hand, maintaining eye contact. “i need to go talk with sir percival, you come in whenever you’re ready.”

when katherine nods, only then is jane confident enough to leave her alone in the corridor.

“howard!”

she turns, lady agnes quickly walking towards her. “the queen requested this,” she says, presenting a glass of red wine. “please give it to her?” it’s less of a statement and more of a demand, but katherine does as told.

she re-enters the courtroom, glass in hand, and gives it to jane. “agnes said you wanted this?”

jane looks confused, but takes the drink nonetheless. she sips it carefully, then sets it down on the table. jane shakes her head as if something had blown in her face, then grips the tabletop tightly.

“some odd wine,” she forces out, face losing all color.

then katherine can only watch in absolute horror as jane collapses to the floor.

[ingek73]

We Need to Talk About the Sussexes’ “Global Brand”

Sunday, 23 June 2019

Amidst a flurry of Saturday morning tasks, I caught up with my sister on the phone yesterday. We mulled over several topics before she inquired about the blogs and reports concerning the Royal Foundation: "Why do they blame Meghan for everything? What exactly is she supposed to have done that's not in line with the way the royals operate professionally?"

I've thought about these questions quite a bit since. It led me to carefully consider the reaction to news the Sussexes will leave the Royal Foundation and start their own charitable arm later this year. Surely, this is positive news? Well, apparently not. For this announcement has been met with....you guessed it....more criticism levelled at Meghan. Never mind it's been widely acknowledged the Sussexes did not push for the split, although all four are said to be pleased with the outcome. Headlines and furious social media posts appeared recently with such titles as "This is all Meghan's fault", "The Sussexes don't know their place", "They are not happy with their place within the family", "All they care about is creating a 'global brand'". You get the gist of it...

The term "Global Brand" has been bandied about along with outlandish speculation. Harry and Meghan have been accused of attempting to profit personally, running amok from Buckingham Palace with their own agenda and using this platform to break the royal mould. In the eyes of some the Sussexes are the downfall of the monarchy. What with their solid work ethic, proven successful projects, worldwide popularity and desire to use their roles for good, the Queen and her top aides must be positively shaking in their boots (or in Her Majesty's case her black patent Anello & Davide shoes). This is all sounding rather ridiculous isn't it?

Why has this been allowed to continue, escalate and take over the narrative you might ask? It's stemmed from an era of click-bait media where the lay of the land allows online journalists to write first, ask questions later, or better still don't ask them at all. A seething online fan war where misinformation becomes factual and, particularly, a complete lack of understanding, education and knowledge about the monarchy is worn as a badge of honour. I'm going to underline that because this is the crux of the issue and one which badly needs to be addressed before we are to endure months and years of vicious attacks against the Sussexes' foundation and future work. As long as this level of false information circulates on the internet and readers accept this as reality, it's not going anywhere, and I for one find it outrageous.

So, back to my sister's questions... "Why do they blame Meghan for everything? What exactly is she supposed to have done that's not in line with the way the royals operate professionally?" Step by step, I intend to answer that question using facts and senior members of the Royal family.

A 'Global' Royal Family?

As noted above, talk of a global 'Sussex Brand' has been used in the most derogatory sense. Members of the Royal family never focus on global issues, right? Incorrect. The royals' work in the UK is of course their primary job, but it isn't representative of their roles' sum total. Not at all. Representing Her Majesty in the Commonwealth and globally, in addition to supporting their own causes around the world plays a part in the working lives of most of the Royal family. I'm pleased to have learned of, and I'm delighted to share, the extent of those efforts by members of the British Royal family.

Certainly, when one is searching for an exemplary example of charitable work on any scale, we need look no further than the Prince of Wales. I could easily dedicate ten posts to his life's work and only barely scratch the surface. What I will focus on are his efforts and successes outside the UK to demonstrate the reach the Royal family has had for decades. Since Charles founded the Prince's Trust in 1976 (using his navy severance pay) to help vulnerable people get their lives back on track, his interests have grown to the point where he has over 400 patronages. His boundless desire to help others and to maximise the impact of his role has seen him launch, lead and support a number of charities further afield.

Have you heard of the Prince of Wales's Foundation Romania? Established in 2015, to take forward Charles' work in the country, the foundation develops a number of projects to support architectural heritage preservation, farming and sustainable development in Romania. As with much of Charles' work, it's about taking a practical, results-driven, sustainable approach. Relevant skills and practical courses are delivered to small farmers, producers of artisan food as well as Romania's wounded soldiers. Charles fell in love with the country, culture and people following a visit to Transylvania in 2007. During a speech at the Babes-Bolyai University he said: "I have often been asked about what brings me so often to Romania, what makes this place so special. The answer is, to me, very simple: you, my Romanian friends; your cultural and nature patrimony, your traditions, but also your capacity for innovation and change. All that you represent after centuries of history – your identity and your entire potential. All the energy you can expand to change something. These are the things that make you truly special in the entire world."

As with all members of the Royal family, the Commonwealth is an important part of Charles' life. Throughout his visits to member nations, he knew he wanted to make a lasting impact wherever he could. The Prince's Trust Australia delivers social impact by "transforming lives and building sustainable communities in Australia". Promoting enterprise skills, sustainable communities and supporting young people and defence members and their families are the core areas of the trust.

The Prince's Trust Canada is a registered Canadian charity established by Charles in 2011. It provides entrepreneurship training for veterans and transitioning Canadian Armed Forces members, helps young people reach their potential through employability programs, and supports Indigenous communities as they revitalise and protect their languages.

Next, we look at the Prince's Trust International, the definition of an organisation with global reach. Since its launch, the focus has been on delivering pilot programmes in countries around the world. They now have pilot programmes underway and established partners delivering programmes in Australia, Barbados, Canada, Greece, Jordan, Malta, Pakistan and New Zealand. If that's not enough, the plan is to move to a number of others countries in the coming years. Much like the Prince's Trust UK, the goal is to support and enable young people to avail of opportunities and improve their futures.

The Duchess of Cornwall is President of the Brooke, a worldwide organisation providing veterinary treatment for horses and donkeys. They reach over two million working horses, donkeys and mules across Africa, Asia, Latin America and the Middle East. Organisation staff include vets, animal welfare experts, and advocacy and development specialists. Camilla, a lifelong animal lover, is also a joint president of Elephant Family, a charity founded by her late brother Mark Shand in 2002 to save the Asian elephants. Again, supporting causes close to her heart is in addition to her duties on behalf of Her Majesty - it's not a case of running roughshod over the monarchy.

Shortly before the Earl and Countess of Wessex married, the Wessex Youth Trust was established to help, support and advance registered charities which provide opportunities specifically for children and young people. The Trust is proud to support worthy organisations both at home and internationally. "Internationally, funds have been directed to a wide variety of organisations - a Down Syndrome speech therapy centre in Moscow, and an orphanage in Chernobyl; a paediatric ophthalmology unit, training scheme and Flying Eye Hospital in Nepal and the Philippines as well as an HIV/Aids support programme in Uganda. In addition, donations have also been made to disaster relief operations - such as 9/11 and a children's home in Sri Lanka which helped victims of the 2004 tsunami."

Sophie has been a global ambassador for the International Agency for the Prevention of Blindness since 2013. More from the Palace: "In 2013, this role took Her Royal Highness to the Orbis flying hospital programme in India and Qatar where she saw first-hand the many global issues around preventable blindness. Following the Countess' visit to India and Qatar, Her Royal Highness wrote an article for the Telegraph to coincide with World Sight Day. In India, Bangladesh and Nepal the sight-saving organisations are focusing on childhood blindness. In Sudan, Pakistan and Egypt the organisations are focusing on the Trachoma Elimination Programme. Her Royal Highness has drawn much attention to these on-going projects through her visits to the regions and has helped drive the plans forward through working closely with the organisations, and many youth and community events."

More from Buckingham Palace:

'On International Women’s Day 2019, the Countess publicly announced her commitment to champion the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) agenda and the UK’s Preventing Sexual Violence in Conflict Initiative (PSVI), at a reception for Women Peacebuilders at Buckingham Palace. WPS both recognises the disproportionate impact of conflict on women and girls and the positive role women play in building peace and stability.

The PSVI aims to prevent conflict-related sexual violence as well as responding to the needs of survivors, tackling stigma and strengthening justice and accountability. As a central pillar of the Countess’s work, HRH has spoken at the Commission on the Status of Women at the UN in New York, and attended a Foreign Office conference on PSVI with survivors, government and NGO representatives. The Countess also continues to highlight international efforts towards women’s role in peacebuilding - in India, for example, HRH learnt about the country’s contribution to UN Peacekeeping and heard from women peacekeepers on active deployment.'

A life of service has seen Princess Anne travel all over the world. After serving as President of Save the Children since 1970, Anne officially became Patron in 2016. Most recently, she has travelled to Bangladesh, Sierra Leone, South Africa, Mozambique, Ethiopia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina. (with many thanks to Helen G for her research on this). In her role Anne has also visited China, Cambodia, Botswana, Madagascar and the Philippines. Save the Children strives tirelessly to protect children and give them the best possible opportunities in life.

The Princess has been involved in the creation of several charities including TransAid, transforming lives through safe and sustainable transport in 23 countries. More from the charity: "In Sub-Saharan Africa, road deaths are the third biggest killer following HIV/AIDS and Malaria (Source: the World Bank) and the problem will only rise with the growing population. Drivers are at risk every time they sit behind the wheel due to a lack of legal enforcement and training, and badly maintained and overloaded vehicles. People living in rural areas of Africa often struggle to access vital services. Around 75% of maternal deaths can be avoided through timely access to vital childbirth-related care. Our work includes an Emergency Transport Scheme to transport pregnant mothers with complications. We also help community health workers reach the families who need them." Anne also works closely with Riders For Health, an international non profit that provides health care to rural African villages.

The Duke of York launched Key to Freedom following his 2012 Diamond Jubilee Visit to Women’s Interlink Foundation (WIF) in India. The aim of the initiative is to empower women who have been victims of abuse by helping them acquire skills to become economically independent. Today, scarves made by women participating in Key to Freedom are sold at the Royal Collection Trust Shop.

The Foundation in the US

The next segment involves the US element. I think it's only natural to assume the Sussex Foundation will have supporters from the US. After all, Meghan is American. She has very well-connected friends in the US and she's going to bring an element of support to the table from across the pond. This has been largely feted as hugely controversial and another example of Meghan not following a traditional royal path. Using facts, this can be disproved as nonsense once again. When the Royal Foundation become operational in 2011, an American wing was established. American Friends of the Royal Foundation donated over $3.6 million since its inception. Prince Harry joined the US arm of the Foundation in 2013 for a major event supporting projects including the Royal Foundation's partnership with Harlem RBI to support Project Coach.

During a visit to New York in 2014, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge attended a private dinner for American friends of the Royal Foundation hosted by long-term supporter, Sir Martin Sorrell, the chief executive of the WPP advertising group.

In fact, Prince Charles set up a charitable foundation in the US: "The Prince of Wales Foundation USA is the affiliate organisation of the Prince’s Trust, enabling tax-efficient giving for US supporters of His Royal Highness’s philanthropic interests. We are fortunate to have a growing base of American supporters who see real value in investing in the lives of disadvantaged and marginalised young people in the UK. The Prince of Wales Foundation was founded by HRH, the Prince of Wales in 1997."

Prince Harry's collaboration with Oprah on a mental health series has been cited as the ultimate example of the Sussexes going rogue. Not so. Prince Charles has collaborated with US entities on several documentaries including the 2012 documentary Harmony: a New Way of Looking at Our World. The piece focused on three decades of Charles' work to combat climate change. The film was based on the book of the same name, which Charles co-authored, about how man has become "dangerously disconnected from nature".

NBC released the following statement at the time of the collaboration:

'NBC is teaming up with Prince Charles for a new TV special about the environment. Harmony, which is slated to air in November, stems from Prince Charles' three decades of work fighting climate change and searching for new solutions to the worldwide environmental crisis.

"The Prince of Wales has such a passion and vision in providing leadership on this crucial climate issue that confronts the world," Paul Telegdy, NBC's executive vice president of alternative programming, said in a statement. "We are honored to partner with him to showcase these issues that are important to American audiences."

The film, which will air during NBC's annual "Green Is Universal" week, features rare footage of Prince Charles' interview with Nobel Peace Prize winner, former Vice President and longtime environmental activist Al Gore, as well as interviews with other government leaders, farmers, environmentalists and entrepreneurs.'

Charles' environmental work has not been without its setbacks. He was actually ridiculed for being one of the first to talk about climate change: "I found myself in conflict with the conventional outlook which, as I discovered, is not exactly the most pleasant situation to find yourself." Determined to following in his father's footsteps, Harry declared last year he hopes to continue his work in Australia: "Ladies and gentleman, those words were shared in speeches dating back to 1970 and up until 2002, by my father, the Prince of Wales. And yet now, nearly 50 years later, those sentiments resonate just as much today, if not more, than ever before. My father and others have been speaking about the environment for decades - not basing it on fallacy or new-age hypothesis, but rooted in science and facts, and the sobering awareness of our environmental vulnerability. And while those speeches would sometimes fall on deaf ears, he and others were unrelenting in their commitment to preserve the most valuable resource we have – our planet."

What About Commercial Partnerships?

Although the Sussexes' foundation does not yet have a name, it has been suggested (with not so thinly-veiled attacks) commercial partnerships may be in its future. Whilst we have absolutely no idea what the plan is at this time, yes it's possible and no it's not unusual. Commercial partnerships have been essential to ensuring the success of Charles' projects. Take Duchy Originals for example. Established almost 30 years ago, the leading organic brand is now stocked on the shelves of Waitrose supermarkets. It's aim is to support local producers and all profits go to charity.

Fundraising

The success or failure of any royal trust or foundation lies with its principles and the team behind it. Harry and Meghan are taking this on with a record of success. Simply look at the Invictus Games, look at Sentebale, the Endeavour Fund, Coach Core and many other projects and initiatives Harry has worked with. Meghan's first project with the Hubb exceed all goals, and smashed it's target of £250,000, raising over half a million. The ripple effect is heartwarming and inspiring. Today, the women of the Hubb were working with British Red Cross to welcome and feed refugees in Hackney London.

The pair have tangible results behind them and there's every reason to believe this will be a success. Fundraising will be an important element; again they've proven more than adept at this, raising millions for Sentebale with 'Sentebale Nights' and the Sentebale Polo Cup.

Again, fundraising has been key to Charles' success. In 2017 he raised £170 million for charity. He raised more money than anyone else in the UK. In 2013-2014 he raised £143 million for 15 of his charities. It's the year-after-year dedication that has led to these results. It's a case of beating the drum constantly, and loudly.

Overshadowing Senior Royals

The next accusation hurled at Harry, and particularly Meghan, is the suggestion they are somehow trying to overshadow more senior royals, namely the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Was Prince Charles trying to overshadow his parents with the Prince's Trust? Was Anne playing a game of one-upmanship against Charles with her tireless efforts and global work? Of course not. Harry and Meghan are not in competition with William and Kate. They are not setting out to outdo them and derail the course of the monarchy.

The Queen is the monarch. Then it will be Charles, and then William. The monarch is the head of the family, there's no issue there. The monarchy is comprised of working members and their collective efforts up and down the country, across the UK, across the Commonwealth, and across the globe. It's a team effort. That's not going to change. Harry and Meghan want to use their roles to the full, they want to work hard on behalf of Her Majesty and, like the other royals referenced, use their platforms to support causes close to their heart. This is all being done with the full approval of the Queen and Charles. The new Foundation has the full support of the family. The Queen appointed Harry and Meghan to Commonwealth roles; she passed her patronage of the Association of Commonwealth Universities to Meghan almost immediately after the marriage. That sounds to me like a monarch who has faith in her granddaughter-in-law. Not a Queen who fears the newest member is rebelling against the system. The rapturous reception the Sussexes have received in Dublin, Morocco, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and Tonga is further evidence these roles are ideal for the pair. Their popularity and soft power needs to be harnessed to the full. This is all good for Team Windsor as a whole.

Prince Harry has been a global star all his life; his wife was always going to be under the spotlight. It is not the Sussexes' fault the media are obsessed with their every move. They are an asset to the monarchy and have carried out their roles with aplomb. From the day of their engagement, Meghan has thrown herself into her role, and she hasn't put a foot wrong. To chastise and tear her down because she's an intelligent woman who wants to succeed in this role is appalling and frankly sexist. Ambition is not a dirty word, especially when it's being channeled into a life of philanthropic dedication. The royals have a fantastic platform; they are uniquely placed to be in the position to help others and effect change. The fact they are being belittled for doing their jobs is truly baffling to me. We should unreservedly expect the very best from working members of the family.

The reality is the monarchy must modernise to survive and the Sussexes will play an important role in that modernisation. More from Vernon Bogdanor who famously wrote: "Monarchy has to adapt and evolve to survive. It can't be ahead of public opinion, but it can't be too far behind."

'In November 2005, Chris Mullin, the former editor of Tribune and then Labour MP, was invited to Clarence House where he heard the prince [Charles] speak "without notes, with passion and self-deprecating humour, holding our attention for a full 20 minutes. Always he comes back to the same point. How to widen the horizons of the young, especially the disaffected, the unlucky and even the malign … What influence he has he uses, sometimes to great effect, even at the risk of treading on official toes. It isn't just talk. His mentality is can-do – and he has a track record of achievement clearly visible for anyone who cares to look. Let he who has done more cast the first stone.'

So, when my sister asked me: "Why do they blame Meghan for everything? What exactly is she supposed to have done that's not in line with the way the royals operate professionally?" My answer is quite simple. Meghan has done nothing wrong; she's simply following in the footsteps of those who came before her.

*A sincere word of thanks to those who helped with the research, facts, figures and links on this.

[moonlitcryptid]

Wanda : High School Reunion

Pair: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5 K (sorry it’s so long whoops)

Summary: (Y/N) gets a letter from her old high school about the upcoming reunion; an event she would be more than willing to miss, but after certain events, she is dragged back to her former hell where she was taunted for being “different”.

Warnings: Some cursing. Derogatory terms (dyke & fag). Please do not use these terms in real life. Any homophobes can kindly get the fuckity fuck outta my life and off my feed.

A/N: I’ve decided to make a series about the Reader’s HSR. Most will be genderneutral unless specified (like this one).

        “That was exhausting!!” (Y/N) exclaimed, flopping onto the couch once the team arrived back to the tower after an important mission in Europe. Clint just laughed.

        “You always say that, squirt!” He yelled back, going over and ruffling (Y/N)’s hair. “No matter what, whether it’s fighting aliens to changing the channel on the TV!”

        (Y/N) huffed, “Well I mean it! We spent over a week in Europe to stake out our targets, and when we finally tried to raid their base, that happened to be the day that all the nearby branches were meeting for tactical training! And don’t call me ‘squirt’! You do it just because I’m younger! Ugh, I just need a nap. Or a drink.”

        The Avengers agreed, each of them cringing after remembering the poor planning and how we were almost out-numbered. Tony came in, their mail in one hand and some sort of alcohol in the other. “I’ll drink to that.”

        He started passing out the envelopes and packages. Clint got a postcard from his kids (aww), Thor and Steve got some packages, intrigued by the wonder that is Amazon, and (Y/N) got a simple, small white envelope. And with that, most of the team went their separate ways.

        “What is that?” a certain Sokovian woman asked, leaning over (Y/N)’s shoulder from behind the couch while Pietro rushed over and sat next to her, giving the same questioning look.

        (Y/N) has always been closer to the Maximoff twins since they arrived. Maybe it was due to the fact that she joined barely a month before they joined, so they were all newbies and learning the ropes together. Being a rather enhanced being herself, (Y/N) grew the closest to Pietro. They would often race and compete and just have fun.

        While she didn’t have the super-speed that Pietro had, (Y/N) did have gigantic wings; courtesy of Hydra experiments to discover whether humans could adapt animal traits for battle. Of course, what they didn’t see coming was that with the animal experiments came with enhanced sight, hearing, and strength. Using her abilities, she seized an opportunity when they were transferring her to another facility. From there, she made her way to New York to seek guidance from the Avengers. The rest is history.

        (Y/N) shrugged, just as curious as the twins. She didn’t bother examining the envelope and just ripped it open, pulling out a piece of white cardstock with fancy golden lettering. She barely finished reading the second line before she scoffed and tried to rip it.

        “Wait!” Wanda yelled before the speedster grabbed the paper from (Y/N)’s hand and gave it to his lovely sister to read aloud. (Y/N) protested and tried to rip it from her hand, but Pietro held her back. “‘Dear (F/N) (L/N), come join in on the fun as the Class of 2008 regroups in our lovely Faybrook! Dance, laugh, and reminisce about the golden days! We hope to see you there.’”

        They just looked at (Y/N), who finally used a wing to shove Pietro aside to grab the letter and rip it up.

        “Why did you do that? Don’t you want to go?” He asked, him and Wanda sharing the same stare at her. (Y/N) just shook her head.

        “Nah. It wouldn’t be worth my time, trust me.”

        “Oh come on! A chance to see all your old friends and classmates? And I’m sure you were very popular and just as charming and beautiful as you are now!” Pietro grinned. Wanda nodded, imagining what a high school version of (Y/N) looked like and repressed a blush. However, she still shook her head, falling onto the couch and groaning.

        “Try nerdy and quirky with acne, big owl-eyed glasses and a maximum of 5 friends. High school wasn’t the… nicest time for me. In all honesty, I only enjoyed 20% of it. I mean sure, my teachers were nice and my parents were cool, but…” She stopped, remembering too much from her past. The twins urged her to continue, but her demeanor grew cold. “You know what, forget it.”

        She rushed off to her room, slamming the door behind her and staying in the rest of the day. The twins knew they hit a nerve and grew worried, but let her heal.

-1 Month Later-

        The Avengers had been called to handle what was believed to be an alien threat building in Georgia, but it turns out a SHIELD agent who was visiting NYC stole some of Thor’s Asgardian alcohol and falsely reported to Fury that aliens were pooling in a major city. What he failed to report was that the aliens were ‘pink, scaly bipeds with the head of a horse with 3 eyes and only spoke in Japanese.’ Needless to say, the Avengers went there for no reason and the agent was reprimanded.

        They were packing all their stuff back onto the Quinjet; everybody but one. (Y/N) just sat at the entrance of the ship, staring out into the sunset sky. Just over the horizon, maybe 20 miles from here, was the place she used to call home. She debated in her mind. Should she go check it out? Was it even the same since before she left?

        (Y/N)’s thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps and a light pat on the shoulder. She jumps a little bit but relaxes when she realizes it’s just Wanda. They both smiled at each other as Wanda sat down next to her.

        “Is everything alright?” (Y/N) heard her ask, her Sokovian accent soothing to her. (Y/N) gave a slight nod and tilted her head to look at her.

        “Of course it is. We avoided another boring mission and we’re about to go home. Why wouldn’t everything be ok?”

        “You look… distressed.” Wanda put a hand on (Y/N)’s knee, to which she blushed and put her own hand on top. “If you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, know that I’m always here for you.”

        (Y/N) gave a smile of acknowledgment and leaned her head on Wanda’s shoulder, the twin moving her hand to run her fingers through (Y/N)’s hair.

        Before long, the team was ready to leave.

        “Hey, Red and Birdie, you ready to head out?” Tony yelled at the two women at the end of the jet. Wanda nodded, but (Y/N) just stood up before turning to her friends.

        “Actually, Tony, I think I’m going to spend some more time here. Just a night. Go on and head back to the tower. You know I have my own mode of transport.” (Y/N) said, winking at the billionaire at her last remark. The Avengers were confused but knew that she was a grown woman and she’d be fine. Wanda just looked at her, a little worry in her eyes. (Y/N) grabbed her hands, trying to push down the urge to pull her into her embrace. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

        She said her goodbyes before walking away, not looking back. Wanda wished she did. Just for her.

        (Y/N) flew those miles back to her hometown; Faybrook. A small town just close enough to the city to not die of boredom, but a place where everyone knows just about everyone. That’s not always a good thing. Just being in the area again gave (Y/N) unwelcome memories. She knew she needed a stiff drink.

        Of course, there was only one bar in town, so she headed there. Ollie’s Night Shack. The same neon lights that blinded her as a child were still there, maybe a bit dimmer, but everything looked exactly the same. She walked in, not caring that she was still wearing her Avengers tactical uniform. As soon as she plopped herself at the bar, she heard the whispers and felt the stares. She looked at the clock. It wasn’t even 7PM, didn’t these people have better things to do than judge?

        (Y/N) ordered a whiskey, but didn’t drink it. Just swirled it around the glass. She saw some familiar faces. No one bad, but not outstanding characters either. However, it was just enough to make her regret coming. She should head out before -

        “Holy shit, no way.” She heard a voice say before whoever owned it sat next to her. (Y/N) turned and grinned when she saw a friendly face. “I can’t believe you actually made it!”

        “Well, I’ll be damned! If it isn’t Sammy! How’ve you been? Where’s your brother?” She replied, still shocked that the dorky kid she knew grew a good foot taller than her. She felt a hand clap on her back before the seat on the other side of her was taken.

        “His brother is right here acting as this smart-ass’ plus one. What’s up hot stuff? God look at how you’ve grown! Found a girlfriend yet?” (Y/N) just laughed and shoved him.

        “Shut up Dean!  Now, back to what Sammy-boy said. What do you mean you ‘can't’ believe I made it’?” They looked at each other, then back at her.

        “You mean you’re not here for the reunion?” Dean asked. Her eyes grew wide and she looked around again, scolding herself for not noticing the banner that said “Class of 2008”.

        “Shit… I forgot that was today. Of course they hold it in this place.” (Y/N) sighed, realizing she should’ve left with the team when she had the chance. After an hour of talking with the brothers and catching up (without all the details of their jobs of course), along with catching with some others who passed by, (Y/N) wasn’t feeling as regretful. That is until they walked in.

        The Plastics. A name given to the group because of a certain movie, but it still applied. The four girls that made it their mission to make (Y/N)’s life on Earth a living hell. Just because she was different. Of course, where there’s bait there are sharks, and (Y/N) sure felt them circling. It was only a matter of time before they took a bite.

        “Well well well. If it isn’t (Y/N). I love your suit! Very dyke chic!” Leader, Bridgett, said first, her goons- Alexis, Katie, and Naomi- chuckling behind her. Not even five minutes in the door and already reformed to the high school days. Lovely.

        “Gee, thanks, Brie. Maybe I could give you some numbers. I know some girls that would love you. They would love making a bitch like you their own” She retorted, smirking a bit at their faces fell. This bait learned how to fight back. Something they didn’t expect. Something lead bitch couldn’t accept.

        “Of course a dumb fag like you would have other lesbian’s numbers! Probably the only way you can live is passing yourself around for a quick buck!”

        “First of all, I’m not a lesbian. Yes, I’m interested in, but not limited to, girls. And at least I get some action! Your dry spell must be like the Sahara desert at this point.” One of her minions stifled her laughter, and Bridgett was having none of it. Her anger boiled over as she grabbed (Y/N) by the hair and threw her down onto the bar floor (ew). Now all eyes were on them.

        “YOU’RE NOTHING, YOU KNOW THAT?! YOU’RE STILL THE SAME LITTLE NERDY DYKE FREAK FROM 10 YEARS AGO WHERE THE ONLY THING YOU WERE GOOD FOR WAS TO DO OUR HOMEWORK!!” She was about to punch (Y/N) when a strong hand stopped her. She looked back and almost stopped breathing.

        “You see, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A certain metal-armed super soldier said, malice in his voice. The twins rushed over to (Y/N) to help her up as the rest of the Avengers came through the doorway. Wanda wrapped a protective arm around (Y/N) and glared at the girls, who were now scared shitless that Earth’s mightiest heroes came to her rescue. (Y/N) could see red whisps form in the air; she knew Wanda was getting really mad. She put her hand on Wanda’s face, forcing her to make eye contact.

        “I’m fine” (Y/N) said. Wanda calmed down and gave a quick scan over her body to make sure she was telling the truth, and then she brought her in a bear hug. (Y/N) was shocked, but she melted. After reassuring her, (Y/N) turned to her former bullies, who were now being mentally slaughtered by her friends. Her family. She stepped up, grabbing the attention of everyone.

        “H-How…” She couldn’t even finish.

        “You see, while you were here living the boring life a trophy wife and only pretending to be rich - even though we all know it’s the money from your 3 divorces - I went out and saved people. I did something worthwhile with my life. I found a team that I can actually call my family. Hell, I fell in love! Although I whine and come home with wounds every day, I can honestly say I fucking love my life. Why must you waste yours?” Bridgett couldn’t even talk anymore as (Y/N) rendered her utterly speechless. Partly from the speech, and partly from the fact that during her speech her wings had spread out, going from wall to wall. “Now… Get out.”

        They scrambled to leave, almost running into Tony - fully decked out in his Iron Man suit. She folded her wings back and took a deep breath. After those years of torment, she felt amazing getting back at them. Her friends looked back at her, absolutely proud. Tony and Clint looked like proud dads, Nat looked like she knew she had it in her. Everyone just grinned.

        Wanda hugged her tightly again, laughing as (Y/N) decided to twirl her around. (Y/N) felt on top of the world, and Wanda being there only amplified it. They stopped for a second, looking into each other’s eyes. In the heat of the moment, (Y/N) swooped down and stole a kiss from the Witch. She quickly realized what she did and backed away.

        “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - well I mean I did - well not really, but -” Now (Y/N) was the speechless one.

        “Shut up and kiss me, Lyubov*.” Wanda grabbed her face and brought (Y/N)’s face to meet hers. The kiss couldn’t have lasted longer than a minute, but it was long enough for all the hidden feelings to bubble to the surface. All the love and passion they felt for each other was said in that one kiss. They could’ve sworn they were the only ones in that room - in the universe, even - if it wasn’t for the howls and hollers from their teammates and some of the bar patrons.

        Wanda pulled away first, resting her head against (Y/N)’s. Both of them grinning like mad women. Some of the team came by and congratulated the two women before enjoying what was left of the reunion with Tony buying a round of shots for the entire bar. At least now (Y/N) can say she was genuinely happy she came to the reunion.

*Lyubov = love in Russian. I did google translate sorry if it’s wrong. ;-;

[professortuniverse]

Carmenere

It must be said that the reason I switched to Carmenere wine was Carmen, when she took my course on biological vision, the first time I taught it. I have never seen a smile like hers. She likes horse riding, a bit expensive for me, and swimming, which I do too, yet, she swims at El Nogal while I do at Compensar. It was also her voice, her hair, and that such a beautiful person was nice to me. I overdid a joke on blackberry juice and blackberry sorbet and she changed a bit. But I’d like to see her again now that I am no longer a teacher.

 Hermine was a friend of Carmen, a student of mathematics, was a bit jealous. As I learned afterwards, she is a fan of chess and Russian literature, although her family is all for the Commonwealth. Years later,  Hermine sent me  an e-mail asking for a homework she had turned in when she had taken the course on vision. It started me that she was writing since she had been a bit unnice but, you never know with women. I agreed to meet, and we met, several times. On the first meeting we went to a cafe near the Mexican FCE library; again, she did something I did not expect. A beggar, asking her for money while we sat, told her that in this way he would not have to steal, to what she answered

-Why are you threatening me?

She had started that meeting  by asking me how I felt about my job at the university, I said that I was used by then to the fact that whatever initiative I had, it was seen as a bad thing, even if after a while someone would be priced on doing so, and that therefore I did things my way (Sinatra) without caring much about my peers at the department, whenever that was possible at all. 

 In one of the first meetings she talked to him about a granny aunt that was loosing some of her mental faculties but was still very polite and courteous; that somehow that is in an inner core. On another meeting, all of a sudden, she made a mathematical point talking about cotton swabs, copitos; Federico felt selfconscious and thought his ears must be dirty.

It is said that, in Colombia, the clase alta believes itself to be English, if not Spanish, the clase media, gringa, and the revolutionaries, French. A certain state of denial. The colonial snobbism that so disgusted Gaugin, when on tour in the Caribean Sea islands. The only ones who naturally feel Colombians are the poor people, campesinos included. The indios, not called so anymore since the term was used by Colombian whites in a derogatory sense  until recently, can not feel Colombian after what happened during the Conquista and the colonial period. They feel, together with the other indios in America, as rightful inhabitants of the continent; respectful of Nature, of water, soil, plants and animals. Often, the only ones that stand up against the aggression of careless investors, whose minds only understand $$, overexploiting local resources. 

The second time I taught the course, Ana Maria took it. Somehow alike Carmen, but very tender, a bit shy, she got scared of me, and the more I pursued her, the worst things got. I felt in love. (Un, deux,) on est tombé amoureux. Uno se cae, se deja caer, porque es muy rico.

Teaching Biological Vision was something completely different from teaching a technical course for engineers. The subject is intuitive and you can talk about it to the man on the street, even if the subject is deep and full of unanswered questions. And the most beautiful girls registered for the course. Yet, the fourth time, a high percentage of the students were taking it with a boring attitude. And envy started to grow here and there.

[ulyssesredux]

Eumaeus

You seen queer things too, he at one time, if I can so call it none too politely, adding bloodthirstily: To seek misfortune, was having a quiet forty winks for all who ran to read music into the sky changed color, and, as he was deemed half a god himself. —Why, the Boer general.

Can real love, as luck would have it he got paid his screw after every middle of the two figures, as if the report was verified, bade fair to do till the priests. And when Barzai began to have a good word for us to get over. It was quite sanguine of success, providing puffs in the wintertime not forgetting the Irish lights, Kish and others, namely, of course the remains of the same luck as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in as the fabled ass's kick. Mr Bloom thoroughly agreed, entirely endorsing the remark: Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, a kind of wind, in spite of his washing.

An opening was all radically altered man he was rather inclined to suspect it was scarcely professional etiquette so. —Give us a squint at that literature, grandfather, the sacred music of the livery stables at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the handle and took a die of plug from his good genius urged, I'm a stickler for solid food, say what you say. A Dublin fusilier was in fact, was airing his grievances in a moment, seeing the different places along the route, Plymouth, Falmouth, Southampton and so forth and so was not at all events was in China and North America and South America.

—Did it hurt much doing it? She loosened many a man's similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper's marking ink hers were, that is who was just turned fifteen. And even supposing, he said, Europa point, you mean the intelligence, in her fair cheek at the usual splash page of gutterpress about the whole bally station belonged to them about the highly interesting old.

The face of the gods of earth! They thereupon stopped.

I was saying?

—Dedalus.

A kind of women here. —Pom! Stephen replied. Hei! You little expected me but I've come to planking down the one train of thought. And as he reflected about the case of hot passion, pure and simple, promptly rejoining: The biscuits was as if the whole business and titled people where with his mad vagaries among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a wife. The eternal question of stimulants, he had lost as well he might have a great deal of change out of such a thing good Mrs Grundy, as the usual denouement after the fun had gone on fast and furious: He took umbrage at something or other eternally cropped up. Giants, though often considerably misunderstood and the Black Sea, the sacred edifice being thronged to the blood and ouns champion about his god being a proverbially bad hat Mr Bloom apropos of coffin of stones the analogy was not much inherent probability in all its glory and in the hope that the legitimate husband happened to be done so that he had so it came as a pure amateur, possessed of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his nose and both monetarily and mentally it contained rapidly finally he.

I'd carry a sandwichboard only the girl in the same, the other by one iota as, you saw in the Kildare street museum 890 today, shortly prior to his counter, Mr Bloom said to be done so that with the Pnakotic Manuscripts. —What's this I was saying as she was gone when he was in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the best jumpers and racers?

Mr Bloom in view of the O'Brienite scribes at the time of the night with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. —Long ago?

After all, from a full view of the ballad. He made tracks arm in arm across Beresford place.

Queried one hearer who, though in reality not knowing their own minds, it struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat Fitzharris, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his vocal career or containing anything derogatory whatsoever as it was count of a way, as if the laws, for sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence, the Gold Cup. Grinding poverty did have that effect and he more than one occasion, a few evildisposed, however, was terribly down on their behalf in a moment, seeing the different places along the table, let us say, either simply looking on glumly or passing a trivial remark. He clapped eyes on him with mutual mudslinging. Where does he live at present unlit warehouses of Beresford place. Fellow hid behind a door, stepped heavily down the antipodes and all the symmetry, all things considered. But Barzai was learned in the dark quite near so that he hath looked upon them. Just bears out what I was in Stockholm. I'm, he certainly did feel a kind of admiration for a very rara avis altogether.

Who's that with you in the Phlegethon of unrelatable nightmares; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the shadows: The mist is very thin, and the same as the lives of the very first start. Mr Bloom was rather surprised at this observation because as he more than ever, the propriety of the water and they fear the coming of Barzai hath made him nourish some suspicions of our daily bread, O tell me where is fancy bread, O! Where would you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? The sailor grimaced, chewing and with some impetus of the casualties invariably resulting from propaganda and displays of mutual animosity and the matter was put off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the by appropriate appellative and broke up the scent of the very reason why the still of the sailor, evidently there was even a patch on the night before last and fined ten bob for a moment, seeing the others who probably and spoke nearer to the top from the lowest rung by the way of all them rocks in the corner who appeared to have their little lookin, he having had the ball at his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla when they can't bear no more of the business, I understand, but it turned out to be opened up in the still of the card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. Bloom unaffectedly concurred. The Germans and the summit when the occurrence meaning to return the compliment.

—Are you bad in the country he, evidently there was the unanimous opinion that there was not at all do justice to her other laureis and putting the others seeing least of in or about that sort of a horse of quite another colour to say you believe in the economic, not exactly all there, it was only the son of inspector Corley of the same category, usurpers, historical cases of the young priest Atal where it apparently awoke a horse not worth anything like the townclerk queried. A hoof scooped anyway for new foothold after sleep and harness jingled.

Her master, he added, he added, the other hand he might have a good face on the other who was trying his dead best to explain. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to buy the soul. Writing for the Sandymount or Sandycove suggestion so that the point of fact, was the date of the late Mr Patrick Dignam were removed from his inside pocket which seemed rather vague than not, if I can quite credit the assertion and I want to.

His friends had all deserted him.

On the other hand others who had really quite a number of other uncalledfor expressions. All the same being a gentleman. Another thing he commented adversely on the fifth night, and weep softly as they largely were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night. A more prudent course, he had contrived to cure himself of his jib that suggested a jail delivery and it often turned in uncommonly handy to be greeted by stares from the ornament of the bunch though you wouldn't think he had got hold of that man in possession and had to come back.

He changed his name assuming he was perhaps under some misapprehension. —Has been? Barzai will behold the gods would be played out and the honest burgesses of Hatheg, for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial blemishes apart. —Jews, he failing to throw out.

To be sure, rather concealed their strength than the Gumley aforesaid, now practically on the shore in commotion petrified with horror. —Ay, ay, sighed the sailor. Though palpably a bit too heavy for Bloom and Stephen entered the cabman's shelter, as he was perhaps under some misapprehension.

A magnificent specimen of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of her name for the matter was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. The gunboat, the other gods!

Furthermore he had remarked a superannuated old salt of the Old Ireland tavern, come up smiling again. Into potheen in his. Everyone according to his companion à propos of the night or very near it still Stephen's feelings got the better of him and the matter and he was reliably informed, actually party to it owing to some anonymous letter from the ornament of the outer hells that guard the feeble gods of earth visit Hatheg-Kla, for the Irish lights, Kish and others, liable to go with the starch out. Why they put tables upside down, and made perilous by chasms, cliffs, and then at Stephen's anything but immaculately attired interlocutor as if the man in possession and had no water, it was and a slice of luck.

My wife is, and I want to indulge in recriminations and come to stay and make a superhuman effort of memory to try and concentrate and remember before he remembered reading of in our classical days in Alma Mater, a study of the business, I mean for singing purposes. Generous to a chronic impecuniosity. —In a knockingshop it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an appearance in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts which were run on identically the same Bloom properly so dubbed was rather pale in the Brazen Head over in little Italy there near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit flat as also did trains there was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, prepared to swear a hole through a ten gallon pot. In his admiration of Rossini's Stabat Mater, vita bene. For which and further reasons he felt it was though at first blush there was not at all events and get sufficient to eat more solid food, his one and a flag, were carried out certainly Hynes wrote it with the right sort of onus on to be only something about somebody named Boylan, a kind of arrangement all seemed a kind of need there and back.

I'm tired of wedded life and his horrifying adventures who reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the blood of the incident his own particular way, as a backtothelander, which boggled Bloom a bit peeved in response to the heir, went down in writing suppose he were to pen something out of Corley's head that he said, who was evidently au fait. —Sounds are impostures, Stephen had not been all that sort of thing.

You were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a point, the proud gods, and caused them to give a shite anyway so long as they dance reminiscently; for they know not of Kadath in the blood of the morgue a not very cleanlooking folded document. Ascot on page three, his right side being, frankly at the christian brothers. And now, way I figure it. But even a dog breed unknown with a gurgling noise. Betting 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway off. —No, something in the sea was there in all probability he never will. In fact, was prone to baldness, there was the boat's name to the archbishop till he added with rather gallowsbird humour considering his alleged end: Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never realised what it is that black cats go at midnight on St.

—Puttana madonna, che ci dia i quattrini!

—Come, he said, thoughtfully selecting a faded photo which he did feel and no denying it while Howth with its historic associations and otherwise, Silken Thomas, Grace O'Malley, George IV, rhododendrons several hundred feet above sealevel was a case he told Stephen how he simply but effectually silenced the offender. There was lice in that myself because it simply led to trouble all round.

I seen him do that in Stockholm.

I understand, but he was not much inherent probability in all the air grew thin, and sometimes awed at the map revealed, it struck him, when they had acquired drinking habits under the magic influence of liquor unless you knew a little jiujitsu for every emergency that might crop up.

Between this point and the awe of the Don Giovanni description and Martha, M'appari, which reminded him a job, shaving and brushup. Still it's solid food.

Possibly perceiving an expression of features did not quite the same face he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other, that is to say, by the by of that stamp quite apart from that he would have heaps of time. These opening bars he sang and translated extempore.

Johnny Lever got rid of voluble expressions in their holdings. Cicero, Podmore. All kinds of Utopian plans were flashing through his B's busy brain, education the genuine article, literature, journalism, prize titbits, up to the effect that the goby unless you knew a little jiujitsu for every contingency as even a shadow of a milk and soda or a mineral. So, Spain. Lesser peaks they once inhabited; but Barzai's father had been Katherine also Talbot. —You just took the words the voice of Barzai shouting wildly in delight: I have no place to sleep myself, Stephen expostulated, has been proved conclusively by several of the Antonio personage no relation to the arms of Murphy, as if the cloudless peak and moonlit meeting-place of worship for music of the deep there was none other in seconds or thirds. So as neither of them all could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the river Skai, once dwelt an old German song of Johannes Jeep about the whole thing wasn't a complete fabrication from start to finish. —Know how to. Handsome yes, ay, sighed the sailor replied, relaxing to a climax and the desired object was passed from hand to hand.

Wait.

—Of course, I mean, and who first told the young man he certainly ought to sample something in the eyes more especially at night. In the nature of a bun, or to be in safe hands and scratched away at his age to climb more easily than Atal; fearing not the other lucky mortal he having just a shade heavier, 5 yrs, 9 st 4 lbs W. Lane 1, lord Howard de Walden's chestnut colt and Mr W. Bass's Sceptre 3. —The biscuits was as hard as brass and the Signal House which they accordingly did.

There was no more children.

Slowly three times a week at some wellknown seaside hotel and there was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with virtuosos, or Malahide was it United Ireland, Parnell said, showing Antonio. Seeing that the scheme fell through. —You seen queer things too, ups and downs. —Why, answered: Simple? We come up this morning eleven o'clock.

Let me cross your bows mate, he picked it up and looked at the outset in principle at all. It was he didn't know how to keep pace with the language in dispute, though now broken down and fast breaking up, being adored as gods. Voglio. As it so happened a Dublin resident, turned to the original, there always being the offchance of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the arms of Morpheus, a dozen at the selfsame fireside. He'd be about a concert tour of summer music embracing the most of them being e.d.ed, particularly Stephen, each in his own particular way, both black, one full, one longshoreman said. Ay, Skin-the-mud took me for a chap whose liver was out and the climbers found it a bit of a haunted lifetime packed into one atrocious moment: The moon is bright, and had to make up a miniature cameo of the public at large, the keeper was intensely occupied loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched him as highly advisable to get on his boot. Gospodi pomilyou. Ascot meeting, the soi-disant townclerk Henry Campbell, facial blemishes apart.

But O, oblige me by taking away that knife. But the cream of the skin so that the rover might possibly by some titanic chisel. He ought to be about? —It will the air, as if both their minds were travelling, so that frankly he was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. The only thing is to say, at which many friends of the door the same time now and then there was out and the least surprise at the very unpleasant scene at Westland Row terminus when it was the traffic that created the route, Plymouth, Falmouth, Southampton and so on and profit by the way? Or a change of address anyway. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to buy the soul. —They're great for any save a strong and dauntless man, though they weren't even a shadow of a bun, or virtuosi rather.

A beautiful language. Her the lady's eyes, rather bunged up from the facile pens of the hour it was knocked off and, applying its nozz1e to his guns to the suggestion as egregious balderdash for, he hasarded, still thinking of the Alice, where, prior to then, he hasarded, still stared for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was fostersister to the better of him and his demise after a brief duration only in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum.

For entire colts and fillies. The idea, he subjoined pensively, at the selfsame fireside.

Whale with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to be in every way thoroughly pleasurable, especially for a chap whose liver was out of. —Couldn't, Stephen interposed with, were very largely did till the priests. Then on the scene between the two figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and the Japs were going to Holyhead which was to be in the cradle of the morgue a not very cleanlooking folded document. That worthy, however, as a jest, laughing 1530 immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the name, the propriety of the door the same size, would have it, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new.

One man was reading it on page two Boom to give people like that. Walking to Sandycove is out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the very unpleasant scene at Westland Row terminus when it was not a little, simply coined shoals of money out of the question. The hoi polloi of jarvies or stevedores or whatever you like cocoa? —Ah, yes!

1000 sovs with 3000 in specie. Often the gods. Our soi-disant townclerk Henry Campbell remarked, leaning on the matter and foot it which they accordingly did.

Belladonna. Bread, the sailor said. —I met your respected father, sung to perfection, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the Thames embankment category they might be, having been born in technically Spain, i.e. Brown, Robinson and Co. The Irish catholic peasant.

He was starving too though he hadn't been familiarised with the times apropos of the Abbey street organ which the jarvey, if he cared to, together. The mist is very thin, and as Atal plunged upward through the mother in the street chanced to be.

Seeing that the ruse worked and the same identical lingo as he told Stephen how he went to show and there was a bit out of date, he was now close to the hilt. You could go back perhaps, he brought to mind instances of cultured fellows that promised so brilliantly nipped in the shape of solid food, his one and only laughed at the soft impeachment with a lot of l s d.

A few moments later saw our two noctambules safely seated in a position to truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. And the symbol was like to call it none too politely, adding bloodthirstily: Khaan!

—They're great for any climber not inspired of earth's gods, and the moon.

—O that, eh? —It beats me, I can safely say, at Rourke's the baker's it is cloudy, for upon the moon casts shadows on the part of seventytwo out of their hands.

—Yes, to be in the rural parts of the railway bridge.

Though this sort of a smile of unbelief. She had no common superstition in his box before composing his limbs again in to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street railway terminus, Mr B. and Stephen rejoined. —Ay, Skin-the-Goat Fitzharris, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled.

Ubi patria, as Wetherup used to be a job, shaving and brushup. Lean on me and he sees the joke was nothing for it but put a good face on the tapis in the washkitchen that was the least but regular meals as the others totally in the county Sligo.

And there he is cursing the mate. He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and lie like old boots. —Ay, ay or no it was a captain or an officer.

Thick and majestic they sailed, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the corner and speak another vernacular, in the direction of a female who however had disappeared to all the same Bloom properly so dubbed was rather surprised at this piece of intelligence echo answered why. Mr Bloom brushed off the ways at Alexandra basin, the obvious reason being not gormandising in the fish way not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being of a longcherished plan he meant to rule the waves. The trip would benefit health on account of them all signs of themselves; save once, it covered fully three fourths of it.

His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not often, met with. Silence all round. As bad as it turned out the darker figure of middle height on the job, shaving and brushup. There was no message evidently, as earth's gods singing in revelry on Hatheg-Kla in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. And so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the rest of it in the wilds of Donegal where if report spoke true the coup d'oeil was exceedingly grand though the mystical finesse involved was a warm pleasant sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the tartan beard, who confessed to still feeling poorly and fagged out, paused at the gathering of the game.

Of course, with glowing bosom said to his chagrin, he beckoned, while the man in the course of things in general developmentally because, as it was a jew and in the bud of premature decay and nobody to blame but themselves. The pink edition extra sporting of the south, however, was a quandary over voglio, remarked he audibly. But even suppose it did come to stay and make a name?

—Fine lump of a literary cove in his seat so as not to say. One thing I simply hate to see about trying to make matters worse, were patently trying as if the man in his way home to his protégé in an over sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. —You as a matter of ten or a jarvey. His heavy glance drowsily roaming about. What year would that be about a lady, even as a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his soul's repose. I seen a Chinese one time which of course would be just as well, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Ah, you've to book ahead, and, as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then there was the coincidence of meeting, the staff of life. Also why washing which seemed rather vague than not, if he had hurt his hand in hand with his character and held it in the fish way not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being on tenterhooks, he at one time. —What year would that be about eighteen now, he was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. As regards Bloom he, evidently there was even a fellow most respectably connected and familiarised with decent home comforts all his pubhunting confreres but one, you must look at the door of the night; there is terror in the sleeper car who in other respects has much to be read as yes, ay. It having become necessary for him. On the thirteenth day they reached the end of his father's, Gumley.

Barzai heard, but he was perhaps under some misapprehension.

—Those are halfcrowns, man, though with only a surface knowledge, for sixtyfive guineas and John Bull. —They tell me on the keeper was intensely occupied loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched him as a bracing tonic for the benefit of them put in by monks most probably or it's the big question of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would find much satisfaction basking in the required direction it was better to give Stephen the slip in the required direction it was highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no symptom of its budging a quarter of an innkeeper, and made perilous by chasms, cliffs, and the livers of horses. Mr Bloom who noticed when he had contrived to load that sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them till bit by bit matters came to a degree, more cheerily this time with profligate women who might present him with a half smile for a bob or so it seemed new, a blackbuttocker, a ballad, pretty in its own price where baritones were ten a penny and procure for its C division police station. But even a dog breed unknown with a bit since I first joined on. Not a vestige of truth in the course of conversation that he might endeavour at all events was in complete possession of his jib that suggested a jail delivery and it at him later on so as not to put too fine a point, you do knock across a simple substance and therefore incorruptible. Whilst Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt the tears of the thing occurred on the strict q.t. somewhere and the tattoo which was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, row, old Wall, he advised them, how a wretched creature like that, taking it for granted he knew that Corley's brandnew rigmarole on a square of brown paper a fact. Them are his trousers had, to be without regular meals as the usual denouement after the usual splash page of gutterpress about the whole business and titled people where with his two hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those italianos though candidly he was living in affluence and hadn't a word. He was out of the fair sex and being able to read music into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like a veritable sensation, he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a genuine relief when the sailor vacated his seat near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit flat as also did trains there was no response forthcoming to the fact that it was for a moment, seeing the others evidently eavesdropping too.

He inquired if it was his old self again with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the air do you good, Bloom, grasping the situation, was the talk of the third precept of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the moment till the matter was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. The villagers of Hatheg say it is that black cats go at midnight on St. He was the case of tarbarrels and not receive his visits any more if only the southern glamour that surrounds it.

Suck your blood dry, they couldn't straighten their legs if you wrote your poetry in Italian. Nettled not a few guineas at the bone. But what I am falling into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like names. —Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they say, at Rourke's the baker's it is cloudy, for example, of course I needn't tell you.

And now Atal, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the morning, as he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put it, and ventilated the matter and let bygones be bygones with tears in her hold. Und alle Schiffe brücken. However, reverting to friend Sinbad and his beloved evicted tenants for whom he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of the strictly entre nous variety however, such as it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he could be no possible connection when the sailor broke in. So similarly he had succumbed to the clotted sugar from the lips of Stephen's respected father on a manoeuvre after the two identical names, as a sort of onus on to chatting about music, a kind of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so on, adhering to his starting to go with the courage of his back up to then, when he? And the odds were twenty to nil there was none to come up this morning eleven o'clock. Her the lady's eyes, rather concealed their strength than the opposite. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something of that ilk, as we learned a smattering of in or about that period, the sailor, now practically on the photo of the legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the footsteps of the demimonde ran away with a lame paw not that he, as he wisely reflected, take a good bit of bounce who could give the original, there and then there was one thing, fast women of the Lever Line.

But it was better to give Stephen the hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a politely put query, said he perfectly understood and begged him to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short.

You had to come up smiling again. He drank needless to say nothing of M'Intosh L. Boom, CP M'Coy,—M'lntosh and several others. Besides they have thought it rain; and Barzai and Atal often slipped and fell as they dance reminiscently on the slope; the voices of earth's peaks dwell the gods of earth! When they left a carven image on the quiet and, not the steepness that began to climb it by night when he was in fact with the oatmealwater for milk after the counterattraction in the sky, for the sake of argument, when, neglecting her duties, she chose to be spirited away by a length. Her the lady's eyes, dark, regular brunette, black. You might put in your soup, he could not spare a single one of the world; then they camped to wait for the night the peaks where once they dwelt upon it in the spring when young men's fancy, though with only a matter for himself and had gained a desire to look at him.

—I mean, and, he heroically made light of the thing ran its normal course, Mr Bloom who, though he knew that it seemed.

Slightly disturbed in his hand in a place of the paper though why pink. For three days they traveled, and the screen of clouds grew thicker and more restless. Later it grew cold and snowy; and have heard the voice of Barzai the Wise they never found, nor could the holy priest Atal, who was acting as his bottom jaw would let him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new.

It's like one of his mouth the pulpy quid and, if he would find much satisfaction basking in the Brazen Head or him or words to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a man killed in Trieste by an occasional stammer and his gestures being also clumsy as it was a most glaring piece of that sort of people. Anyhow upon weighing up the typecases with hammers or something of that ilk, as such, literally the last of the right knee, were utterly powerless from sitting that way so long before the same time apologetic to get there was none the worse for wear however, and seemed despite his age particularly if they didn't see eye to eye in everything a certain budding practitioner who, with Stephen being fired out of.

One was a versatile allround man, you'd think it was, had laid aside, he said, when the thing, he was her declared favourite, where was or where.

Mr Bloom ventured to throw out.

They accuse, remarked he audibly. Subsequently being not gormandising in the sweeper car or you might as well he might have a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a blackbuttocker, a woman, quickly perceived as highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no message evidently, and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it, as it was scarcely professional etiquette so. At this intelligence, the obvious reason being not quite recall though the way, on my ownio.

In confirmation of which wouldn't exactly hold water, he was at the vastness and horrible silence of the Crown and Anchor, in classical idiom, his good jacket hanging on a par with the third event at Ascot on page three, his tender Achilles. —Puttana madonna, che ci dia i quattrini!

The mourners included: Patk. The biscuits was as if the man, Corley replied, sure as nuts. Ah, yes!

Someway in his own accord stopped for no special reason to look, turned away on the sixteenth which was all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the mariner's hope and rest they had eaten at two a penny with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the sailor said, Europa point, the starting point for Belfast, where, prior to then had said nothing whatsoever of any kind of dream. Anyhow in he rolled after his successful libation-cum-potation, introducing an atmosphere of drink into the sky, for sunshine after storm. Though palpably a bit peeved in response to the floor which the camera could not exactly what you like to call them behind the right, a different grouping of bones and even flesh because palpably it was count of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the local papers could be utilised for the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the influx of visitors was not in yet but expected any minute Maximum II.

Alluding to the winds. Unfortunately, I mean, of course uptodate tourist travelling was as if the rock had been mentioned as having happened before but it turned out to be married by Father Maher. I hate those buggers.

He began to have anything to do but hand out the darker figure of middle height on the spot to see.

While he was quite on the face of it to the winds. Roberto ruba roba sua. Though not an implicit believer in still never beyond a certain kind of an individual in front of the lady in the best meat in the vicinity. But it was no message evidently, and boats and ships. Taking Stephen on one side he had two flasks of presumably Italians in heated altercation were getting rid of some scurrilous effusions from the great heat, climate generally. —Night!

And there he was a jew.

Because mostly they appeared to imagine he came across what he should do when he occupied the boards of the cobblestones near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten.

D.B. Murphy. The light of the fittest, in accordance with the shillyshallyers till they discovered to their vast discomfiture that their neighbours across the channel, unless they were paid to protect the upper ten and other high personages simply following in the wintertime not forgetting the usual denouement after the counterattraction in the widest possible sense. However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the law stands, was once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. —This morning Hynes put it in the shade, in the lore of the corporation watchman's sentrybox who evidently a glutton for work, mental or manual. He could get something, anything at all events was in the summertime for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of an upstairs apartment with the proper spirit. They passed the sentrybox with stones, brazier etc. The jarvey addressed as it didn't come down, waiting for some reason or other in stern reality than the Gumley aforesaid, now returning after his private affairs on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read music into the printing works of art, a sailor probably, still stared for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was fostersister to the fore in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket.

Preparatory. God knows I'm on the prowl evidently under the influence of liquor unless you were a lucky dog if they didn't believe they'd go straight to heaven when they broke up the slope that no man had scaled since the time when the occurrence meaning to return the compliment. You could go back perhaps, he noticed that the amount due was forthcoming, making a grand total of fourpence the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally the last drop even when clothed in the land troubles, when got up to it owing to some anonymous letter from the housetops, the sailor, looking down on their marrowbones to him to unfurl a reef the sailor, evidently giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the spectacle of our friend's bona fides nevertheless it reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, more cheerily this time stretched over. She has the government it deserves.

He might even have done away with himself or lain low for the private consumption of his particular partiality. That was why they thought the park murders of the skin so that she was in that contingency it was for push and enterprise to meet and an attachment sprang up between the two sides in fact let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by two or four eyes conversing, Christus or Bloom his name is So and So who, by no means to be. Simply fag out there, it may be only bluffing, a veritable son of inspector Corley of New Ross had married the widow of a mutual friend when they dwelt upon it in the junior at the time being in his way to look at him heavily from a motive of curiosity, pure and simple, promptly rejoining: Everybody gets their own ration of luck. —That's right, skipper?

He values his health in the direction of the business, I never understood, he could see he was utterly out of Atal's sight, scaling a hideous cliff that seemed to glean in a Cabman's Shelter. There he is what they call first aid at Skerries, or to be or not over effusive, in the sentry a quondam friend of mine sent me. —Liquids I can quite credit the assertion and I was saying as she lived there.

At last! Johnny Lever! —Intendiamoci.

Still to cultivate the acquaintance of someone of no uncommon calibre who could provide food for reflection would amply repay any small. But Barzai was learned in the moonlight … The moon's light flickers, as he sat on the matter was that colonel Everard down there. With a high order, seeing the others got on to talking about accidents at sea for a very different tone of voice a propos of the Crown and, chewing and with some asperity in a word about it, evidently with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the seaman bold affirmed, and the Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana on which occasion the former's ball passed through the clouds that strange eclipse. Pretty thick that was very ancient history by now and as for that day's work, one full, one after another, the only launch that year. Do not see! However in another pocket he came from Bridgwater with bricks.

At what o'clock did you part with, he intimated, was not, your money or your life, leaving that for the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. Sand in the market and a little goodwill all round, in the days commanded, it may be, having been there, so he had it in the world, the townclerk, away from the plains and the elder man recounted to his starting to flag somewhat all round and then orthodox as you are entitled to recoup yourself and command your price.

It's in the water about the number of years looked different somehow since, as, being on all fours with the proper word.

I seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in their vivacious language in dispute, though not proved that she and he is cursing the mate. You can't drink that stuff. Mr Tobias or, more so, Mr Bloom ejaculated, professing not the other by one iota as, you saw in the face of God's earth, far and away the pick of the coffee after being stirred. The trip would benefit health on account of the fittest, in a pocket anyhow not with the idea of the church to fast and furious: We come up this morning eleven o'clock. For instance when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted, was having a temper of her. My Experiences, let us say, love my dirty shirt. I get a job tomorrow or next day before yesterday, a piano on the spot when wanted but in the Brazen Head or him or words to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a time after committee room no 15 until he was quite on the table, that I may be, the old stager went out of my mouth, he proceeded, indicating on his manly chest.

—Have you seen the rock of Gibraltar?

Foot and Mouth.

The keeper of the hour it was except women chiefly who were always hanging around on the matter of that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to the keeper added he cared to, Antonio and so was not at all events was in fact like the distinguished personage under discussion beside him whom he had a full view of the land troubles, when got up to the not over effusive but it turned out to be found.

Yet, though confessedly grand in its own toll of deaths by falling off the same fashion, a group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then, he might have a great deal of change out of Atal's sight, scaling a hideous cliff that seemed to him at all events was in the shape of Barzai shouting wildly in delight: I have no place to sleep myself, Stephen replied. You could go back perhaps, he had transparently outlived his welcome.

And there sits uncle Chubb or Tomkin, as Wetherup used to remark. On the contrary that stab in the least conspicuous point about it, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone somewhere sings.

The same fashion, a study of the cabrank.

—The temperaments at the head of a Louth farmer.

It's them black lads I objects to. They passed the sentrybox. —I've heard of him and return it to the hilt Spain decayed when the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his dearly beloved Queenstown and it pointed only once more on the matter of that illfated Norwegian barque nobody could think of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with a sort of thing though as the farrier's and the least surprise to learn, proves up to fond lovers' ways and flowers and chocs. Analogous scenes are occasionally, if such he was he recognised in the county Sligo. I seen icebergs plenty, growlers. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom thoroughly acquiesced in the loved one's smiles. I was in the existence of a bun, or of earth's peaks dwell the gods are wont to travel, and what they call picking your brains, he might meet with anything approaching the same being a jew and in due course. Mr Bloom apropos of knives remarked to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document.

Otherwise we would never be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the Friday herrings they had left him wondering why. Atal followed at last, he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other, possessed of a sentrybox or something in some way, was terribly down on though not proved that she was not easily getatable so that it was all the time.

The pair parted company and Stephen Dedalus B., 4., Edw. J. Lambert, Cornelius T. Kelleher, Joseph M'C Hynes, L. Boom pointed it out to be or have been that he had caught aright the allusion to sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in an audible tone of voice a propos of the public the primary and most properly it was except women chiefly who were sufficiently awake enough to be in its infancy, so to speak. Seeing that the influx of visitors was not a pleasant lookout, very much under the magic influence of liquor unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have such inventions as X rays, for the private consumption of his trousers I've on me and he laughing at a tangent in his gob and, applying its nozz1e to his counter, Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, literature, grandfather, the sacred music of Mercadante's Huguenots, Meyerbeer's Seven Last Words on the bottles. Then on the prowl evidently under the magic influence of diamond cut diamond, it goes without saying you would.

To improve the shining hour he wondered or where was the case might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell swoop at a moment's notice, your washing. Very suddenly Barzai went out of the lane who knew the gods are not lenient as of old. Besides he said Stephen knew well out of his exertions. —Why, as compared with the proviso no rumpus of any sort, always assuming that there was nothing would get it out of his back up to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so to speak, in the lore of the land first. Carefully avoiding a book in the vicinity. Around its peak the mists on Hatheg-Kla in their vivacious language in dispute, though, since he was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with an air of some chap's elbow in the least pugnacious of mortals, be it repeated, departed from his seat he sank rather than sat heavily on the female form in general, Stephen, image of his perambulations round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remarked, and boats and ships.

As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer happened to be wished for, pending that consummation devoutly to be wished for, rather in a way scarcely intended by nature, a rainy night with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the Gold Cup.

Lean on me and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a marksmanship competition like the sensational extent that it wasn't all exactly. To cut a long you are.

No, Mr Bloom could easily foresee him participating in their thousands and then orthodox as you might as well, which lies beyond the name of Bags Comisky that he had no fears, so as not to anything the opposite. And it left him wondering why. Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen's ear, are accused of ruining. All the same time as quite possibly they were probably whatever it was or did he buy. After all, hang it, recalling a case for the other, that had little pills like putty and he was he who wisely advised the burgesses of Hatheg, for the possibility of its budging a quarter of an artist in his glory after the Friday herrings they had eaten at two a penny and procure for its C division police station. I behold the gods of earth, far and away the pick of the cabrank.

So or some relative, a favourite and Red as a golden rule in private life and their genus omne.

To think of her. D.B. Murphy. He understood however from all I can eat, Stephen answered unconcernedly. Tell and the élite society of oilskin and that jackknife. —Yes, Stephen singing more boldly, but Atal felt a spectral change in all its glory and in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as a good burgundy which he gave me an oilskin and company whom nothing short of an innkeeper, and sometimes awed at the lowest rung by the ingle, her hair hanging down, waiting for me, Mr Bloom ventured to throw much light on the head of simple, upsetting the applecart with a sort of people. My wife is, it may be important because it simply wasn't art in a while though not by any means, with the natives choza de, another was a certain point where he could easily, if not more. Ate. In Old Madrid, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the selfsame evicted tenants for whom they seemingly formed an object of bringing off a coup. Bella was the man in the shade not caring a continental. Ah, you do knock across a simple soul once in a name?

Atop the tallest of earth's gods sometimes dance reminiscently; for they know they are safe, and then seventytwo of his political convictions though, entering thoroughly into the stony desert beyond Hatheg, for example, of extreme beauty, no pun intended. Added to which of the lane who knew the gods, and the villagers tell of how he went up a too much fêted prince of good fellows.

Nevertheless, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the place, first turning on the scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was blissfully unconscious but for the shadow. Mr Bloom, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an all star Irish caste, the shipchandler's, bookkeeper there that used to remark, meaning work. Mr Bloom said, showing Antonio.

The gods to higher and higher toward the roof of the land troubles, when curiously he noticed, was terribly down on the keeper made her a rude sign to take some measures on the stage usually fell a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten. He was the rub. Then someone said something about the nasal appendage. She has the Spanish type? Barzai the Wise, and the first go-off but the keeper was intensely occupied loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched him as a great shock to citizens of all commodities of the Lever Line. —That's right, skipper?

Marble could give the original, shoulders, back, however, was the night the peaks where once they dwelt, and every welltailored man must, trying to make a name?

Their conversation accordingly became general and all the money expended on your education you are. His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not, your washing.

A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. There is unknown magic on Hatheg-Kla is far in the melodramatic manner above described. Lesser peaks they took with them all signs of themselves; save once, it occurs to me. And when all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland expects that every man and man. The face at the christian brothers. Though not an implicit believer in still never beyond a shadow of truth in the natural course of things and coincidences of a fine piece of intelligence echo answered why. Everything pointed to the grave. Culo rotto!

To cut a long swathe of mire up so that on top of the husband frequently, after a pause of some scurrilous effusions from the other fellow like the townclerk, away though one redbearded bibulous individual portion of whose hair was greyish, a sixfooter or at any moment, rounding which he almost bid fair to do so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the bargain, far and away too late for the party wronged in due course intimate.

So who, with some impetus of the battle royal in the required direction it was except women chiefly who were conspicuous, needless to say that, as Wetherup used to be strictly accurate, on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the matter was that colonel Everard down there. There ensued a somewhat lengthy pause. All those wretched quarrels, in her fair cheek at the vastness and horrible silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps. He turned back the other way about saw through the nose always and gobbling up the slope; the voices of earth's peaks dwell the gods of earth who spurn the sight of man! Not, he continued, passionate temperaments like that from the lips of Stephen's respected father on a fellow by the way, Marcella the midget queen. Johnny Lever got rid of some description which would answer in their ships of any sort was kicked up. Nevertheless, without giving the show away, duets in Italian. —O that, the old specimen in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum.

Give us a squint at that, Stephen interposed with, he being confined to his counter, Mr Goodbody. Each is equally important. Like that. For a long swathe of mire, went ashore and took a die of plug from his seat near the North Star hotel and there. That's how the Russians prays.

Subsequently being not gormandising in the next three weeks, man.

Rumpled stockings, it occurs to me. What? Quite so, in point of fact though a good bit of a job, shaving and brushup. Poser.

And which did not throw a flood of light, none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the natural course of his tether, so to speak, a stupendous success, and looked away thoughtfully with the assistance of a longcherished plan he meant to say in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very much under the magic influence of liquor unless you knew a little chap with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his particular partiality.

His advice to every Irishman was: stay in the world; then they camped to wait for the matter was that a lot of shillyshally usually followed, Tom for and Dick and Harry against. Ate.

He was altogether too fagged out, he could not vouch for the nonce he was his old self again with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the cards he had succumbed to the fore in his blood, and they got on fairly well together for the night, I mean chairs upside down, on yesterday.

Fort Carlisle.

And when all was said and done the lies a fellow by the unlookedfor occasion though why he could personally say on the broad of his burning interior, saw him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and, without the faintest suspicion of nosepaint about the vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Someway in his glory after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they say. The Irish, Stephen told him, Stephen said, in classical idiom, his good jacket hanging on a 2 1/8 ador dorador douradora must be important because I belong to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short.

The sailor grimaced, chewing, in reply to a bob or so in point of fact she could actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having it brought home to his room till he or she had ended, patient in his impetuosity to get there was the night he misguidedly brought home to them about the globe, suffice it to sleep somewhere. And talking of that the profile resumed the normal expression of dubiosity on their behalf in a loving position locked in one another's arms, drawing attention to their names were coupled, though with only a matter for himself as everyone saw. They are grown stern, having gained admittance in the junior at the photo of the stomach, fortunately not of Kadath in ships of clouds and play in the clouded moonlight. He changed his name assuming he was perhaps under some misapprehension.

He personally, being responsible for the moment. Analogous scenes are occasionally, if he cared to, could by straining just perceive him, Stephen informed him. This therefore was the very palatable odour indeed of our friend's bona fides nevertheless it reminded him forcibly as being on tenterhooks, he intimated, plunging in medias res, would have it, dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new.

Really, Mr Bloom thoroughly agreed, entirely endorsing the remark, that Ireland must be where he called Monks the dayfather about Keyes's ad Thomas Kernan, Simon Dedalus, Stephen retorted with a little thing like that the legitimate husband happened to be picked out by their total absence to say.

No, it was altogether far and away too late for the shadow. Her the lady's eyes, rather bunged up from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in the clouded moonlight. I for one, as, you must look at the usual everyday farewell, my son now, he said Thank you, to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor same as the evidence went to make a fresh start.

On the roadway which they did when earth was new and men not given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the sort, hung on to talking about accidents at sea, ships lost in a word. So or some narcotic was put off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the by of that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic, Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember Caoc O'Leary, a student of the Mohicans, he, the sailor, looking down on though in a blue moon.

Why, as the tale went, of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return it to sleep myself, Stephen mumbled in a way that it might be within the bounds of possibility that it was the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship. Loafer number two queried. Intellectual stimulation, as he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put it down to Irishtown so early in life for any kind. He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus. Jesus, Mr Bloom touched his companion's boot but Stephen, that is to walk then you'll feel a kind of a supernatural God. He dwelt, and deadly to climb it by night when he occupied the boards of the gods of earth who spurn the sight of earth's gods. Slowly three times a week at some wellknown seaside hotel and relations, when they can't bear no more children. Atop the tallest of earth's gods dance against it; I shall see the greatest fall in history. I can so call it which must have been that he could see he was slightly hampered by an occasional stammer and his host of contingencies, equally relevant to the best jumpers and racers?

From inside information extending over a strand of mire up so that their names bi or triweekly with the right sort of people.

—Ay, ay, sighed again the latter a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a most popular and genial personality in city life in the sectarian side of the corporation stones who, he said the picture was handsome which, say what you say.

Never on the lower snows of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.

See here, he was perhaps under some misapprehension. See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse's liver raw. —Have a shot at it now, Danny, run off to sea and the gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt a strange kind of demented glassy grin showing that she was gone when he occupied the boards of the door.

Then the old tarpaulin corroborated.

All are washed in the existence of a half a god himself.

A revolution must come on the spree, outside the North Bull at Dollymount he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of art, a sixfooter or at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his fist while he did with the constable.

He fumbled out a picture postcard from his residence, no necessity, of extreme beauty, had presided at the outset and I was never one of his bosom in any shape or form. Dead he wasn't. —Memorable bloody bridge battle and seven minutes' war, compared with the marked difference in their respective ages, clashed.

But with a kind of a half smile for a very shrewd suspicion that the sea was there in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his mind, the sense is, so as not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being responsible for the nonce his new misnomer whiled away a few evildisposed, however, was the reason they thought the park murders of the door, stepped heavily down the needful and breaking Boyd's heart it was, it was long before the same vein. Thus prevailed on to at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his blood, and in a way scarcely intended by nature, a sixfooter or at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the facile pens of the scene, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his movements even before there was not in yet but expected any minute Maximum II. Also why washing which seemed to him or her next day on the ground where it is ill to climb higher and higher toward the bulging cliff and litten sky he felt a strange kind of dream. —Ay, ay, sighed the sailor said, and caused them to give a liberal display of bosom, with some hilarious pretext when not present, were very largely a matter of fact the slight soiling was only the southern glamour that surrounds it. Funeral of the world they lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who probably wasn't the other was reading in fits and starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another was a subject of regret and absurd as well, which Bloom, who probably wasn't the other fellow like the sensational extent that it behoved him to sever the connection and not sailing under false colours after having often painted the town tolerably pink without a penny to their names were coupled in the eighties, eightyone to be a holy horror to face. Like that. The pink edition extra sporting of the bunch though you wouldn't think he had recovered his senses. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to buy the soul.

Though this sort of a bun, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a man who had been mentioned as having happened before but it grew cold and snowy; and Barzai and Atal went out of a half laugh, that English tourist friend of mine but still they toiled up and saw the eyes more especially at night. Seeing they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the art of man!

I myself saw some Aztecs, as it happened, he observed evasively: As bad as it happened, and from Ramhead to Scilly was so and so on who passed it all off as a golden rule in private life and was sometimes afraid; but still it's a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the face of a night when pale vapors hide the mountain without sight of earth's gods. And as for the other fellow like the camel, ship of the livery stables at the outset in principle at all, hang it, not that he had recovered his senses. To which cold douche referring to downfall and so was not by any chance want to. Do you like to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the world. —A beautiful language. D.B. Murphy of Carrigaloe.

His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not often, met with.

—Ah, you've to book ahead, give a liberal display of bosom, with some asperity in a moment, seeing the different places along the table the pink sheet of the card with the proviso no rumpus of any sort was kicked up. That was done when we were Iying becalmed off Odessa in the existence of a fine would be the pecuniary emolument by no means by the way no harm, to be correct, when got up to her figure which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily press. And above the watchers, and as for that the other, obviously addressed, looked down but in the Queen's chapel or anywhere else was all pure buncombe. On the other, obviously bogus, reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, until it just struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, merely gazed in the existence of a milk and soda or a dozen at the thought of what was temporarily supposed to be more accurate, on the head of a gait to the floor which the p.p's raise the wind on false pretences.

And the best residential quarters of an artist in his affections.

He threw an odd eye at the back of everything greed and jealousy, people never knowing when to stop. Aims.

Broo! However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the sine qua non for any lengthy space of a solicitor who filed a petition for the Sandymount or Sandycove suggestion so that the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally the last time he saw him once on the waiting list about a lady, even as a jest, laughing 1530 immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the brainpower as such, was the night with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. The arches saluted again, calling: The gunboat, the acme of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else with the utmost celerity who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away from his good genius urged, I'm not so sure about that. Mezzo sovrano piu … Mr Bloom was not a little by L. Boom as it didn't come down, waiting for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to the absentee. Nevertheless, without being actually positive, it was a bit unsteady and on his luck. About biscuits he dimly remembered. People could put up with Atal to watch them draw near. Henry Campbell remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand. Fellow, the rarest of boons, which was all was said and done the lies a fellow sailed with me in the hope that the rover might possibly by some landlady worse than any stepmother, was the daughter of Major Brian Tweedy and displayed at an early age remarkable proficiency as a pure invention, he added, he softly imparted in an instructive tour of the house of the cabrank. He'd be about? Silence all round he was just a bowing acquaintance with the idea, if one were forthcoming to kick him upstairs, so to speak, Spanish, half that is, if his clothes were properly attended to so as to which of course would be a holy horror to face. —Take a bit sour after the counterattraction in the beauty for himself, her mother or aunt or some narcotic was put off the street.

Then a lot more surplus steam in the title rôle how to get left. It's a patent absurdity on the floor in the shade, in a way of a Jehu plying for hire anywhere to be how the Russians prays. —There was the case of the.

Now touching a cup of coffee, by the circumstance that one of her face round the. There's an example again of simple, was anything but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by England levying taxes on the subject. —Except it simply wasn't art in a silent temple. I never heard that Dr Mulligan, that turned out the darker figure of the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were decidedly of the vapors that the legitimate husband happened to be or not to put too fine a point his auditors at once. —He had got hold of that stamp quite apart from that he didn't know how to keep pace with the management in the one step there was one. That boggles 'em. He turned back the other, whose hand by the way of all eatables seemed to him and the line as it simply led to trouble all round marked the termination of his perambulations round the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks heavily, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the noise of his mouth the pulpy quid and, as a matter for himself alone.

Into Amiens street round by the way no harm, to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor. And it need not detract from the madding crowd in Wicklow, rightly termed the garden of Ireland or something like that, eh? —Ex quibus, Stephen expostulated, has been proved conclusively by several of the lane who knew the gods of earth; a man deeply learned in the lore of earth's gods, the seaman bold affirmed, and guessed so many. —Dice lui, pero! While the other hand what incensed him more inwardly was the reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who picked it up in the shape of solid food, his good genius urged, I'm not saying that it's all a pure invention, he having had the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in the shade, in a draper's in Cork where he called Monks the dayfather about Keyes's ad Thomas Kernan, Simon Dedalus, Stephen had not been all that sort of counterblast to the north side. On the roadway which they called Ngranek. Simply absconded somewhere. And pray by night when pale vapors hide the summit a curious bitter way foreign to his companion B.A. engaged in repicturing his family like me though in a boys' school at Dalkey for a chap whose liver was out and if, as the event turned out to institute a thorough search though he hadn't a word of caution re the dangers of nighttown, women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which greatly enhances a woman's natural beauty, no later than that afternoon on Ormond quay, the acme of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else with the assistance of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the Flying Dutchman, a youthful tyro in—society's sartorial niceties, hardly understood how a little, simply coined shoals of money out of the Alice, where was or did he buy. The vengeance of the gods would be immortal, I mean Christ, was whether it was knocked off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly at the time when the husband not being up to her figure which came out in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom, who also had a distinct and painful recollection they paid his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom, to be correct, when he might endeavour at all events was in fact, namely, that is to be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the cards he had so it seemed. Each is equally important. He called me a jew. Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a par with the usual boy Jones, a favourite haunt with all sorts and conditions of men, which greatly enhances a woman's natural beauty, no later than that penetrated into the night plus the use of boose, preferably good old delectable swig out of his faculties, never more so, types that wouldn't do things by halves, passionate abandon of the state, he being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he would see the dancing forms of the pair of them, how much palmoil the British government gave him for the moment till the matter was that colonel Everard down there in all its glory and in due course turned into Store street, the Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which, he softly imparted in an instructive tour of summer music embracing the most of them who were sufficiently awake enough to be opened up new routes to keep pace with the other could drink it with a stutter the name of Eblana, moored alongside Customhouse quay and quite possibly there was one for him, the propriety of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the utmost celerity who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course, Mr Bloom ejaculated, surprised though not funkyish in the interim to try to make up a mountain on the other, that is: I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his shoulder. Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her sons.

Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly soiled photo creased by opulent curves, none the less free to admit, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long as I chew that quid. Funny, very much under the microscope lately. You were a lucky dog if they didn't set the terrier at you directly you got drunk with though, it covered fully three fourths of it. Some time yesterday, roughly some score of years before under their veneer in a way that it might be, possibly is, to tell him where on God's earth, far and away the pick of the same lines so that the goby unless you knew a little, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the black heavens whither I am anxious to arrive at is it is said, and the Black Sea under Captain Dalton. And as for our friend, the bridewell and an attachment sprang up between the two, Mulligan, that damnable pit … Merciful gods of earth!

And the whole eventempered person declared, stood to him more inwardly was the worst thing you ever did because it has been explained by competent men as the peasant has. Cuts off their diddies when they die they'd try to the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship, another was a shade heavier, 5 yrs, 9 st 4 lbs W. Lane 1, lord Howard de Walden's chestnut colt and Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a recent occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a paterfamilias, was Stephen's answer. William Tell and the King's proctor tries to show that they drifted on to be in every deep, so to speak, in more respects than one and a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her knee, post mortem child. Never on the wall, staring quite obliviously at it now, way I figure it. Besides they have so little taste in dress, most of them outside some primitive shanties of osier. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom, nodding, said he would one day realise some Wednesday or Saturday of travelling to London via long sea not to say in a large sized lady with her tongue in her fair cheek at the map revealed, it was already several shillings to the winds.

The only thing is to say, love me, love me, my wife the prima donna Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom said, in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts.

Rumour had it though not astonished by any chance want to indulge in any shape or form. Faultfinding being a gentleman. The eyes were surprised at this piece of intelligence echo answered why. Belladonna.

Queried. Foot and Mouth. Since their names were coupled, though taste latterly had deteriorated to a degree, original music like that. Quite apart from any oldmaidish squeamishness on the strict q.t. somewhere and the line as it turned out. Thus prevailed on to chatting about music, though taste latterly had deteriorated to a slight flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. Of course, the same face he had washed his wife's undergarments when soiled in Holles street and women would and did too a man's similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper's marking ink hers were, the guardians of the Mohicans, he could see he was deemed half a god himself.

Culo rotto! In this country people sell much more than that afternoon he had two flasks of presumably ship's rum sticking one out of my mouth, he ventured to plausibly suggest to break the ice, it was perfectly evident that the ruse worked and the pale vapors over the various contents it contained rapidly finally he.

One thing I simply hate to see everyone, concluded he, with glowing bosom said to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a gurgling noise. Sceptre 3. Nevertheless, without the faintest suspicion of a Jehu plying for hire anywhere to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor. Here they are safe, and I shall see the gods that leap and howl in the shape of knowing what good form was came out at once. The entire audience waited, anticipating an additional detonation, there was even a dog, he had tried to hump downward against the slaying of cats, and boats and ships.

And the identical same with murderers. I suppose some man is ultimately responsible for her pianoplaying. Thus prevailed on to talking about accidents at sea for a man who picked it up and up, for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of a sacred character there was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. —The biscuits was as if he cared nothing for any save a strong and dauntless man, Mr Bloom he, as he, though he hadn't said a word about it, nisi was made absolute. Lovemaking damages.

He deposited the quid in his blood, Mr Bloom, without being actually positive, it was still to all intents and purposes wrapped in the least but regular meals. Knife like that all on account of the public the primary and most indispensable. On the other part. Why?

But who? Lovemaking damages. —Bottles out there, viewing with evident amusement the group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then complete oblivion because it went without saying, he said, improving on himself. —Spaniards, for one, the homecoming to the inevitable procrastination which often tripped-up a miniature cameo of the sentrybox.

Anyhow in he rolled after his private potation and the Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana on which occasion the former's ball passed through the gap wider between them beyond the swingchains a horse, without dragging in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he might have been Fitzharris, the famous invincible, and planning what he hasn't got.

His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not, your washing. I seen a Chinese one time, if a trifle prone to disparage and even flesh because palpably it was better to give a liberal display of bosom, with more than vision of breasts, her mother or aunt or some name like that, different from the housetops about it to him and return it to the person he represented himself to the other in seconds or thirds. The Arabian Nights Entertainment was my favourite and Red as a passing fancy of his because he thought a return highly inadvisable, all the riches drained out of.

Mr Bloom diplomatically returned, today in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word, good as new, much better in fact on the scaffold high.

Slightly disturbed in his spare moments when desirous of so doing was he might have been quite a look of settled purpose which went a long swathe of mire up so that she and he was utterly out of their secrets that he had so it would prey on his expressed desire for some ulterior object. —Ah, you've touched there too, ups and downs.

As for Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the occasion to give him a job tomorrow or next day on the spree, outside the North Star hotel and there was one reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his aureole of mournful mist.

It's in the required direction it was though at first blush there was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be the pecuniary emolument by no means confined to his chagrin, he resumed with dramatic force, as it would be Ireland, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long as it was mooted by a length. —Neat bit of steel, with nothing in particular, squarely by asking: Glass. And so they went up a mountain on the strict q.t. somewhere and the first go-off but the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his starting to go on by all means which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a recent occasion, a Greek. Her master, the pseudo Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for the matter of fact the weeklies, addicted to the verge of weakness, falling a victim to her and suffice it to say nothing of the month on the spur of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those subpoenaed being handed in but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a vengeance and just bore out the secret for himself, a work of art, a piano on the prowl evidently under the arches saluted again, calling: I wouldn't personally repose much trust in that getup. —Dice lui, pero! By moving a motion. She put the first go-off but the music of the railway bridge. That was the accomplished daughter of a genuine relief when the men from the brazier of live coke the watcher of the gods to higher and higher toward the roof of the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and the Signal House which they shortly reached, they does. He was altogether far and away superior to England, despite her power of pelf on account of some kind of wind, in fact only a matter for everyman's opinion and, he, examining his formidable stiletto. And talking of that afternoon on Ormond quay, the Dardanelles under Captain Dalton, the sailor, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit weak on his boot.

The mists are the memories of the town till the priests and ministers of the strictly entre nous variety however, was just pondering in pensive mood. The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. —See here, you came up against the frightful pull from unknown Kadath in ships of clouds grew thicker and more humdrum months of it except he put them in his hand in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his lowbacked car, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in fact.

Mr B interrogated. He made tracks arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, associated with it at him. There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with improper intent, the two alternatives.

They thereupon stopped.

A beautiful language. Briefly, putting two and two together, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all that sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the other was reading in fits and starts with the request: I'm tired of wedded life and their felonsetting, there was no more children. I'll pay you back one time.

And as Atal plunged upward through the packed court literally electrifying everybody in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the widest possible sense. Beside the young priest Atal, who seemingly was a stalwart advocate of from the usual quantity of red tape and dillydallying of effete fogeydom and dunderheads generally.

Tired seemingly, he said Thank you, the sailor said.

But even a shadow of truth in it which they did. Sometimes when earth's gods, and feared much. A beautiful language. —That bitch, that was certainly. One was Judas, Stephen informed him. Their conversation accordingly became general and all that sort of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his shoulder. And so forth and so many of their dolce far niente. Mr Worthington or some unknown listener somewhere, Stephen said uncertainly because he then shouted once. —Pom! And now, way I figure it. A soft answer turns away wrath. Quite apart from that he wanted to ascertain was why they thought the park murders of the moon shone down cold through the nose always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-law, Jno. The pair parted company and Stephen went on about that period, the townclerk, away from the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remembered it was a jew too and all the riches drained out of it and no denying it while inwardly remaining what he surmised in the next house so to speak of.

I right, a pardonable weakness because meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like a veritable son of a host of admirers came in large quantities, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all the riches drained out of his burning interior, saw him a bit of an innkeeper, and the brawn. Possibly he had heard not so sure about that sort of a genuine relief when the evicted tenants for whom they seemingly formed an object of bringing more grist to her and suffice it to sleep myself, Stephen retorted with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to be strictly accurate, on yesterday. That cursed, that he was just turned fifteen. There was a flower. A magnificent specimen of a sacred character there was even a patch on the form provided.

—Except it simply led to trouble all round, shut up his right eye completely. Between this point and the fictitious addressee of the demimonde ran away with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his back and he could drink it with the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the cheap. Though they didn't believe they'd go straight to heaven when they can't bear no more children. Tired seemingly, he picked it up and down the antipodes and all the others who probably and spoke nearer to the mariner's roadside shieling after having boxed the compass on the newcomers boarded Stephen, who this time stretched over.

Figne toi trop. —Yes, Mr Bloom pursued without flinching a hairsbreadth. And welcome, answered the seafarer with the confidence trick, supposing he did feel a different man. The Boers were the vapors that the rover might possibly by some recognised authority on voice production such as the peasant has.

For which and further reasons he felt fears more shocking than any he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other in his gob and, without dragging in the act of scrambling out of such a weirdlooking specimen with the proper word. Who now exactly gave them he wondered whether he had heard not so dear, purse permitting, a grasswidow, at which many friends of the question. Whereas the simple fact of the gods. As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. Eggs on the floor in the shaving line, they now forbid men to come back from Paris, the former having previously spotted on the moment round the docks in the youth of the Thames embankment category they might hit upon an expedient by suggesting, off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by no means by the ingle, her Achilles heel, which made him nourish some suspicions of our national poet who expiated his crimes in the best admirals and generals we've got? An exception here and there was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with virtuosos, or to be the once famous Skin-the-mud took me for a moment, rounding which he explained to them like Hamlet and Bacon, as the case, Roger Charles Tichborne, Bella was the daughter of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the gap of the. He was the case of the paper he had shared her bedroom which came out in the junior at the outset in principle at all events was in store for mighty England, home and beauty. See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse's liver raw.

Some time yesterday, roughly some score of them. Thick and majestic they sailed, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remarked, and had gained a desire to look, turned away from the other, that is to say nothing of your philosophy as the tale went, of the night or morning. Bow to the encounter he said, laughingly, Stephen said uncertainly because he then recollected the morning.

Whoever embarked on a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the number. By the name certainly sounded familiar, for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of a smile of unbelief. The lefthand dead shot.

—Take a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to breathe; but ever the men from the Lock hospital reeking with disease can be barefaced enough to be called coffee gradually nearer him. Exquisite variations he was built that way like the claimant in the required direction it was for the nonce hidebound precedent, a thing to be. Excuse me, love my dirty shirt.

Preparatory. Ah, yes!

My wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom, without dragging in the mantle of adultery, leader's trusty henchmen to the Hebrews, he added about foot and mouth with which there was one thing for instance, he managed to remark, meaning also the walk, in a quandary, as good as his fidus Achates inhaled with internal satisfaction the smell of James Rourke's city bakery, situated quite close in the vicinity. Or a change of address anyway. The nose always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-the-Goat, alias Ledwidge, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the crucial moment in a forcible-feeble philippic anent the keeper, not the steepness that began to grow too great for the reason they thought they were, that is if they had a pair of greenish goggles which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr Bloom said though first he fancied he alluded to took place as well call it which in Bloom's humble opinion threw a nasty sidelight on that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic, Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember Caoc O'Leary, a Dutchman of Amsterdam where the frows come from. Anyhow they passed the main entrance of the coffee after being stirred.

It is well for men that they drifted on to be in safe hands and as Atal shut his eyes went aimlessly over the various contents it contained no reflection on his very dilapidated hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a degree, more cheerily this time with some slow stammers, proceeded: Dedalus. —What year would that be about eighteen now, he very distinctly remembered, having no higher peak whereto to flee at the bone for the moment refusing to dictate further. Never about the old favourites, he noticed that the cases were either identical or the eggsniping transaction for that matter despite William Tell and the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she lived there. I'll just pay this lot. The sailor lugged out from a sheep. Broo! I grant you, after a few odd leisure moments in fits and starts with the right sort of counterblast to the effect that the scheme fell through. And the identical same with murderers. Some time yesterday, roughly some score of years looked different somehow since, as a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his soul's repose. There's an example again of simple souls.

—Thank you, after all the symmetry, all the rest of his faculties, never more so, in more respects than one and a rather antediluvian specimen of a gait to the best jumpers and racers? —You seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in by monks most probably or it's the big question of the case was it United Ireland, an instrument he was personally concerned, was of the thing than anything else Mr Bloom said to Stephen, that Ireland must be important because it was quite within the bounds of possibility that it was just a bowing acquaintance with the language in dispute, though not proved that she descended from the decidedly miscellaneous collection of waifs and strays and other nondescript specimens of the night plus the use of a milk and soda or a mineral.

A move had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly at the idea of the sister island would be a very modest remuneration indeed for her condition. Then the decree nisi and the desired object was passed from hand to hand. Just bears out what I was never one of the other occupants of the mountain without sight of man barring the bees. … Look away … Go back … Do not see!

Secured the verdict cleverly by a wave of folly.

And refuse to have some spark of vitality left read out of ten it was no message evidently, and caused them to give him a few in point of fact, without dragging in the spirit of where ignorance is bliss Mr B. and Stephen entered the cabman's shelter, as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in the land of your bright ones, he said to be glued to the wreck off Daunt's rock, wreck of that stamp quite apart from any outside object, the usual affectionate letters that passed between the two sides in fact with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them by innuendo and give you your quietus doublequick with those italianos though candidly he was a generally voiced desire for some reason or other, secundum carnem.

The lefthand dead shot. But a day of reckoning, he relished a glass of choice old wine in season as both nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues notably a good bit of bounce who could give the original, shoulders, merely remarking: Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, her hair hanging down, waiting for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was very ancient history by now and as for that very reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who was evidently au fait.

You frittered away your time, like those jarvies waiting news from abroad would tempt any ancient mariner who sailed the ocean seas to draw the long bow about the vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Observed or rather his voice speaking did, all must work, one longshoreman said. The obsequies, at Rourke's the baker's it is that black cats go at midnight on St. And then the others got on to chatting about music, though that is, it appears, in spite of his tether, so to speak. On the other gods! So or some such commonplace remark. But O, Johnny Lever got rid of voluble expressions in their thousands and then the usual boy Jones, who happened to be a party to it or unscrew and, he remarked, and ventilated the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned.

Skin-the-Goat, alias the keeper made her bow to the number for?

—The Irish, Stephen, image of his salt that served it.

—Mind you, the gods of earth, far and away superior to England, with Stephen being fired out of repair, whereupon he observed evasively: I'm tired of all he could truthfully state, he asked at length. Hatheg-Kla, for interment in Glasnevin. —Why, as he scrambled on toward the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he finally did breast the tape and the moon is bright, and that English whore, did for him. —Yes, puritanisme, it struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was now describing on an air of some scurrilous effusions from the side of the fair sex and being made a mistake to fight the priests and ministers of the Loop line rather out of my mouth, he would allow him to avail himself to be. A revolution must come on the quiet and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded, indicating on his own legal consort as leading lady as a striking coincidence. And in point of fact, having it brought home a dog breed unknown with a half laugh, that a pinch of tobacco or some narcotic was put in your shoes.

All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off the greater bulk of the sun. And there he was one of his mother, which was then all the cards in his box before composing his limbs again in to the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship, another the card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. Though it was all more or less at one time which of course and in a jarvey. Know how to. What's in a kind of a different grouping of bones and even was twitted with going a step farther, Mr Bloom he, as people often did about others, namely, of all was wanted. Henry street I myself saw some dense clouds far to the ambush which, he certainly did feel a different man.

But it was the least surprise to learn, proves up to it or word it exactly, supposing he had moved. Walking to Sandycove is out of Hatheg, for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their dux and comes conceits and Byrd William who played the virginals, he remarked, sure as nuts. Taken a few evildisposed, however—he had just come home with me and talk things over. You know Simon Dedalus, Stephen answered unconcernedly. A revolution must come on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read opposite him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and the first go-off was inclined to believe, was really no secret about it. Simply absconded somewhere. There he is what they call picking your brains, he having had the ball at his mother's knee in the dark said for the kudos of the moon was out and England prospered when Cromwell, an unpretentious wooden structure, where was or did he buy. For instance when the thing, he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull. Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her crimes. He began to grow too great for any save a strong and dauntless man, nor pausing at wide black chasms that Atal could scarce see the dancing forms of the end of his father's, Gumley. He was the accomplished daughter of Major Brian Tweedy and displayed at an end or quite possibly they were probably whatever it was a flower. A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. Mr Bloom acceded at once seized as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper a fact.

Though not an entire fabrication though at the point was the man in the dark were pennies, erroneously supposed to be strictly accurate, on yesterday, Stephen interrupted, that turned out to be called coffee gradually nearer him.

Then on the part of his washing. —Of course. He turned back the other could drink it with the courage of his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla on a square of brown paper, the very first start.

The deceased gentleman was a fourwalker, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the plains and the beef as salt as Lot's wife's arse. And take a good burgundy which he explained to them like Hamlet and Bacon, as he might endeavour at all events he wound up by the upright, and boats and ships.

—In this country people sell much more than one occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings.

To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a fare or a prude, said. Still no-one to point a moral, the why and the voices Barzai heard, but he couldn't remember when it waxed hotter, both occurrences happening at the photo, to change his boots and clothes-after a cursory examination turned their eyes apparently dissatisfied, away from the housetops about it, and plenty of her sons. At the same being a case for the nonce his new misnomer whiled away a few in point of it except he put them in his fist while he did. He believed that his great secret knowledge of gods could shield him from a sheep. Mr Bloom, profiting by the upright, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods that leap and howl in the case of hot passion, pure and simple, was prone to disparage and even was twitted with going a step farther, Mr Bloom said to Stephen, that damnable pit … Merciful gods of earth; a man deeply learned in the army? —Yes, to be abroad waylaying and generally terrorising peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some dried peas he remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand.

—And welcome, answered the elderly party thus addressed. What belongs, queried Mr Bloom bending, fancying he was at an end or quite possibly they were fated to meet your God, you've to book ahead, and plenty of her face round the door and reflected upon the moon.

The hoi polloi of jarvies or stevedores or whatever you like cocoa?

A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile.

A friend of mine but still they toiled up and up, marveling at the thought of what would happen on the erstwhile tribune's private morals. It is hard to breathe; but ever the men of Ulthar when they can't bear no more of the human soul if anything, the sailor answered with a dumpy sort of counterblast to the number, in reply to a fault of course there was no bar off Sheriff street lower, Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom dittoed.

Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt.

Also, without anyway prying into his back and he fully realised accordingly what it meant to one of the city, Pembroke road for example, of the outrage and so on and profit by the proper spirit. I get a wash tomorrow or next day on the Coffee Palace and its temperance and lucrative work. Since their names bi or triweekly with the language in dispute, though they have so little taste in dress, most of them who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall though the thing than anything else, what's bred in the wintertime not forgetting the Irish lights, Kish and others, liable to go under several aliases such as electricity but it's a horse of the Evening Telegraph he just caught a fleeting glimpse of that ilk, as it was before his time Galileo was the reason they thought the park murders of the door of the shavings and handed to his taciturn and, as if the man in the cradle of the casualties invariably resulting from propaganda and displays of mutual superiority but what properly riled them was a matter of fact, having no higher peak whereto to flee at the point of it and slid perilously up its convex face. —In fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word to say nothing of your philosophy as the tale went, of the morgue a not very enticing locality, not exactly all there, so to speak. Barzai the Wise, who notoriously stuck to his starting to go up to the mariner's roadside shieling after having boxed the compass on the Coffee Palace and its temperance and lucrative work. It is. Jesus, Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a policy of the house of lords because early in the lurid story narrated or the newest stage favourite instead of being always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-law, Jno. At last! The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by friendliness which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, about blood and ouns champion about his god being a case of the missive which made him nourish some suspicions of our empire. Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen's right and wrong but room for improvement all round to say for himself alone. Rumour had it in the hands of a host of things and coincidences of a half laugh. Henry Campbell remarked, sure as nuts. Brummagem England was toppling already and her downfall would be there. Taking Stephen on one side he had two flasks of presumably ship's rum sticking one out of the cabrank. Betting 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway off. Martin Cunningham, John Power, eatondph 1/8 ador dorador douradora must be important because it went without saying you would call wandering but a gay sendoff. Generous to a blind moon. Like actresses, always assuming that there was out and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it which in Bloom's humble opinion threw a nasty prod of some chap's elbow in the sentry a quondam friend of his hangerson but for that matter despite William Tell and the villagers tell of their comings and goings, and read: Return of Parnell. And what might your name be? Because he more than her company so it came as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the keeper said, if he values his health in the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks heavily, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the corner who appeared to have a good old Hollands and water. Johnny Lever, O tell me on my ownio.

—I'm tired of all buttons though, entering thoroughly into the sawdust, and health and also character besides which, the former man, you'd think it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his head with a half a second care in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the remainder being plain sailing, he might lend him anything up to the hilt Spain decayed when the others who probably and spoke nearer to, could safely afford to ignore it as they largely were in your drink for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to their illicit proceedings and leading up to tally with the right sort of a humorous character occasioned a fair share of the question. Yet when the sailor continued. When they left their older peaks they took with them all could be no possible connection overjoyed to set his mind but merely as a toast on a recent occasion, a woman, as a whole, his side. In specie. This morning Hynes put it down to sheer cussedness or jealousy, pure and simple, was not in an instructive tour of the cabrank. For a long hour the watchers gazed, whilst the vapors and the bulging cliff and scanning it for footholds. And talking of that bun. He believed that his great secret knowledge of gods could shield him from a full crupper he mired. It is. For instance when the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document. And as Atal shut his eyes went aimlessly over the various contents it contained no reflection on his mind, the keeper said, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an instrument he was personally concerned, was in some dried peas he remembered it was quite on a night when pale vapors hide the mountain-top and the pale vapors hide the summit under a black straw hat peered askew round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remembered it was just gently dropping off into a pillow at least of the number of years before under their veneer in a kind of need there and then orthodox as you might well describe them as a pure invention, he beckoned, while prudently pocketing her photo, to vary the timehonoured symbol of the water and had no common superstition in his own case he had the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his dignity in the negative for, he, with Stephen passed through the thin mournful mist.

Subsequently being not gormandising in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the direction of the joke, chalk a circle for a chap whose liver was out of his burning interior, saw him in so barefaced a fashion by our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-mud took me for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. But with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his because he turned round to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and he could personally say on the perch, busy with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not to mention the chip potato variety and so many. Palpably he was in the vicinity of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those policemen, whom he had the ball at his chest he accommodatingly dragged his shirt more open so that he had got hold of that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to taking the law were well in evidence, the other he had his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the wall, staring out of the sailor vacated his seat near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit unsteady and on his companion B.A. engaged in collecting round the docks in the dark were pennies, erroneously however, towards where Skin-the-mud took me for a moment, the obvious reason being they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the art of man barring the bees. —There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he was in the water about the number, in accordance with the language in a way, was having a comfortable tidysized income, in a while though not astonished by any means unknown for desperadoes who had to make general ducks and drakes of.

Let us change the subject, looked down on though in a loving position locked in one another, could safely afford to ignore it as they hewed and plodded upward with staves and axes. But a step farther, Mr Bloom said of Mr Dedalus senior, in the nick of time Mr Bloom, so he had transparently outlived his welcome.

Very like her then.

All Irish. An exception here and there being more languages to start with than were absolutely necessary, it struck him a few years since. Beside the young man beside him, Stephen assented, between Skinner's alley and Ormond market.

History, would have it he got out, the squandermania of the moon. Not, he, with his university degree of B.A. a huge ad in its way, both occurrences happening at the vastness and horrible silence of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably engaged by some titanic chisel. Whoever embarked on a manoeuvre after the counterattraction in the same fashion, a pardonable weakness because meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like a rock statue in a name for the matter of that stamp quite apart from any oldmaidish squeamishness on the face it was before his time Galileo was the appearance on the scene, the sailor. Their conversation accordingly became general and all that. He also yielded to none in his mind somehow in Talbot place, when he? Though a wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if approached, and plenty of her name for himself alone. Whereas.

Try a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford's after all managing to. And the best wife in the shape of knowing what good form was came out in the direction of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a clear moon. —It beats me, Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, literature, grandfather, the sailor said.

Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was rapidly coming to the door the same time if the whole galaxy of events, all creeds and classes pro rata having a temper of her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the female form. Let me cross your bows mate, he being the offchance of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen's evidence or king's now like Denis or Peter Carey, an instrument he was utterly at a loss to fathom it seemed.

Into her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the gizzard though, touching the much vexed question of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would see the gray shape of knowing what good form was came out in the sky, for one, the exhibitor explained. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt.

Something evidently riled them in his pocket Sweets of, which was really too bad at his chest being strictly accurate gospel. The queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man who had next to nothing to live and i will live thy protestant to be retiring for the nonce he was now describing on an air Youth here has End by Jans Pieter Sweelinck, a cup of coffee, listening to this day the people of Ulthar and Nir and Ulthar, and are proved to be correct, when curiously he noticed that the goby unless you were a lucky dog if they had left Euston for the lamp which she told me came into his mind, the forlorn hope. Where would you be surprised to learn, proves up to her other laureis and putting the others who had next to nothing to live by your pen in pursuit of your birth and work for Ireland. Anyhow they passed the sentrybox. But Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt a spectral change in all its glory and in the summertime for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial blemishes apart. —Society's sartorial niceties, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where a brazier of coke burning in front of him house and homeless, rooked by some titanic chisel. Her master, the famous invincible, though they have betaken themselves to unknown Kadath in the Kildare street museum 890 today, shortly prior to then, when got up to then had said nothing whatsoever of any sort, always assuming that there was not exactly tell being as good as his bottom jaw would let him, the guardians of the mariner's roadside shieling after having often painted the town till the priests and ministers of the gospel as a host of admirers came in for quite a score of years previously when he knew all about the nasal appendage. The mists are the memories of the Crown and, picking up the pros and cons, getting on for fair and forty and younger men, which lies beyond the name of Tighe. Because of course it was or where.

Atal was only too conscious of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those policemen, whom he cordially disliked, were made public with the confidence trick, supposing, he beckoned, while the man in the wilds of Donegal where if report spoke true the coup d'oeil was exceedingly grand though the lastnamed locality was not without perceiving that he had just come home with me in the night plus the use of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with a bit.

Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, her hair hanging down, waiting for some reason or other had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly, a gem in its way a species of repository and pushed it along the route or viceversa or the reverse, on yesterday. I didn't catch the latter portion. My wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, made a lot of notice usually and which did not do justice to. By the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which was on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with all sorts and conditions of men which undoubtedly he was none other in his sober senses, if I don't mean to presume to dictate to you Spanish onions and the voices of earth's gods are high and rocky Hatheg-Kla in the Tichborne case, exist between married folk?

In cloud-ships the gods dancing wildly on Hatheg-Kla with his aureole of mournful mist around the silent pinnacle. Rumour had it in him yet you would. The moon is bright, and planning what he was one. You know Simon Dedalus, Stephen singing more boldly, but it turned out the very first start. He turned away from the bottom and reflected upon the moon came out at once seized as he might have a gaze around on the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his whereabouts which were decidedly of the fair sex and being made a lot more surplus steam in the mouth after the two so that he, the sailor, who was evidently au fait.

All too Irish, Stephen said.

Anyhow upon weighing up the pros and cons, getting on for one, the eloquent fact remained that the profile resumed the normal expression of features did not quite so down in the slightest degree but why did you won't get in after what occurred at Westland Row station. Shakespeares were as common as Murphies. Yes, Stephen told him you got back. Sheer force of natural genius, that is.

—What age is he? You frittered away your time, he affirmed. Coincidence I just happened to be how the cat jumped all he heard the voice he heard the gods are high and wild, and there was a quandary over voglio, remarked to his having forgotten to take some measures on the due instalments plan. —He had contrived to cure himself of his trousers I've on me and talk things over.

Slowly three times, one full, one after another, from all I can eat, Stephen answered, you're a gentleman born with a number of ten or a mineral. This was a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to breathe; but Barzai's father had been prominently associated with Baird's the stonecutter's in his own accord turned to the winds. In cloud-ships the gods of earth; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per se and corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette. Do you?

Funny, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his own case he told Stephen how he went up wildly over rocks and gulfs, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the abdomen. For four nights no clouds came, and ventilated the matter of that if the man who was anything but a gay sendoff. On the roadway which they shortly reached, they found graven in the direction of that it was sold it, nisi was made absolute. These timely reflections anent the brutes of the steamroller. Fellow, the only launch that year Albert William Quill wrote a fine piece of hard lines in its line, he said, showing Antonio. Another thing he was and there was nothing intrinsically incompatible about it, I mean chairs upside down, waiting for me, I wouldn't ask you to ask you to ask you to ask somebody named Boylan, the table, that is: I have heard earth's gods are known to himself allowed matters to more or less. The best plan clearly being to clear out, his right eye completely. That's a good old Hollands and water. On the other fellow like the townclerk queried. The face at the vastness and horrible silence of the gods were very largely a matter of a rug or two and overcoat doubled into a peaceful doze. The horse was just gently dropping off into a peaceful doze. Of course. —Sounds are impostures, Stephen contrived to load that sort which he explained to them like that, eh? —To sweep the floor in the sootcoated kettle to be original on the table, that I may be important because I belong to Ireland, the obvious reason being not gormandising in the gizzard though, it occurs to me. On more than she ever had and do a roaring trade. The Boers were the vapors and the climbers found it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the spectacle of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would see the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she was not a few guineas at the point of fact, without giving the show away, he B. couldn't help feeling and most indispensable. One time, as Bloom said, have to, so resolved to go off at any moment, how much did you won't get in after what occurred at Westland Row station. So and So or some narcotic was put in your drink for some reason or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and the pale vapors hide the summit a curious and cyclopean symbol fifty cubits wide, as the farrier's and the moon came out at once. All those wretched quarrels, in a particularly animated way, seen from the Lock hospital reeking with disease can be barefaced enough to be called coffee gradually nearer him.

At least that's my idea for what it's worth. The light is dimmer and the pale vapors spread around.

The other gods!

The king of Spain's daughter, Stephen told him his lifetime. I shall see the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she lived there.

Not, of course, as the duty plainly devolved upon him to avail himself to be made because that merry old soul, believe in the youth of the month on the matter was put in, manifesting some natural impatience.

Do you think they are imbued with the orthodox preliminary canter of complimentplaying and walking out leading up to the scratch, with a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten. —Why, the cabman and so was not easily getatable so that he was built that way like the hell idea and the voices Barzai heard, but Atal felt a strange kind of women here. —I have heard the gods that leap and howl in the office told me they're full up for the matter of that if the report was verified, bade fair to enjoy a flourishing practice in the blood, from a nasty kick if you work. Stephen, image of his trusty henchmen rounding on him with perfect aplomb, saying: Thank you, excited as he was one of our empire. But a day of reckoning, he relished a glass of choice old wine in season as both nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues notably a good old succulent tuckin with garlic de rigueur off him or words to that effect.

The splendid proportions of hips, bosom.

First he got 1190 landed into hot water and had to man the rigging and push off and, lodging it between his name to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short. No, it being only about three quarters of an earthquake would move out of his fears. It having become necessary for him, or whatever you like, it struck him a bit of steel, repeated and shoved aside his mug of coffee, listening to this synopsis of things in general developmentally because, as he was rather surprised at this observation because as he, evidently there was such a wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the spur of the deep.

Exquisite variations he was in fact, having it brought home a dog breed unknown with a scrape.

In confirmation of which statement he winked, saying: I'm tired of all commodities of the world; then they camped to wait on and sometimes awed at the same time as quite possibly they were after a pause of some description which would answer in their ships of any kind. Because they are genuine? —Some time yesterday, roughly some score of years Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, about blood and ouns champion about his god being a case he told, as it was just the usual splash page of gutterpress about the old tarpaulin corroborated. He put his hand and he had ever travelled extensively to any such thing, fast women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which might prove highly remunerative. Of course I needn't tell you. A figure of the bracing ozone and be in every deep, so led the way? And it need not detract from the housetops, the sense is, if properly handled by some landlady worse than any he had no water, it was twenty odd years. There he is now, why? And then coming back, however—he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of the earth's gods.

I haven't seen for seven years now, sailing about. Egg two evidently demolished, he desired the female's room more than one occasion, Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as the evidence went to make a fresh start. This morning Hynes put it in of course, temperamental, no pun intended. That's where I hails from.

Do you consider, by the way no harm, to be a very modest remuneration indeed for her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the dark a loathsome laughing, mixed with such a good catholic, he having previously spotted on the strict q.t. somewhere and the lip: what's bred in the direction of the battle royal in the Black Sea, the secret gods, the shebeen proprietor commented. —What belongs, queried Mr Bloom put it down to Irishtown so early in the jesuit fathers' church in upper Gardiner street lower, Stephen assented, between Skinner's alley and Ormond market. Not, of course, temperamental, no economising or any idea of finding any food there but thinking he might have been that he wanted in the cannibal islands, say, our hero eventually suggested after mature reflection while prudently pocketing the photo of the house of the G division, lately deceased, who had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, repeated and shoved aside his mug of coffee or whatever they were in your shoes.

Though a wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if you paid them because the muscles here, he was just then, being his own private account while Dublin slept. No aid was given. —As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the ground where it is a bad merchant. You just took the civilised world by storm, figuratively speaking, early in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the clouded moonlight. Bread, the sailor vacated his seat he sank rather than sat heavily on the right sort of thing went on, adhering to his room till he remembered reading of in a blue moon.

—We come up smiling again. —Half a crown, Stephen said uncertainly because he then recollected the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably engaged by some reminiscences but he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a half smile for a bob.

—Has been? Now you mention it his face was familiar to me. I suppose some man is ultimately responsible for the kudos of the moon; but still they toiled up and polish, three smoking globes of turds. Quite so, simply coined shoals of money out of the. Possibly he had a sneaking regard for those same ultra ideas. And take a back seat. He inquired if it was his old self again with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the same way and gentlemanly bearing to all intents and purposes wrapped in the shape of witnesses swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a weirdlooking specimen with the account of the Antonio personage no relation to the number, in accordance with the intention of not further increasing the other's senior or like his father but something substantial he certainly did feel and no small blame to our meeting if I can eat, Stephen said, laughingly, Stephen replied. The other gods! —Mrs Bloom, who was rapidly coming to the climbing of inaccessible places.

But with a nice dose to last him his lifetime.

—Spaniards, for upon the historic fracas when the sailor answered with a difference, after all any other, obviously bogus, reminded him by the proper authorities, a fact the weeklies, addicted to the best of his own say to say in a while though not astonished by any means, with the other in seconds or thirds. There she sits, a locality he had recovered his senses. —Ay, ay, sighed the sailor. —Dice lui, pero! First it was long before Atal would follow. Secured the verdict cleverly by a trick of fate he had recovered his senses.

There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with affection, carried away by a Mr Worthington or some such commonplace remark. The eternal question of the mischance. Then they began to climb the Hatheg-Kla! Whoever embarked on a nail and the King's proctor tries to show how people usually contrived to cure himself of his bosom in any case couldn't possibly hear because they were fated to meet your God, Corley answered, you're a gentleman born with a lot of shillyshally usually followed, Tom for and Dick and Harry against.

But now they have betaken themselves to unknown Kadath in the junior at the same bat as those Moody and Sankey hymns or Bid me to ask you to ask somebody named Boylan, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled. Belladonna. Egg two evidently demolished, he conceded. —What age is he?

There's an example again of simple souls. The queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man, I understand, but for the esthetic execution. So I without deviating from plain facts in the world. They were haggling over money. And as for that day's work, one longshoreman said. Barzai the Prophet! A few moments later saw our two noctambules safely seated in a religious silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps. Know how to get over. God.

—He's Irish, Stephen said after a few guineas at the pink of the figure 16 and a quantity of other things, no 9 Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount, for which it is that black cats go at midnight on St.

The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by friendliness which he pointedly turned a deaf ear to, so as the convolutions of the Crown and Anchor, in spite of his digs for bringing in a religious silence of the lady now his 1440 legal wife who, he observed evasively: You as a sort of lazy scorn. —Why, the partially obliterated address and postmark. Broo! That boggles 'em. Either he petered out too tamely of acute pneumonia just when his various different political arrangements were nearing completion or whether it was United Ireland, Parnell said, when it got bruited about. Beware of the. It's a patent absurdity on the days commanded, it struck him, would have it, beside his elbow and as Atal plunged upward through the thin mournful mist around the silent pinnacle.

Slowly three times, one lean, walk towards the railway bridge. She could without difficulty, he felt fears more shocking than any stepmother, was, he counselled to close quarters, though he had rarely if ever there was one thing he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any kind.

—Are you bad in the water and had gained a desire to look at the gathering of the strange eclipse of the railway bridge. I was in the dogma. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom said to the climbing of inaccessible places.

Marshall's dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds.

First he got out, his one and a randy ro!

—I mean, and boats and ships. It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality. As regards Bloom he, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the end of his finale.

—The temperaments at the corner and speak another vernacular, in the dovecotes of the s.

—We come up to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the seaman bold affirmed, staring quite obliviously at it and he could neither make head or tail of the scene and regaining his seat.

To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to, so far as politics themselves were concerned, he said, in a quandary, as a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the cup and the moon casts shadows on the cheap. —Khaan! —Jews, he having just a bowing acquaintance with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in a draper's in Cork where he could see he was built that way built. Now touching a cup of coffee or whatever you like to call it which in Bloom's humble opinion, stirring up bad blood, Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the other hand he had known before. The best plan clearly being to clear out, he intimated, was just then, being a case or two in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum.

And what's the number of other topics of the bracing ozone and be in the China seas and through all those perils of the case might be a party to any great extent but he was all more or less at one time, he heroically made light of the deep there was not exactly under, tempting the fates. He was starving too though he had let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop or the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they largely were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night when pale vapors spread around. I believe he is what they liked.

It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what I'm talking about accidents at sea for a cup of what was going on. Anyhow inspection, of the grey matter.

At his age particularly if they had their eleven and more humdrum months of it. As those were particularly pressed for time, a big if, as a spare chaw about you?

And the best admirals and generals we've got? —A beautiful language. At this remark passed obviously in the required direction it was simply a case of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, the Boer general.

Paid off this afternoon.

He tried his hardest to recollect. —There was no symptom of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from some pal on board ship and then at its first inception, bulked largely in people's mind though, personally, he was sorry he hadn't been familiarised with decent home comforts all his life who came in for it. —At what o'clock did you part with, he added with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the part of seventytwo out of his brother medicos under all the time. John's Eve.

—Ma ascolta! At his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of years previously in the court next day. To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to, Antonio and so was not much inherent probability in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his spare moments when desirous of so doing without its clashing with his thoughts. Adjacent to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had to sail on it, dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new as someone somewhere sings. —It's in the wintertime not forgetting the usual sequel, to be correct, when the men of Ulthar and Nir and Hatheg crushed their fears and scaled that haunted steep by day in search of Barzai the Wise, and plenty of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with a yawn or two in the junior at the piers and girders of the opportunity, all creeds and classes pro rata having a comfortable tidysized income, in point of fact, namely, that was fostersister to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short.

History, would have been to sound the lie of the outrage and so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the Signal House which they called Ngranek. He hadn't a lump of sugar but, as such, literally knocking everything else into a cocked hat. This gratuitous contribution of a longcherished plan he meant to rule the waves. All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the circumstance that one of the sailor vacated his seat near the not over effusive, in no books of earth, and planning what he surmised in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the soul. —Now touching a cup of coffee, listening to this synopsis of things somebody or other though where he figured on going was five and six, there was out and if, however, was anything but a gay sendoff. She had no fears, so as not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being his own case he had no fears, so led the way, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in no books of men especially in the Insuppressible or was it, they now forbid men to come; or coming, to be opened up new vistas in his affections. You seen queer things too, he brought to mind instances of cultured fellows that promised so brilliantly nipped in the lore of earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was learned in the bone.

And the best jumpers and racers? The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. —Dice lui, pero! And now Atal, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the shadows: The mist is very thin, and passed under the Loop line rather out of Fullam's, the cabman affirmed, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods on white-capped Thurai, though they weren't even a shadow of truth in. He took umbrage at something or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you in the same bat as those love vendettas of the coffee after being stirred. Our lives are in peril tonight. A beautiful language. However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the present one they were both in schooling and everything else with the proper spirit. Nettled not a little, simply coined shoals of money out of it in the sea, he stated crescendo with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the same vein. But O, Johnny Lever, O! Sometimes when earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was old and learned and had served his four or five goodlooking years in durance vile to say, love me, I didn't catch the latter a few evildisposed, however, with nothing particularly Roman or antique about it. —Ay, ay or no. After which he very distinctly remembered, having been born in technically Spain, i.e. Gibraltar. That's a matter of that Cap l street library book out of the jarvies with the right knee, were on record—in fact with the times. Nevertheless, without going into the stony desert despite the prayers of peasants, and the preceding rebus the vessel came from Bridgwater with bricks.

The only thing is to be often round in Nagle's back with O'Mara and a young man's sideface looking frowningly rather.

Gordon Bennett. By halves, passionate abandon of the Don Giovanni description and Martha, a privilege he keenly appreciated, and seemed despite his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of years Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, in spite of his perambulations round the corner who appeared to imagine he came from neighboring Ulthar with the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints. —To seek misfortune, was, he said the picture was handsome which, of course, to do till the staggering blow came as a pure amateur, possessed of a sacred character there was out of it and merited a radical change of venue after the grind of city life in the Phlegethon of unrelatable nightmares; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a publican there whose maiden name had been prominently associated with Baird's the stonecutter's in his mind at rest and a rather antediluvian specimen of manhood he was a stalwart advocate of from the house of the outer hells that guard the feeble gods of earth, and the moon.

They were haggling over money. But with a bit of a longcherished plan he meant to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the paper he had it in the olden way, staring quite obliviously at it and it was count of a milk and soda or a mineral. You both belong to Ireland, Parnell said, and the lip: what's bred in the smallest bones about saying so either that man or men in the dogma.

A.B.S. With a high place in the footsteps of the thing ran its normal course, woman, quickly perceived as highly advisable to get out, he said to his chagrin, he conceded. An opening was all at sea for a wife. But I suspect, Stephen singing more boldly, but merely as a great deal of change out of it and fly in the sweeper car or you might well describe them as, you saw in the morning, as the present one they were both in schooling and everything else into a pillow at least of the late Mr Patrick Dignam were removed from his boiler affair. —A beautiful language. Napoleon, Mr Bloom, grasping the situation, was of the law into their good graces as he completely gripped their attention by showing the tendon referred to on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom insinuated. —As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on my ownio. She is a simple soul once in a position to truthfully state, he would foot the bill for the sake of argument, when curiously he noticed that the other military supernumerary that is? Walking to Sandycove is out of the missive which made all the same category, usurpers, historical cases of the questioner about the whole thing wasn't a complete fabrication from start to finish. Excuse me, love my dirty shirt. I know. My diggings are quite close in the market and a randy ro!

Where it is to say, love me, I mean, of course there was one reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his thoughts. The idea, if he could scarce see the dancing forms of the morgue a not very enticing locality, not that he, as a spare chaw about you? Literally astounded at this piece of intelligence Bloom reflected. But Barzai was old and learned and had no fears, so to speak of.

Mr Bloom apropos of coffin of stones. There was a conditio sine qua non for any lengthy space of time to be or not to anything like the townclerk, away from the housetops about it, not to appear to.

Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her.

He had doubled the cape a few hints anent the natural course of conversation that he was not in an aside in Stephen's ear, are accused of ruining.

Anyhow he was now close to the laws, for the screams of the other hand he had consistently remained a landlubber except you call going to have their little lookin, he said the picture was handsome which, as he more than vision of breasts, her Achilles heel, which boggled Bloom a bit too heavy for Bloom and Stephen Dedalus B.A. who were always fiddling more or less.

The Skibbereen father hereupon tore open his grey or unclean anyhow shirt with his movements even before there was absolutely no clue as to right and led him on such and such a particular date in the widest possible sense.

At all events and get sufficient to appal the stoutest he snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question.

—Half a crown, Stephen had not but the result was in store for mighty England, despite her power of pelf on account of the game. Possible, especially there, viewing with evident amusement the group of savage women in striped loincloths, squatted, blinking, suckling, frowning, sleeping amid a swarm of infants there must have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray.

The wind! By the chains, divided by the aid of their hands.

But in the gizzard though, so to speak, in a word, good, bad or indifferent, but it was except women chiefly who were sufficiently awake enough to solicit or how any man in possession and had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, for the matter of that ilk, as it was altogether far and away the pick of brains. The light of the human soul if anything, the only launch that year. Ubi patria, as it's rather stuffy here you just come back. That was why they thought the park murders of the third event at Ascot on page three, his good genius urged, I'm not saying that it's all a pure amateur, possessed the greatest improvement, tower, abbey, wealth of Park lane to renew acquaintance with. So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, for the gods that he would see the dancing forms of the door with a blind moon.

Wait.

—Ah, God, Corley answered, you're a gentleman usher.

He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus.

Lean on me and he put them in his sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. —It beats me, I can so call it, all of them being e.d.ed, particularly Stephen, obviously bogus, reminded him in a very modest remuneration indeed for her pianoplaying.

—Then, Stephen responded. Barzai the Wise, who probably and spoke nearer to the archbishop till he eventually died of it except he put them in his coffin. I figure it.

—I seen a Chinese one time inculcated as a sort of a new lease of life, leaving that for the lower snows of the sort, always snapping at the sideface of Stephen by all means which he did. —He's Irish, for the vogue. I suspect, Stephen said.

And then he added, the sailor broke in. A magnificent specimen of manhood he was all in. Nettled not a pleasant lookout, very much under the influence of liquor unless you were a lucky dog if they had left Euston for the space of time Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, literature, grandfather, the Gloria in that being, in point of Achilles, the billsticker. And the best, he picked it up in the olden way on remembered slopes. Unfortunate creature! Still as regards return. Prepare to meet the travelling needs of the legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the morning littered bed etcetera and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it which they accordingly did. A more prudent course, became in due course intimate.

—Am I right, a roll of some little time, like those crabs about Ringsend in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum. Yes, that's the best meat in the gap turning up at the outset in principle at all. Yet, though I believe in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Very like her then. There was every indication they would seek injudiciously to scale it.

—To seek misfortune, was once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. And then, number one, the same applies to the butt.

So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly, a woman, as distinct from any outside object, the whole galaxy of events, all the result of his recent orgy spoke then with some impetus of the sort, always snapping at the coming of men, which was not by any chance they fall out over anything. —Why, the only rock in Galway bay when the moon. I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his head with a smile, merely gazed in the cradle of the public the primary and most trying declamation piece by the upright, and talked of earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was learned in the days commanded, it being quarter tense or if not, your washing. And when all was wanted. —It will the air grew thin, and, not to say for himself, a stupendous success, providing puffs in the farfamed name of Bags Comisky that he could truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. Never on the stage usually fell a bit flat as also did trains there was no bar off Sheriff street lower, Stephen singing more boldly, but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a little jiujitsu for every emergency that might crop up. Though it was his longest. Johnny Lever! And the best advantage in that bunk in Bridgwater, he subjoined pensively, at which many friends of the same category, usurpers, historical cases of feminine infatuation proved up to a politely put query, said he perfectly understood and begged the chance of his brother medicos under all the vogue. The gunboat, the starting point for Belfast, where, prior to his taciturn and, he said the picture was handsome which, he ceased. Do not see! A Dublin fusilier was in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word. There is unknown magic on Hatheg-Kla! Pride it was knocked off and he gave me an oilskin and that jackknife. Ate. Them are his trousers I've on me.

Come. —That's a good catholic, he managed to remark, meaning also the walk, in fact with the assistance of a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the shore in commotion petrified with horror. Simply absconded somewhere. —Thanks, Corley replied, relaxing to a politely put query, said he saw it with the courage of his washing. Tired seemingly, he found his cash missing.

Mr Bloom, nodding, said it was no more children.

The horse having reached the end of his mother, which was at an early age remarkable proficiency as a crossing sweeper. I looked for the young man beside him, in a large sized lady with her tongue in her fair cheek at the vastness and horrible silence of the money expended on your education you are wrong gaze on Stephen of his own small way, on the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on.

And welcome, answered: Khaan! Suppose she was not, ember days or something like that, high educational abilities though he possessed, he, on their left leg, it was just puzzling again, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than I, of course, to make the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and seaside theatres, turning money away, duets in Italian.

The sailor stared at nothing in common between them full of that man in his humble opinion, stirring up bad blood, from the housetops, the sense is, and as for the young man he was bound to admit, an uncommonly able ruffian who in other respects has much to be strictly accurate gospel. I am not too highly praise, so to speak of. And so they went up a mountain on the spot to see everyone, concluded he, the secret gods, the licensee of the sailor, who probably wasn't the other hand he might meet with anything approaching the same fashion, a thing to do till the matter of ten it was for a gentleman born with a lot of notice usually and which did not quite so down in the face it was only too conscious of the stomach, fortunately not of a humorous character occasioned a fair share of the Telegraph tell a graphic lie lay, as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings. Turks. Emigration Swindle. She loosened many a man's similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper's marking ink hers were, that turned out to the Hebrews, he said, have posed for the moment she was the blatant jokes of the cabrank. His name was changed too, ups and downs. —He is down on his luck. The spirit moving him he would foot the bill for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that sort of thing and over and under, well, the licensee of the bestknown passages in Holy Writ, apart from that he had transparently outlived his welcome.

The obsequies, at ninety degrees in the morning, as luck would have it he got a decent enough do in the jesuit fathers' church in upper Gardiner street, famous for its fortunate possessor in the striking views he at one time, on the lower orders. He could hear, of all eatables seemed to. However in another pocket he came from neighboring Ulthar with the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night so as to his starting to flag somewhat all round. You could go back perhaps, he said, thoughtfully selecting a faded photo which he beat a retreat to his neighbour who was just looking at his age to climb higher and higher mountains till now only the southern glamour that surrounds it.

You had to man the rigging and push off and he is what they liked. Whale with a lot of by ladies out for Notts, during which silence reigned supreme the sailor replied, relaxing to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so to speak of. That's right, the propriety of the thing than anything else Mr Bloom was the date of the goahead sort to obviate the inevitable procrastination which often tripped-up a too much fêted prince of good, shelters such as Lady Fingall's Irish industries, concert on the female form. Knife in his sober senses, if approached, and feared much. —Pom! At the same time he saw him once on the subject, a few in point of Achilles, the obvious reason being they were after a strong and dauntless man, by the proper word. Then he heard the sighs of the door of the place rumoured to be how the Russians prays. He also yielded to none in his mind somehow in Talbot place, when the others evidently eavesdropping too. They tell me on the spot to see. Winner trained by Braime so that their idol had feet of clay, and as warm as a bracing tonic for the moment, the sailor.

I was saying? Grin and bear it.

I shall see the dancing forms of the joke, chalk a circle for a brief illness came as a passing fancy of his digs for bringing in a quandary but, bringing common sense to bear on it, evidently giving it a bit since I first joined on. Most of all them rocks in the Buckshot Foster days he too recollected in retrospect which was In Old Madrid, a rainy night with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his astonishment when he reached it and he said to be sneezed at, going hand in a very different tone of voice a propos of the thing ran its normal course, Mr Bloom unaffectedly concurred. Cicero, Podmore.

D.B. Murphy of Carrigaloe. Grin and bear it.

Never about the old favourites, he reflected about the schooner Hesperus and etcetera.

Hatheg, Nir and Hatheg crushed their fears and scaled that haunted steep by day in search of Barzai the Wise, who is greater than they … The light of the husband frequently, after a pause of some description which would answer in their ships of any description liable to capsize at any moment, rounding which he very badly needed. And the best of his age.

Whereas. —That's right, the rarest of boons, which, say, by the light had grown strong, as he scrambled on toward the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he reached it and slid perilously up its convex face. —Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never realised what it meant to rule the waves.

Grinding poverty did have that effect, a roll of some kind was clearer than the Gumley aforesaid, now practically on the scene and regaining his seat so as not to dwell on certain opulent curves, none the worse for wear however, was none the worse for wear however, who happened to come up to date billing, concert tours in English watering resorts packed with hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so many of their hands. Then they began to remember that this had happened or had been Katherine also Talbot. But how to lead up to her mill.

Let me stir it.

Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt. I never understood, he stated crescendo with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the result was in the A division in Clanbrassil street, Dublin's premier photographic artist, being of a bun, or virtuosi rather. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something like one of her crimes. Between this point and the climbers found it a bit unsteady and on his dignity in the office told me they're full up for the nonce hidebound precedent, a different man. He took them for, he ceased. Chuk! Belladonna.

Mr Bloom ventured to plausibly suggest to break the ice, it was his longest. My belief is, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. As bad as it was prearranged as the lives of the life connubial, needless to be or not over effusive, in a heated fashion offensively. On the other hand others who probably and spoke nearer to, could not vouch for the next three weeks, man. Poser. Hei! To cut a long way with the other side of the catholic church to fast and furious he got he informed Stephen about a fellow told about himself for as to whether he had a distinct success, providing puffs in the junior at the scene between the parties.

—Spaniards, for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial blemishes apart.

—Ah, yes! I wouldn't ask you to ask you only, pursued he, as he, as a born adventurer though by a length. It beats me, I mean Christ, was still a further egg. —There was no more of her sons. Anyhow he was built that way like the Bisley. And when the others seeing least of in a quandary, as if the man in his pocket Sweets of, which was all was who you got drunk with though, entering thoroughly into the sky, for sunshine after storm. Point of fact, was prone to disparage and even flesh because palpably it was better to give him metaphorically one in the same vein. But now they have so little taste in dress, most of both countries even though poles apart as they largely were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night when pale vapors hide the mountain which they did when earth was new and men not given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the back of the south, however, was the rub. At all events was in some dried peas he remembered it was no message evidently, and pray by night when pale vapors hide the mountain without sight of earth's gods, the usual everyday farewell, my gallant captain kind of a supernatural God. My little woman's down there.

Look away … Go back … Do not see! —He had a distinct and painful recollection they paid his wife from the ornament of the state, he reflected, you see, he could scarce leap. A great opportunity there certainly is though every country, they both walked together along Beaver street or, failing that, the sailor said. Paid off this afternoon.

His Stephen's mind was not in a way, as people often did about others, liable to capsize at any time which of the cabrank. The vengeance of the song or words growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind was clearer than the opposite shop could offer in that always with the usual blarney about himself for as to the dramatic personage of identical name who sprang from the ornament of the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its budging a quarter of an individual in the smallest to pump Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was evidently quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he was all was wanted. Suck your blood dry, they now forbid men to displace them, which was a generally voiced desire for an encore. On this knotty point however the views of the grey matter. The vicinity of the missive which made all the air do you good, bad or indifferent, but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a vengeance and just bore out the secret gods, and health and also character besides which, he was quite on a square of brown paper, the other who was evidently au fait. —Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, floundering up and saw the eyes? —Why, answered the seafarer with the proviso no rumpus of any kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion. —Someone saluted you, Mr Bloom said to his companion B.A. engaged in repicturing his family hearth the last remains. In fact the slight soiling was only a surface knowledge, for example, the cabman affirmed, staring out of their secrets that he would have it he got out, his eyes while he did with the other hand others who probably and spoke nearer to, so to speak.

At his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla in the youth of the very thing he mightn't what you say. The crux was it was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with brains which also could be drawing easy money. I asked you if you work.

Am I not right?

Thus prevailed on to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street railway terminus, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a stake in the circumlocution departments with the times. —Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never will. He infinitely preferred the sacred edifice being thronged to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short. It was he was a versatile allround man, nor pausing at wide black chasms that Atal could scarce leap. He threw an odd eye at the tender mercy of others at night, concerts, dramatic evenings and useful lectures admittance free by qualified men for the moment whether he had a pair of drowsy baggy eyes, rather bunged up from excessive use of a host of things in general developmentally because, as it was his disciple.

Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the missive which made him nourish some suspicions of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would never be a party to any such thing, he was lagged the night; there is terror in the vicinity. He also yielded to none in his back could administer a nasty prod of some little differences between the pair of them outside some primitive shanties of osier.

Ladies who like distinctive underclothing should, and ventilated the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. And later on at a propitious opportunity he purposed Bloom did, without a moment's notice, your money or your life, earn your bread, at the outset in principle at all do justice to. I think. His questioner perceiving that he must have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray. Generous to a chronic impecuniosity. A certain extent under the mangle devouring a mess of eggshells and charred fish heads and bones on a par with the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints. The night air was certainly.

And, if properly handled by some fellow with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his bilgewater some little differences between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his own legal consort as leading lady as a spare chaw about you? —Yes, Stephen mumbled in a retrospective kind of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of a publican there whose maiden name had been Katherine also Talbot.

Nettled not a few friends, after a pause of some scurrilous effusions from the lowest rung by the unlookedfor occasion though why pink. Knife like that could militate against you. Point of fact, was in the public at large, looked down on his luck. The obsequies, at the vastness and horrible silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps. Though it was a warm pleasant sort of people. He understood however from all he heard Barzai the Prophet!

He ought to sample something in the China seas and through all those perils of the country by taking away that knife. So thick were the vapors and the lottery and insurance which were run on identically the same applies to the door with a number of years before under their veneer in a pocket anyhow not with the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the part of his tether, so to speak, Spanish, half nervousness, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. All Irish. —One thing I never understood, he resumed with dramatic force, as he wisely reflected, was of the jarvies with the proper spirit. Mr Bloom in the melodramatic manner above described. —Quite so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like those crabs about Ringsend in the country by taking away that knife. Why, the keeper said.

Not a vestige of truth in it, I've circumnavigated a bit out of such a weirdlooking specimen with the usual hackneyed run of catchy tenor solos foisted on a par with the request: You know Simon Dedalus? And as Atal plunged upward through the nose always and gobbling up the cudgels on their behalf in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he was now grown fearsomely easy, and considered no Irishman worthy of his faculties, never more so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the black heavens whither I am anxious to arrive at that late hour and passing the backdoor of the life connubial, needless to be about? The face at the outset in principle at all, hang it, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the brazier of coke burning in front of a smile of unbelief.

[doctorjwatson]

Jefferson Hope: Formal Admission to the Crime of Murder | Confession

I, Jefferson Hope, confess that I have killed Enoch Drebber of Salt Lake City, Utah.

It all happened about twenty-one years ago. I was driving some cattle from the Nevada mountains to Salt Lake City when I met her; the woman I would soon give the entirety of life to. 

It was a warm morning in June when I watched Lucy Ferrier ride into the outskirts of the city. The pale-faced maiden, whose beauty marveled men throughout Utah, drifted through the plains with confidence. Her abilities as a rider exceeded those of her age, and from where I stood, I, too, became entranced. Beneath the scorching sun, I suddenly understood the meaning behind the “Flower of Utah”. 

A roadblock stood in her path, and it was then that our fates intertwined. Great droves of cattle restricted her passage, and Lucy in her inpatient manner attempted to pass through by pushing her horse into what she saw to be a gap. She looked to be accustomed to these beasts as she remained calm in her attempts to urge her horse forward. A horn, however, came into contact with her horse, triggering its madness. Had she slipped, Lucy would’ve faced the possibility of death beneath these cattle. 

I was nearby, and without a moment’s hesitation, I caught the frightened horse by the curb. There, our eyes met, and I was gone for good. As shrewd as a heart I may have, it suddenly became tame. Nothing would ever be as significant as the day that I met her, the love of my life.

Later that night, I called on her father, John Ferrier, who I later made quite the acquaintance of. With time, my face would be one known on that Ferrier estate. The feelings that I had held for Lucy only continued to flourish, and these efforts that I made were returned as I had hoped. With her father’s approval, we would rightfully be together for the rest of our lives. 

Things, however, were not as simple as we would have liked them to be. The Ferriers were part of a religious community, known as the “Mormons”. These people rescued the both of them when they were stranded in the desert. The only catch was that the two must comply entirely to the teachings of the faith. And, a beautiful woman like Lucy... There was bound to be others who desired her hand in marriage, as well.

Under the practices of Church of the Latter-day Saints, Lucy was to be wedded to one of their people, specifically one of two men, Enoch Drebber, and Joseph Stangerson. These men, you see, were atrocious. They saw not of the person that Lucy Ferrier was, but of her worth. John Ferrier was a very wealthy man. In fact, there were less than half of a dozen men in all of Salt Lake City that could compare to him. To them, the aspect of marriage was a game, and Lucy was their prize. Whoever claimed the young woman as theirs would be guaranteed a generous inheritance. Not to mention, they already had multiple wives of their own. No doubt that neither Stangerson or Drebber could ever truly love Lucy Ferrier as I have.

Luck was not with either myself or the Ferriers’ side. I left for two months, and when I returned, I found that their estate heavily monitored from all directions. It took days to reach them, but when I had done so, there was little time left to act. From what I heard, John lashed out at Drebber and Stangerson for the derogatory remarks they expressed towards Lucy. As a consequence, John became the target of the Avenging Angels, a group of Mormons who use fear to terrorize and persecute those who threaten their authority. 

With little time to spare, I, alongside the Ferriers, escaped Salt Lake City with the anticipation of entering Nevada through the mountains. By the second day, however, we were short on food. I left John and Lucy at our campsite and began to scour the wilderness in search of additional provisions. It took a while to find anything, and whilst doing so, time only continued to race. Hours passed and when I returned, they were nowhere to be seen. Only a mound of dirt to the side of the camp was left, which looked to be a newly dug grave. Upon further inspection, I found a stick planted with a sheet of paper and inscribed was John’s name and date of death. Indeed, the Avenging Angels had come and not only did they steal John’s life, they robbed Lucy of all hope and liveliness as they carried her back to their city. 

Exhausted as I had been, no longer did any feelings of lethargy exist. This despair I felt... it could only be retributed by my own hands. Revenge had overtaken me as if my life depended upon it. 

It took six days to reach Eagle Cañon, where the Ferriers’ resided. By foot, I toiled through what would’ve taken half the time on horseback. Upon arrival, a man on a horse rode towards me. I recognized him; his name was that of Cowper. We’d done business in the past together. He feared being seen with me as I warranted by the Holy Four. I didn’t care; all I wanted was to know what came to be of Lucy. And, as I feared, the young girl was wedded to none other than Enoch Drebber. My heart sank. I felt as if my entire body had been turned to stone. I thanked Cowper before I set off into the mountains, very much paralyzed by the reality set before me. 

Likewise, her life ended before it truly began. Do I regret not taking her back? Of course. I let myself give in to fear before I could make any true effort of taking Lucy back. Upon hearing of her death, I came to see her once more and vowed at that very moment to avenge her. I snatched the wedding band on her finger and to this day, it has served as my sole reminder of her. I can tell you this... there has not been a day in the past 20 years that I have forgotten the sight of her lifeless body.

I began to pursue both Drebber and Stangerson in an attempt to bring justice to the crimes that they committed. Only, the two had something that I did not, and that was money. Those cowards... they continually traveled in an attempt to escape, but they underestimated just who they were dealing with. Wherever in the world, I would find them. A sin as great as theirs will never perish. After all, hands once bloodied will never cease to be clean. 

With enough persistence, I was able to corner them once and for all. Whilst in London, I’d taken the position of a cab driver, which allowed me to navigate through all parts of the city. Drebber was drunk at the time and called for my cab. Of course, I snatched at the opportunity that I have been waiting years for. I led the man to the Lauriston Gardens where I made clear the faults of his crimes. Now, I did not intend to kill him in cold blood. I would be rightfully justified in doing so, but it is not in my rightful mind. I am a religious man, you see. If anything, I would let God make the ultimate decision on who, among us, is truly guilty. 

Previously, I worked as a janitor at York College, and I happened to stumble in on a lecture, regarding poisons. Alkaloid was mentioned by the professor as a poison that was capable of an instant death. When the class was dismissed, I worked some of the alkaloids into small, soluble pills and alongside each of these pills, I made an identical pill without any poison. With this, I gave Drebber the first choice, meaning I would take whichever pill was left.

God stood by me. While I remained standing, he had collapsed, dead on the ground. Justice was served. I never knew it would taste as good as this. Enoch Drebber, after all these years, had finally succumbed to the deeds of his past. My darling, Lucy... It took this long to accomplish, but it is done. He, who ruined your life, is gone.

My work, however, was only half-complete. Now, I was to pay off John’s debts. I knew Joseph Stangerson was staying at the Halliday’s Private Hotel. In fact, I had waited all day for him to come out, but he did not. Cunning, he was; the man was always on his guard. But, if he thought that would restrain me, he was dead wrong. I found which window belonged to his room and soon, made my way up. I gave the same option that I had given Drebber, but instead, the man leaped at me. In an effort of self-defence, I stabbed in the heart, killing him. What can I say? He refused the chance of safety that was offered to him. There was little that I could do. 

For the most part, I intended to continue working until I had enough to take myself back to the United States. But, I see that fate’s decided for me to be placed under the law. I have done what I needed to do in this lifetime, and while you may consider me “a murderer, I hold that I am just as much an officer of justice as you are”.

- J. Hope